It bounced off the right side of the goal and into the net, lighting up the lamp.
The crowd roared and Trick raised his stick in triumph, more shocked than anything because it had happened so damn fast. They did a quick celebration, then reset. It felt good to be up by a goal that quickly, but there was a lot of time left to play.
Detroit scored two minutes later, tying the game. Shit.
After fighting it out for another few minutes, they came off the ice for a break, and Litman and Sayers took over. It was hard not to be out there, but these guys were just as good. And when Detroit took the puck down to their end, the Travelers defenders kept them from scoring, even though Trick held his breath the entire time. Fortunately, Litman scored for the Travelers, and they could all breathe again. But going up one goal just wasn’t enough.
When he and Drew made their way back onto the ice, he was determined they were going to score again. A little too determined, maybe, because he got called on a cross-checking penalty and had to sit in the box, giving Detroit a power play.
Goddamnit. Stupid move on his part. He’d wanted to play clean, not give Detroit an advantage. He divided his time between watching the clock and his teammates, hoping like hell Detroit didn’t score on his penalty.
He knew his guys, knew they could hold them, but Detroit played tough and they spent nearly the entire two minutes playing at the Travelers’ end of the ice. When Kozlow shot the puck to the Detroit end with only fifteen seconds left in Trick’s penalty, he hoped it was enough.
The last five seconds felt like an eternity, but he was out of the box and back on the ice, and Detroit hadn’t scored. He didn’t even have time to feel relieved about that, because they were in a battle with the clock. Time was running out on the game, and Detroit was relentless in their attack. But the Travelers’ defense was solid, and by the time the puck came back to Trick and Drew, they felt they had this game. They were at the net, battling with Detroit’s defenders, and Trick saw an opening. He slid the puck to Drew, who slotted it in behind the left post for another score.
This game was all but over. There was a minute left at the face-off, and Detroit fought hard for it, but time ticked off the clock, and when the buzzer rang, they celebrated hard. They’d fought for this win against a really tough opponent, and the victory was sweet.
In the locker room after the game, they were a few champagne bottles short of a massive celebration. And okay, maybe they were over-celebrating what was only a regular-season win. But they’d gotten a monkey off their backs, and it had meant a lot to them. Now they could move forward with the rest of the season, knowing they were that good.
After media interviews, he showered and got dressed, and he and Drew met Carolina and Stella outside the locker room. That was a first for him, since getting Stella to come down here was like getting her to admit she might actually care about him, which he knew damn well was next to impossible.
Drew turned to him. “So, how about the four of us—”
“Actually, I have plans for you tonight,” Carolina said, tugging on his arm. “Not to be rude, but I’m taking my man home for a private celebration.”
Stella and Carolina exchanged knowing smiles.
“Can’t turn down an invitation like that,” Drew said. “Sorry, you two.”
Trick’s lips curved. “No problem. See you later.”
Stella waved. “Bye. Love you both.”
He took Stella’s arm and guided her down the passageway toward the exit, then flagged down a waiting car. Once inside he turned to her. “Okay, what was that all about?”
“What was what about?”
“You and Carolina.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Clearly she wanted to spend some alone time with her guy to celebrate tonight’s victory.” She scooted closer to him. “And I think we should do the same. Go to your place, order some takeout?”
He wasn’t about to argue with her. Obviously she had something in mind for tonight, something she and Carolina had both cooked up. He was going to play along. “Sounds good to me.”
They ended up eating takeout Thai food at his place, and Stella even opted for a beer, though she complained she’d have to work it off later. She’d taken off her boots and he’d kicked off his shoes, the two of them tangling their feet together as they lounged on his sofa.
He stared down at her feet, wondered if they hurt after all those hours she put in. They had to. He knew all the hits he endured took a toll on his body. Hers had to do the same. Different sport, but still, you didn’t put that much energy into your job without suffering the consequences. “I don’t know. I’ve seen how hard you work when you dance. Seems to me you burn off a lot of calories.”
“Yeah, about that. I’m really sorry about this morning. I was an ass to you when you went to all that trouble to see me dance.”
He shrugged and took a long pull of his beer. “No big deal. I freaked you out. I should have let you know in advance that I was going to be coming to the theater.”
She leaned against him. “Then I would have been more freaked out knowing you were watching me. It was a nice surprise. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.”
She climbed onto his lap, sliding her fingers into his hair. “No, really. Thank you.”
He’d had the idea she’d orchestrated this move to be alone with him tonight so the two of them could talk. And he’d been fine with that, because there were things he wanted to say to her—important things he figured they needed to get clear with each other.
But right now it seemed she wanted to touch and be touched, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to argue about that. Not when she was moving against his body in a way that made his dick sit up and take notice, her long graceful legs wrapping around his hips and her sex making contact with his quickly hardening cock.
“Got something on your mind?”
“Maybe. Definitely.” She pressed in and rubbed her lips against his.
Her mouth was hot, her tongue darting in to flick at his, inflaming his senses, taking his cock to full mast. He lifted against her, needing to be inside her right goddamn now.
He stood, taking her with him, then turned around and deposited her on the sofa, reaching down to undo her jeans. Those tight barriers to what he wanted had to go first. She wriggled out of them as he pulled them over her hips and legs. He tossed them on the nearby chair, and then kneeled on the rug in front of the sofa and slipped his hand over the silk of her underwear. She was already damp. Ready.