Page 81 of Cross Check

“Tell me what you’re looking for in a woman, and I’ll see if I know anyone.” She pauses, glancing at me. “It is women, right?”

“Yeah. And you don’t need to play matchmaker. I have specific qualities I’m looking for if I were to put myself out there.”

“I’m afraid to hear them.” Hannah sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “If you tell me it’s all about her ass, I’m going to hurl. Mom raised you better than that.”

“Looks are the last thing I care about.” I fold my napkin in half at the corners to give my hands something to do. “I’ve learned I like older women who have more life experience than me. I know I’m young, but I think it’s sexy when a woman is sure of herself. She’s confident and not afraid to ask for what she wants.”

“So that’s why you always went to Peter Wilson’s house. Because you liked his mom.”

“Fuck you. I went to his house because he had a pool.” I roll my eyes. “Which, yes, they conveniently reference in that song, so please don’t start singing the lyrics. She didn’t walk out in a towel or anything like that.”

“Peter isn’t nearly as catchy as Stacy.” With a smirk, she puts her elbow on the table. “This is the most I’ve ever heard you talk about dating, and I’m using it to my advantage. What else are you looking for in your dream woman?”

“She has to care about hockey. I don’t mean that she has travel to every away game, but she’d need to understand the pressures of my job. She’d have to know there will be stretches of time when I won’t be able to talk to her as much as I want.”

I take another sip of my beer and rub my thumb over the label while I think about the other things I’m not saying: She has to be tall. Taller than me is just fine. She needs to be sarcastic, funny, and not afraid to call me on my shit. I was serious when I said looks are last on my list, but I do like nice thighs and strong arms.

The longer I think about it, the clearer the vision of my dream woman becomes.

Amelia.

She has to be Amelia.

Am I ever going to get over this crush?

“You could join a dating app,” Hannah suggests, and I grimace. “Don’t turn your nose up at that! You can use an anonymous profile so people don’t know who they’re talking to. You’d know they were being authentic.”

“Leave it to my younger sister to give me advice.” I laugh. “I don’t want to download an app. I like meeting people in person and building a connection with them face to face over online conversations they might be having with eight other people. I don’t like to share, I guess.”

“In person? I can help with that! There’s a woman at my rink who is in her thirties. She has beautiful dark brown hair, is super tall, and is literally gorgeous, Grant. No kids, but she’s great with kids. You want kids, right?”

“Yeah. That’s on my list too.”

“Perfect. We’re making headway already.” Hannah brightens. “Want me to give you her number?”

Saying yes is the right thing to do.

I’m sure she’s lovely. A woman whose company I’d enjoy during coffee dates and dinners at our favorite restaurants.

But there’s a lump in my throat. A roadblock that stops me from agreeing, because how unfair would it be to sit across from someone and pretend to be interested while all I’m thinking about is her?

“Not right now,” I say. “I’m busy. I want to give her my attention while I get to know her, and that would be close to impossible with the All-Star Weekend coming up. Add in the road games on our schedule, and I’ll be in different time zones for like, a month straight.”

It’s a goddamn lie.

The most painfully obvious reason I’m brushing off the incredibly kind invitation to set me up with someone is because no matter who I get dinner with, she’s never going to be Amelia.

And that’s who I want.

The only person I want.

“If you say so.” Hannah narrows her eyes, but her attention shifts to her phone when it lights up. “It’s Tierney. We have plans to see a movie after this.”

“You should be doing more things away from the ice, Han. It’ll help settle your brain. Go to your movie. Order a jumbo popcorn. Stay until the end of the credits to make sure they don’t sneak in an extra cut scene. I’ll handle the bill.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I have thirty minutes before I need to be there.”

“I’m more than sure. Tell Tierney I say hi.”