Awk-Weird (Ice Knights, #2)(35)
“I expected roses from my many admirers,” Christensen went on. “And all I got was an empty-handed poor man’s superhero.”
Petrov pulled his practice jersey over his head. “Thor’s a demigod.”
“What the fuck is a demigod?” Christensen asked. “Thor is the god of thunder, not a demigod.”
“Marvel fucked him up,” Petrov said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “He was really a warrior badass with red hair and a beard, not some blond pretty boy with space magic.”
At that, everyone in the locker room shut the fuck up. Saying that to Christiansen was like calling someone’s kid ugly. It just wasn’t done—at least not out loud.
Christensen loved two things in the world—women and Marvel movies. He had the damn things memorized, was at the first showing whenever possible, and had even made an obnoxiously big donation to a charity to get to attend a showing with a Q&A session with the cast. Even for one of his and Petrov’s usual petty bitch sessions before a game—yes, Cole wasn’t the only one with a routine—Petrov was taking it over to the more serious side of things than just letting out some game-day nerves.
“You don’t talk shit about Marvel,” Christensen said, squaring up in front of Petrov, who was pretty much his brother in all ways but blood, considering how often they bickered, bantered, and hung out to the point of being practically inseparable. “Say that again and we’re going.”
“You want to get knocked on your ass because Thor is a demigod who happens to be called the god of thunder?” Petrov took a step closer, a go-ahead-and-do-it smirk on his face. “Fine. I can make that happen.”
“Hey, Itch and Stitch, stop your usual game-day slap fight. Everyone knows Loki is the only Asgardian worth having a beer with,” Ice Knights captain Zach Blackburn said, his voice at a normal volume because he was so much of a scary badass that he didn’t need to yell. “Anyway, I want to hear more about Phillips’s new side hustle.”
Cole shrugged and started dressing for practice. “I was doing Tess a favor.”
“Were you now?” Christensen asked as he tossed an unopened bottle of water to Petrov, their practically-at-blows fight already forgotten as per usual. “How very like you to change your routine.”
Cole flipped off Christensen, who just grinned back at him.
“First she moves in and now you’re working in her flower shop,” Petrov said. “That sounds like the beginning of a dirty joke.”
He and Christensen high-fived like the pair of knuckleheads they were.
Before Cole could set them straight—maybe with a well-placed smack to the back of both their heads, mom-style—Coach Peppers stalked into the locker room holding a steaming mug that was no doubt more milk and sugar than coffee.
“If all of you are done with your knitting-circle gossip,” Coach said, staring the men down, “how about you get on the ice, because we are not going to let LA skate all over us tonight. Phillips, you ready to show me you figured out the new plays?”
“Yes, Coach.” He’d run through the moves some more last night after Tess had gone to bed, telling himself that it was all muscle memory. Once he built that, then the rest would come naturally.
Yeah, right.
“Good.” Peppers took a sip of his too-sugary-for-words concoction. “I expect to be impressed.”
And that’s just what he’d be. The pregame morning skates were usually easier affairs than a regular practice, so they’d have everything to give at game time, but Cole had something to prove, and there was nothing he loved more than a challenge.
…
Forever in Bloom was only open until noon on Mondays because they were usually so slow that it justified closing up shop and allowing Tess to take one whole glorious afternoon off. After yesterday’s viral deliveries, though, “busy” didn’t even begin to describe it. Most of the folks were lookie-loos, hoping to see Cole, but they ended up buying small arrangements, too. The high point of the day, though, was when Mrs. Evans’s great grandson, Ellis, showed up and applied for the delivery driver’s position. He was majoring in horticulture at Watson University in Harbor City and was the perfect fit. She hired him on the spot.
So when Tess finally got home—well, not home but to Cole’s house—she couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh that ended on a surprised yelp thanks to Kahn’s favorite new game called pounce that always ended with the kitten gnawing on her shoelaces.
Cole hurried out of the kitchen into the hall. “You okay?”
“Just under attack.” She scooped up Kahn, who did a face nuzzle that ended with a light bite on her chin.
“He got me, too,” Cole said. “Now he keeps eyeballing the vase on the island.”
“What vase?” If there was one thing Cole’s house did not have besides bright colors, it was knickknacks of any kind. The man’s surfaces were barren.
Cole’s cheeks flushed and ducked back into the kitchen. “Some guy selling flowers at the stoplight suckered me,” he hollered from the other room. “I figured you’d think they’d add some color to the place.”
She put a squirming Kahn down and followed Cole’s voice into the kitchen. Light streamed in through the large windows, making the stainless steel appliances glitter and warming the taupe hue on the walls. But that wasn’t what caught her eye. It was the explosion of deep-purple lilacs mixed with green and white popcorn viburnum blooms and yellow black-eyed Susans. They shouldn’t have gone together—there was a lot going on with everything fighting to be the focus—but they did.