CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Later that evening, Dom jogged around to the passenger side and opened the door for Shea with a flourish.

He lifted an eyebrow, smiling like he was amused, but slid inside. Well, it was less of a slide than wedging himself in.

Dom smothered a smile.

"Don't make fun of me," Shea protested, his knees bent an awkward angle.

"God, you're almost as bad as Matty," Dom said, finally giving in to the urge to laugh.

"Fuck you," Shea muttered and Dom shut the door in his face.

Still laughing a few moments later, Dom slid into the driver's seat. "And here I thought you'd enjoy riding in my car."

"I'm sure I will." The passenger seat slid back and Shea unfolded himself, stretching his legs. "Ahh, that's better."

"Sorry." Dom started the car. "Audra was the last one in here."

"That explains it." Shea glanced around the interior of the car as Dom pulled out of his designated spot in the underground ramp in his building. "It is gorgeous. I thought the Vanquish had four seats though."

"They do. I had them remove the back two in mine. It gives me a lot more leg room and it's not like I'm going to drive around a bunch of drunk hockey players in this. They have to be sober to step inside." He lovingly petted the leather dashboard.

"Fair. I guess your SUV works better for that."

"It does. And I'm way less pissed off if someone pukes in it." With a laugh, Dom carefully pulled onto the street.

Laughing too, Shea asked, "Do you ever take this beauty out on a track?"

Dom grinned. "I do. Why, you wanna go out sometime?"

"Hell yeah." Shea's eyes gleamed. "What'll it take to get you to let me drive it?"

"Well, you could try asking." Dom came to a stop at a red light.

"Really?" Tone surprised, Shea rested a hand on Dom's arm.

"I trust you with all of my secrets," Dom said softly, glancing over. "Why wouldn't I trust you with my car?"

Behind them, someone honked, and Dom returned his gaze to the street where the light had turned green.

Shea was silent, but he slid his hand to Dom's thigh, squeezing once.

They were both quiet on the ride to the restaurant, where Dom tossed his keys over to the valet, then escorted Shea into the building.

He grazed his fingertips along the small of Shea's back, trying not to stare.

He looked so fucking good tonight.

He had on a slim-cut black suit with a white tee underneath. It had a low scoop, just enough to show off a hint of his pecs, and it made Dom's mouth water.

The restaurant was packed and several people waiting for tables shot them sidelong glances as they edged their way through the entryway and into the short line.

"I still can't believe you got us in here," Shea murmured, glancing around as they waited to check in with the hostess.

Dom smiled. "I know people."

Shea looked amused. " Apparently ."

Honestly, there was no way Dom could have managed to get into a trendy place like this on a weekend when they were booked out for months.

But on a weeknight? Yeah, he'd been able to wrangle them a table.

Said table was in the center of the restaurant and as Dom took his seat across from Shea, he felt a funny little jolt in the pit of his stomach.

He was a forty-year-old man and this was the first real date he'd ever had. Although, was it real?

He wanted it to be real.

"Truthfully, the owner has season tickets," Dom explained after the waiter had given them menus and left. "And he likes when the team comes here. It's good for business."

"Makes sense."

"The food is incredible too though," Dom admitted.

Shea glanced down at his menu. "It looks like it."

It didn't take them long to decide and they ordered a plate of oysters to split, individual salads, and a glass of wine each.

When the oysters and wine arrived, Shea leaned forward. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask. Did you ever talk to your teammates about things to keep yourself occupied while you're on IR?"

"I did, actually," Dom said. "Most of them were no help whatsoever but I reached out to a couple of retired guys too."

"Yeah? Who?" Shea tilted his head back, letting an oyster slide from its shell into his mouth.

He licked his lips after and Dom had to shift in his seat.

He needed to stop doing this to himself.

He'd had the same problem when they had the seafood tower before the basketball game. Shea eating oysters was way too suggestive.

"Oh, ah, La Bouche and Murphy."

"Right, you and Murphy talked when the team was playing in Evanston."

"We did," Dom agreed. At the time, he hadn't quite understood why Murphy had bothered to reach out but he'd seemed pleased that Dom had finally gotten around to texting him and they'd been messaging sporadically since.

"So what did they suggest?"

"Taking some university classes."

