“Yes, sorry. Umm…that was awful. Thanks for the whole kissing-me thing and going along with us dating. Not sure it deterred him, but next stop is a restraining order if I have to.”
“It better not come to that. Wait, has he ever hurt you?” His eyes were wide, his mouth tight. “I know it’s not my business, and feel free to tell me that, but are you afraid he would? I’ve known him for years because of hockey, though I don’t knowhim that well. He’s an asshole, but no one has mentioned violent behavior off the ice to me. Of course, that absolutely doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”
I shook my head. “No, he’s never been like that. He became more of an asshole when I broke things off, but I never feared he would hurt me.” I blew out a breath and glanced around the bar.
A few people were looking at us, and I stiffened. I hated when people looked at me over stupid shit.
“Ignore them,” he whispered.
I stepped out of his hold and immediately both missed his warmth and hated myself for wanting to sink into him. He was nice, yeah, but he was also a hockey player—and a goalie at that. Steering clear of anything to do with that sport was always in my best interest.
His hands fell to his sides, and he took a slight step back.
“Dammit, Dani. I could punch that dick right now. How dare he come in here and act like that,” Miranda said.
“It’s fine. He’s gone and I’m so done with him. I’m blocking his number right now. I thought he could be reasonable, but clearly not.” I waved my hand around in front of me. “Sorry for all this.”
“Pssh, stop. This isn’t your fault at all. He’s an asshole and now I don’t have to pretend to be nice to him if I run into him again. Good riddance.”
“You really okay, Dani?” Randy asked, and I glanced over at him. He really had looked ready to take on Roger. The bar owner was tall and lanky, and definitely smaller than Roger, but I bet Randy was scrappy, and I’m glad it hadn’t come to that. Violence, no matter how much I currently wanted to inflict it on my ex, was never a good idea. Another reason to not be a fan of hockey. Senseless violence for entertainment was never warranted when real life had too much of it.
“Yeah, I’m good. Promise. But I think it’s time for me to head home.” I gave both of my friends a smile and faced Gabe again.
He was waiting patiently and hadn’t tried to interject what I should and shouldn’t do about Roger. He just listened. It was… nice.
Okay, stop right now.
“Sorry I got you mixed up in all of this. I hope it’s not an issue when you play against him, although I’m sure you can handle him. Uh, thanks for the kiss and all.”
“Uh, no problem. Anytime. I mean, not anytime, like you want to kiss me again or something.”
“Okay, this is just weird,” I muttered. “Let’s forget all of this happened.”
He looked pinched for a minute before his expression was neutral. “Yep, makes sense. But, uh, I can’t really because we’re playing against him next week.”
I tilted my head back and took in a breath. Just my dumb luck that I would ask another hockey player to fake-kiss me—except that, yeah, it wasn’t a fake kiss.
No shuddering, dammit.
“Maybe he won’t bring it up,” I muttered.
“After that kiss? Oh, you better believe he will,” Miranda said, grinning.
I was exponentially regretting that kiss. Well, maybe not completely. It had been amazing.
Not the point.
“How about I just say that we’re dating if he asks me within the next few weeks? Then, after that, I’ll say we broke up,” Gabe said.
“Seems reasonable.” Miranda smirked.
“Dammit, this is going to come back and bite me in the ass, isn’t it?” I dropped my forehead to my hand. “Wait, you probably have social media, don’t you? He’s going to look us up.”
“Eh, it’s possible. I don’t really have a huge following though. Pucks’s is larger.”
“Pucks?”
He grinned. And it was fucking adorable.
