Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3)

she was, all pins and needles, about to have coffee with a man she’d never planned to see again in this lifetime. A man she’d run from last July, who was looking for an explanation. Who was in her effing car, so close she could touch him!
Emotions whirled at high speed, making her insides slosh and slide like mud. Embarrassed to see him, distressed at the same time because of the memories he dredged up of their time together. The crushing guilt she’d felt when she’d woken up beside him. How could she have let herself get so carried away that night?
She stole a sidelong glance at him. He was as handsome now as he’d been then, despite the badass scowl he’d been sporting since the parking lot. Trimmed blondish-brown beard over a square jaw. Sandy-blond hair with a clean-cut line across his muscular nape. Sculpted neck on powerful shoulders that matched the rest of his rock-hard body. Beautiful blue eyes. And those oh-so-masculine hands that had done wonderful things to her that night. Things she’d dreamed about—to her horror and shame.
Why had she zeroed in on Gage in the first place? Because singing in front of people after such a long absence had transported her back in time, back to when Jack had still been alive and onstage with her. All the warmth, the feels, the energy had overwhelmed her, and she’d been floating on a cloud. When she’d looked at Gage across the room and felt that inexplicable connection to him, want and desire and longing had conspired and clubbed her over the head. Finding out he loved the blues as much as she did had drawn her in closer. Add to the mix that he wasn’t a smooth talker and he’d sucker-punched her with sweetness, and she’d been drawn closer still.
The final “gotcha” had been his infectious smile that had struck her like lightning. Open, inviting, generous. Yeah, that had been the final nail.
And later, how he’d made her feel—he seemed to understand everything she needed without her even realizing it. He’d worshipped her, treated her like a cherished treasure. Not a one-night fuck.
Maybe that very intimacy had made waking up beside him worse. When she’d come to, when the evidence of what she’d done had confronted her, guilt had come flooding in. The memory sent a flare of shame up her spine.
Was coffee with him now a good idea?
I have to make amends. The thought she might have made him angry, or worse, that she’d hurt him, mortified her. She’d never considered that possibility as she’d sneaked around, gathering up her clothes, praying the entire time he wouldn’t wake up. She’d fled her own room in a panic, and as the sun had crested the horizon, she’d gone to Jack’s grave, where she’d fallen on her knees and begged his forgiveness.
The hollowness it had carved in her had been unbearable. Not something she ever wanted to repeat.
Those she counseled often asked how long one mourned the loss of a loved one. Her answer was always, “The timetable is as unique as each individual. There is no one-size-fits-all, and the length of time varies.” Yet when she compared herself to many she counseled, her process seemed stalled. Was she stuck in a quagmire? No, she simply had more to work through. Maybe she’d never get there. Grieving is different for everyone.
Gage’s deep voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “The turn’s up ahead.” He stared out the passenger window, apparently lost in thought. Was he revisiting that night too?
Doesn’t matter. It will never be repeated. Period.
She coasted into a parking spot and turned off the engine. Gage hopped out of the car. Before she could gather her coat and bag, he was opening her door and helping her out. Of course he is.
Time for a distraction. “How’s your season going so far?” she asked as they made their way toward the restaurant’s entrance.
“Aside from not being in first place in our conference, it’s going well.”
“I see you were part of the all-star game last weekend. That looked like fun. What an honor to have been chosen, huh?” And I voted for you at least ten times, every single day.
“I was a last-minute substitute when someone else went down with an injury. I thought you didn’t have time to follow hockey.”
Was he sporting a smirk? Going for more nonchalance than she had in her arsenal, she shrugged. “I like to keep up with the hometown teams. It makes for good conversation starters. You know. Rah, rah!”
Truth be told, she’d submerged herself in the sport ever since the wedding, learning different nuances of the game. She had yet to fully understand offsides, but she’d get there eventually.
A hostess grabbed a few menus and walked them to a booth in back.
Once seated, Lily stared at the menu for several beats before Gage reached over and turned it right-side-up for her. “Breakfast menu’s in the front, beverages in back,” he said helpfully.
While her cheeks flamed, his posture seemed to ease.
Her gaze returned to the menu, a soft focus while her mind whirred. “Um, so I read that you’re assistant captain, and you’re leading at something. Not penalty minutes, I hope.” She faked a tsk.
He ran his index finger over his whiskered chin, covering the raised line of an old scar—one she’d familiarized herself with last July.
“Not penalty minutes,” he said matter-of-factly. “I lead in faceoff win percentage.”
“Out of the entire league?”
“Yep.”
“What else are you good at?” Oh shit, Lil! I can’t believe you just said that. Head back down in the menu, she cringed because she knew color stained her skin right now, and it wasn’t pretty. She wore every emotion on her face, and each one seemed to have its own corresponding hue along the red spectrum.
He surprised her by thumping his palm against his heart. “Ouch! Guess I didn’t leave much of an impression last summer.” Though he dropped his voice to a mumble, she thought she made out,