Page 63 of Tricky Puck

“Old times sake,” he says.

I nod and knock mine back. “Still as smooth as silk. But that’s the last shot of Pappy I’m having, so don’t get any ideas.”

He raises a brow and I imagine him with a patch over his eye and a sword in his pants—the kind of sword that stabs—oh fuck. I think he already has me where he wants me.

With his hand at the small of my back, he walks me to the end of the plank and I find myself face to face with the monster coach.

“Coach Spence, this is my fiancée Delaney Collins.”

“Glad to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of talk about you.” I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean as he scrutinizes me. I let him because I know I look good, as good as every woman here—except maybe Emery because that woman could be crowned Miss Universe if she ever let them.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, too.” He darts a look at Link, but doesn’t change his expression. This man is a cagey one. “All good of course. They call you the miracle coach. I believe them based on the games I’ve seen.”

He smiles and I think it’s genuine. “You a hockey fan?”

I knew this was coming and I can feel Link stiffen behind me, but I’m ready for it. “Of course. A girl can’t be in love with Link Milano and not be obsessed with hockey. We’re both so looking forward to the Whalers taking the Stanley Cup this year.”

“We all are,” he says, his smile widening. His wife interrupts us then, thank god, and after a brief introduction, they disappear to take care of some kind of family thing.

I turn to Link. “He has kids?”

Link shrugs. “Guess so.”

Hmmm. “I think that went well.”

“You were spectacular. You’re one of the best pretenders I’ve ever seen.”

“Buy me a glass of wine to celebrate.”

“It’s open bar,” he says and I laugh.

As we rejoin his—our—group of friends, my phone buzzes so loud he can hear it.

“Who would be calling you this late?” he says.

“That’s odd.” I slip my phone from my bag and we move away from the crowd to a quiet hallway.

“It’s Torin.” I put the phone to my ear and my heart starts racing. I hold Link’s gaze, needing the connection, while he watches me.

Twenty-One

LINK

It’s not my grandma who ended up in the hospital with a heart attack.

It’s worse. If that’s possible. No one imagined Delaney’s Granny Bernadette had a faulty heart.

Her uncle Torin who’s more like her brother in every way possible except a skipped generation of parentage, calls her in the middle of the event and that’s how I find out the difference between a real girlfriend and a fake one.

Because when I hear the sound of her sob it crashes through whatever icy reserve I had, and defies all logic and everything I ever thought I knew about myself and emotional control.

“What is it?” The vibration in my voice surprises me at first, but then I notice it’s my whole body vibrating, nearly shaking with dread. Ignoring the crowd and the music and whatever else is going on around us, I wait and watch her.

She turns to me and shatters me with her tears streaming down her face. “Link...” she sobs and throws herself into my chest. My arms lock around her like a trap, except it’s her who has me trapped. Even as I realize this, my arms tighten and I don’t care.

“It’s Granny. She’s in the hospital. They don’t know if…” She sobs and presses her face against my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt as I hold her there.

“Delaney, tell me everything, baby. I’m here for you. I’ll take care of you. I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you need me to do.” My words are automatic, coming from a place in me that only knows feelings, without regard to consequences.