Page 96 of Thoroughly Pucked

With a cocky glint in his eyes, he glances in the rearview mirror. “I liked the surprise of bourbon last night.”

Excellent point. I turn my focus back to the woman who’s captivated me. “Me too. Now, Aubs, what’s a good surprise to you?”

She taps her chin, meeting my gaze with her eyes sparkling. “This,” she declares as she gestures to the windshield.

I follow where she’s pointing to the end of the street.

Yes!

That’s what I was hoping for. The road felt familiar because I was here last summer. The big sign on top of the structure readsThe Sharon Abreau Ice Rink. This is where the Vancouver goalie holds his off-season camp. Ledger and I went to the camp last summer as guest coaches, playing with some of the junior high school kids. “We’re going to play…hockey?” My voice pitches up, and I’m not even embarrassed.

“It was Ledger’s idea,” Aubrey says, and her smile is as wide as the city.

“We both put it together,” Ledger says, giving credit where credit’s due.

My heart warms a little more, knowing both of them planned this. I squeeze his shoulder then I lean forward and give Aubrey a kiss on her cheek.

“You seemed like you were missing it,” she says.

“I sure was,” I say, in the understatement of the century.

I don’t even try to smother the joy that’s rocketing through my cells. We park, and I try not to run to the entrance of the rink. A sandwich board outside the doors says Austin Sanchez Skills Camp for Local Youth, then the hours for today and the rest of the week. The man behind the camp waits next to the sign. The sturdy goalie from the Vancouver team has his big arms folded across his chest, tattoos of vines snaking along his light brown skin. There’s a twinkle in his eyes.

When I reach him, he offers a fist for knocking. I knock back. “Sanchez, I have to crash your camp to see you? What’s up with that?”

“Maybe play a little better and you’ll get an invite to guest coach again,” he says.

I clutch my chest like I’m wounded. “See if you can drive the knife in a little more.”

“Sure. I can. Try to have a season as good as mine,” he ribs, since he’s no stranger to trash talk.

I hold up my forefinger. “You savedonemore goal than I did.”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Then he smiles brightly and claps me on the back before he turns to Ledger, giving him a quick greeting. “Good to see you, McBride.”

“Thanks for doing this,” Ledger says.

Aubrey’s next, and for a few seconds, I just hesitate. Do I introduce her? Does Ledger? Obviously it’s no secret we’re here with her since Garrett posted that pic, but I don’t expect Sanchez to be stalking Garrett’s social. But when his eyes swing to Aubrey expectantly, I don’t hesitate.

“This is Aubrey Emerson,” I say, and I’m dying to add,“She’s this woman we’re seeing.”

But nope. I shut down that desire, stat. Swallowing those words, I add, “She’s a good friend.”

“Nice to meet you, Ledger and Dev’s friend,” Sanchez says smoothly.

The wordfriendlodges like a stone in my heart. It’s all wrong. She’s so much more than a friend.

She takes his hand. “And nice to meet you, Ledger and Dev’s…co-worker.”

Sanchez chuckles, then he lets go of her hand.

I steal a glance at Aubrey. There’s no weirdness in her expression. No awkwardness that says that moment was as wrong for her as it was for me.

Because…when this ends in two days, we’ll be just that. Friends.

That word twists in my gut, souring.

Sure, friendship ought to be enough for me. I shouldn’t linger on what the future definitely doesn’t hold.

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