CHAPTER SEVEN

Shea's phone rang toward the end of his lunch break on Friday.

"What do I wear tonight?" Dom asked.

"Hi, to you too," Shea said with a laugh.

"Sorry. Hi. Happy Birthday." Dom sounded distracted.

Grinning, Shea shook his head. Dom could be so single-minded when he got focused on something. "So you're trying to figure out what to wear for dinner and the game tonight?"

"Yeah. Everything I pull out looks a little …"

"Gay?" Shea teased.

"I was going to say formal, but wait, do you think the way I dress looks gay?"

Oh, Dom. "No. I was kidding. I think you do tend to have a fairly formal style though. It's a little preppy, well-tailored, but masculine."

"Right. Okay."

"Do you honestly think I'd dress you in a way that would make people speculate about something I know you want to keep private?" Shea asked, gentling his tone.

Dom was silent for a few heartbeats. "No. Of course you wouldn't. Sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"You're fine." This was something Dom was sensitive about. Something he struggled with.

"So what do I wear?"

"Hang on, give me a minute," Shea said, glad he'd put his earbuds in so he could peruse the app he used to keep track of Dom's wardrobe and outfit combinations. He scrolled through a few ideas for outfits he'd previously planned for moments like this. "Here's what I'm thinking. Dark jeans."

"Dark blue or black?"

"That slim-fit Dior pair that's somewhere between black and dark gray."

"Ahh yeah. Okay. I know which ones you mean."

"Wear them with the plain black Armani tee. And the brown leather Brunello Cucinelli bomber jacket we found you last season."

"That caramel-colored one?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Dom said thoughtfully. "I don't hate that look."

"Good." Shea laughed.

"Shoes?"

"I'd wear them, yeah," he teased.

"Fuck off." But Dom was laughing now too.

Shea grinned. "I'm thinking your olive suede ankle boots."

"The Ferragamo ones? Do they go with the rest of the outfit?"

Shea could picture Dom frowning as he stared at them in his closet. "Yes. It'll look casual, like you're not trying too hard," he explained.

"Yeah, okay," Dom said skeptically.

"Trust me. I get you on the best-dressed list every year," Shea reminded him. "Gotta get back to work now though. See you tonight."

He hung up without waiting for an answer. Whatever, Dom could handle it and Shea needed to finish the last few bites of his lunch before his next patient came in.

Later that evening, as Shea followed the hostess to their table at the steakhouse, he deeply regretted his choice.

Oh fuck me , he thought as Dom rose to his feet to greet him.

Shea shouldn't have suggested this outfit. As much as he loved Dom in a suit—and fuck did he love Dom in a suit, he had the perfect body for it—he looked so good dressed down like this too.

He was mouthwatering.

And this was the guy Shea was supposed to pretend to be nothing but buddies with.

He was so screwed.

"Nice outfit," Shea teased as Dom greeted him with a brief, manly back-slapping hug, feeling the moment when the tension in Dom's shoulders softened.

Sometimes, Shea wondered if Dom's back problems weren't made that much worse by the amount of tension he carried with him constantly.

Dom huffed a laugh, then stepped back. "Thanks. Have a seat."

Shea surveyed the rectangular table, quickly deciding to go for the chair diagonally across from Dom. He couldn't handle bumping knees with Dom all night.

"You, uh, you look nice too," Dom said quietly, gaze darting to the tables around them. The staff had seated them near the window at a prominent table. The kind offered to pro athletes and other VIPs.

"Thanks." Shea grinned, shrugging off his dark brown leather jacket, then took his seat. He'd changed from the athletic clothes he wore at the clinic into distressed jeans and a cream-colored sweater. He didn't have the budget Dom did, but he still knew how to pull a look together.

They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment. They'd never been out like this in public before.

"So, uh, my friends should be here any minute."

"Great." Dom wrapped his hands around a glass of amber-colored liquor. Scotch, presumably. He wondered how early Dom had gotten here and how much he'd had to drink.

Probably not a lot, since he liked to stay in control, but hopefully enough to take a little of the edge off. Although Shea really fucking hoped he wasn't still taking the Toradol.

