You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey #2) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,65
bit of pink food coloring. “I could also eat the bowl of this.” I swipe a big glob of frosting onto my finger and pop it into my mouth. “So good.”
I have to take a break for the cupcakes to cool when they’re out of the oven, so I send Josh a picture of me licking frosting off my finger trying to look sexy but probably just looking dorky, then work on emails for a while. Emails kill me; I try to stay on top of them, but man, they just never end.
Josh texts back a string of flame emojis. Then he messages, I wrote another poem for you.
My eyes widen with delight. Send it!
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I wait for the next lines, bouncing in my seat and smiling.
I’m using my hand
But I’m thinking of you.
I fall back in my chair, cackling. I message him back. I love it. Thank you.
I’d love to lick that frosting off you. Everywhere.
I may have to make more…
That’s an exciting fantasy. Holy hotness. For a moment I’m lost in daydreams of naked Josh licking me all over…
Then I get back to my cupcakes and my camera. “Okay, I’ve never used one of these.” I hold up the piping bag, making a face. “Wish me luck.”
I have a few less-than-perfect results. I hold up a lopsided creation. “This is not good. But it’ll still taste good. Because let this be a lesson to us…don’t judge a cupcake by its frosting. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?”
By the last few that I frost, they look better. “Hey, I’m getting good at this! Look at this one!” I pick up another cupcake. “This is perfect! Except…not quite done yet.”
I grab the sprinkles I bought earlier, pink and white and sparkly, and I scatter a few across each cupcake. “Okay, these aren’t your perfect Insta cupcakes, but hey, they have wine in them!”
I take a big bite of one of the defective ones, letting the icing smear over my upper lip. “Yep. Definitely taste good!” I give the camera a thumbs-up.
Okay! I’ll put that all together and edit it…tomorrow. Shit. It’s Friday and I promised Connor and Eli I’d go out with them. I’d rather stay home and watch the hockey game and edit my video, but…I should go out.
Chapter 21
Josh
We’re not practicing Saturday after we get back, but we’re watching game video at the practice facility, and I’m going to work out while I’m there. The only times I’ve been to the Westchester County facility, I’ve been a passenger. Today I’m going to drive myself and hopefully I don’t get lost.
The state-of-the-art facility has tiered rooms with high-back theater-style seats for watching video. We go over a bunch of tape from last night’s game in Philadelphia and the game the night before in Montreal. I cringe in my seat when watching a couple of power plays where I’m on the ice with Bergie, JBo, Brando, and Millsy when Millsy completely misses a rebound.
“Okay,” Coach says, the video paused. “The play starts high in the middle of the zone…here. Josh takes a shot from the point through a double screen. When the puck is high, you want the player in the middle”—he gestures at JBo—“and the player in front of the net slightly staggered. With that and their penalty killers, the goalie has no hope of seeing the puck. Hit the net and play the rebounds.”
He goes on and reviews other stuff, and I relax a little. Until he tells me he wants to see me in his office after the meeting.
Great.
I trudge in there and slide the door shut. Taking a seat, I try not to fidget.
Coach meets my eyes. “What’s up with you and Easton?”
I swallow. “Um, what do you mean?”
He narrows his eyes at me. Weirdly, this reminds me of my dad when I was a kid. He never let me get away with shit, and I could never lie to him. “You know what I mean.”
I rub my face and sigh. “Okay. But honestly, I don’t know how to answer that.”
“I know your history.”
I nod slowly. Of course he does.
“You’d think that being involved in a tragedy like that would bond a couple of guys. A shared experience no one else has ever gone through.”
“You’d think,” I say, with a touch of bitterness. “But not always, I guess. Some guys don’t care about the others who were involved. They only care about themselves and their own career.”