But tonight is different for me because I want Jules to see this part of my life, and I want this part of my life to see Jules. I want my teammates to meet her and see how fabulous she is, and I want them to know that she’s important.

That’s not to say I haven’t brought women I’ve dated here before, because I have. While it’s true I’ve only had one serious relationship in my past, it doesn’t mean I haven’t had relationships. I’m the type of guy that likes dating one woman. I like the intimacy of having that person’s full attention, and I like the security that comes with that. So yes . . . I’ve dated before, and some of them have lasted months. Some of them I’ve brought here.

None of them hold a candle to Jules, including Christine, who was the first woman I loved. And I did love her, but it just wasn’t the type that could be sustained.

Yes, I like commitment and monogamy. Maybe I’m a romantic at heart, and that’s probably due solely to my parents, who have a solid, passionate, and deep connection that they’ve had for almost thirty years. So it’s only natural I want that too.

That is also not to say I haven’t had one night stands. Not to say I haven’t gotten blind, stinkin’ drunk and fucked women that I couldn’t even remember their names. I did go through a bit of a wild period after Christine broke things off with me and I spread myself around with meaningless sex.

So you see . . . I’ve had it both ways, and the way I feel right now with Jules by my side . . . it’s a fucking no brainer. I do believe she’s what I’ve been searching for.

I do believe she’s what I’m ready for now.

Leading Jules through the crowd, I nod at a few familiar faces I see. The hardcore fans that are always there to either celebrate with us or mourn a loss. They’re also the ones that tend to be unobtrusive, and over the years I’ve gotten to know some of them pretty well. I take Jules toward the back of the restaurant and away from the bar area where most of the team is congregated around a bunch of tables. While the kitchen is still open, hardly anyone here this late orders sit-down dinners, and the management doesn’t mind us invading this part of the restaurant.

The Cold Fury group is diverse, with a mix of players, team management, training staff, and significant others. The players are diverse as well, some married, others in committed relationships, and still others yet that are complete men-whores. And with the men-whores come the throng of women who are trying to get noticed by them, some accepting that it’s just frivolous sex if they hook up but many hoping for something more lasting.

Cassie Gates is one such woman, and I see her standing next to her sister Allie, who’s married to one of our defenseman, Kyle Steppernech. Great player, greater douche. Allie is a bitch. Cassie has her claws poised to sink into any available player. At one point she had her sights set on Alex Crossman, our team captain, and he took advantage of that for sure. But after he met Sutton, it was all over with Cassie. That didn’t mean she went away though, and for a brief moment she turned her attention to me. I shut that shit down fast and made her perfectly aware I wasn’t interested. Looks like tonight though her current target is poor Mikkel Erat, who is also a defenseman.

Cassie’s wearing a tight Cold Fury T-shirt that’s straining to hold her breasts in and cleavage so deep her navel’s practically on display. She’s got both arms wound tight around Mikkel, almost as if she’s afraid she’ll get left behind. She doesn’t need to worry though. Mikkel can barely keep his eyes off her tits. He’s not going anywhere tonight, and I sort of feel bad for the dude. His English is horrible and his accent thick, so I’m pretty sure he’s not had the pleasure of having a deep conversation with her, so he probably doesn’t get he’s being manipulated.

“Well, that’s an interesting outfit she has on,” Jules mutters dryly as she leans into me. I look down at her and see her eyes are pinned on Cassie.

“She’s a puck bunny,” I tell her with an amused smirk.

“A what?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she takes Cassie in, perhaps trying to see if she’s got secret bunny ears or a tail.

I laugh and pull her in tighter. “It’s just a term for those women that want to hook up with a hockey player.”

“Oh,” she says thoughtfully, then gives me a grin. “Well, I totally want to hook up with you so I guess that makes me a puck bunny like her.”

Shaking my head, my lips curved up, I tell her, “You are nothing like her. You are so not a puck bunny.”

As Jules laughs at me, I lead her over to a table where I see Hawke, Vale, Garrett, and Olivia. They’ve all got beers in their hands and just as I reach them a waitress materializes and takes our order. I ask for a Molson and Jules goes standard American with a Bud Light.

“That’s just nasty,” I tease over her choice of beers.

She sniffs, gives me a slight elbow to my ribs and retorts, “We can’t all be as refined as you, Mr. Fournier.”

I throw my head back and laugh, because fuck, she’s cute. She ignores me and turns to Garrett, who has his arm around Olivia. Jules puts her hand out. “And you must be Garrett?”

“Good guess,” he says with a smile and shakes her hand.

“Well, I met Olivia in the family room so I figured that’s who you were . . . you know . . . with your arm all wrapped around her.”

Garrett laughs and Jules turns to Hawke and Vale. She has no clue who they are, but it doesn’t prevent her from sticking her hand out. “I’m Jules.”

“Hawke,” he says as he shakes her hand, then nods to Vale. “And this is Vale.”

Jules shoots me a taunting look before she faces Vale—I’m assuming for my Bud Light smack-down—shakes her hand and says, “I just want you to know . . . several times a week Max eats Snickers and drinks Mountain Dew.”

Vale’s eyes snap to mine and her lips flatten. “Is that so?”

I smirk and wrap my arms around Jules from behind, right over her chest where she’s trapped, and pull up her up against me. I lean down and put my lips to her ear and whisper, “You’re going to pay for that tonight.”

She shivers in my hold and I loosen my grip just enough to put a little space between us as I’m dangerously close to getting hard, and well . . . that would just be fucking embarrassing. Still, I give her a last parting shot when I say, “That might involve tying you up and spanking you.”