Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance, Jami Davenport [best reads txt] 📗

my own bed, I’d go over the past twenty-four-plus hours again and examine everything in minute detail. Right now, I had other worries. Such as whether or not to tell Patrick about my deal with Coach Garf.

Even as I debated, I realized with a bit of a shock that I wasn’t going to tell him. We never kept secrets from each other. He even knew about my crush on Naomi, but I don’t think he realized how bad I had it and probably thought it was old news. He’d left her off his conquest list because of it.

This thing with Coach was personal, and I didn’t know if he’d take it well or read something different into my desire to up my game. I’d always had his back on the ice, and this possible change in our status might be perceived as a threat. Even worse, he might laugh it off and deflate my severely deflated ego all the more.

My brother wasn’t cruel. He was a great guy, but sometimes his confidence in his abilities caused him to unintentionally say something hurtful. Like the time he was telling a scout how he was the better, more-talented player of the two of us. He didn’t mean to rip out my heart with his words, but he did. In fact, both he and our dad told me not to expect to be drafted in the first couple rounds. Yet I had been, I reminded myself.

“Hey, Omi,” Tate shouted from down the table and interrupted my musing. I stiffened. The entire team knew Naomi because of her father, an alumnus of the Bulls and a huge contributor to the hockey program. We were all in awe of him. Sometimes he’d show up at practice and give us pointers and took a special interest in Patrick. Naomi was also a staple at hockey games, which she often attended with her dad.

I didn’t have to turn around to know she was walking toward us. I felt her presence as she closed the distance between our table and the door.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully, and the guys all responded with waves or greetings. I, however, did not until I caught the puzzled sideways glance from my brother. He was already suspicious.

I turned in my chair and offered her a blazing smile. “Oh, hi, Omi. Didn’t see you there,” I gushed, overdoing it and drawing more attention from Patrick.

She ignored everyone else at the table with a laser focus on me. I squirmed a little, wishing she’d quit staring at me like that. We’d seen each other naked, and I struggled to return to the friend zone when I wanted so much more. When you’d tasted paradise, how did you go back to mac and cheese? I fingered the crystal under my T-shirt in a last-ditch attempt to bolster my chakra or energy or whatever.

“Pax, could we talk for a moment? I need some help with a small problem I have.”

“Uh, sure.” I stood, grabbed my beer for a little liquid courage, and followed her to a remote table as my brother’s gaze bored into my back.

5

Regrets

Naomi

On Sunday evening, I found Paxton at the Biscuit in the Basket. He sat with a few teammates at the large table in the middle of the room.

He’d ignored my multiple text messages all day long. I’d been left with no choice but to hunt him down. I’d checked the Biscuit multiple times during the day and finally hit pay dirt late afternoon.

We had to talk. I had to make sure things were okay between us. Paxton was one of my dearest friends, and we had to get through this mess with our friendship intact. I was my father’s daughter in that I tended to push things in the direction I wanted them to go, while Paxton was more deliberate and thoughtful when it came to his actions. I’d given him all day to think; now it was my turn.

He avoided my gaze as he pushed back his chair, grabbing his beer. “Be right back, guys.”

Most of his teammates barely noticed, with their attention focused on a game on one of the overhead flat-screens, except Patrick. I saw the wheels spinning in his head. He knew something was up. Maybe Pax had told him about my epic blunder. God, I hoped not.

Paxton followed me to a table away from prying eyes and sat across from me. He focused his attention on his beer glass as if he’d never seen one before. I clasped my hands under the table, wishing I had a beer, but the thought made my stomach rebel after all I’d consumed last night.

“Did you tell Patrick?” I asked.

His head shot up, and he met my gaze with surprise. “Fuck no.”

“Then why is he staring at us like that?”

Paxton glanced over his shoulder. Patrick rubbed his chin and studied us, trying to figure shit out.

“Because he senses a disturbance in the twin connection.”

I laughed, but it was a hollow, empty laugh.

“Naomi, your secret is safe with me. We were drunk. We said shit— Okay, I said shit I didn’t mean. We had sex. That’s it. Nothing else. I know how you feel about my brother, and I would never do anything to damage your chances with him.”

“Okay, good, I mean…” I trailed off. What did I mean? I hadn’t intended this conversation to revolve around Patrick. I wanted to talk about us, what last night did to us. Paxton was my best guy friend, and I hoped I hadn’t irreparably fucked that up. I’d come on to him, made him an offer no guy would refuse, and then made it clear I’d mistaken him for Patrick. How did friends get beyond such a thing?

I didn’t know, but I had to try.

“I didn’t come here to talk about Patrick. I came because I don’t want what happened to ruin our friendship. You’re too important to me.”

Why hadn’t I ever noticed what a strong chin he had? Patrick had this