“No.”
“A pilot?”
“No.”
“A female customs agent?”
“Dude, bro, bra, Dax, you’ve been bugging me for days, stop asking!”
“Just tell me who you fucked, and I won’t have to anymore!”
Jack snorted loudly and hit the edge of the boards with his stick before stepping onto the ice. He always did that before a game. It brought good luck. Unfortunately, it didn’t shut Dax up.
“Oh, come on!”
“No.”
The Hawks fans, who were outnumbered at the Arizona Wolfs’ stadium, screamed their hearts out as the team took their first warm-up lap. Dax, however, was still talking to him over the din.
“Man, Jack! You’ve been ridiculously secretive lately. I bet you’re still seeing that woman! Where were you last night if not with the stranger?”
God, he wished it were true. He wished he had spent last night in Penny’s bed and not in a stuffy room with a stern-looking nurse who kept telling him how expensive a room in her residence was and asking a window with a garden view was really needed, in his case. A man with dementia that advanced would hardly notice if he was looking at concrete, after all.
Jack had wanted to tell her that he didn’t care about anything, that he just wanted to pay and then have nothing further to do with it. But he couldn’t. Because, damn it, he should be a better person. He owed it to himself to be a better person, no matter how hard it was.
“What don’t you understand about the phrase one-night stand, Dax? It was a one-time thing,” he growled, annoyed. “Now concentrate on the game, damn it. If we don’t win the next four, it’ll be almost impossible to make the playoffs.”
Annoyed, Dax furrowed his brow. “I’m well aware of that. And I could concentrate a lot better if you hadn’t given me that riddle!”
“What riddle?” came a voice from his right. It was Austin Fox, whose eyebrows, which were surely raised, couldn’t be seen under his helmet. “I like riddles.”
Oh, shit. The last thing Jack needed was another friend poking his nose into his business. “Not this one,” Jack answered roughly. “Because it’s about how Dax manages to keep a woman like Lucy. And he was about to go into every last sexual detail.”
Dax snorted loudly and the captain frowned.
“I don’t think anyone will ever solve that riddle,” he said, shaking his head. “We had bets on how long you two would last, but we all lost. No one gave you more than six weeks.”
Dax gave him the middle finger. “Thank you for your confidence!”
Fox shrugged, unimpressed. “I trust you on the ice. Speaking of on the ice: How about it, Dax? For once, could you refrainfrom punching every opposing player who looks at you wrong? If we get fewer penalty minutes today, we might even win the game.”
“It’s not about the looks, it’s about the words,” Dax replied, defending himself. “If someone calls Lucy a slut, they have to pay.”
“Do you know what Lucy would say to that?” Jack asked. “That you’re a chauvinistic idiot.”
Dax’s jaw tensed and Fox seemed to realize that he was about to throw another punch, so he hastily added, “It doesn’t matter. Just behave yourself. You and Charkov need to pull yourselves together today. You didn’t exactly cover yourselves in glory during the game against the Snakes last week.”
“Why are you telling us and not Jack?” Dax asked aggressively.
“Because I never have to worry about the Saint! He just beats the puck.”
Jack grinned. “It’s the truth. I have better self-control, Dax.”
“The only thing you have is my fist in your face.”
Fox sighed. “A good first step in the non-violent direction, Dax.”
Dax nodded proudly. “Thank you.”