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Coulton shrugged off the compliment, refusing to take any credit. “Kid is smart as shit. Just needed a little shove in the right direction. Talked to the director of the Rays Foundation about him. Slade wants to try out for little league baseball in the spring.”
“Fucking baseball,” Victor scoffed. “Why aren’t you getting the kid into hockey?”
Coulton snorted. “I’ve tried but he’s ornery as shit. Determined to be a major league baseball pitcher.”
“You’re gonna be fucked if you have to sit through endless innings of the most boring fucking game in the history of fucking sports,” Victor persisted.
“Hockey’s not for everyone, Vic,” Preston chimed in diplomatically…and without cursing.
Victor grumbled under his breath while the rest of them laughed, accustomed to and amused by his disdain for basically everything.
They all quieted down as the director of the Rays Foundation approached the podium, thanking them for their attendance while directing their attention to one side of the room, where countless silent auction items were being displayed. Once the director finished her spiel, she nodded at the kitchen door, apparently the signal for dinner to be served.
Conversation at the table flowed as they worked their way through the salad, dinner, and dessert courses.
Victor’s patience for the event ran out before dessert, so he slipped out, claiming he had an early morning breakfast date with his niece, Phillipa. Erika had met Victor’s young niece—Pip, as he called her—a couple of times at team picnics, and it was obvious Victor doted on the four-year-old, who had her gruff uncle wrapped around her little finger.
After the meal, she and Blake wandered along the tables with the silent auction items, placing bids more in an attempt to increase the donations than because they actually wanted to win. Once the dishes were cleared, a popular local band began playing, and Erika found herself swept out onto the floor, dancing in a wide circle of Stingrays players and their dates, laughing as Blake spun her around to several fast-paced covers.
They returned to the table, in need of a break and water, followed by Tank, Lara, and Emily. Preston and Coulton were still sitting there, nursing their beers, neither man interested in dancing.
“Hey, guys,” a female voice said.
“What’s up, Mouse?” Tank asked as Erika turned around, looking for the speaker. Apparently, Tank’s standard greeting for Erika was his standard for everyone. All he did was switch the nicknames.
The woman approached their table, shooting Tank a somewhat surprised look.
“You know McKenna?” Blake asked Tank, inviting the petite brunette to join them. “Thought you avoided the administrative offices like the plague.”
Tank, who did seem to spend a fair amount of time in trouble for his flamboyant behavior off the rink and due to inappropriate comments made during interviews, flipped Blake the bird, ignored the question, then started kissing Lara.
McKenna winced at Tank’s rude gesture.
“Erik, this is McKenna Bailey. She just started working for the Rays as our social media manager a few months ago. McKenna, this is my neighbor, Dr. Erika Nelson.”
McKenna pushed up her thick-rimmed glasses as she reached out to shake Erika’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I thought you were a guy when Blake told me he’d adopted a puppy with his neighbor, Erik. To be honest, when you said that, I kind of thought you were gay,” she said, glancing at Blake.
The table erupted in laughter, everyone cracking up over McKenna’s comment.
“Oh my God. Blake…gay!” Erika laughed so hard, tears streamed from her eyes. “That’s hilarious.”
Blake must have felt the need to flex his heterosexual muscles because he wrapped his arm around Erika’s waist, pulling her tightly against him before dropping a kiss on the side of her head. “It’s not that damn funny.” Turning back to McKenna, he said, “Erik is my nickname for her.”
“Sorry. It’s just…” McKenna flushed bright red, clearly embarrassed either by her mistaken impression or the fact she’d blurted it out. “Blake’s shown me a lot of pictures of Corky. She’s so adorable,” McKenna gushed to Erika.
Erika was amused to hear Blake was showing off their puppy at work. Not that it surprised her. She’d watched him whip out his phone at the grocery store to show complete strangers pictures of Corky.
Tank seemed less amused. “He’s got a million pictures of that dog on his phone. I swear to God, I’ve seen fewer photos of Elio Moretti’s newborn daughter than that damn dog. And Elio’s lost his mind over that baby.”
Elio, a former teammate, had retired from hockey at the end of the previous season, shocking everyone with a quick wedding to a woman no one even knew he’d been dating. A few months after the wedding, the baby was born.
Blake rolled his eyes, scowling at Tank. “Who hurt you, man?” he joked, referring to Tank’s apparent lack of a soul. Erika had always considered Blake to be a playboy—until she’d met Tank. At which point she realized she needed a sliding scale in terms of bad boy levels.
Blake was on the scale, but only at level one. Meanwhile, Tank was on the top tier, completely on his own, as he kept redefining the word playboy for Erika with his actions. The fact the man had unapologetically brought two dates to the same function had her rethinking the definition yet again. Erika couldn’t help but be curious if Tank was also planning to sleep with both women tonight.
McKenna flashed Tank a confused look, taking in the fact he had his arms wrapped both around Lara’s and Emily’s shoulders. She seemed to be trying to figure out which woman was his date. Like most normal women, it didn’t seem to occur to McKenna he was there with both.
“Do you guys mind if I snap a picture of you for the socials?” McKenna asked, redirecting her attention to the rest of the table.
