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“What guy?”
“The one we just saw on the ice, O’Malley. Finally, you decided to quit dicking around and show us how it’s done.”
Vadim Petrov, the Rebels captain, sent a slit-eyed gaze his way. “I heard you had a guest at the game.”
“Three guests,” Kershaw said as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head. “His ex, his new girl, and the new girl’s kid. You don’t half make it complicated for yourself, but whatever it takes to make you play better, Mr. Fuckin’ Drama.”
Dex hadn’t expected to see Tara, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. After her advice about how he needed to treat Ashley like a queen, which had resulted in a mad scramble to get the whole experience organized—tickets, limo, hot dogs—he suspected Tara would be nosy enough to get involved. There she was, hopefully talking him up and not reminding Ashley too much of Dex 1.0, the guy who needed a fake relationship and a volunteer gig at the puppy shelter to get him out of hot water.
Having Ashley in his corner had a positive impact on his game. He felt like he was skating for something other than points or glory or the cheers of the crowd. Sure, he craved all that, but having someone special in the stands made a difference.
It reminded him of when Anton would come see his games when Dex played at the University of Minnesota. Everyone had parents, family, tons of friends who took those seats and tickets for granted. Dex didn’t have that, but when Anton showed his face, he wasn’t so alone.
It had been a while since he’d even wanted to invite anyone.
Seeing Ashley and Willa—and okay, Tara—had cracked open something inside his chest. It felt gooey in there, as sticky as molten lava cake. He liked having Ashley up there. He liked scoring goals. And he liked the admiration of his teammates, even if they wanted to make up some weird correlation between his guests and his play.
“Something clicked tonight. That’s all. For once, Durand Senior’s passes were quality.”
Reid scowled, ever the grump. “There’s nothing wrong with my passes. Finally, you were in the right place when I sent one your way. Not sure why it took having a woman in your life to make you play better.”
“That’s not it, dammit—I play just fine, with or without a woman in my life.”
Foreman chuckled. “It’s okay, O’Malley. We all do better with a good woman—or man—warming our beds. Happy dick, happy stick.”
“Not sure that’s how it goes,” Gunnar said. “But the sentiment isn’t off. Your life is stable, you play better.” He took a hard look at Dex. “Let’s hope this isn’t a one-off and that your woman remains a good influence on you.”
“She’s not my woman. She’s just a … friend.”
That set them off.
“A friend?”
“Poor O’Malley, already in the friend zone!”
“This friend’s benefits better be you playing like you’re supposed to …”
And so on.
He shook his head, half-annoyed by their assumption that his troublemaking ways led to a lack of focus. Perhaps there was a smidge of truth to that, but just because he liked seeing those lovely green eyes shining back at him from four rows back didn’t mean he was suddenly … fuck … reliable.
And then Ashley walked in and every argument he had for her not being his woman fell apart in the face of her smile.
“Dex, you were amazing!” Willa threw her arms around him, crushing on the hip bruise he’d acquired during a particularly vigorous check in the last period, then peered up. “I loved that move you did with the—” Instead of verbalizing it, she made a few mad cuts in the air with an imaginary hockey stick. “So cool.”
“Hey, thanks, Sparkle. I’m so glad you guys made it.”
“And the limo? They had Skittles in there. Like tons of them.”
He raised his eyes to meet the smiling gaze of Ashley. “I think they do that for all their customers.”
“Really?” Willa sounded skeptical. “Mom said you knew I liked them.”
“Did she? She’s such a gossip.”
That made Ashley laugh, and Tara—who was also present, because she was a meddler—gave a saucy wink.
“You alright?” he asked his stylist and friend.
