Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(47)
Kingston: What are you wearing?
Ellie: Clothes. You?
Kingston: Nothing.
Ellie: I’ve heard you like to do that. In case you weren’t aware, they gossip about you in the locker room.
Kingston: Do they now? What do they say?
Ellie: That you’re a pretty decent kisser.
Kingston: Decent? That’s not what I heard.
Ellie: What did you hear?
Kingston: I think the word they usually use is phenomenal.
Ellie: Well, I’m no expert.
Kingston: But you could be.
Ellie: I hear it requires practice to become an expert at something. Lots and lots of practice.
Kingston: You know, I heard that, too. We could form a study group. Just the two of us.
Ellie: Yeah?
Kingston: Yes. And I think we should probably get right to it.
Ellie: Not easy to do when you’re on the road.
Kingston: But I’ll be back on Friday.
Ellie: Friday night study group? Sounds like something the cool kids would turn their nose up at.
Kingston: Yeah, well. The cool kids don’t know shit.
14
Ellie
Tuesday, October 18th
“Come on! You’ve got to be kidding me!” I yell at the giant television mounted on the wall, pausing as I take a beer over to table three. I turn to the group of guys sitting at the table. “Did you see that crap? He deliberately tripped him. And they called the penalty on us.”
The guys laugh, as they’ve been doing all night. Yes, I know I can get irate when the game doesn’t go my way. But this game has been bullshit. A whole slew of bad calls, all on the Arrows. Hell, we’re racking up the penalty minutes left and right.
Normally, I don’t mind the penalties. My brother informed me long ago that many of the penalties are necessary. In order to impact the way a game is going, changes have to occur. Sometimes the slightest shift will change the momentum. Then again, he also said that sometimes the penalties are necessary to avoid letting the opponent score.
Whatever.
I’m cool with all that, but not if the refs seem to have it in for my team.
“Hey, someone let her know we’re winning!”
I smile, peering around to find the person attached to the voice. “Yeah, we are!”
A round of yelling sounds, and just like that, I’m smiling again.
Somehow, I manage to get a few drink orders filled, but my attention is continuously drawn to the big-screen television mounted over the bar. There are a dozen other televisions spaced throughout, most of them broadcasting the Arrows game tonight. The bar is filled with Arrows fans, and this is the shit I love. It’s like being at a game with your neighbors.
“Come on, Mount Rushmore!” someone hollers.
On the screen, I watch as Kingston dives and shifts, covering the goal so perfectly. I’m instantly reminded of that kiss we shared. God, the man is so damn sexy. I’ve always thought so, but now … after that kiss … I can’t stop looking at him.
While on his knees, Kingston lifts his glove and grabs the puck in midair, bringing it down to the ice and holding it there. The whistle blows and the play is stopped. I release a breath.
“He’s kickin’ ass,” someone at the bar says.
“That he is,” I reply, turning around and grabbing a glass. He’s a completely different goalie than at the end of last season. He’s confident and it’s f*cking beautiful.
“And your brother doesn’t look too shabby, either.”
I laugh. “I’d say he’s doing all right.”
“Doesn’t Rush’s brother play for Colorado?”
I nod. “He does. First line, right wing. Number fourteen.”
I grab a bottle of Bailey’s and the butterscotch schnapps.
“Rumor is you’re dating Mount Rushmore. That true?”
I look up into the face of the man sitting across from where I stand. I have no way to gauge whether he’s a reporter or not, but in the past couple of days, I’ve had a few questions tossed my way regarding my relationship with Kingston. I have no interest in talking about it. That wasn’t the deal, so I shrug. “I prefer not to talk about my personal life.”
“Got it.”
Okay, clearly not a reporter.
“Not sure why she’d date that *. I hear he beats on women.”
The snide remark came from my left. I opt not to acknowledge it, but the rage starts bubbling in my veins almost immediately. If Noelle were here, she would’ve blasted the * right out of the bar, but I try to keep the peace.
“Ignore that shit,” the guy in front of me says.
I offer him a smile but say nothing.
“See, she doesn’t even deny it.”
This time I lift my head and make eye contact with the * running his mouth.
“You’re more than welcome to take your business elsewhere,” I say smoothly, trying to rein in my temper.
The guy lifts his beer. “I’m good right here.”
Swallowing hard, I return my attention to making drinks. The game is back on, and I turn around to watch the television. It’s down to the last three minutes of regulation, and the Arrows have held it at two to one.
The group starts getting louder as the minutes play out. Colorado brings some heat down on Kingston, but he holds his own. There is so much pride in my chest I think I might explode.