He opened his mouth to ask, but the hostess approached their table and Shea glanced over, annoyed at the interruption but glad to see his friend behind her. "Myles! Hey."

"Hey, man." Myles' expression brightened. He was a tall, lanky white guy with messy light brown hair and a patchy beard.

Dom and Shea both rose to their feet, the hostess discreetly fading away.

"Myles, this is Dominic Olson," Shea said.

"Uh, yeah." Myles laughed, wide-eyed, clearly a little starstruck at the moment. "Shit. Great to meet you."

Dom held out a hand to shake. "You too. Call me Dom."

"Dom, this is Myles. We work together."

"How long have you been a physical therapist?" Dom asked as they took their seats, Myles slipping into the chair beside Dom.

"Oh, just a few years. Shea and I graduated at the same time. How long have you been, uh, playing hockey?" A weird look crossed Myles' face. "Wait, never mind. Dumb question."

Dom laughed, toying with his glass. "Pretty much my whole life. I think I was three, maybe, when my dad put me on skates."

"Kurt Olson played for Montreal, right?"

"Yeah," Dom said. "He played for them for most of his career. My mom was a figure skater. So there was never any question about me getting on the ice."

Shea blinked. Dom never talked about his family. Ever .

And okay, it wasn't like that info couldn't be found in a quick online search or on Wikipedia but still. He never brought them up.

Of course, Shea never asked.

Then again, it was a little tough to casually work into conversation after a guy paid to fuck you.

"Hey, guys. Sorry!"

Shea glanced over to see Ethan smoothing his long dark hair back. He was shorter and stockier than Myles, with warm brown skin and dark stubble. His parents had been born in Pakistan and moved to the Toronto area shortly before he was born.

"Hey, I was starting to think you'd never get here," Shea teased. He stood and hugged Ethan, glad to see him. It had been a while.

"Sorry," Ethan said with a laugh. " Kids ."

Myles and Ethan had hung out before so Shea introduced Dom to Ethan before they took seats at the table.

A waitress came by, murmuring apologies about not getting their drink orders sooner, and they all ordered something.

"I am sorry about being late," Ethan said when she was gone. "I got partway here before my wife called saying one of the kids had left their backpack in the van and they were having a meltdown about it so …"

All of them chuckled.

"No worries," Shea said. "We have plenty of time before the game."

"Do you have kids, Myles?" Dom asked.

"No. Enjoying the bachelor life." He grinned.

"I feel that." Dom grinned. "I've never been in a hurry to settle down either."

"Are you interested in having kids in the future?" Ethan asked. "After hockey?"

"Ahh, no. I don't think that's something I'm looking for," he said, reaching for his drink.

Shea wasn't surprised. Dom didn't seem like the type to settle down with a guy and raise children together.

"Huh. I thought all hockey players had like six kids or something," Ethan mused.

Dom chuckled. "My goaltender does. Or at least the sixth is on the way."

"Carlson has a bunch now too, right?" Myles asked.

"He does," Dom agreed. "Four kids. The paperwork on the adoption went through recently."

"Good for him," Ethan said. "I think it's amazing what he and his husband have done. Raising kids who lost their parents like that …"

"Yeah, Matty's a good guy," Dom said. "And Antoni is great for him."

"And we all know how this guy here feels about kids." Myles laughed, jerking his thumb toward Shea.

"We do?" Dom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's big on the ‘no kids, ever' bandwagon." Myles shook his head.

"I don't think everyone is meant to have kids," Shea protested. "I like them but that doesn't mean I have a huge desire to raise any. And, hello, the planet is already overcrowded. Nothing wrong with some people choosing not to go that route, right?"

"Of course," Ethan said. "Hell, unless you're super enthusiastic about kids, I don't think you should have them. They're a ton of work."

"Thank you," Shea said. "People at work are always going on about me changing my mind when I get older and I'm tired of defending my choices."

The waitress arrived with their drinks and they placed their orders for appetizers.

After checking to be sure they all liked seafood, Dom ordered a tower of it for the table.

