Page 18 of Slap Shot
“Damn, Hud.” Grant nudges me. “You’re so full of wisdom and shit.”
“Someone on this team has to be,” I say.
“Everett,” Coach barks out, and Grant sits up straight. “Get your head out of your ass.”
The game ends with us earning a 3-1 victory. I only played fifteen minutes, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to give the rest of the guys a chance to shine.
We head to the locker room and shower, then make our way to the bus that will take us to the airport. It’s late, but I’m glad we’ll be home tonight so I can sleep in my own bed with my dogs. Spending over fifty nights in a hotel room throughout the season loses its appeal pretty fast.
Maverick passes out the second we’re seated on the charter plane. I snap a quick picture of him for blackmail, and I notice a message from Madeline that came through an hour ago. I swipe it open.
Madeline
Nice GAME tonight.
I smile and rest my head against the seat. She’s probably asleep, but I fire off a response anyway.
Me
Thanks. Safe to say I’m in the clear from your attempted poisoning the other night. Can’t wait to see what you try next.
Three dots appear then disappear. I tap the side of the screen and wait, wondering if she’s going to answer. Just as I’m about to turn off my phone for takeoff, it buzzes again.
Madeline
I’m particularly good with knives.
See you soon, Hudson Hayes.
SIX
MADELINE
Nerves rollthrough me as I pace outside Hudson’s apartment two minutes before noon.
I know I’m damn good at what I do, and I’ve always walked into interviews with my head held high. The reviews about my food and the month-long waitlist we had at CARVD speak for themselves.
This is different.
I’m out of my element here. I can cook my ass off, but I’m still not sure how to cook my ass off for the hockey superstar.
Clutching the plate of brownies I stress baked in Piper’s kitchen last night to my chest like a shield, I take a deep breath and knock. I don’t have to wait long before the door flies open, and Hudson is there.
I’ve never been drawn to blond men, but he’s an anomaly. From the deep blue eyes and the scruff of his well-trimmed beard to his shaggy hair and the way he holds himself like he commands the attention of everyone in the room, Hudson Hayes has me curious.
“Madeline.” He smiles, and there’s a dimple on his right cheek. “Hey. Come on in.”
“Thank you.” I slip into the foyer, aware of his presence and the scent of his cologne. He smells like oranges and soap, and I do my best not to inhale the fragrance. “Thanks for seeing me.”
“Thanks for coming. Did you have a chance to explore the city?”
“I did. There’s a lot more history here than in Vegas, and I didn’t find a single casino.”
His laugh is a deep and rumbly thing, and he runs his hand through his hair. “I’ll point you in the direction of some if you feel like gambling.”
“Probably not the smartest move to throw my money away while I’m unemployed.” I shove the plate I’m holding his way. “I made you some brownies so you can get another idea of my tastes and flavors.” I freeze when I realize what I’ve said. “Not… notmytaste. The taste of the food I like to make. Baked goods, I mean.”
“Brownies?” Hudson lights up. His fingers brush against mine when he takes the plate, and I shiver. “I try to be good about my sugar intake during the season, but I’m a sucker for anything chocolate. Anything sweet, really.”
