Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance by Kate Willoughby (reading a book .txt) 📕

“Thanks. It’s got some really nifty features like this big touchscreen. There are heaters for the seats and the steering wheel but the coolest part is the doors come off.”

“You’re joking.”

“I am not. It’s too cold right now, but you can take the doors off and enjoy more of the fresh air while you drive than you ever thought you could. I like your hat, by the way.”

“And I like yours.”

Along with khaki pants and a white shirt, he was sporting a leather fedora that made him look pretty damned sexy.

“Yeah?” He ran his fingers along the brim. “This hat was my Indiana Jones costume from a couple of years ago, minus the whip. After we talked this afternoon, I decided I can damn well wear a hat every day if I want to. Apparently, you did too.”

He grinned at me.

“Well, if I’m honest, my roommate made me wear it. She made me change my whole outfit because apparently I looked like a nun.”

He glanced at me. “Wait. You were going to wear a Halloween costume too?”

I laughed. “No, never mind.”

As he drove along University Place, I looked over at him and wondered how I’d gotten so lucky. I was going out with Mr. Hockey McHottie. Maybe it was that manifestation thing in action. I’d read an article once about how to make miracles happen in your life by thinking about what you want down to the last detail and opening yourself up to the universe giving you what you want. The trick was not to just sit back and wait. You had to be aware of opportunities and grab them. Obviously, since I’d actively fantasized about him, I had that first part down pat. As far as grabbing the opportunities? I’d asked him to be my project partner, so damn. I was turning out to be the master of my own fate.

Now all I had to do was manifest him all the way into my bed. Because I was pretty sure sex with him wouldn’t suck, even if it was my first time.

We exited the campus and headed toward Burlington. He had a five o’clock shadow that was super sexy. I’d always been a sucker for a five o'clock shadow.

“So who’s the new team captain?” I asked.

“Well…I am.”

“You don’t look very happy about it.”

He frowned. “Is it that obvious? I’m sorry. It’s just…something happened right after the election. I was put into a lose-lose situation and now AJ hates me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. What happened?”

He told me how AJ had teased someone who was also up for captain and how he’d stepped in and made AJ apologize.

“Yikes. If it means anything, I think you did the right thing.”

“Really? Because I’ve been second-guessing myself ever since. I could have taken AJ and Jonathan aside and resolved it privately. I could have just made a brief statement and not gone down the ‘apologize now’ route…”

“Hindsight is 20/20. What’s done is done. Hopefully AJ will come around. It sucks when your roommate is pissed at you.”

When he parked in front of Tito’s Wood Fired Pizza, I gave him a look.

“What?” he asked. “You don’t like pizza?”

“No, I love pizza. It’s just…my parents own a pizzeria in Brattleboro. It’s called Slice of Heaven.”

“Oh shit. I had no idea. We can go somewhere else, if you want.”

“No, it’s totally okay. We can eat here,” I said. “I could really go for a deep-dish pie anyway. We don’t serve deep-dish at Slice. Do they have deep-dish here?”

“I’ve never ordered it, but I know they do.”

The restaurant’s interior was warm and toasty and I immediately took my jacket off. They had wooden tables with iron accents and multicolored chairs that looked institutional yet cool at the same time.

I inhaled the familiar but tantalizing aromas of tomato sauce, basil and oregano, garlic, sizzling cheese and beer. We got a table right away. I sat with my back to the wall and Hudson faced me. The walls were large brown tiles and two huge chalkboards on opposite walls displayed the menu.

“Pick out whatever you want. I’m easy,” he said. “Are you twenty-one?”

When I nodded, he pulled two beers out of his coat pockets.

“Hudson, ah, what are you doing?” I glanced around to see if any of the wait staff was watching him produce beverages from his clothing.

He grinned, a lock of his blond hair dipping down over his forehead. “Don’t worry. This place is BYOB, one of the main reasons I like coming here. But their pizza is good too.”

He popped the tops and handed me one. It said Saucer Pass IPA on it. The label reminded me of an old-time sci-fi movie poster in that there was a UFO in the night sky, but on closer inspection, I saw it was a hockey puck.

He took a pull from his beer and I couldn’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Call me crazy, but the sight was so sexy, I had to cross my legs.

We went with the Detroit Triple Threat—bacon, sausage, pepperoni—and were told that because it was a deep-dish, it would take a little longer. Someone brought us a small bucket of ice to chill the two more IPAs Hudson had brought.

“If the pizza has a thick, fluffy crust and a lot of cheese bark, it’ll be worth the wait,” I said.

“Cheese bark?” Hudson asked.

“Yeah, it’s that cheese that adheres to the side of the pan and gets all crispy in the oven. It’s the best part of deep-dish.” I patted his hand. “Stick with me, kid, and you’ll know all the pizza lingo in no time.”

“So, why do your parents not serve deep-dish? Are they anti-cheese bark?”

“Kind of. My dad is, anyway. He just loves the traditional Neapolitan crust. He claims it’s easier to tell the difference between a superior pizza and a substandard one when it has a traditional hand-tossed crust. I do have to agree with him, but man, once in a while I just crave