Ethan got a vaguely alarmed look on his face that Dom must have caught because when the waitress was gone, he said, "Dinner's on me to celebrate this guy's birthday so feel free to order what you'd like tonight, everyone."

He nodded at Shea, who shot him an appreciative look.

He could afford this place thanks to what Dom paid him, but it would definitely strain Myles' and Ethan's budgets.

It was probably a drop in the bucket to Dom but it was still a thoughtful gesture.

"Thanks," Shea said aloud. "That's generous."

"Oh, least I can do since you got the tickets," Dom said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "So, are you guys big basketball fans?"

Sports carried their conversation as they sipped drinks, then devoured the tower of seafood, the mood relaxed and easy.

After they'd polished off the appetizer, the discussion segued into jobs and current events and they enjoyed their dry-aged steaks and side dishes along with a few more drinks.

They were all too full to bother with desserts, though there was a very delicious-sounding chocolate cake Shea had been tempted by. Dom paid the bill before they left, stopping to sign autographs for an older couple waiting to be seated.

"Thank you for dinner," Shea said as Dom held the door for him on the way out of the restaurant.

"Sure. No problem. This was nice. I like your friends," Dom said in a low voice.

"Yeah, they're great," Shea agreed. He thought they'd all get along but it had gone even better than he'd hoped.

The steakhouse was a little too far from the arena for them to walk, but Shea winced when he thought about the drinks that had flowed throughout their meal. "Do you think we should Uber it, guys?" he asked.

Dom grinned, flashing his phone screen. "Already taken care of. Our ride should be here in any second."

"Wow. This is quite the red-carpet treatment tonight," Myles said as a gleaming SUV pulled up to the curb. "Or is this how the other half lives?"

Dom chuckled. "Uhh, well, this is how I take care of the guys on my team. I always want to be sure no one's driving when they shouldn't be." He winced. "Although, I wasn't much help to Hale last season but …"

He gestured to Shea to get into the SUV and he slid into the back, surprised when Dom followed, Ethan and Myles taking the middle seats.

Although no one sat between Shea and Dom, their knees brushed and their elbows bumped together as they put on seatbelts. Shea swallowed hard, the proximity making him aware of Dom's cologne and the heat of his body.

"How is Hale doing?" Ethan asked when the vehicle was moving. "If that's not being too nosy. I'm not trying to pry or anything."

"No, you're alright. Felix seems to have settled into his sobriety," Dom said. "And he and Jonah are very happy together."

"I've been surprised by how relaxed the team is about everyone's sexualities," Myles said, twisting in his seat to glance back. "It's great! Don't get me wrong. I was just amazed by it."

If Shea hadn't been sitting right beside Dom, he might not have noticed the sudden tension in Dom's body.

"Yeah, I hear you," Dom said. "It's a great group though. La Bouche set the tone in that locker room. And Dustin picked up that mantle right away, even before he married Charlie."

Shea shifted, bumping his knee against Dom's deliberately this time, curious to see Dom's reaction. Like last time, some of the tension seemed to leak out of Dom.

"Oh man, I can't believe you got to play with Noah Boucher," Ethan said, his tone envious. "Fuck, that guy was incredible. What a goaltender."

"Yeah, he's a great guy," Dom said. "We miss him. If I were him, I'd have kept playing after that Cup win but he's happy in Michigan, enjoying his retirement."

"Don't get me wrong," Ethan continued. "Makarov is great. But La Bouche …"

Dom grinned. "Yeah, that guy's a shoo-in for the hall of fame. It won't be long before they induct him, I'm sure."

Shea stayed silent, only half-listening to the flow of conversation around him as he watched the city lights flicker across Dom's face.

Shea couldn't tear his gaze away, noting the crinkles at the corners of Dom's eyes when he laughed at something Ethan or Myles said, liking the way he seemed at ease with them.

It meant nothing beyond the fact that Shea had great friends and—despite Dom's closed-off nature—he was good at making conversation, good at putting people at ease, good at being ‘one of the guys'.

But Shea still felt a traitorous little twinge in his heart at the sight of Dom getting along with his friends.

And, as the SUV pulled up at the curb near the arena, he realized Dom's leg was still firmly pressed against his.