Beer League, as we called it.
“Ay Boss,” BillyThe Bull, called as he shouldered his bag and snagged his beer. “Always looking out for your favorite team.”
“Eh, I’d hardly call the Net Crashers my favorite.” I grimaced with a smirk, drying a glass from the sanitizer tray.
“Yeah, sure,” Slick Sam walked up behind him, picking up his can, “But we all know Sam’s your man.”
“Oh, fuck all the way off,” Mitch,The Brick, slapped the back of his head with his beefy hand. “We know Boss is sweet onSunshine.”
My cheeks reddened as I hid behind the counter, just as the overly charismatic firefighter in question—ElliotSunshine Torres—showed up.
Was I sweet for Elliot? No. That’d be weird. We couldn’t be more different. I was a black cat, for fuck’s sake. Sarcasm was my love language, sass and dry humor were my fallbacks, and I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I felt as bright and optimistic as Elliot was daily. He was the coffee mug guru, for Pete’s sake. He was perfect.
The man oozed freakishly happy vibes.
I oozed day-old coffee and fatigue.
Opposites.
Did that stop my stupid stomach from getting butterflies every time he winked at me? Also no.
“Hey Boss,” Elliot said with his pretty-boy smile, “Cheer loud for me tonight.”
Rick, their honorary captain and the father of the entire rink, chuckled from his seat, giving me a knowing eye as he cut in. “She might, though I’m not sure you have what it takes to handle all of Frankie, Sunshine. She might have better luck annoyingSawinto smiling with her sass.”
Insert blush number two for the night. Damn it, it was only eight p.m.
TravisThe SawHayes followed his best friend Elliot to the bar for his drink. And once again, I peeked out from behind my wayward bangs to watch the two men—polar opposites—existing in the same space in their weird yin-and-yang way.
Travis stood six and a half feet tall, and nearly as wide, covered in dark-tanned skin from working outside at construction sites every day, with tattoos running up and down his hands and arms. He never smiled unless he was slamming some poor son of a bitch into the boards or celebrating another victory with his buddies. And that stare—the one that held mine like a silent movie, captivating me with no words until I was lost on the other side of it.
Damn.
Elliot, on the other hand, was—well, Mr. Sunshine.
Tall, lean, with ripped and defined muscles under his tight shirts that hugged his biceps like another layer of skin, full of smiles, charisma, and witty one-liners to entertain even the surliest of beasts that he skated circles around for fun.
Yet, they were two peas in a very odd pod.
Teammates on the Net Crashers, the best beer league team on this side of—well, I wasn’t sure. There weren’t many stats fortheir league, but they were pretty good around these parts in sleepy little Cedar Bluff, Wisconsin.
I didn’t dare make eye contact with Travis as he picked up his beer, but I could feel his stare. That was the thing about him, he was just so damn intense.
Everything he did felt monumental.
Which was why I kept my eyes down as the rest of the team grabbed their superstitious beers and disappeared into the locker room before their practice.
I had no business getting wrapped up in a headfirst tailspin over the big, surly attack dog, or his golden retriever bestie.
Life was complicated enough as a single mom, living next door to my mom in our sleepy hometown, slinging beers at the skating rink while simultaneously finishing a degree in business management.
Twelve years ago, when I left my small hometown, I had stars in my eyes, watching the world pass by from the back seat of a motorcycle, ready to take it on.
And all I got in return was heartache and bruised dreams.
“Hey Boss.” Rick’s voice pulled me from the stack of glasses I’d been zoning out over, lost in the what-ifs and has-beens and everything in between.
“Yeah?” I looked up at him and found that thoughtful, knowing look in his eyes.
