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

carafe and topped off their coffees.
If it were possible, her face instantly went a brighter shade of pink. “No! None of the above! You were … It was … I really enjoyed our time together. It’s just … my life’s, um, complicated.”
He wagged his head back and forth. “Whose isn’t? Look, when I woke up … I really wanted to see you again.” No point in soft-soaping my disappointment.
Directness, he’d found, was usually the quickest way to the truth. Maybe it was part of his makeup after years of being raised by a mother whose approach to communication was of the let’s-tiptoe-around-the-elephant-in-the-room variety. Lots of confusion and frustration had given birth to a just-say-it-like-it-is approach.
“You’re seeing me now.”
Apparently, dodging was more Lily’s style. Sitting back, he glanced at their reflections in the window. “Six months later,” he muttered.
Hesitation flitted across her face. “So, um, do you have a steady now?”
“Nope.”
She slipped the chain back into its hiding place. “Friends with benefits?”
Wow. Bold much? Was it any of her business? No, but he saw no reason to hold back, so he let his irritation bubble to the surface. “Why? Thinking of applying for the job? Sorry, but I’m not accepting applications at the moment.”
Another self-conscious flush colored her very pretty face.
While he’d thought about her a lot since July, he’d forgotten just how pretty she was. “Sorry. That was a douche thing to say. No, no friends with benefits. Hockey comes first.”
“I thought family was first.” She tipped the creamer into her coffee.
She remembered that too. The thought wrapped his heart in a warm blanket. Another chip. “Yeah, family’s first.”
Lily beamed at him, startling him into silence as he took it in. A few moments of coffee-sipping quiet later, their drinks arrived with an apology from the waitress for the delay—a delay Gage hadn’t even registered. He took a gulp of his orange juice to soothe his suddenly parched throat.
Lily slid her milkshake in front of her and dragged the straw through a mound of whipped cream that reminded him of a miniaturized Mount Evans.
“How’s the milkshake?” he ventured.
“Mmm, delicious. Thanks again for breakfast.” Her Pacific Ocean-blue eyes twinkled. Was he reading the same conspiratorial look she’d given him before they climbed the back stairs to her room last year? Yeah, he could totally get sucked in again. Damn. He’d meant to give her a piece of his mind, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d wind up giving her a piece of himself. No, can’t afford it.
“It’s the least I can do to pay for your time tonight.”
She crinkled her nose. “You make me sound like a hooker. Or one of those strippers.”
He laughed out loud. “Well, if that’s the case, you really should be over here in my lap.”
“A lap dance?” she snorted.
Not that he’d actually wanted—much less bought—a lap dance tonight. “No worries, ’cause if you were to give me one, I couldn’t touch you. So all things considered, much tamer than the night of the wedding.”
If the color of her cheeks was an indication, his remark had thoroughly embarrassed her, which gave him a little lift of satisfaction. She excused herself and headed for the ladies’ room, and he watched her the whole way, grateful her coat no longer hid her curvy ass. He told himself to knock it off.
Around him, diners buzzed in quiet tones, and plates and glasses clicked and rang. He sipped his orange juice, once more surveying the restaurant, though not seeing beyond the haze of his own thoughts.
His grandmother had taught him that if he followed his moral compass, it would take him in the right direction. He’d always tried to do just that. But could he apply that piece of wisdom to this situation? Things were usually pretty black-and-white, but Lily was blending the two into befuddling gray.

Chapter 5
Because Everyone Needs Social Media
Minutes later, Lily was walking back toward him, hips swaying softly side to side. He took in this view fully too, and when his gaze locked on hers, another zap of current jolted through him.
A gleam lit her eyes as she sat down and wiggled into her seat. “So what do you do for entertainment? Do hockey players get much downtime during the season?”
She drew her shake toward her, closed her mouth around the straw, and sucked, hollowing her cheeks. On autopilot, the tip of his tongue darted out and swiped his lips. He tried to corral his mind and not let it wander to how good it had felt when that mouth had done similar things to him that night. In fact, he needed to stop thinking about that night altogether.
Sadly, his talking-to fell short, evidenced by the rocket in his pants maneuvering itself into position for takeoff.
He cleared his throat. “I love live music, especially in the smaller venues. Have you ever been to the Soiled Dove Underground?”
“I love that place. They have the best blues and jazz acts, and the atmosphere is so intimate. I’ve spectated way more than I’ve performed there, though.” A giggle escaped her, and he glimpsed the sixteen-year-old girl she must’ve been.
“How old are you?” he blurted. He could feel his mother’s virtual slap to his head. Or maybe that was Grandma’s. He could never tell.
Lily put on a scandalized expression. “Isn’t that rather personal?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
She cleared her throat, then finally managed, “I turned twenty-five early last month.”
“There’s another coincidence.” Not that he was keeping track. “We were born the same year. I just turned twenty-six.”
“Really? When?”
He pulled out his phone, glanced at it, and looked back at her with a smile. “Twenty minutes ago.”
Surprised eyes caught his. “Oh! Happy birthday! What are you—?”
“Excuse me, do you play for the Blizzard?” a pretty woman interrupted. Behind her, four other women giggled.
Sitting up, Gage plastered a polite smile on this face. “Yeah. Hi, I’m—”
“Gage Nelson!” she squealed. Over her shoulder, she threw a “Told you!” to her companions. “You’re my favorite player in the whole