Page 38 of Hat Trick
“Where did you go to school?” he asks. “I’m guessing nowhere in Florida. Do they even have hockey down there?”
“Besides the intramural team Grant started at FSU? No. I went to the University of Minnesota.” I laugh. “It’s far from where I grew up, and I wanted to spread my wings. I wanted to see what else was out there, and I ended up in the hockey capital of America. Turns out, it changed my life.”
“It’s a fun sport, isn’t it? It’s cool you like to watch it, that it’s not only a job for you. And I’m glad more women are coming to games. I know Emmy is helping with that rise in viewership. A woman playing in the NHL? It’s unheard of but fucking incredible.”
“She definitely is,” I say, proud of my best friend for breaking every glass ceiling that’s tried to cage her in. “And you can’t forget Amelia Green out in Denver. She’s an associate coach.”
“She’ll be a head coach in no time.”
“I hope so. It also helps that so many men are supportive. You have Maverick wearing Emmy’s jersey to games and incurring a fine every night for breaking the league’s dress code. Other players are repping inaugural PWHL teams.” I laugh. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been out somewhere and made a comment about a game that’s on, only for the dude I’m with to roll his eyes and accuse me of not being arealfan. It’s annoying.”
Riley frowns. “Let me guess: they’re the same ones giving you horrible orgasms.”
“What gave it away?”
“It’s not hard to spot toxic masculinity.”
“They lose their minds when I tell them I work for a professional sports team. It’s like I don’t belong in your realm. Dicks only, you know? Fuck all of us who have a vagina and like to watch people get rammed into plexiglass. Guess I need to get back to the kitchen.”
“You belong,” he says, and the edge of fierceness nudging its way into his tone makes me smile. “Do you remember what I said in the team meeting we had? You’re the best of the best at your job, and dudes who think otherwise suck. Instead of complaining about women liking things, they could open an anatomy book and figure out how to get you off.”
“Thanks for the enthusiastic support and for joining the feminist cause. We’re happy to have you.” I reach across the table and bump my knuckles with his. “Tell me something else about you, Mitchy.”
His chuckle is deep, rich, and he tosses a straw wrapper at me. “Is this a date, Armstrong?”
“God, no.” I wrinkle my nose. “No offense, but I don’t date.”
“You don’t?”
“No. It takes up too much time. There’s too much effort without any return.” I fold then unfold my napkin. “Consider this a light interrogation. I’ve spent days memorizing the shape of the mole you have on your left calf—it looks like a spade, by the way. It’s only fair you tell me something scandalous about yourself.”
There’s a moment where his cheeks turn pink. Where he opens his mouth and closes it, shaking his head once. “I don’t have anything scandalous to share.”
“Darn. I was really hoping for bodies in your closet.”
“Nope. No bodies,” Riley says around a rush of air, and my interest is piqued. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s good. Some secret I’m not sure I’ll ever get out of him but desperately want to. “I like to read on the couch. I’ve been getting into painting. I don’t go out and party. I’m boring as hell, Lex.”
“That’s a shame.”
“If you want someone cool, you’ll have to hang out with Ethan. I think he has eight different pieces of jewelry he swaps out on his dick piercing.”
I choke on a sip of water. “Eight?”
“That was back in May. He’s probably reached double digits at this point. I bet he’s keeping stores open with his business.”
“Wow. Okay, dick piercings aside, we’re not finished talking about you. Unless…” I arch an eyebrow. “Anything you want to share on that topic?”
“Nope. Sorry to disappoint.”
“That’s fine. I guess I’ll settle on learning what superpower you wish you could have.”
“Shit. Going for the jugular.” He murmurs his thanks to the server when she delivers our food, reaches for a napkin, and sets it in his lap. “Being able to fly would be cool. Pausing time would also be handy. I could get so much shit done without losing any sleep. What about you?”
“Mind reading. But that could be a curse.” I take a bite of my grilled cheese and moan around the crunch of bread.Somuch better than faking an orgasm. “I have this flaw where I want to make everyone happy. If I could read their minds, I’d figure out how to do that. On the flip side, I’d probably learn things about them I don’t want to know.”
“It’s impossible to make everyone happy.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
