It rained the day of the competition, a downpour like they never got in San Diego, but that Seattle residents seemed to take in stride. The gloomy weather seemed fitting since they did not win at the Chew and Brew. Fedora seemed to be taking it particularly hard. She hadn’t said much since they got the news. She just cleaned up her station grimly.

“Hey, you win some, you lose some,” Cole said, trying to console her. “We got first runner-up. I think that’s fantastic. This was only our first competition and we almost won the title.”

She scowled. “Cole, we lost. First runner-up is still losing.”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset. We beat out thirty-eight other contestants. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Yes,” she said, sliding her chef’s knife back into its holder. “Sort of like making it to the Stanley Cup Final and coming in second.”

He blinked. “Oh. Okay. I see what you mean.”

Not sure what else he could say, he gave up and went to give her hug. She resisted at first, still in a mood apparently, but eventually she succumbed and, to his great surprise, she buried her face in his chest and made an alarming noise that sounded like it might be a sob.

God, he really hoped she wasn’t crying. Just the thought of Fedora crying made his stomach twist itself into knots.

“Hey, hey, Chevy, it’s okay.”

She grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt. “I just really wanted to go home and show everyone I was a winner.” Her voice sounded so forlorn and so unlike the Fedora he knew. “I wanted to put that plaque on our wall. I wanted everyone to be proud of me.”

“They will be proud. You did damned good. Those chicken wings were outstanding and I’ll fight anyone who says different. Look, things like this are so subjective. It’s not like in hockey. Generally, a goal is a goal and whoever gets more of them wins. In this kind of thing it’s just opinion. All you can do is do your best and hope. It’s a crapshoot.”

“I scored them highly,” said a familiar voice.

Cole turned to see Anson Lau, of all people. He wore jeans, a thick sweater and a newsboy-styled cap.

Fedora straightened and pasted on a smile. He had to give her credit. It looked almost genuine. The only indication that she’d been crying was a brightness to her eyes.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said as they shook hands. “Were you a judge?”

“I was a last minute substitution. A good friend of mine is one of the people who started the competition. He mentioned that one of their judges had to bow out and he really needed someone whose expertise was weighted on the culinary side. So here I am. I’m sorry you didn’t win. Your pairing was excellent. In fact, one of the first things I’m going to do when I get back home is visit Hat Trick. I have a little side trip to San Francisco before that, but you’ve whetted my appetite, Fedora. Truly.”

“Thank you, Anson. That means a lot.”

After he left, Fedora smiled at Cole, “Well, small consolation but at least I got his seal of approval.”

Cole didn’t smile back. There was something about Anson Lau Cole didn’t like. Something the man wasn’t saying. If he had a choice, he’d rather Lau did not visit Hat Trick upon returning to San Diego, but he didn’t tell Fedora that. She’d think he was crazy. Maybe he was. The man seemed polite enough, and yet…

Cole looked at his watch. “Okay, let’s clean up and get out of here.”

“Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

“Not too exhausted for a hockey game, I hope.” He’d gotten on the phone and made a couple of calls.

She glanced at him. “For real? You mean a Cascade game? I’ve never been to a live hockey game before.”

“Yep.”

She grinned. “I feel a second wind coming on.”

Naturally, Fedora was a Barracuda fan, seeing as how she worked for three ex-Barracudas, but with all the hoopla surrounding the Brew and Chew, she hadn’t even realized the team’s road trip coincided with the competition.

“How did you…?” she asked when she saw their seats were adjacent to the penalty box. “How far ahead did you plan this?”

He shrugged. “I talked to a couple people yesterday. There’s a certain amount of professional courtesy that goes on and these were the best seats, in my opinion, that were available.”

“This is going to be epic.”

The air in the arena vibrated with energy. Most of the spectators hadn’t arrived yet, but the players were on the ice warming up to some loud club music. They didn’t ever show this on TV. The warm-up almost looked choreographed. They fluidly wove in and out, making passes, firing shots, circling, moving, gliding from one maneuver to the next. Some of the players peeled off to stretch.

She recognized all the Barracudas and the knowledge that they were just on the other side of the glass thrilled her. These were men she’d cheered and cursed and admired, and here they were in person. Hart Griffin even made eye contact with her as he skated past and she fanned her face excitedly.

“He looked at me,” she cried. “Oh my gosh, Hart Griffin looked at me!”

With a wan smile, Cole looked decidedly unimpressed.

“Huh,” he said. “You’d think she never met a hockey player in person before.”

She batted him on the arm. “Stop it. It’s different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“I never saw you on TV. Even though I know you played, I just know you as Cole.”

He mulled that over as she returned to watching the warm up. Eventually, as if by some unspoken signal, they all left the ice.

