Page 13 of Tough Call

None of the guys seemed bothered by the arrangement, and before long, they’d paid their part of the bill and were putting on their coats. They all said their goodbyes and headed out, leaving Madars and me to finish at our leisure.

“You don’t have practice today like they do?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Two of our coaches don’t get in until tonight, so we have practice tomorrow morning.” He groaned. “Early tomorrow morning.”

I laughed. “Still don’t like getting up early, do you?”

“Not early enough for a seven am practice, no.”

Grimacing, I said, “Okay, that’s fair.” To be on the ice by seven, he’d need to be up by at least five just so he could eat enough to skate but not make himself sick. Given how much he’d loathed being conscious before eight when we were kids, he must’ve been thrilled.

“Well, it could be worse,” I said.

He arched an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“You could be jetlagged.”

He pursed his lips, then conceded with a nod. “That’s true. I think that’s my favorite part about playing in Europe instead of North America. I’m not jetlagged all the fucking time.”

“Ugh. Tell me about it. At least I usually stay in one region for most of the year, but sometimes I end up going to the other coast, and…” I made a face.

Madars chuckled. “The gods favor no one, eh?”

“Not in this sport, they don’t.”

We both laughed.

“Anyway, well… Sorry about…” He gestured at the empty seats where his teammates had been sitting. “We can get a bit rowdy.”

I smiled. “You’re hockey players. I wouldn’t expect any less.”

Oh, hell, that shy little laugh was going to end me.

“I guess we’re all like that, aren’t we?” he asked.

“Every last one of you.”

He shrugged as if to say eh, yeah, what can you do?

“Well, it’s just us now.” I picked up my drink. “Anything you want to do while we’re out here?”

I had to be imagining the sudden heat in his eyes when he met my gaze. I had to be. Just like I was imagining the matching flare of desire in my chest.

I quickly tamped down that imaginary flare in the same moment Madars cleared his throat, broke eye contact, and picked up his own drink.

“We, uh…” He took a quick swallow. “We could just go see the scenery. I have no idea what’s out here.”

“There’s a cathedral somewhere nearby,” I said. “And I thought I saw something about a chocolate museum.”

Madars’ eyebrows flicked up. “A chocolate museum?”

“It was on TripAdvisor.” I shrugged. “Could be fun to check out.”

Fuck me. Cathedral, chocolate museum, another bone church—I’d have gone anywhere that made him smile like that.

CHAPTER 6

MADARS