Filed to story: Luci Forrester and Easton Reed: Hockey Romance Story
“They’re so pretty. Thank you! I’ll grab my coat and purse. We’re going to eat first, and then I have a surprise for you,” she says, placing the flowers in a vase before gathering her things. The moment she’s close enough, I wrap her in my arms and steal a kiss.
“Let’s start over instead of you growling at me for bringing flowers. Hi! I’m here for a date,” I tease, grinning at her.
“Hi! Thank you for the flowers. Would you like to go eat with me?”
“No, I’d rather eat you, but I suppose I should go to dinner with you first,” I reply, watching as her cheeks flush pink.
“I’ll drive. You can tell me where to go,” I add, and she plugs the directions into the console.
We stop near a food truck park. “Here?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she nods, trying to suppress a smile.
I follow her lead as we approach one of the trucks and stop short in surprise. “How did you know?” I stare at my favorite Tex-Mex restaurant, which had closed down six months ago but has now resurfaced in food truck form.
“I have my sources. Three of them, in fact. They decided a storefront wasn’t for them, so they’ve been running this instead,” she explains, pulling me toward the line. I greet the owner, whose eyes light up with recognition.
“Hey, captain! I wondered if you would find us. Want your usual?”
“I do! I’ll have to bring my brothers by too,” I reply, my excitement bubbling over.
“Ah, I think the lady might have already taken care of that,” he smiles down at Luci, who waves at him. “What would you like, pretty lady?” The familiarity between them is comforting, and it’s the only reason I don’t bristle at his attention.
She insists on paying for our dinner after scolding me for trying to cover the cost. We find a table in the middle to wait for our food.
“That reminds me, Luci. Do you want a different nickname? I didn’t exactly call you sweetness in the best way at first; it was sarcastic and meant to chase you off,” I admit, recalling my earlier foolishness.
“No, I like it,” she replies calmly, her gaze steady.
“You do?”
“Yes! It’s unique. I never hear anyone use that. It’s always honey or baby, which is fine, but it’s… it’s so something you would come up with. And I like hearing you say it. Do I get to give you one?”
I chuckle lightly, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Then it’s yours for good. What would you call me?”
“Hmmm… hockey hottie, captain hottie,” she grins, and I laugh heartily.
“No.”
“Prickly, Frosty…” she offers, her tone teasing.
“No.” I growl playfully at that.
“Elsa, Olaf, Mr. Freeze, Iceman…”
“Now you’ve gone too far. Elsa, really?” I glare at her, pretending to be offended.
“Just trying to give you lots of options,” she says, trying to keep a straight face.
“Let it go, Luci.” And just like that, she collapses into giggles, and I can’t help but smile. Her life hasn’t been easy, and she deserves to laugh as much as she wants.
They call our names, and I head to grab our food. Luci takes her first bite, her eyes closing in bliss. “That’s delicious.”
“They make the best. I was devastated when they shut down. How did you find them?” I take a bite of the brisket taco, savoring the familiar explosion of flavors.
“Jackson said it was your favorite and that you were surprised they closed because they were so busy. I looked them up and found a social media post about the food truck. It’s not a fancy birthday dinner, but I figured it would make you happy.”
“Fancy is always overrated compared to an old favorite you thought you’d never have again. What’s next?”
“A surprise. I already told you,” she says with a playful smile.
As we finish eating, I see the owner hand Luci two huge bags. “Are you feeding Sydney tonight too?”
“No, you’ll see,” she replies mysteriously, plugging in more directions. As we near our destination, I glance over at her.
“The city’s older ice rink?” I ask, intrigued.
“Yes,” she confirms, and I help her out, carrying the bags inside. A few teenagers are on the ice, goofing off in their regular clothes, but I spot their hockey sticks. I take a moment to absorb the nostalgic atmosphere of the old rink as Luci moves closer to the ice.
“Luci!” one of the boys calls out as he skates in. He’s about her height, with shaggy brown hair, probably around sixteen or seventeen.
“Hey, Joel! I brought dinner!”
Joel, the kid living with Janet, whom I got season tickets for, waves at her. Janet had called me in a frenzy when she saw them; I’d been more than happy to help. “Hi, Luci girl! Hello again, Easton!” Janet waves from the old bleachers, her smile warm.