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Since Vegas didn’t have a captain yet, the alternate captains—Rust, Tank, and Brock—rotated throughout the year, taking turns doing the ceremonial draw.
“Does that mean tonight is your turn?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he said, and there was that sneaky grin again. “Who knows?”
“Liar. It’s you and you know it. Why else would you askmeto drop the puck?”
Rust didn’t say a word. His grin just kept spreading, no matter how much he tried to corral it.
And I had afunny little feeling I knew what his big surprise was.
“Rust!” I squealed with excitement. “Are they making you captain?!”
Nowthatwould be more of a climax.
“Hmm. Maybe. You know, I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, and now Iknewhe was lying through his teeth.
“Uh-huh. Sure. You’re the world’s worst liar, you know. Just tell me! Are they making you captain?”
“Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. I guess you’ll just have to come to the game tonight and see,” he said with a chuckle.
“That means they are!” I yelled. “Aren’t they?!”
He still wouldn’t say.
“Oh, boo. You’re no fun.”
He shut the water off and slid the door open. I grabbed his towel off the rack, but I hesitated to give it to him. I swept my eyes up and down his wet, muscular body, thoroughly enjoying the eye-candy.
He chuckled, gesturing for the towel. “Hey, c’mon. Gimme that.”
“God, you’re sexy,” I said, handing it over at last. “Captain.”
He held up a finger as he toweled himself dry. “Hey now. Let’s not jinx it.”
“So there’s a chance?!” I shrieked.
He grinned. “Sorry. My lips are sealed.”
I groaned. “Fiiiiiiine.”
The rest of the day followed Rust’s normal game day routine: he came home from his pre-game skate, ate his usual pre-game steak salad, then retreated to the bedroom to take a nap with Minka.
Yes, with Minka.
Andyes, I’m jealous, because I’m not allowed in bed with him during his pre-game naps. Apparently, Minka’s a great nap buddy, because she lies next to him and immediately passes out, and the rhythm of her breathing helps him get to sleep quickly. Me, on the other hand? Well, Rust gave me a few chances, but I proved myself to be, er, kind of a distraction. Let’s just say Rust wasn’t getting a whole lot of rest during his pre-game naps whenIwas in bed with him. But really, can you blame a girl?
When Rust woke up an hour later, he kissed me goodbye and headed to the rink for the pre-game meeting, stretches, warm-ups, and everything else they have to do in the hours before the game starts.
Home alone now, it was myturn to get ready—and if I was going to be in the public eye, I wanted to lookgoodtonight.
Once it was time to go, I swung by my house and picked up April and Farrah, so we could go to the game together. I walked in and stopped dead in my tracks—April and Farrah were both ready to go, andtheyhad dressed to the nines, too, looking stunning in their dresses and heels.
“Damn, ladies!” I said. “You look hot!”
“Well, it’s not everyday you get to watch a game from a VIP club box,” Farrah said.
* * *
