Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

At least, that’s my resolve until we arrive at McIntyre’s and find the entire team there already. They’re loud and well into their second and third drinks, so we hurry to get our own before joining them.

After years of being around Foster’s teammates, you’d think I’d know how to handle them, but I have no idea how to hold my own with these guys.

Richie’s immediately pulled into the fray, and I have a beat of feeling second place again, of wondering if I should have left him to celebrate with his team, before he hooks his finger into my belt loop and drags me after him.

We end up standing around a cocktail table with Jacobs, Rossi, and Asher, who immediately slides shots our way.

Richie and I join them in one round, then two, and I do my best not to cringe as the tequila goes down.

Jacobs points at me but talks to Richie. “You finally figured it out. Let me guess, Montreal?”

I shake my head. “We’ve been talking since last summer.” I spare him the details.

“Summer? That’s as long as Beck and I have been together.”

“Almost.” Richie’s hand rests against my lower back. “Unlike you two, we kept our hands to ourselves for a bit.”

“Sounds boring,” Asher says.

“Nah. It was totally worth it.”

“And now we can barely keep our hands off each other,” I add.

“Don’t need to know.” Rossi laughs, clearly already three sheets to the wind. “The gay thing is whatever, but I’ve already seen way too much of Cohen to want to hear anything about his sex life.”

“But I have so many good stories.”

Rossi lifts his hands and rocks slightly to the side. “I’m out.” He stumbles toward another table.

Asher’s standing directly opposite me, and even though I’m doing my best not to pay attention to him, I can feel his stare on the side of my face. Feel the way he’s practically taunting me without saying anything.

Until he does say something. “Your brother know yet?”

“Know what?” I’m playing dumb on purpose.

“About you fucking his old teammate.”

“Yep. We told him all about it last weekend.”

“Huh. I’m surprised Cohen’s still alive. If my big brother found out one of his friends was sticking it in one of his siblings, he’d knock them out.”

Of course he assumes Foster’s the eldest. “First up, Foster’s my little brother. Second”—I shrug—“he’s dating my friend, so he’d be a hypocrite if he had an issue with it.”

Asher snorts into his beer. “Am I sensing sibling tension?”

“Just the general shittiness that comes with having an NHL-playing brother.”

“Drink to that.” He knocks his glass against mine before I can pull away, and then turns his attention to the other side of the bar.

My eyebrows lift a little. Was Asher’s brother in the NHL? All I can remember is Richie saying he was coaching their team now and is a bit of a dick. But even if we do have that one thing in common, it doesn’t mean I can overlook the way he keeps sneaking looks this way.

“Want another?” Richie asks, picking up my empty glass.

“I have to drive.”

“No, you don’t.” He dips his mouth next to my ear. “The dorms aren’t like your apartment, but the smaller bed would be cozy.”

I turn in to him. “But oh no, I didn’t bring anything to sleep in.”

“You’ll have to wear the same thing as I do at your place.”

I pretend to gasp. “You wanna eye fuck me for a change?”

Richie shamelessly squeezes my ass and presses a hard kiss against my mouth. “I always do. I’ll be back in a second.”

He heads for the bar, and I’m about to turn around and catch up with Jacobs, but he follows my boyfriend. Which leaves me …

With Asher.

Urg.

Something lights up behind his eyes as he slides closer. “So … Seth.”

“Asher.”

“You’re dating Cohen to piss off your brother, aren’t you?” His tone is even cockier than I’ve heard from him yet.

“That could be the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Right.” Asher holds my stare as he takes a long drink from his glass. “Personally, I’d do anything to piss mine off. Including date his old teammate, whether I was gay or not.”

There’s a challenge in his tone. But fuck it if I’m going to back down. “After the last month, I don’t think there’s a doubt in Richie’s mind about how attracted to him I am.”

“Only a month.” Asher actually winks at me. “I’ve probably seen your boyfriend’s dick more than you have, little Grant.”

“Considering he doesn’t wear clothes at my place, I doubt it, little Dalton.”

He can’t stop a laugh from slipping into his beer.

“You look at your teammates’ dicks in the locker rooms often?” I ask.

“None of the guys are exactly modest about letting it hang out there.”

“Are you …”

“Gay?” Asher’s lips twitch. “Not that I know of. But I’m the kind of person who never says never.”