Page 16 of Shootout
“No, it’s nothing like that,” I hedged.
His glare was murderous. “What’s it like then? Are you serious about her?”
A rookie had the guts to snicker but immediately fell silent when Wild pierced him with a glare.
“I, uh, yeah, I think so.”
“You think so?” Wild’s voice rose, and a couple guys actually stepped back. The cowards. I held my ground despite my worries about starting a physical altercation with him.
“Yeah, I…I am. I…she’s special.”
“You’re damn right, and don’t you ever forget how special she is.”
“I won’t.”
Wild accepted my response for now and faced his locker to suit up. I gasped out a breath, having been holding it too long.
“You guys met a month ago?” A guy could always count on Cave to bumble right on through something best left alone. Wild whipped back around and waited for my answer.
“Uh, we met, uh, here, actually.” I racked my brain for a plausible location and came up with a solution. “When she came out here to interview, we ran into each other at the SHAC. Both being newbies to town, we decided to explore together and things went from there.”
Wild narrowed his gaze as he considered my words. “I should’ve canceled my Hawaii plans and stayed in town. This never would’ve happened if I’d been here.”
“You two just hit it off?” Steele asked, another of my teammates known for his clueless questions. Huffing out a long breath, I dived into the murky depths of deception.
“I, uh, yeah. We spent every waking moment together.” I rubbed my chin. Steele waited for more, as did several others, including Wild. I’d hoped to stay vague. The more I embellished, the deeper I dug my own grave. I glanced around at the expectant faces.
“What about non-waking moments?” Wilcox piped up, and I wanted to smack that smugness right off his fucking face.
I shrugged. The less said about that, the better.
More questions followed, and the lies came more and more easily. I did have the gift of gab, and I succumbed to weaving a plausible story while embellishing far more than I should’ve. Thankfully, Coach interrupted us, and my tale of a fictional love life with Wild’s sister was halted for the moment.
I didn’t have a clue how I’d ever get myself out of this one with my body parts intact. I was a glutton for punishment and asking for trouble. Jessie Wilder was trouble, and unfortunately, I was no stranger to trouble by either embracing it or having it hunt me down. Regardless, I’d prided myself on being honest rather than an outright fabricator of fictional romance. I’d dug myself in deep with no way of digging out.
Why stop now?
I found Jessie in one of the other rinks and took a seat in the bleachers while she finished up. I wished I’d asked her brother what foods she hated most, then I’d take her to dinner somewhere that only served those items. I was still somewhat irritated that she’d thrown me under the bus. The whole team was talking about Jessie and me as a couple. My body ached from the countless hits I’d taken in practice from Wild.
We ended up going to the Sockeyes team hangout, the Place, and probably the safest choice.
We settled in a comfy high-backed booth. A wire-thin waitress as rough as the cracked and worn menus she carried hustled up to our table. Her all-business, take-no-prisoners expression hardened even more as recognition dawned on her lined face. She might’ve been in her late forties or early eighties. It was impossible to tell. Her name tag said Doris.
She ignored me and smiled at Jessie. “Hey, honey, what’ll you have to drink?”
Jessie tried to hide her smile at the slight but didn’t succeed. “A pitcher of whatever IPA you have on tap.”
“You’ve got it.” Without even a glance in my direction, she sauntered off.
“I don’t think she’s a fan,” Jessie snorted, and I scowled, not liking such a frosty reception, even if, by a Seattle fan’s standards, I deserved it. Seconds later, Doris was back with a pitcher and two beer mugs. She tapped her pen on a pad. “Ready to order?”
“Not yet. Can you give us a few more minutes?”
“You have all the time in the world. Him, not so much.” Once again, she was gone without ever acknowledging my presence.
“She must be a Sockeyes fan.”
Shaking off her insinuation that Sockeyes fans wouldn’t be my fans, I sat back, crossed my arms over my chest, and glowered at her. “When are you going to tell Wild this is all a prank?”
