“Scarlett, you know Leo Anderson?” Brendan continues.
I look up at the enormous left wing known for his cockiness. “Ego?Who orders a blueberry muffin and black coffee? Yes, I do.”
Miles’ eyes widen. “Impressive. Do you know everyone’s orders?”
“Only the regulars, which probably just proves how much I’ve been living at that cafe.”
Leo points at Brax MacPherson. “What’s our center order?”
I tap my lips thoughtfully. Brax is the anchor of the group—tough on the outside but a total softie underneath. “Cinnamon roll or cheesecake, depending on his mood.”
“Does time of day factor into the decision?” Tate asks, intrigued.
Brax grins sheepishly. “Nope. I ate half a cheesecake for breakfast last Tuesday.”
“How about Sheriff here?” Leo asks, slapping the defenseman on the shoulder.
I turn to Tate. “Sheriff likes coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon. And he’s rarely without a book.”
“And our rookie?” Leo says, nodding at Miles.
“The goalie is very fond of our lemon poppy seed muffinsandthe cafe’s part-time barista.”
Miles’ cheeks flush at the mention of Gabriella.
Tate’s eyebrows rise. “She’s good.”
“Where’s Rourke?” Leo asks, turning around.
“Here he comes.” Tate checks his watch. “Late as usual.”
Brax turns to me. “We thought Coach would never work up the courage to invite you to a game.”
Brendan gives me a self-deprecating grin. “Only took a few years, right?”
“To be honest, I’ve been working evenings forever, so it’s notentirely his fault.” I give Brendan an apologetic look. “I just hope I don’t embarrass myself by cheering for the wrong goal.”
“Just look for the number eighteen jersey,” Rourke says as he joins us, pointing to his shirt. “I’ll be the one making all the goals.”
“You’re a defenseman. You’re supposed to leave that to me,” Brax claps back.
“If I don’t get there first,” Leo challenges with a smug grin.
Pretty soon the guys are bickering about who’s going to score the first goal, while Brendan looks at the sky like he’s about to lose it.
“See what I have to put up with?” he mutters, then turns back to the group. “Guys, just shut up and worry about winning. That’s it.”
“Don’t worry, Scarlett,” Rourke says sagely, draping an arm around Brendan’s neck like they’re brothers. “Coach Marco can teach you everything you need to know about hockey. We’re just glad you’re here. I’m not sure we could survive another attempt at him singing to you.”
“I thought it was sweet.” I press my lips together to hide my grin. “In a slightly mortifying way.”
The guys howl with laughter, but I’m the only one who notices the tips of Brendan’s ears turning pink.
“He was driving us crazy talking about you,” Rourke adds.
I glance at Brendan curiously. “I had no idea I ever came up in team conversations.”
His jaw clenches. “You just came up…occasionally. Very occasionally.”