Just then the crowd started yelling around us and I turned my attention back toward the ice, where it was supposed to be. One of the Utah players was very close to Gabe, and one of the Stampede guys was shoving him away with his stick. Then Gabe dropped down and covered the puck as the ref blew his whistle, ending play. How the hell had Gabe managed to see that puck? I had to admit, the guy was good.
And it was stupidly hot. At least the period would be over in twenty seconds and then he’d be at the other end of the ice for the second period. I didn’t feel like getting called out by Belinda for drooling again.
***
“Damn, he’s good,” Belinda confirmed over an hour later. We were five minutes into the third period, Gabe was back at our end, and he’d just stretched his entire body out like Superman to stop a puck. It’d been fired at his net three times in the lastminute, and I guessed he was done waiting for his guys to clear it out of their zone.
“He’s decent,” I replied.
She snorted.
“Fine. He’s really good.”
“One could even say, not a downgrade at all.”
I chuckled. “Roger is an idiot and what the hell was I thinking dating him?”
“Great ass?”
“Gabe’s is better.”
She barked out a laugh. “I knew you were looking.”
I rolled my eyes. “Watch the game.”
Then I focused on Gabe again. He skated side to side in his crease, scraping up some snow, then dropped back down in position, ready for the face-off that was currently taking place at the dot to his right. He’d still occasionally managed to tap the glass in front of me and shoot me a look this period. I enjoyed it more than I should. I could tell myself it was cutesy-annoying and everyone would believe that I felt that way, but it was also sweet.
Ugh. What was my problem?
***
“That game was amazing. I know it was only preseason, but I loved it. Maybe your man could get tickets for me and Jasper?” Belinda asked as we headed up the steps to the main concourse.
The Stampede had won five to two and everyone was in great spirits. I’d overheard some fans saying how good the guys had looked and how they hoped it meant they’d have a strong season.
“Already asking for favors?” I teased.
“There’s got to be some perks for friends of a WAG, right?” She had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“Oh my god, I amnota WAG.” My mom had hated that term.
“Uh, pretty sure you are.” She gestured toward my pocket. “Don’t you even have a fancy badge to get you access everywhere in here?”
“It’s just for show,” I muttered. True to his word, two tickets and two family access passes had been waiting for us at will call tonight. The man had thought of everything.
“I’m teasing you. Come on, have some fun with this.”
“I’m regretting my choices daily.”
“Tell me that again after you hang out with him tonight and end up with your tongue down his throat.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “No tongues. It’s just a ruse.”
“Uh-huh. I’m just bummed I’m going to miss the show.” She was heading home to relieve her dad since it was a school night. “You nervous about hanging out with his friends?”
“Don’t remind me.” Going to a bar and being surrounded by his teammates and their real partners was not something I was looking forward to. Would they be cliquey? Gabe swore they weren’t, but I’d been around partners of athletes, and they weren’t always friendly to newcomers. The hesitancy did make sense—some athletes went through partners quickly, and players were traded from one team to the next regularly.
“It’ll be fine. Just get a drink and listen to their stories. Only one drink though, because you have work tomorrow and dealing with our job while hungover sucks.”
