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The hockey studs move to the side when the waitress drops off my food order. Charlie devours my chicken strips with his eyes. I pull the basket closer and guard it with both hands.
“Can I get you guys something?” the waitress pauses to ask.
“I called in a to-go order,” Charlie says. He motions toward Ollie. “We both did.”
“What’s the name that it’s under?” she inquires.
“McMann,” Charlie answers, “and Burnham.”
I hide my smile behind my Pepsi. I think it’s funny how athletes always refer to each other by their last names. Why can’t they simply be Charlie and Ollie?
Ollie surprises me when he slides into my booth on the opposite side. He steals a fry from my basket when I’m not looking and tosses it into his mouth. He smirks when I slap his hand as he attempts to swipe another one.
He shifts his sapphire gaze to the waitress. “I’ll eat mine here if it’s okay …”
She nods. “I’ll bring it to the table.” Charlie follows the waitress over to the bar to pay and collect his food.
I narrow my eyes across the table at Ollie while I’m dipping a chicken strip into honey mustard. “I didn’t say you could join me.”
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks. One side of his mouth lifts, and he knows very well that no woman could stay angry with him when he gives that half smile.
“I was never mad at you,” I insist.
His smile widens right before he accuses, “Liar.”
I roll my eyes and look away. I shove another fry past my lips. Ollie slides my Pepsi across the table and takes a pull from the straw.
“Help yourself,” I say sarcastically.
He chuckles and takes another drink before pushing the soda back toward me.
The waitress appears with a water, a burger, and fries for Ollie. Charlie emerges at the end of the table with two large paper bags in his hands.
“I’m heading out,” he announces, glancing at Ollie. “You good?”
Ollie nods. “Mads can drive me home.”
“Oh, she can, can she?” I pause and narrow my eyes at him.
He smirks. “Madison, can you please give me a lift home?”
I roll my eyes. “I guess.”
Charlie laughs. “You two are funny. I’ve gotta bounce. Sims and a couple of the guys are waiting for me.”
“Bye, Charlie,” I say.
“See you later, man.” Ollie fist-bumps the goalie. “Same time, same place tomorrow?”
“Sure thing.”
We both watch him walk across the sports bar and out the front door.
“What’s he up to tonight?” I ask.
“Probably headed home to his PlayStation. The guys have been obsessed with Call of Duty lately.”
I snort. “Video games! Really?”
