“Anything you choose will be less annoying than hearing you squabble about it,” Grady interrupted.
Max looked at Todd, triumphant. “See. Grady agrees with me.”
It was probably for the best it was just them in the gym.
They finished the day’s workout with a cool-down jog on the treadmills, which they hadn’t done before. “Just five minutes, and then call it a day,” Todd said. “I have to go make a call. See you tomorrow.”
Except, well, Max caught Grady’s eye when he went into the office, and Grady couldn’t leave the challenge on his face unanswered. They couldn’t really compete with weights—Max would hurt himself if he tried to squat what Grady did, Grady would tear a muscle if he attempted Max’s bench press, and overdoing the reps would hurt them in the long run. They sucked it up because they were both too serious about hockey.
But a few extra minutes on the treadmill? That was a harmless indulgence of their competitive natures.
Until Todd emerged from his office ten minutes later and they were both still jogging. He threw up his hands. “Oh my God, the two of you are as bad as each other. It’s not a competition.”
Without breaking stride, Max and Grady looked at each other. Max’s mouth twitched. “Yes it is,” they chorused.
Todd ran a hand down his face. “Okay. Well, now it’s a competition to see who follows my directions better.”
Wow,rude. Max was obviously on the verge of bursting into laughter. “I forfeit,” he said.
“Don’t make me get the air horn, sweetie.”
Grady coughed, thinking back to a day several months ago when Max had attempted to misbehave his way into Grady spanking him and Grady had told him the spankings were a reward for good behavior.
Grady waited until Todd’s back was turned and mimed a slap at ass height. He raised his eyebrows.
Max’s cheeks went red. “On second thought,” he said cheerfully, “you’re on,” and he slowed his machine to a walk.
Honestly, Grady couldn’t figure out who was letting who win here, but for once in his life, he was happy to call it a draw.
Todd ran his hands through his hair and pulled at the ends of it. “Oh my God. Get the fuck out of my gym.”
They got the fuck out of Todd’s gym.
The preseason routine was heavy on weight training, with hockey drills on alternating afternoons. Max was a different kind of challenge than Jess—more physical, less cerebral, and just as eager to make Grady look like an idiot. And when they ran drills together against other players, they clicked like magic.
Grady had an idle fantasy that he and Max would play on the same NHL team one day, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. They both fit well on their current teams, and shopping around wasn’t worth the risk while they were still based in the same city.
Besides, playing against Max was fun too.
“You know,” said one of the European-league guys in the locker room one day, “the rink could use a little TLC.”
Grady blinked at him, nonplussed. Sure, this particular arena had seen better days, but Grady only had to care that it had ice, a net, and availability.
Max, however, immediately picked up what he was throwing down. “Exhibition game? Funds for, I don’t know—”
“A new scoreboard,” Amelie broke in. “Maybe some better seating.”
“An upgraded hot water heater.”
“How about an accessible entrance?” chimed in someone else, and that was how Grady found himself agreeing to something he shouldn’t. Game scenarios were a little too unpredictable, and if they got injured, it could fuck up their seasons. But hewantedto play, wanted a chance to playwithMax instead of against him, and it wasn’t like they were going to be gunning for each other. “How fast can we get the word out?”
The besotted look Max shot him afterward told him he’d made the right call.
UNFORTUNATELY, MAX’Smaster plan to irritate Grady into marrying him had to be put on hold. There were only so many more days left before the preseason, and the charity game took up a lot of mental resources, even though most of the planning had been outsourced to the cabal of grannies that made New Brunswick work. He could scale things back up once the game was over.
Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t disappointed in his lack of progress thus far. Grady had barely even reacted to Max’s suggestion they could raise chickens (which could easily be fed the garden slugs Grady was already trying to rid himself of). He went around humming that stupid Jonas Brothers song all the time, but if he was doing it to rub salt in the wound of Max’s failure, then he had a better poker face than Max had given him credit for. Maybe he just had a killer earworm.
The nice thing about the exhibition game was they had a good group to start with, the core of which were used to training together by now. The grannies scrounged up a handful of local-ish retired players, Jeremy, the sixteen-year-old junior, called in a couple teammates from the Q, and Amelie brought in the Canadian women’s team captain for good measure, which gave them enough players for two teams and enough big names to draw a wide audience. It took less than twenty-four hours to make the announcement. Tickets sold out in two.
