“Ouch.” He rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked as he walked toward the kid.
“The stick hit my nuts.”
“Ohh.” Mark sucked in a breath through his teeth. “That sucks. Ringing the berries is the worst thing about hockey.”
The boy didn’t look too hurt. He wasn’t writhing in pain or anything, and Chelsea could think of a few things worse than berry-ringing pain. Like the puck hitting your face and getting your teeth knocked out.
“It really hurts.”
“I thought there was no whining in hockey,” she reminded them.
Mark scowled as if she’d said something really insensitive. “You can whine about a smashed nut.”
“Is that an actual clause in the rule book?”
“If it isn’t, it should be. Ev k sheryone knows that.” He got down on one knee beside the kid. “Are you going to be okay?”
Derek nodded. “I think so.” He sat up, and Chelsea was pretty sure if she hadn’t been standing there, the kid would have cupped himself.
“Then let’s call it a day,” Mark suggested, and helped Derek stand up.
Chelsea was certainly ready to quit. She walked back to where she’d left her shoes and dusted off the bottoms of her feet. She leaned on the stick as she slipped her feet inside her pumps.
Derek changed out of his skates and shoved them into his backpack. He handed Mark his stick and carefully climbed onto his bike. “Are you going to be okay to ride home? Do you need a ride?” Mark asked, and Derek shook his head.
“I’m all right, Coach.”
She guessed it was okay to make him ride his bike if he was exhausted. Just not with a “smashed nut.”
As Derek rode away, Mark moved toward the garage doors. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” he asked her.
“Answering your fan e-mails.” She followed him, letting her gaze travel from the back of his hat, down his neck and wide shoulders, to his tapered waist and hard butt. The man made everything look good. “Why?”
“Some of the guys are coming over to play poker tomorrow night. I thought if I wrote you out a list, you could go to the store and pick up some beer and snacks.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.” He took her stick and placed it on a shelf in front of a big gym bag. “I’ll give you some cash.” He pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and opened it. “Well, that sucks. I only have a five,” he said, and returned his wallet. “I guess that means we both go.”
She lifted a brow. “You shop? For your own groceries? Aren’t you too big a star?”
“You have me confused with one of your celebrities.” He moved to the back door and reached inside the house. He came back with a set of keys and tossed them to her. “There’s a Whole Foods down the street.”
“Are you going to backseat drive?”
“No.”
She stood her ground and refused to get into the car. “Promise?”
He raised his right hand and looked like he was flipping her off more than swearing an oath. “Not even if you sideswipe a tree and kill me.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She opened the door and slid inside. The seat was so far back, she couldn’t reach the steering wheel, let alone the pedals. “Have you been driving?”
“No.” He looked away and shut his door. “I was looking for something the other day.”
“What?”