Knox (Chicago Blaze 4)

“I’m having the best time,” she says with a grin. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“I’m glad.”

Her eyes stay locked with mine for a few seconds, that same charge of electricity I felt in Kauai passing between us. There’s a tug of war inside me—I want to keep staring at her, I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her. But I also want to respect her decision to be friends.

“That, right there, what you feel when you look at me, is why you should let me take you on a date,” I say in a low tone only she can hear.

Reese flushes and looks down. “Think we should get some food?” she asks, glancing here and there and basically, everywhere but at me.

I made my point, so I let her off the hook. “Yeah, I’m starving. And they’ve got all the stuff to make Chicago dogs, your favorite.”

“You remembered.” Reese finally meets my gaze again.

“I haven’t forgotten a single thing from Kauai.”

She looks flustered, her cheeks staining a sexy pink once again. I force myself to hold back a smirk of victory as I lead the way inside where the food is.

Victor and Lindy have a huge spread of food set out in their kitchen. Their cookouts always feature stuff you can get at the concessions stands at our home arena, the Carson Center, because they met when Lindy was working there. The food is always damn good, too. I load my plate up with two hot dogs and some nachos, and Reese and I find seats out on the deck at a large patio table with an umbrella.

“Hey, Knox,” Vic calls out to me from the other side of the deck. “I heard you lost your stick again. Better find it before Friday.”

I had my hot dog a couple inches from my mouth, ready to sink into the first bite of Chicago dog goodness, but I lower it back to the plate and scowl at Victor.

“If you motherfuckers took my stick again, I’m gonna kick some ass.”

I look around the deck at my teammates’ faces. Suddenly, every one of them is completely focused on their food. The shitheads love to prank me by hiding my favorite hockey stick, especially before preseason or exhibition games, which don’t have the same stakes as regular games. But it drives me fucking nuts to not have my stick, wrapped just the way I like it, in any game.

“Maybe I heard wrong,” Victor says lightly.

Jonah can’t hide his smug expression on the other side of the table.

I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to curb my aggravation. “Vic, if you hid my stick, I’m gonna shove your stick up your ass.”

“Hey, growly,” Reese says from next to me. “Eat. I think you’re firmly in the hangry zone.”

I turn to her, my face scrunched in disbelief. “Growly? You think I’m growly and broody?”

There’s laughter around us.

“You are, man,” Jonah says.

“The growliest.” Luca nods his agreement.

Reese nudges me with her shoulder. “Seriously, eat. I get a little growly, too, when I’m hangry.”

“You?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it’s nowhere near your level.”

I can’t help it—I laugh. “If you knew all the shit these guys have done to me over the years, you’d get it.”

“You’re an easy mark,” Anton says.

I take a bite of my hot dog, chewing it up and swallowing before saying, “Anyone would be fucking pissed off to find an entire can of shaving cream sprayed into their equipment bag.”

There are cackles and laughs at that. Even Reese is laughing, which I can’t be annoyed by. But still—that one took me forever to clean up.

“My cell phone was in there,” I mutter.

Vic walks over to us, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Reese, I was rooming with this beast a lot one season, and I kept a bag of inch-long black hairs that I cut from a wig in my luggage. I’d sneak a few onto his pillow when he was sleeping. He’d wake up and flip out over losing his hair.”

I don’t even gratify him with a response. I keep eating with my right hand while flipping him off with my left, not even looking in his direction.

“Do you ever prank them back?” Reese asks me, amused.

I shake my head. “I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

“Like crossword puzzles?” Victor quips.

“I’m not ashamed I do crosswords. You would too, if you were smart enough.”

There are a few ooohs around the table, and Vic laughs and backs off.

“Reese, better get used to it,” Mia says from across the table. “This is what it’s like to be around all of us. These guys can go from gentlemen to locker-room banter in a hot second.”

Reese grins at me and says, “I don’t mind. It’s good that someone keeps Knox on his toes.”

“You’re not so bad at that yourself,” I remind her with a knowing smile.