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"So you agreed to keep an eye on me for the fun of it?" I blink at him. "There's no way you're that bored."
He laughs quietly, rolling to a stop at the light outside the arena. "I'm not bored at all. But he's a friend and I know how important you are to him."
"Well, that's kind of a letdown," I mutter, making him laugh again. "You don't even have useful dirt on him that I can use against him later." I glance at him curiously. "Does he have any on you?"
"Nah," he says, pulling into the parking lot of the arena. "I'm very well-behaved."
"Right," I snort, not believing that for a minute. "I bet your teammates have all kinds of dirt on you." I smile at the prospect. "Huh. Being dragged here against my will is starting to look promising."
"Don't believe anything they tell you," he says, pulling into a spot at the back of the arena. There are a few other vehicles already in the lot. "Especially not the big one."
"The big one? Uh, have you looked at the roster lately? You're all big, Noah."
"I'm talking about Atlas. He's insane."
"That's basically a prerequisite for being a goalie," I remind him. Nash tells me stories about the goalies all the time. As far as I can tell, they're all crazy. I think it's because they spend so much time in the goal with nothing to do but talk to themselves.
"He's the reason I have a tattoo on my ass."
I stop in the act of unbuckling my seatbelt. "What?"
"It's a long story."
"I've got time."
"He wanted Mexican food, which he can apparently only get in actual Mexico," Noah says. "Don't ask me why because I don't know. So he dragged my ass down the Nuevo Laredo on our first weekend off. Tequila is fucking stronger there. A lot stronger."
I burst into laughter. "Tequila is not stronger in Mexico, Noah."
"It is if you drink enough of it," he mutters. "We drank way too goddamn much of it. The next thing I know, I'm at the hotel, staring at a hockey puck tattooed on my ass."
I laugh so hard I can't breathe. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as I try to picture him trying to figure out what happened.
"It's not funny. The damn thing says Get Pucked."
"No, it doesn't."
"It does."
"Stop," I wheeze, pretty sure I'm going to die if I don't breathe soon. "Oh my God. I'm telling everyone."
He growls, reaching over the console to drag me into his arms.
"I will spank your gorgeous ass if you tell a soul," he vows, but he's smiling so the threat isn't very effective. It's even less effective since I kind of like the thought of him spanking me. "You're taking that secret to the grave, baby."
"Maybe," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck. I pull him down toward me, eager to feel his lips against mine again. I might be addicted to his kisses. Who am I kidding? I think I'm addicted to him. He's slipped seamlessly into my life, turning it upside down and inside out.
He's changing me in ways I didn't expect. It's profound and subtle at the same time. I feel more like me than I think I ever have before. I'm less alone than I have been in two years, but I feel more in control of my future than ever. As if some part of me instinctively knows that he's what led me here. This is what I was running toward.
"Fuck," he groans, breaking the kiss. "How am I supposed to practice when you've got my dick hard as a rock?"
I press my lips to his ear, getting as close to him as possible. "Think about the tattoo on your ass," I whisper reaching for the door handle. "That should take care of the problem."
He growls and lunges for me, but I throw myself out of the truck, laughing.
Noah's teammates are chaotic good. It's the only way to describe them. They're loud and boisterous, spending as much time giving each other grief as they do actually practicing. It's fascinating to watch, though.
I haven't been to a hockey practice in a long time. Nash stopped letting me attend when he went into the AHL. He said he didn't want me growing up around a bunch of rowdy hockey players. I think he was worried that some of the younger players would try to flirt with me or something. I'm not entirely sure. Some of the youngest guys are barely out of high school. They're still just kids.
