Page 5 of Tough Call

Then I put my phone aside and gazed out the window at the snow-dusted landscape below. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. For weeks, I’d been excited to come to Prague and represent Latvia in the Games.

But suddenly I was even more excited to see my old friend.

CHAPTER 3

CONNOR

Calm down. This isn’t a date. You’re just meeting Madars.

Somehow, that didn’t help, and in the quiet restaurant a couple of streets over from my hotel, I tapped my heel even faster beneath my chair at the small table. I didn’t know why I was this nervous.

Okay, I did. I wasn’t sure how I was going to maintain any sense of dignity in the presence of the Madars I’d seen on social media this morning. He wasn’t a kid anymore and neither was I, but I sure felt like a teenager with a crush all over again. Dizzy. Nervous. Twitchy. Sure I was going to say or do something stupid, and then he’d roll his eyes and walk away like that one guy at university had done when I’d approached him years ago. That was one of those moments that still crept in at three in the morning when I couldn’t sleep. Ugh, the embarrassment.

Madars had never done that, though. He hadn’t been that kind of guy, and anyway, he sure as hell hadn’t rejected me.

But that was teenage Madars who hadn’t yet tasted professional hockey success. I was sure he was still a good guy, but I doubted I could turn his head like I somehow had back then.

And that’s not what this is about anyway, because we’re just friends catching up. Get a grip, Connor. Jesus.

I sipped my wine just to settle my stupid nerves. It didn’t help much, but it gave me something to focus on.

Movement outside pulled my attention to the windows, and I almost choked on said wine.

Hands tucked in the pockets of a blue overcoat, face nestled slightly into the collar as the wind whipped his hair, Madars strode through the falling snow toward the door.

My heart had no right to react the way it did. My stomach had no business twisting into nervous, excited knots.

It’s just Madars. What the fuck?

It’s… Oh God. That’s Madars.

How is a man that gorgeous here to see me?

It didn’t matter how or why or anything, because he was crossing the room now, that brilliant smile on full display.

“Holy shit,” he said, arms wide. “I can’t believe how long it’s been!”

And just like that, I was wrapped up in a tight hug, his coat warm even as snowflakes still melted on his arms and shoulders.

“It’s been ages,” I said. “How have you been?”

Letting me go, he shrugged. “Living and breathing hockey. Same as always.” He undid his coat and started to take it off. “How about you? I saw you’re officiating in the NAL now.”

I was already smiling, and I couldn’t help smiling bigger. “Yeah. That was a long road, but I got there.”

“Not as long for you as the other refs.” He put his coat on the back of his chair, and as we took our seats, he added, “How many of the players hate you now?”

I laughed. “Just the ones who try to get away with stupid penalties.” I rolled my eyes. “You’d think they’d learn by now not to try to get away with embellishment.”

Madars barked a laugh, and I was startled by how fucking beautiful he was.

How have I gone this long without even talking to you?

He thumped the table with his knuckle and met me with a wicked grin. “They still try, don’t they? Have you set a record for calling the most embellishment penalties yet?”

Heat rose in my face, though I wasn’t sure why. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know if they track that.”

“They should.” His eyes danced with mischief, and the tiny candle on our table only added to it. “Maybe you should come ref in Switzerland sometime.”