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“How’d you know that?”

“Hardcore fan, remember?”

I narrow my eyes, suspicious as fuck.

“Of the Vipers. I was only traded a few months ago. You were following Vancouver as well?”

“I…uh…” He rubs his chin nervously. “I kinda follow everyone. I’m a bit of a numbers’ geek, and I follow players’ and teams’ stats.”

I sink deeper into my couch, looking at him in a whole new light.

“You’re a nerd?” I mutter. “I didn’t think nerds followed sports. I thought they were all about IT and shit.”

“Nerds come in various forms. Just like hockey players.” He raises a brow teasingly.

“Point taken. So go on then, tell me something.”

“I’ll only be telling you something you already know.”

“So? Something tells me that I could listen to you reel off hockey stats all night.”

He blows out a breath, his cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

“Okay, fine. This season so far, you’ve played fifty-three games, of which you’ve scored eleven goals, twenty-eight assists and thirty-nine points. You’ve got a plus-minus of positive twenty-two and you average twenty-four minutes and thirty-seven seconds on the ice every game.”

I nod. “Impressive.”

“You want anyone else’s?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Your ice time has dropped since your trade, but that’s to be expected. Eighty percent of players lose time with a move; those who gel with their team early on soon get it back. Your power play points have dropped as well, but your minutes in the penalty box have not.”

I huff a laugh. I don’t think anyone needs to be into the numbers to know that. I’ve always had some of the highest penalty time of all players in the NHL. That’s a figure I doubt is ever going to change.

“What can I say, I’m passionate about the game.”

He barks a laugh before coming over and joining me on the couch.

It’s a fucking massive couch. He could easily have chosen to sit on the other end so he could stretch out. But nope, Garrett plops himself down right beside me, and I’m not fucking mad about it.

“Gotta admit, watching you throw punches is hot as hell. I love the passion,” he tells me, his eyes alternating between staring into mine and dropping to my lips.

“Did you want to watch TV or something?” I ask, unsure what to do.

I don’t hang out with guys like this.

Well, that’s not true, but the less I think about the last man in my life, the better.

He was an exception and a massive fucking mistake.

But at the same time, he’s the reason I’m here, and I can’t really complain about where I am right now.

“No, Cooper, I don’t want to watch TV. I’m definitely down for something, though.” His eyes drop to my crotch.

“And there I was thinking I ruined you earlier.”

“Pfft, it’ll take more than that to wear me out, hotshot. I’ve got youth on my side.”