Emery
Tonight’sthe youth hockey’s charity game in town, and I’m so excited that I get to see Graham back on the ice. A few weeks have passed since our wedding, and we spent our honeymoon exactly where we belonged. With our girls and his Ma. It didn’t stop Graham from getting me alone, and inside me every chance he got. Since we were here, Graham decided to be a part of the game at the last minute. Isomehowdragged Allie here with me. I may have promised her a nacho and a big beer to get her here. She says that hockey as a sport isn’t her thing, but hockey players are so…
Here we are.
“God, I see practicallyeveryoneI went to high school with. Goodie.” She groans, slinking down farther in her seat, trying to hide her face.
I laugh. “What, you don’t want to catch up with old friends?”
Her expression is one of mock horror, and I laugh again, clutching my stomach.
“Gross. No. I do my best to stay to myself and not relive the disaster that was high school. Look, over there is Dakota Allen, All-Star Quarterback. The guy every girl, including the teachers, wanted to take behind the bleachers.”
She points toward a tall guy with sandy blond hair, wearing an old letterman jacket and a pair of dark jeans. He’s built like a quarterback with wide, hulking shoulders. He looks like he spends the majority of his time in the gym.
“When I got my period for the first time in seventh grade, and had it on my jeans, he made fun of me in front of everyone and called me, ‘Carrie,’ for the rest of the day.”
“That’s awful.”
“He’s awful.” She sighs, pulling the worn ball cap down farther over her face, like it will do anything to hide her. “I mean, not that I even think about him, I’m just saying my experiences with the people I went to school with are less than pleasant. Of course, he married the homecoming queen, and completed their cliche little life.”
Her eyes scan his body as she speaks, and I get the feeling that there might be a little more to this than she’s willing to admit.
“They were always a shitshow, fighting in public, her hitting him.” Allie shivers, shaking her head. “Anyway, there’s a horror story from my childhood. Your turn.”
“I grew up with Reed Davidson for a brother, you do the math on that one.” I laugh.
Growing up with Reed for a big brother wasn’t all bad. But he put ‘protective’ in the word ‘overprotective,’ and if a guy got caught as much as looking at me, he’d end up with a black eye.
“Needless to say, I wasn’t on anyone’s radar. Not unless they wanted to deal with Reed. Kinda funny how things happened, me ending up with his best friend and him with Holland. Ooh, it’s starting!”
We spend the next thirty minutes, our eyes glued to the ice as the game gets underway. Kind of surprising how competitive these guys are. I wasn’t expecting it, not in the least.
“Wow, I think that’s Lane. He’s Graham’s friend and the town sheriff now. He’s kinda hot,” Allie says, her eyes widening when one of the guys from the opposing team is slammed against the boards, rattling our seats by the guy in question.
Hmm.
Graham spots me in our seats shortly after and winks, blowing me a kiss that I catch.
I love seeing him on the ice, in his element. If you've ever been with a guy who plays hockey, then you know there’s nothing sexier than seeing your man in action. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Graham play. Moving with precision, and masculine grace.
“How about I get us drinks?” Allie asks, pulling the ball cap lower on her head again, shielding her eyes. “I’m going to need a beer and definitely some nachos with extra cheese to make it through this.”
“I cansotell that you and Graham are related, you know? The drama.”
Grinning, she says, “Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.” She stands and makes her way down the row, leaving me alone.
My eyes stay glued to the ice, watching as the guys fly back and forth from one side of the rink to the other. I didn’t expect a charity game to be so intense.
I love it.
I mean, I am… well, I was a Davidson. Hockey runs in my blood. Once a fan, always a fan. And I am a fan of my husband, through and through.
The commentator calls out Graham’s name when he makes a play, and a group of girls next to me begin cheering, drawing my attention to them. There are only a few seats separating us.
“God, he is so dreamy.”
They aren’t bothering to say it quietly, and I can’t help but overhear their conversation.