Page 70 of Breakaway Bet

“I still want to know where you’re taking me,” she says.

My eyes twinkle as I shrug. “You’ll see.”

We navigate toward the restaurant first, and it’s probably pretty obvious since the practice center is literally across the street. We pull into the parking lot of the pub, and it’s one where we often go in season to hang out after practice. Most days we’re done at the practice facility by two or three o’clock, and it’s a great place to grab a drink afterward and bond with teammates.

“Vivi’s Bar and Grille,” she reads the title off the building. She glances at me. “Vivi’s?”

I chuckle. “It’s named after Vegas Vengeance. That’s our practice center across the street. They couldn’t actually name it Vegas Vengeance since the name is trademarked, and because the owner’s wife is Vivian, they decided to call it Vivi’s. Like V V’s. It’s one of my favorite places because it’s where I go after practice with my teammates, and I guess I want to introduce my wife to Vivi.”

She looks surprised.

“Why are you surprised at that?” I ask.

“Well, I’m surprised that you want to introduce me to people who are important to you when we’re not really sure what we’re doing here.”

My eyes heat as I say, “Maybe you’re not sure what you’re doing here. But I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing here.”

Her brows crinkle together. “What’s that?” she asks softly.

I feel like I’m about to confess something it’s far too early to confess given my vow to myself of no feelings when a knock at my window scares the hell out of me. I jump in my seat and turn toward the offender to find Kellan standing there. I quickly open my door so that he has to fly out of the way so he doesn’t get hit, and it’s just part of the teammate camaraderie we’ve built over the years. Always a display of ridiculousness coming from a place of love and respect for not just a teammate but also someone who’s one of my best friends.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks.

“Taking my wife out on the town. Thought I’d start with Vivi’s.”

He chuckles. “You won’t find a better burger in town, that’s for sure.”

I shake my head. “Who you here with?”

“Alex and Nick,” he says, naming a couple of pro hockey players on other teams who live in Vegas in the offseason and sometimes train with us when we’re all around.

“We’ll come by and say hi,” I say.

He leans inside the car. “Hi, Mrs. Maddox,” he says.

Ivy laughs. “Hi, Kellan. Good to see you again.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” I mutter to him, and he laughs as he heads inside.

“Who are Alex and Nick?” she asks.

“They both play for Chicago, but they live in Vegas, so we train with them in the offseason quite a bit.”

“You’re friends with guys from other teams?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Friends with some, enemies with others,” I admit. “It’s a league where we’re all doing something we love, and just like in life, you get along with some guys, and you don’t get along with others.”

“So the guys you don’t get along with…do you get in a lot of fights on the ice?” she asks.

“A few,” I admit. “Not often, and they're never my proudest moments. But if someone’s acting like a dick or takes a cheap shot at one of my teammates, I’m not going to sit back and take it.”

“I Googled you,” she says. “I saw one of your fights. It was…I don’t know. Five years ago, maybe?”

“You Googled me?”

“You’re a client,” she says, and she lifts a shoulder. “I had to.”

“If it was five years ago, it was probably Colton Storms. Against Philadelphia?”