“Cole, these are the most amazing seats. I mean, the penalty box is right there.” She went still. “What if there are no penalties? Does that happen? Are there ever games where no one goes to the box?”

“Sure, it happens, but not very often.”

Turned out Fedora got to see several different players up close and personal. Maybe a little too personal. One of the Cascades closed one nostril and blew a mini-geyser of snot right onto the floor. It was disgusting. Of course, she’d seen the players spit on TV, but in person, it was slightly nauseating. Then when a fight broke out, she was startled almost out of her skin. She’d been posting a picture to her Instagram when the crowd suddenly began yelling. She looked up to see two players going at it, fists flying, not three feet away from her. The ice caused them to drift slowly closer to her as they tried to land and avoid punches. One particularly fierce flurry of blows made her raise her hands defensively and cringe in Cole’s direction. He pulled her close protectively.

Again, on TV it was so much different. She liked watching the fights on TV. They brought so much energy and intensity to the game and she knew the combatants were often trying to right some wrong on behalf of their teammates. It was oddly chivalrous. However, in person and close-up, it was clear this was not staged. It wasn’t just for show like professional wrestling. This was real. These two players were not holding back and all the primitive ferocity that was muted on television shocked her.

All at once, it was over. The two players broke apart, exhausted, and were escorted to the box to serve their five-minute penalties.

Cole put his arm around her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. That was…really intense.” She felt shaky as she gulped down some water.

“Hockey’s not for sissies,” he said.

“No kidding.”

When the period ended, Fedora still felt rattled, which annoyed her. Was she that much of a wimp? And what was with turning to Cole like she was a teenager who couldn’t deal with watching a horror movie?

They ventured out to the concourse to get some food.

“Did you get in many fights?” she asked him as they stood in line for chili dogs.

Before he could answer, a feminine voice called out, “Hey! Cole Ripley!”

A woman wearing Barracuda colors turned to show them Cole’s last name on the back of her jersey. “I’m Debbie. Huge fan. I can’t believe you’re here!”

“I was here on business and wanted to take in a game.”

“Can I take a picture with you?” Debbie was standing on her tiptoes with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Of course.”

Fedora ended up taking the picture for Debbie, who proceeded to dominate Cole’s attention the entire time they were in line. To give credit where credit was due, Cole tried to include Fedora in the conversation, but the other woman pretty much ignored her. When they finally got their chili dogs, Debbie asked if she could get one more picture of herself kissing his cheek.

With an apologetic smile at Fedora, who had been wordlessly handed the phone again, he said, “Sure.”

When Debbie finally left them alone, they headed back to their seats. The encounter left Fedora feeling disgruntled and she wasn’t sure she liked that. She’d seen fans speak with Cole before at Hat Trick. This was a regular occurrence for all three of her bosses. San Diego was becoming more of a hockey town with every year that passed. So what was different about tonight?

She’d slept with Cole. That’s what was different. She’d known things would change between them if they went to bed together. Now that they were lovers, she was getting jealous over a perfectly innocent encounter. It was maddening and stupid. All she had to do was remember the stunning orgasms he’d given her last night—all afternoon, if she wanted to get technical—and poof. Those petty concerns disappeared. Fact was she couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room. If the trade-off for the most spectacular sex she’d ever had was a few fleeing moments of jealousy, she was fine with it.

Much later, they lay side by side in his king sized bed. They’d gone ahead and checked her out of her room, because no sense in paying for a room they weren’t using. They were both hot and sweaty, having just finished another world-rocking bout of amazing sex. Just now catching her breath, Fedora was awash with sexual satisfaction and a dreamy lassitude that made her feel as if she were floating in a secluded lagoon.

“I wish we weren’t going home tomorrow,” she said idly, curling her forefinger in his chest hair. “I haven’t gotten to see any of Seattle.”

“What would you say if I told you we aren’t going back tomorrow?”

She drew back. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I made a few phone calls and everyone assured me they could survive without us until Tuesday.”

With a squeal of delight, she surged forward and kissed him enthusiastically. “You’re the best.”

“Well, I didn’t like seeing you so upset yesterday. It really bothered me.”

Her heart melted. Mason had never gone out of his way to console her about anything.

Wait a second.

Looking back, she didn’t think he ever really noticed her moods at all. It made her wonder…had she been a relationship doormat? She’d always prided herself on being a woman who stood up for herself when she thought it was necessary. She could recall many times when she’d done so with Mason. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d been in denial. Just because an employee roused himself to do something extra a couple of times a year didn’t mean he wasn’t lazy. The reason Cole’s concern and resulting thoughtful gesture stood out so much was because she never expected Mason to pay attention to her needs. With Mason, she’d been grateful. With Cole, she was…touched.

Epiphany achieved.