Page 3 of Three Hockey Hotties

I need to keep her with me. And I need to help her with whatever she needs.

“Come on. Let’s go see if we can find your group.”

The fact that she lets me tug her through the doorway and into the back hallway of the arena makes a strange surge of heat go through me.

I’m not particularly possessive about women. I typically don’t date women long enough to feel like they ‘belong’ to me or like they’re even, what I would call a girlfriend, if I’m honest. I have a good time, and then I say goodbye, always making sure it’s amicable and that they have great memories. And they will say nice things about me when they talk about me in the future. But long-term is two or three months. Benjamin calls them flings. He also says he doesn’t judge me for them, but he’s lying.

I’m not really sure what the difference is between what he does and what I do, except his last longer. We’re both monogamous with the women we date. He just sticks with one for several months—one was almost a year—where mine are a lot shorter, and I try to avoid major holidays.

I look down at the woman walking next to me and I suddenly want to buy her birthday, Valentine’s Day, and Christmas gifts.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Abby,” she says. “Abigail. But my friends call me Abby.”

“Then I definitely want to call you Abby. Until I can come up with a nickname anyway,” I tell her.

She looks up at me, almost startled. “You’re going to come up with a nickname for me?”

“For sure. A sweet pet name. Something only I’ll call you,” I tell her.

I still don’t get a smile. She simply seems confused.

“Why would you do that?” she asks.

“Because I like the idea of having something that’s just for the two of us,” I tell her. “Like when we’re out on dates. Or when I’m texting you. Or when we’re at a charity event.” I give her a wink. “It’ll make you feel special, and make sure all the other men around know that we’re more than friends.”

She trips slightly, over nothing, and my hand shoots out to cup her elbow again. I am very grateful for whatever made her stumble. My hand was itching to touch her. I don’t let go once she’s steady, and she doesn’t pull away.

“You make it sound like we’re going to see each other again,” she says. She’s not looking at me, but when I glance down, her cheeks are pink again.

That’s becoming my favorite color.

And I think again about where else I’ll find sweet pink…

I clear my throat. “Oh, we’re definitely going to see each other again.”

She seems to be concentrating on the floor, possibly to keep from tripping again, but I sense it’s actually to avoid looking at me.

So she’s a little shy.

That’s not a problem. My best friend, Dash, comes off the same way. Introverted, a man of few words. Quiet and a little awkward doesn’t intimidate me. And Abby will make Dash feel very comfortable. He sometimes gets annoyed by women who are too bold and flirtatious, especially the ones who are overly enamored with hockey players.

I am also not surprised or bothered by the idea that I’m thinking of my best friend and his reaction to Abby or my presumption that they will meet.

Abby is going to be around. Dash and Benjamin are the two most important people in my life. Of course they’re all going to meet. And of course they’re going to get along.

“Are you asking me out?” Abby finally asks softly.

Yeah, she’s sweet. That doesn’t seem like a flirtatious question. It’s just a question. One that’s almost befuddled by the idea. And how does she not know that I’m definitely flirting?

“I guess I said it as a statement didn’t I,” I say. I stop right before the doors that will lead out into the main part of the arena. “Would you consider going out with me sometime?”

She looks up at me, those big blue eyes sucking all the oxygen out of my lungs. “I don’t know. I don’t really date.”

“I’m really happy to hear that.”

Her brows arch. “You are?”