Caged (Gold Hockey #11) - Elise Faber Page 0,68
“I . . .”
“Long day?” Brit asked.
She dropped her hand. “You have no idea.”
Brit’s brown eyes twinkled. “I will neither confirm nor deny any ideas held.”
Dani stuck her hand out. “Just give it to me, already. I don’t want Ethan’s mission to mess up your routine.”
“Who said anything about Ethan?”
“Brit,” she warned.
The tall blond moved toward her. “I’ve never seen you growly,” she teased. “If it’s because of the aforementioned certain yummy, bearded man, then I say it’s a good look on you.”
“You have your own scruffy, bearded man,” Dani muttered, lifting her hand.
One brow went up. “And so I should keep my hands off yours?”
Dani felt her cheeks warm. Thank God, her skin didn’t reveal her blush. “I didn’t say that.”
The second brow joined the first. “It was implied.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Brit pointed at the monitors. “Should we go to the tape?”
“You’re not funny.” A beat. “No, go get ready to make all sorts of pretty saves I’m going to chop up into awesome bite-sized replays.”
“For the record, I like you with attitude.” She squeezed Dani’s shoulder, turned away.
“What about the bag?” Dani asked when Brit started to leave with it.
“Who said it was for you?” A teasing question, but before Dani could start sputtering, embarrassment flooding forward to take hold, Brit plunked the bag down. “Ethan’s a good guy,” she said. “Love him. It’ll be good for you both.”
Then she was gone, the door clicking closed behind her.
“I’m trying to love him,” Dani muttered, tossing her hands up. “If only the damned man would stop avoiding me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ethan
“She seemed like she wanted to murder me,” Brit said, strolling into the locker room and plunking her ass onto the bench next to him. “I’m assuming you know what you’re doing?”
“Mad is better than running screaming for the hills,” he replied, picking up his skate and checking his laces, his edges.
Brit paused, head tilting from side to side as she considered that. “Okay, you may be smarter than I anticipated.”
He punched her on the shoulder.
Not lightly, because she didn’t appreciate her teammates going easy on her. But also not hard, because she was his goalie, and he needed those arms in fighting shape for the game.
She scowled. “Ow.”
“Liar.”
A beatific smile. “That’s true.” She clapped her hands together. “What was in my bag?”
He knew what she meant without needing her to clarify. He hadn’t told any of his “assistants”—as Kevin had termed them when he’d asked his friend’s advice for winning over Dani—what was in the packages, and thankfully they were nosy enough to just be happy about being part of the process, not needing to know every detail.
But Ethan had known that wouldn’t last.
And sure enough, Brit had that look. The one that told him she wasn’t going to let this drop, not until he gave her the dirty details.
He picked up the other skate, studied the edge, making Brit wait because he thought it was funny as hell that she was impatiently wiggling like a puppy on the bench next to him, curiosity threatening to make her burst.
Just before she got to that point, he set down the skate, turned to her, and said, “A bag.”
Her brows formed a little V on her forehead. “That’s cheating. I already know I gave her the bag.”
He chuckled. “No, Brit. The present was a bag.”
Her face screwed up. “Just to confirm, what was inside that cute turquoise bag was, in fact, another bag.”
His lips twitched. “Yup.”
“A fancy bag?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
More screwing up. “What kind of bag?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged out of his shirt, slipped into the skintight one he wore under his gear. “One of those ones with the opening at the top and the straps.”
“A tote bag?”
“Yup. That sounds right.” He unbuttoned his pants, shoved them down, and pulled on his jock.
“You had me deliver a tote bag.”
“Yup.”
“Just a tote bag?” she asked. “Without gold straps, and it wasn’t filled with diamonds or chocolate or anything, right?”
“No gold. No chocolate. No diamonds. Just a bag.”
“Brit! Stop snooping, and get your ass in gear!” Max yelled from across the room.
She scowled, jabbed a finger in his direction. “I can’t believe everyone else got to deliver cool things, and I gave her a lame tote bag.”
“She needed something to hold all the cool things,” he pointed out. “And also, the bag had a badger on it.”
More V-deepening in her brow. “A badger?”
“Because she’s fierce.” He smiled, didn’t share that it was also because she had a badger tattooed on her foot,