Shea gave him a thoughtful look. "Oh, that's not a bad idea."

"It's not," Dom agreed.

"Do you think you'll do that?"

"I should," he admitted, setting down an empty oyster shell with a sigh. "And Murphy has me considering a role in the head office after retirement."

"Yeah?"

Dom nodded. "I'm not sure what exactly. Scouting, maybe?"

"Hmm. You'd be gone a lot," Shea said and his tone was very neutral but he didn't quite meet Dom's gaze. "Do you like travel?"

"Travel in the off-season, absolutely," Dom said. "I usually take a few weeks in Europe. But constantly living out of suitcases? I don't know. That sounds exhausting."

"It does."

"So maybe not scouting," Dom said thoughtfully.

The waiter came to clear away the remnants of their appetizer and when they had salads in front of them, Shea said, "What about sports or exercise psychology?"

Dom made a face at his greens. "No thank you. I think working with Ronnie is more than enough psychology for me."

"How is that going?" Shea asked. "You haven't said much about it."

"Okay. I don't think talking to him is horrible or anything. It's just …"

"You're emotionally locked down tighter than an oyster," Shea pointed out.

Wincing, Dom gave him a weak smile. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

"You're getting better." Shea's tone was very diplomatic.

Dom laughed. "Fuck you. I'm trying."

"Hey." Shea reached across the table, hesitating halfway, like he wasn't sure if Dom would welcome it. "I know you are."

Despite the urge to glance around the room to see who was watching, Dom met him in the middle, letting their fingers brush.

"I know I'm awful at it," Dom admitted with a sigh. "But I can see that you all have some good points about opening up."

"Who exactly are the all you you're talking about?" Shea drew back, reaching for his fork.

"You, Dustin, Ronnie, hell, even Murphy got in on it."

"Clearly you keep some smart company," Shea fired back.

Surprised, Dom let out a small laugh. "Clearly I do."

They ate in silence for a moment before Dom admitted, "I'm considering player development for a career. I just don't know that it's the right fit either."

"No," Shea said slowly. "I can see you doing that."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You've talked about looking out for the rookies, mentoring younger players—"

Dom winced. "I haven't done as much as I should have with Colton."

"Yates?"

Dom nodded. "I felt …" He pushed at the remaining salad greens with his knife. "I felt envious of him, you know? He was what I used to be."

" Baby …"

The tenderness in Shea's voice made Dom swallow hard. "I know, it's ridiculous."

"No, it isn't ." The vehemence in Shea's voice made him glance up. "You think I didn't feel envious of my buddies getting to play for the teams that drafted them? You think that for a while, I didn't resent every bit of success they had?"

"But you got over it," Dom pointed out. "And Jesus, you were what? Eighteen? Nineteen at the time? I'm fucking forty years old. I should know better."

Shea leaned forward. "I don't think there's an age limit for learning from our mistakes. Or for growing, either. And I think that when we—when we can't be open about who we are, that sets things back."

Dom scowled. "It's not an excuse."

"It's not," Shea agreed. "But it might be a reason. I'm feeling that right now too."

"Yeah?"

"Working as a stylist held me back from a lot of things," Shea said and Dom didn't have to be a genius to know that it wasn't the fashion advice part of his job he was talking about.

Or, former job, Dom corrected.

It still stunned him to realize that Shea had quit. Quit with everyone else but him .

The thought was humbling. What had Shea seen in him that made him want to continue with Dom?

What did that mean?

Was this more than a PR cover-up? Were they actually dating but too chickenshit to actually discuss it?

"And don't get me wrong," Shea continued. "I liked doing it. I just … there were a lot of things that other people were doing that I didn't do."

"Like date?" Dom asked.

Shea shrugged. "If you mean going out to restaurants and events with someone I care about, then yes."

"But not the going out with a ton of other people?" Dom asked with a lift of his eyebrows.

"Nah." Shea shook his head. "Those aren't the experiences I missed. I don't have to date a lot of people to know what I want."

Dom sucked in a breath, unsure of how to respond. Was Shea giving him an opening? Or was he merely making conversation?

They were both quiet as the waiter cleared their salad plates and Dom glanced around. The feeling of being watched and judged had dissipated. Whether it was the wine or the conversation with Shea, he wasn't sure.

