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Maverick nods in response. “You didn’t have to get up from the table. I just…” He crosses his arms and exhales hard. “I didn’t want to go out with the guys, knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so…thought I’d come watch you play.”
I don’t even consider telling him I’m going to another casino to keep playing. Instead, I nod toward the cashier’s booth.
“I need to cash out, but after that do you want to go somewhere and eat?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” He eyes my stack and arches a brow. “At least one of us played well tonight.”
“You need ice cream.”
“I do?”
I nod. “My dad always got me two scoops of mint chocolate chip when I had a bad day. I know a place.”
He smiles, his deep blue eyes flickering with warmth. We walk over to the cashier’s booth together, and since the line is short, we’re done within five minutes.
“So,” I say, moving the strap of my crossbody bag over my head so it rests against my hip as we walk. “Tell me about it.”
Chapter Nine
Maverick
“I’m always hungry after a game.”
Gia listens patiently as I tell her about the game while I inhale two cheesesteak sandwiches from a deli, and then we walk to a little ice cream shop just off the Strip.
“This whole time I’ve been worried my leg wouldn’t hold up, but my leg is fine. It’s my game that sucks,” I say as we wait in line, sounding dejected. “I don’t know. I guess it was the mental part that kicked my ass tonight. And that fucking sucks, because that part is completely within my control.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t lose that game alone,” she reminds me. “Just like you don’t win them alone. Wasn’t this the first time you guys played a game together?”
I shrug. “All of us have been playing long enough that it really shouldn’t matter.”
We get to the front of the line, where she orders two scoops of mint chocolate chip. I get a banana split, and Gia shakes her head when the enormous dessert is placed in front of me.
“Must be nice to eat whatever you want and not gain any weight,” she says, sarcasm coating her words.
“I’ll share. You want to taste my nuts?”
The cashier I’m handing money over to laughs, but Gia says, “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Come on, look at the girth of this banana,” I say as we slide into a booth for two. “My banana is much bigger than average.”
She arches her brows and smiles. “Just go ahead and get the jokes about the whipped cream and cherry out of the way now, would you?”
“This cherry?” I pick up the cherry garnishing the top of the sundae by the stem. “Young lady, this cherry is no laughing matter. I plan to take my time with this cherry. I’ll lick and suck it for at least an hour, maybe longer.”
“Uh-huh. Well, at least you won’t be able to talk while you’re doing that.”
I open my mouth wide and lower the cherry onto my tongue, dramatically plucking the fruit from its stem with my lips. “Mmm, delicious cherry. I can’t get enough.”
“I bet you can’t,” Gia says, an edge in her tone.
“Hey, I’m not that kind of guy.”
She shrugs. “I’m not judging. If hockey allows you to eat and screw more than the average person, more power to you.”
“Eating, yes. We burn a shit ton of calories. But honestly, my schedule’s not very conducive to dating and relationships.”
“Who said anything about dating and relationships?”
She looks cute in her purple sleeveless shirt, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. And despite her outward disinterest, I think she likes me as much as I like her.
“Gia, are you trying to get me into bed?” I quip.
She laughs, a hearty, truly amused sound that makes me smile in return.
“Not at all. You’re the opposite of what I need, Maverick. I’m just saying, I’m sure you can get women anytime you want.”
“Doesn’t mean I want them. I like women with—”
“Let me guess,” she interrupts. “With spunk—all over their faces.”
“Oh, she’s a comedian, folks. She’s got the jokes.” I meet her gaze across the table and feel a flicker of something pass between us.
A brief, yet powerful spark. A moment without sarcasm or deflecting humor. Just two people connecting and feeling an honest longing for each other. As soon as Gia looks back down at her ice cream, I want the moment back.
“I think it does matter,” she says as she scoops up a bite of ice cream.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Back in line, you said it doesn’t matter that you and your teammates have never played a game together. But it has to matter.”
I nod, considering her words as I take a bite of my dessert.
“I guess it matters a little bit,” I admit.
“Hockey is a team sport, right?”
