Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance by Jami Davenport (classic novels to read .txt) 📕

by Coach Garf’s faith in me and Naomi’s presence. Her presence inspired me, and that blow job last night didn’t hurt. I skated that much harder to impress her, wanting her to see I was every bit as good as Patrick in more ways than one.

I even slanted a few looks her way and did catch her staring at one point, giving me an even bigger boost. We hadn’t had a chance to talk about what was going on between us, and part of me avoided that conversation. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

A few minutes into the third period, Patrick and I took to the bench after our shift.

He slanted me an odd look. “You’re playing differently.”

I shrugged.

“I mean what’s up?” He wasn’t altogether comfortable with my increased aggressiveness. I’d taken a few shots I’d have normally passed to him. I got that. My play messed with our twin mojo, and we weren’t reading each other like we normally did.

“Just trying to help us win.” I turned away from him to shout encouragement to Lex, who streaked down the ice after he’d stolen the puck.

Lex scored. The bench rose as one, pounding our sticks on the boards. The score was tied. Except for a few perplexed glances, Patrick didn’t say anything else about how I was playing.

With a few minutes left, I was on the ice with my line, and we desperately wanted to put this game away. Patrick had the puck and passed to me. It was one of those plays we’d done a thousand times. He’d pass to me. I’d give the impression I was going to shoot, then flip it right back to him, and he’d shoot. Only this time, I didn’t pass to him. I saw an opening in the goalie’s stance, and I lasered one toward the net. The puck hit the top of his pads and bounced in for a score.

A minute later, the final buzzer sounded, and we won. My teammates flooded the ice with backslaps and shouts of victory. I clambered over the boards to celebrate.

Patrick grabbed my arm and spun me around. At first his expression was almost angry, then he grinned.

“Great shot, bro.”

“Thanks,” I shouted over the din.

We headed for the locker room, but not before I caught Naomi’s smiling face near the entrance to the tunnel.

“Good game,” she said and winked.

I winked back, hope filling me with joy. I had a shot at Naomi, and that felt better than scoring the winning goal.

We were staying in the hotel tonight and would make the three-hour drive tomorrow morning to our next game. I was always starved after a game and looked forward to the huge food buffet the hotel set up for the team after our away games.

I showered and dressed, feeling cocky, as if I had the world at my fingertips. I walked out into the hallway to wait for the bus with the rest of the team, scanning the crowd for Naomi.

Her dad, Gene Smith, held court several feet away, surrounded by many of our players, including my brother. In fact, Patrick stood next to Smith as if he were the heir apparent to the throne. Judging by the attention Mr. Smith was showering on him, he probably was.

Coach Garf and Coach Keller were the last to arrive as we milled around.

“Guys!” Keller clapped his hands together to get our attention. “Mr. Smith has generously offered to buy everyone dinner tonight. We’ll be walking down the block to Milano’s Pizza, where we’ll have the run of the entire restaurant.”

The crowd cheered, and I went along, even though I’d prefer the buffet with more choices.

“That means no beer,” Tate said in my ear.

“Yeah,” I said, distracted by my brother and Naomi. They were deep in conversation, and he was making her laugh. The hopefulness drained out of me. Tate’s eyes flicked to them and back to me.

“Your brother is making a move on her.”

“He makes a move on anyone who’s female and still breathing.” My words came out with more bitterness than I’d intended.

Tate’s brow shot upward. “Did I hit a sore spot?”

“No, not at all.” I snuck another glance in Naomi’s direction. She leaned into my brother and gazed up at him with those big gray eyes. Jealousy wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed hard.

“You’re wearing your emotions on your face. You might want to tone it down if you don’t want the entire team to know your secret.”

I snapped my head back to Tate. “It’s that obvious?”

“Only if you’re looking. The good thing is I’m the only one who was.”

“I’m so fucked,” I muttered.

“Ask her out before your brother does.”

“She doesn’t want to date me. She wants Patrick. Look at her.” Misery washed over me. After last night, I’d thought we had a chance, but now… She’d been toying with me until she got what she really wanted.

“What I see is someone who’s playing the game for her dad’s benefit, but she keeps stealing glances in your direction.”

“She does?” I forced my gaze to stay on Tate. I wouldn’t be caught ogling her again. Horror of all horrors to have my brother catch me. Hope soared inside me, and I tamped it down with a fresh dose of skepticism.

Tate didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at a spot below my chin.

“Is something wrong?” I wondered if I had food on my shirt or something.

“Garfunkle got to you, didn’t he?”

“Huh?” The shift in conversation caught me off guard. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Tate pointed at the crystal hanging around my neck and then pointed to one of his own.

“Oh, that. Yeah, he did.”

Tate chuckled.

Our group shifted and moved as one toward the double doors leading out of the arena. I hung back. Lex fell into step beside me.

“Great shot at the end of the game. I’ve always admired your slapshot.”

“Thanks,” I said. Most of my good feelings about the game had faded after watching Patrick hustle Naomi. I hung back, reluctant to subject myself to