From Fling to Ring: A Hockey Romance (The San Francisco Aftershocks)

Chapter 20

TYLER

Lucy comes downfrom her spot in the stands and greets me with a smile, and damn if she isn’t adorable, with a scarf thing tied in her curly blonde hair. I give her a quick kiss on the lips. No need to further fuel the craziness of the kids.

“Hey, what’s that you’re wearing?” I ask, pointing.

I can see she has a hockey jersey on, I can’t tell which one, but with her down puffer over it, it makes her look like she’s ready for a trek to the North Pole.

She unzips her jacket and opens it, beaming broadly.

I try to catch myself, but I’m not fast enough. She totally sees me wince.

“What?” she asks.

“That’s not my jersey.”

She frowns. “What do you mean? Why was it in your drawer with a bunch of other shirts?”

“Lucy, this is from another team, a Canadian one. Did you not happen to notice it doesn’t say Aftershocks anywhere on it? Nor does it have my number, twenty-seven?”

“Oh. Oh,” she says, pinching the shirt at her waist and pulling it out to get a look at it. “Well then, what is this?” she asks, pointing at the logo on the front.

“That’s for the team whose jersey it is. Their logo.”

She crinkles her nose. “I thought it was… I don’t know, like a corporate sponsor or something.”

“Nope. It’s another team.”

She’s still confused. “What are you doing with a shirt that’s not your team’s?” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “Did you steal it?” she asks quietly.

My headache officially touches down and I make a note to find an aspirin, stat. “No, Lucy, I did not steal another team’s jersey. Sometimes after a game, the guys swap shirts.”

I can nearly see the thoughts spinning through her mind. “Sooo… I wore the wrong team’s jersey, is what it boils down to, huh?”

She’s so defeated, I wish I’d kept my big mouth shut.

She pulls her puffer back on and zips it up to her chin. “I… I thought would be nice to show up here to watch you with the kids in one of your jerseys.”

And… I’ve embarrassed the hell out of her.

Now that I’m past my initial surprise, I think the whole thing is cute as hell. In fact, I can’t keep the smile off my face.

She nudges me hard. “Don’t laugh at me, jerk.”

That does it. I burst out laughing, catching the attention of anyone who happens to be left in the rink. Lucy tries to scowl but ends up joining me.

“I’ll never forget the day Lucy showed up in the wrong team jersey,” I announce to no one, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to me. “Oh, babe, don’t worry about it. It’s fucking hilarious.”

Jesus. That sounds like long-term kind of thinking. I need to scale back on the enthusiasm.

“Ty, can I see to you for a sec?” Lawson calls my way. “I gotta talk to you about the schedule.”

I look at Lucy, who’s still shaking her head. “Be right back, okay?”

I leave my gloves and stick with Lucy, and skate across the ice toward Lawson. We go over dates for my next appearance with the kids. I know he’d like me to come help out as often as possible, but my schedule just doesn’t allow it, especially during the season.

When everything’s settled, I return to Lucy. She has my hockey stick across her lap.

“Look. I cleaned off all the old tape!”

She holds it up proudly, pointing to the now-bare handle and blade.

Holy shit. She didn’t.

Be cool. Just be cool.

“What?” she asks. “What’s wrong now?”

I consider saying nothing, but it’s too late for that. I am usually a good poker face, but this one got away from me.

“It’s just that I put that tape on earlier today for the demonstration with the kids. I usually keep it on for a few practices. It takes me a while to get it just how I like it. I’m very particular.”

Her eyes widen, and a pink blush floods her pretty face. “Oh my God…”

She looks at the little scraps of tape she picked off, crumpled into a tidy ball on the bench next to her. She picks it up and studies it like she might be able to unroll it and rewrap my stick.

“So the tape is supposed to be on there,” she says meekly. “Guess I’m batting a thousand today, huh?”

I take the puck from her and stuff the tape into my pocket. “You’re doing fine. And by the way, batting a thousand is a metaphor for a different sport. Not hockey.”

She exhales loudly. “I know it’s the wrong sport. Of course. And how do you say batting a thousand in hockey speak?”

“You don’t. Hey, let’s go get you some skates. We’ll take a couple laps around the rink.”

She crinkles her face. “Oh, I don’t know.”

Ah. She’s one of those. I’m not discouraged, though. I’ve gotten people to skate before who could barely chew gum and walk at the same time.

I extend my hand. “C’mon. You’ve got to at least try.”

She ignores my hand and shakes her head. “I’ve ice skated a couple times back when they had a rink up in Lake Tahoe. I don’t need to try it again.”

“C’mon. I’d really like you to take a couple laps with me. Please?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

She looks over her shoulder at the ice, perhaps assessing whether it’s a deadly as she’s thinking.

“Why not, Lucy?”

“I… I’ve never been good at sports. I have all the finesse of a baby giraffe.”

I take her chin in my hand and turn her to me. “I really don’t appreciate your insulting baby giraffes.”

