Page 9 of Lucky Hit

FIVE

OAKLEY

There's something specialabout Ava that I can't quite put my finger on. Not only is she drop-dead gorgeous, but there's something about her that I want to know more about. Something I need to know more about. From the moment I saw her in the stands at the game, she intrigued me.

Right, the game. The game tonight did not turn out how I wanted it to.

When I saw Braden get hit from behind, I was pissed. Nobody hits my guys like that and gets away with it. But I was only going to shove the little shit who hit him around a bit to teach him some manners. Then he started running his dirty mouth about my sister—my fucking sister of all people. He got a lot more than he was expecting but not nearly as much as he deserved. However, it didn't look great on my part. The fact that I was the only person on the ice that could hear his vile comments didn't overly help my case.

I peer over and see Ava's head resting on her left palm, eyes closed with her elbow leaning on the armrest that separates us.

"I hope that you're still awake. We’re pulling up," I say gently, desperately trying to keep my focus on the gravel road ahead of me. I quickly park the truck in the only acceptable parking space and scope out the familiar area.

"A river?" she asks, confused. I look away when she starts to stretch. She eyes the wooded clearing suspiciously. "I'm not skinny dipping with you," she adds, and I laugh.

I reach into the back seat and grab the heavy woollen blanket I carry with me.

"I found it a couple of days after I moved here. It's a perfect place to think when I'm not spending all of my time shoving guys into the end boards and shooting pucks around." Since I moved here, I think I've been here almost every day. The quiet reminds me of home.

"Well, should we sit down?" She smiles up at me and I give her a slight nod. I lay the blanket down on the mossy, damp grass. Why is everything in Vancouver always so damp?

"It's your turn to tell me something about yourself," she adds a few seconds later.

We both plop down on the slightly scratchy material, and I have to force myself to ignore the tingling sensation that runs up my arm when it brushes against hers.

"What do you want to know? I'm an open book."

"What's your favourite food?"

Starting easy, I like it.

"Anything Italian. My mom makes the best Italian food in the world. What's yours?"

"Mmmm, probably going to have to go with popcorn," she answers with a proud grin.

"Popcorn? Talk about boring." I send her a wink and watch as her cheeks turn the light shade of pink that I've noticed a few times tonight.

"You wound me, Oakley!" she gasps, bringing her hand up to rest against her heart as if I hurt her feelings while a loud laugh breaks through her smile. There's that sound again, the intoxicating sound of Ava's contagious laughter.

"It's your turn to ask."

"Right," I cough. "How long have you and Morgan been best friends? Matthew talks about her all the time. The dude is completely obsessed with her."

She starts picking the black nail polish off her fingernails as she answers, "About five years. We went to high school together."

I sit patiently as she smiles to herself before continuing, "She’s really in love with the guy, so I'm glad to hear that it goes both ways. In all honesty, I was quite worried in the beginning. No offence, but I'm sure we can both agree that athletes have a certain way with people—women especially." She punches my shoulder lightly.

"Sounds like you have some experience in that department. With athletes, I mean."

Does she? From the slight change in tone, I'm guessing it wasn't a pleasant experience.

"Not all of us are the same. Just most of us." I flash her a goofy grin.

Honestly, most of us are the same. But for some reason, I just don't want her to think that I'm like the rest of them.

"Yeah, he plays on your team. David Remer,” she spits, as if the mere thought of him burns her tongue.

Hearing David’s name doesn't surprise me. Remer is a first-class douche canoe, but there is something else there. I can tell by how quiet she’s getting.

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