Risking the Shot (Stick Side #4) - Amy Aislin Page 0,8

school. Until we started taking orders from friends and family, and then friends of friends. It sort of snowballed from there.”

“Did you ever want to make it into a full-time thing?” It had to be hard, juggling a full-time job with the Foundation, a four-year-old, and a side gig.

Dakota stared into his glass. “Once upon a time.”

Tay ran his thumb over the raised lettering on the business card. Was that how the business had gotten its name?

“But then life happened. I got married. Moved here. Had a kid. Got divorced. Making sure Andy had stability was the most important thing.”

“Moved here from where?”

“Halifax.”

“Is that where you’re from?” Tay asked. “Is your family still there?”

“Calder’s here and Owen’s in Vermont, but my parents and other brothers are still there, yes.”

“Brothers? Plural?”

“There’s five of us. I’m the eldest. And you? Any siblings?”

Tay’s mouth pulled down. “Two older sisters.”

A short pause where the music changed again. Dakota said, “You’re not close, I take it.”

“Ah.” Tay jerked a shoulder in an awkward shrug and glanced away. “Not really.” He turned the business card around and around in his hand. “My sisters are . . .” Poised. Elegant. Intelligent. “Older.” Although they probably weren’t that much older than Dakota. “They don’t get me. And it created a wall between us. I don’t know, maybe it’s the age difference.”

“Owen and I are eleven years apart, and of all of us, he’s the one I’m closest to.”

“How come?”

“Our entire family’s close.” Dakota scratched his jaw. Tay followed the movement of his hand, enjoying how the scratching sound of his evening scruff against his nails made his belly tingle. “When I got old enough to drive, I started taking him to games and practices. It gave us a lot of time together and we . . . I don’t know. Bonded, I guess. It helped me get to know him. Made me realize that because he was smaller and younger, it didn’t mean he didn’t know what he wanted. Because he did and it took him all the way to the NHL.”

Had Tay’s sisters ever tried to get to know him instead of assuming they knew best what he needed? Not really. It was all “You should think about what you’re going to do after hockey, Tay. Here’s a university catalog.” And, “I don’t think you should get your own condo. What if you get traded?” And, “Are you sure you’re bisexual? You’ve only ever brought women home.”

Family get-togethers were a study in patience.

His parents were amazing. They’d always been behind him, one hundred percent, and constantly put a stop to his sisters’ teasing when he was a kid. Now that he was older, he’d expected their words not to affect him as much. Unfortunately, such was not the case. Why was it so hard for them to see him as an equal? Why didn’t they understand how hard he’d worked and how many sacrifices he’d made to get to the NHL? Maybe it was because they’d never played sports, focusing on academics instead.

Shaking his head, he started to ask Dakota if he had plans to move back home, when the sight of Dakota’s lips closing over the rim of his glass caused his mind to flare and blank.

So. Maybe not so good at multitasking then. At least not when it came to Dakota.

Clearing his throat, he said, “What are you drinking?”

“Oban 14. Scotch,” Dakota added at Tay’s questioning look.

“Smells good.” The scent had been wafting in his direction since he first sat down, strong and vaguely smoky, peaty. It reminded him of Dakota for reasons he couldn’t name.

Scooting forward on the bench, their knees touching, he said, “Can I try it?”

Dakota’s gaze caught his, gray and shadowy and searching. Tay held it, refusing to break eye contact. Let Dakota see how attracted he was to him. Dakota must already know anyway. What was the point of holding back? Tay wanted Dakota and he wasn’t shying away from it.

Without looking away, Dakota leaned forward, bringing their faces within inches of each other. Dakota’s soft breath whispered across Tay’s lips, making his own breath catch. Holding his glass out, Dakota still didn’t look away as Tay brought it to his mouth, placing his lips over the outline of Dakota’s on the glass.

Dakota didn’t miss it, his smile turning knowing. The heat in Tay’s blood had nothing to do with the scotch.

Which, in itself, was . . . “Holy fuck, this is good.” Strong and smoky, yes—even the taste reminded