Page 89 of Goalie Interference

“What about after we win the cup again?”

My grin is devilish. “You mean after Mules win cup for first time.”

His grin is equally as Mephistophelian as mine. Challenging even. “I said what I meant.”

I slice into the green pepper. “So did I.”

“Then what are we going to do? Can there be an us if we’re both after the same thing?”

I continue to dice the pepper. “Yes. Our teams have the same goal. Same as every other team in league.”

“Except Vancouver,” Ander says. “They fucking suck.”

“They are terrible this year. But even still, every player on that team wants cup same as we do.” I dump the green peppers into the eggs, then turn to the stove to start cooking the bacon. “You have already won twice. That has not stopped you from wanting to win again.”

“Nope.” He laughs. “In fact, I want it more than ever. That damn cup’s a drug. I can’t get enough.”

“I would like my first taste.” I turn to face him again while the bacon begins to sizzle in the pan. The coffee has finished brewing, so I pour us each a cup, then grab the cream out of the fridge and place it all down between us on the kitchen island.

He grabs a mug and adds only cream, no sugar. I make a note of that as I fix my own cup.

“But,” I say after taking my first sip, “being Stanley Cup champion is not all I need in life. The Stanley Cup cannot warm my bed.”

“You’d actually be surprised,” he says with complete seriousness as he takes a sip of his coffee.

I shake my head. “Of course you have taken the cup to bed.” I turn my attention back to the bacon, flipping each piece over before I pour the egg mixture into another pan to make one large omelet that I’ll cut in half.

“The cup’s been around,” he says. “It’s kind of a puck slut.”

The laugh that escapes me is full of joy. I can get used to this—Ander making me laugh while we talk shop and I make him breakfast.

“I see what you’re saying though,” he says. “There’s no reason we can’t have both. And even if you don’t win the cup this year, well, you’ll still have me.”

My laughter grows louder. “You have that backwards again, but yes. That is my point.”

“So, are we like together now, then?”

I look over my shoulder at him. He’s chewing his lip in the most adorable way, contemplating his statement. I smile at him. “That is what I would like. But what about you?”

He nods his head. “I want that, too.”

“Then it is decided.”

He beams as he stops chewing his lip, his eyes bright and his smile wide. “Except when we play each other later. Then you are my sworn enemy.”

I flip the omelet in the pan and as it sizzles, I say to him, “I would not have it any other way.”

Ander

While the National anthem is being sung, I stand in my zone and avoid looking across the ice at Ivanov.

For the next three periods he is no longer Nikolai. He’s Ivanov, goal tender of the St. Louis Mules. It’s nothing personal. It’s just how it has to be.

I look up from the ice below me. Dammit. He caught my eye. Even from this distance and with his mask pulled over his face, I can’t mistake the way he’s looking at me. Like he wants to meet me at center ice and challenge me to a goalie fight.

Wouldn’t that be something? Imagine the makeup sex after that! Incredible.

I pretend like I’m fixing my uniform as I subtly adjust my cup and jock. I shake my head. I have got to stop thinking about sexy things with Nikolai.