Trying to suppress a smile, she gives me one of the best stink-eyes I’ve ever seen. “You don’t give up easy, do you?”

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if I did.”

She play-slaps my arm and looks over at the ice again like it’s boiling lava. “Are you always this encouraging with beginners?”

“Only the snarling ones.”

She rolls her eyes. “I guess it’s just really cold water. Only really slippery,” she says quietly.

“Yes, Lucy, that’s literally what ice is. Now, what is your shoe size? I’m gonna run and get you some skates.”

She purses her lips. “Eight,” she says after a moment, like she’s waiting for me to give up.

Like that’s gonna happen.

I rush off before she changes her mind, even though I haven’t yet actually gotten her to yes, and return with some rental skates that have definitely seen better days. But hell, it’s not like she’s going to be doing spins.

I kneel in front of her and pull off her sneakers. “Help me out a little. Slide your foot in here.”

She sighs and cooperates, and in a minute, I’ve got her laced up and ready to go. I take her hand and she wobbles over the rubber floor to the ice. I step over the threshold and take both her hands as she gingerly steps over it and onto the ice.

She squeezes her eyes shut like she’s terrified, and I wonder for a moment if maybe I pushed her too hard. But the fact is, she’s going to be fine.

“Hey, baby,” I say, “if you don’t open your eyes, you won’t be able to see where you’re going.”

She opens an eye and looks around, then slowly opens the other like the smartass that she is. “Fine. They’re open. Now I will be able to see what happens in the last moments of my life.”

And I thought my dad was dramatic.

I inch back a little until she skates forward so she can get the feel of the ice. “Lean toward me a little. Okay, now bend your knees a little and push off with your toe.”

She follows my instructions just enough force to propel herself another couple inches. Her eyes widen. “That was cool!”

“And… you’re still alive.”

I skate backwards, pulling her, and in seconds, we’re slowly making our way down the length of the ice.

Slowly.

With a shriek, she stumbles, of course, because that’s what everyone does when they’re learning.

“You know, this is just ice, not a minefield.”

“Easy for you to say. You were practically born with blades attached to your feet. The scariest thing I’ve ever worn are four-inch heels.”

I pick up our speed, so slowly I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even notice. But I do. Her blonde curls swing and bounce in the breeze we’re creating and I really, really wish my hands were free so I could take a picture.

“Four-inch heels sound a lot scarier to me than ice skates.”

“I get that. I suppose they can be just as deadly.”

I let go of one of her hands and move next to her so we can skate side-by-side. At first, she looks at me with horror, like I am completely abandoning her, but when she realizes she’s able to remain upright, she relaxes. Somewhat.

“Look, you’re dating a hockey player. You must know that at some point you are expected to spend some time on the ice.”

She looks over at me with a smirk. “Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”

Ugh. The ninety-day expiration nags in the back of my mind, but I push it away. I’ll deal with that mess later.

I let go of her hand and switch sides to give her a feel for being on her own. “I guess you could say we’re banging, but that’s not really used in polite company.”

“Is that what you and your manly teammates call it? Banging?”

Oh God. Does she know something?

No. No way.

“We never use that term. It’s never once been muttered in an Aftershocks locker room or any other gathering. I can assure you.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches to play slap me and boom, falls right on her knee.

Shit.

I hoist her up. “Come on. This is enough for one day.”

“Ow, damn, that hurts,” she says, favoring her injured knee.

“I know. Believe me, I know. Let’s get you an icepack.”

I guide her off the ice and remove her skates. We change into our street shoes, and I help her walk. She’s limping a little, but it doesn’t seem bad.

“The ice is in here,” I say, opening the door to a small closet.

She follows me in and I take a pack from the freezer. I turn to hand it to her and when I do, she’s right there, her face turned up to mine. She runs her fingertips through my beard scruff and pulls me down for a kiss.

The ice pack clatters to the ground and I pull her into my arms. She’s warm thanks to her overkill puffer, but her nose is cold and everything about her is so cute and sexy?—”

“Ew. MOM!”

Some kid has pulled the door open and caught us kissing, and is clearly not impressed.

“MOM, SOME PEOPLE ARE MAKING SEX IN THE CLOSET!”

I grab the ice pack off the ground and realize this is the same kid who got in trouble for trying to chip up the ice. I take Lucy’s hand and we exit the closet, leaving the kid still calling for his mother.

As soon as we hit the rink parking lot, we double over laughing.

“Tyler, we were making sex in the closet!” Lucy snorts.

We stumble into my Escalade before some indignant mom comes after us screaming about our indecent behavior.

Lucy catches her breath. “Where are we going?”

“In-N-Out Burger down in Fisherman’s Wharf.”

She claps her hands like a happy little kid. “Yippee. But I thought you weren’t supposed to eat that stuff all the time.”

I shrug. “I’m not. Will you keep my secret?”

“If you promise to keep bringing me to In-N-Out, I’ll keep your secret forever.”