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The dude tugged his hood back and lifted his chin at a competitive angle. He assessed Ronan to see which of them had the upper hand on the steal-the-woman versus keep-the-woman meter.
Dude had no clue.
The guy did a double take. “Ronan Stromkin. Dude, that game last week, epic.” He drew out the epic and yanked out his mobile phone and tapped on the screen. “Can I get a selfie?”
If he stopped eyeing his date…companion. Grrr, where had that slipup come from? Ronan looked at the fan. “Sure.”
This was the type of situation where Ronan’s dates got weird. Some women hated having to share him, while some women loved the attention, until they realized none was on them. Never simple, it always resulted in his having to make it up to them.
Calista smiled. “I’ll grab a table. Will you get me a coffee?”
Ronan nodded, and she left him for a corner spot.
The dude threw his arm over Ronan’s shoulder and held up his camera. As happened with this type of event, the one guy’s actions drew the eyes of everyone in line. That, combined with the fact that last week’s game had been a blowout, led to Ronan doing a meet-and-greet with what seemed like every co-ed in the coffee shop.
The good thing with hockey, was that in their heavy gear and face shields, Ronan could mostly go around without being recognized, but not tonight. Was Calista going to be pissed this was taking so long? Fair play, most dates would be. They wanted to go out with a hockey star, then hated the drawbacks of fame, not to mention his demanding travel schedule.
Date? Why did he keep thinking that word?
This was not a date, Calista was the new owner. She was probably thrilled he was chatting with the fans. Or she was annoyed. He’d find out, and he’d handle her either way. He finally got their two coffees, tipped the barista, and joined Calista at the corner table.
Calista had rested her forehead on her arms, and she didn’t look up at him.
Clear enough, she fell in the angry companion category. Ronan could handle a sulky woman. He squatted beside her. Was she going to ream him out in a whisper? Play passive aggressive and not look him in the eye? She might technically own seventy percent of his career, but he was no pushover. “Calista?” His voice was firm.
Calista shifted, softly grumbled, but didn’t move.
Sulkier than most.