But no one was paying them any attention. There'd certainly be pictures and speculation in JockGossip tomorrow—it was why he'd picked this place, because being out in public with Shea was what he needed to do—but for the most part, no one cared that he and Shea were out together.

The waiter brought out their entrées. Dom had ordered lamb, while Shea had gotten a pork chop. Everything was beautifully plated and they talked about the food for a few minutes before Dom brought the conversation back to his worries about if he'd be good at player development. "Honestly, I don't think I'm very good with people."

"Yeah?" Shea paused, his fork and serrated knife frozen mid-cut. "I mean, you can be a little brusque, maybe, but I think you could get there."

"Brusque." Dom laughed. "That's one word for it."

"Well …" Shea shot him a look. "You're probably not the most approachable guy."

"Probably not." Dom agreed.

"But that doesn't mean you can't work at it."

"I know. It just makes me feel like a hypocrite when I think about the way I lit into Gilly about how he treats the guys. Who am I to talk?"

"I think you're someone who cares about your team," Shea said. "And player development is about more than getting the puck in the back of the net. It's about mindset and growth and I think you'd be great at that part of it. And you can work on the rest."

Dom sat back in his chair, reaching for his wineglass. "I guess I worry about taking classes too. If I'm ready for that."

"While you're on IR? Or after retirement?"

"Both. I looked up the requirements for a degree," Dom admitted. "And it's daunting. I haven't thought about English or history or math in over twenty years."

"Were you a good student?"

"I did fine. I never wowed anyone but I wasn't one of the guys on the team in danger of losing their eligibility."

"So maybe start with something fun," Shea said. "While you're recovering, do an online course and pick an elective that sounds enjoyable."

Dom considered it. "Hmm. Not a bad idea."

"And hey," Shea offered with smile. "I'll be around if you need any help."

"I'm glad of that," Dom said.

The look Shea gave him was both sweet and heated and Dom very much wished that they were alone so he could kiss him.

Instead, he concentrated on his food.

When they'd finished their entrées, their empty plates were gone, and Shea was dithering over whether or not he wanted dessert, Dom felt a sudden rush of affection for him.

He was so … so wonderful and Dom felt like he didn't do enough for Shea. Like he didn't show him how much he appreciated him.

Whatever this was, whatever they were working toward, whatever he secretly hoped would become of this situation, he needed Shea to know how amazing he truly was.

So with one last thoughtful look at Shea, Dom caught the waiter's eye.

"We'll take a slice of the black forest gateau to go," he told him.

"Very good, sir," the man said.

Shea raised an eyebrow but didn't argue when Dom paid for the meal and hustled him out the door, carrying the to-go bag.

"It seems like you're in a hurry or something." Shea teased as Dom tapped his foot impatiently while they waited for the valet to bring out his car. "And here I thought we were having a good time."

Dom froze, reaching out to touch Shea's arm. "I certainly was. It was a perfect date," he admitted.

Shea gave him another slow smile that heated Dom's blood. "But?"

Dom leaned in, speaking quietly in his ear. "But I'm ready to take you home."

Olson Back In Time for Playoffs? Rumors of Fake Relationships and Cap Circumvention Dog the Beleaguered Player

Sources from within the Fisher Cats organization have indicated that fourth line center Dominic Olson will be undergoing a surgical procedure to correct a lower body injury. He will be placed on long term injury reserve but is expected to be back in time for playoffs.

Some fans cynically believe it's an attempt by the Fisher Cats to circumvent the tight cap space and will allow them to acquire additional players. "C'mon," one is quoted as saying. "It's the oldest trick in the book. They paid too much for his last contract, and this way they can get some relief."

"Lower body injury, my ass," another fan scoffed. "He was out the other night, having a great time! He was walking fine in the videos of him hopping out of his sports car and taking his boy toy to a swanky dinner. It's bullshit and everyone can see it."

Others are more concerned about the status of his relationship. "The whole date thing is so ridiculous. Everyone can see what a sham the ‘relationship' is. The dude looks like an escort with that ridiculous low-cut shirt on. Total gym bro who is gay for pay. Watch, the moment the season is over, they'll ‘break up'."

Check back here for all of the latest developments on Olson's play and private life!