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“Wait! Can you call during the intermission at least?” he pleads.
“Goodbye, Gramps.”
“Mackenzie!”
I disconnect, because I have my orders from his nursing team. My stomach is rumbling so I head down to one of the concession stalls, the smell of hotdogs making it do little flips of excitement.
When I was a kid, I spent my life dreaming about that smell. It was the only good thing about watching hockey. I’d stuff my change into the little Minnie Mouse purse my mom had brought home for me when she was skating for Disney, and then I’d wait until the whole family was shouting at the players before hopping off to buy myself the biggest, most delicious dog covered in onions and sauce and mustard. It was my idea of heaven.
Until the day Isabella told me I was getting a little bit pudgy.
That memory makes me feel sad as I reach the front of the line. Maybe I should head out and grab a salad instead. But then I see the line of dogs slowly rolling down the grill and I can’t resist buying one and smothering it with mustard.
As soon as I bite into it I can’t help but groan. It’s that good. Yeah, the hot dog stands in New York are great, but this is something else.
I use my pass to get back into the staff area. Ahead of me is the locker room. I walk resolutely past it, kind of in a trance because of the goodness of the dog. That’s why I don’t notice Goran until I almost bump into him. He’s wearing just his underclothes – the thermals that will be topped off by his gear.
“Hey.” He glances at the dog. “That looks good.”
“It’s great,” I tell him. I think I might be addicted. I swallow down the last bite and try not to groan again. Maybe game days won’t be so bad after all.
“You have mustard on your mouth,” he says. Then he reaches out to slide his finger along my bottom lip. His bright blue eyes catch mine and for the first time I’m wondering if what Eli said is true.
Does Goran have a crush on me? I’m old enough to be his mom. Well okay, his much older sister at least.
His finger lingers on my lip and then the locker room door opens and of course Eli has to walk out at the exact moment he’s touching me.
His brows knit as he sees me and realizes that Goran and I are standing way too close.
“Team talk,” he tells Goran.
I step back too late. And then Goran does the most idiotic thing imaginable.
He licks the mustard off his fingers.
Eli’s face turns red. Shit shit shit.
“I should go,” I say, because I have no idea how to make this look better. “Good luck with the game.”
“Thanks.” Goran smiles and it doesn’t help. But he can’t see Eli’s face, which is probably a good thing right now. I turn on my heel and walk back to the door that I came through. I’ll find another way up to the exec box.
Or watch the game on the television in my office. That might be the better choice.
I don’t look back as I press the unlock button and grab the handle.
But I can still feel the heat of Eli’s stare as he watched Goran lick his fingers. And the feeling of mortification as it washes over me.
* * *
ELI
Nobody says a word as we walk into the locker room at intermission. We’re a goal down and haven’t been getting any chances at all. The team all grabs a drink, pulls their tops off, sit down heavily on the benches, and I’m still trying to work out what to say to make them play better.
Everything we practiced has been forgotten. They look like a freshman team in high school. I’m pissed but I need to be able to bring them all together somehow.
Max looks more pissed than I am. And I don’t blame him. The defense has been sloppy and he’s had to save more pucks than he should. He’s also let two go past him.
But he’s pretty much the only one that isn’t playing below his potential.
