Delayed Penalty (Crossing the Line, #1)(42)

"Ready?" she asked, taking my hand and twirling it so it was hooked into her arm.

We were two rows back from the glass and right on center ice behind the Blackhawks bench. It felt like we would be in the action all night.

We settled in our seats next to two older gentleman, who appeared to be rooted in their seats, discussing the playoff potential of the teams.

"So this is your first game?" Callie asked, casually taking her flask from her bra and pouring what smelled like whiskey into her 7-Up bottle.

"Yeah." I watched her every move, and then she offered me the flask. I shook my head.

"Well, you're in for good night." She beamed at me. "These boys put on a good show at the United Center."

"It seems like it." A group of diehard fans a few rows over were all decked out in Blackhawk jerseys, painted faces, and beads.

I had never been to a hockey game before, nor did I know a damn thing about the game or the players. If you had said to me, "Hey, there's a hockey player." I would have looked for the guy with missing teeth. Evan Masen was never what I expected.

"Evan said you just moved here in November. Where are you from?"

"I'm from a small town in Oregon…Lebanon."

Callie nodded. She had no idea where that was. "I'm from here. Born and raised in Chicago."

"So have you always been a Blackhawks fan?"

"Yep." Callie gave another nod before taking a drink of her beer. "Been coming to the games since I was just a kid. My dad is a broadcaster." She gave an uninterested roll of her eyes to the glass high above the United Center where the press were.

A guy two rows behind us yelled Callie's name, apparently she knew him, and they talked for a few minutes. When they finished, she rolled her eyes. "His parents are *s."

"He seemed nice," I offered, laughing at how laid back she was. I was feeling at home with her and could see myself being friends with her.

"Yeah, he is nice. His parents are still *s, though." She gazed back at him for a minute. "His looks make up for it."

"He's…attractive." He was. It wasn't a lie. Not really my type, but he was cute.

"Killer body, yes, but his face would be better if it was framed by my thighs." Callie sighed.

"Do you know all the players with the Blackhawks?"

"Yeah, I know the starting four lines pretty well." She winked. "Some better than others. I know Leo, Remy, Travis, Cage and Evan. All good guys."

"So what's Evan like?" I enjoyed getting this answer from different people and was relieved to know they all had the same response.

"Evan is…well, he's an all heart type of guy." I knew that from his mom. "He'll stand up for his friends, but since I've known him, he hasn't really been outgoing like Leo. He's much more quiet and content with keeping to himself, eerie quiet sometimes. You'll never see him offering up interviews, and the media is lucky if they can get him to talk. He's a homebody. His first season in the NHL he spent a lot of time flying home to see his family. His only problem is women these days. They see him like a shiny prize, but he's far from that. He'd rather stay in the shadows."

That I could understand. Hell, I didn't even know he was a hockey player for the longest time.

"Oh," I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable that Callie knew him so well.

"Are you friends with Leo?"

"Yeah, and Remy, too. We all hang out quite a bit. I've been with both on a few drunken occasions." Callie chewed on her lip for a minute. "It's not like I had a relationship with either though. Remy isn't that type of guy, and Leo, well, we're too much alike. I'm afraid we would kill each other. He pisses me off sometimes."

The screams of those around us intensified as the players came on to the ice forming two circles on either side of the rink, one a mass of red, black, and white, the other white and blue. I looked out over the ice to where the players were now taking turns shooting pucks at the net. With the heavy pads and plastic masks over their faces, it was hard to tell who was who.

"The size of the skate doesn't match up with that one." Callie said, as if there was nothing wrong with dishing details on the team. She pointed to Colby Bentz, the guy skating past the glass with his stick raised over his head in what appeared to be some sort of stretch. "And that one, she pointed to number twenty-two with the name Gains on his jersey. "He's a biter."

"A biter?"

"Yeah, little f*cker bit the inside of my thigh one night, and it looked like someone had suction cupped my thigh." Her eyes lifted from the action on the ice to mine. "The worst part was I had a vag appointment the next day. My gyno got a good look at the bite mark on the inside of my thigh. I'll never touch Tyler again."

"What did your doctor say?" I whispered, amused that she was talking about this.

Callie waved her hand around, spilling her drink on the kid in front of us, as if this wasn't embarrassing to talk about. "She doesn't judge me."

"Mase has been distracted lately," a man in front of us said. "His head isn't in it."

Callie shifted in her seat, her hips pushed forward, and she kneed the man in the back. "Oh, sorry," she said, clearly not sorry.