The frigid winter air wrapped around me as I walked down the block to The Cask and Barrel. I was pretty excited that Jordan was slinging drinks at one of my favorite watering holes again. It was high time she got back to her roots and worked for a relaxed joint. I was starting to get tired of going to visit her at the snobby mixology bars she had been working for. Being one of the best bartenders in the country had her in high demand, but sometimes she took jobs that brought her back to her origins in the crazy industry she loved.

The Cask and Barrel was already filled with rowdy fans packed at the two bars like sardines. In true Otters’ fandom they were covered from head to two in red and blue with Ollie shirts and jersey’s the Hayes, Cox and Crosby on their backs. It was surreal to see the surnames of my friends gracing the top line of so many fan’s clothing. To me Gavin Hayes, Brayden Cox and Will Crosby were three regular guys, with regular jobs that just so happened to be hockey—to others, they were heroes.

Sliding up to the side bar where a line of high-backed stools had white pieces of paper taped to the scratched wood with RESERVED bolded on them made me feel pretty important. I took off my coat and was immediately greeted with a dark draft and a kind smile.

“Ah! You read my mind. How do you always know?” I sank into the chair noticing Jordan was wearing her Crosby jersey as she rang up an order.

“I’m just good at my job,” she called over her shoulder. “I can always count on you to be the first one to show.” Jordan’s bubbly personality hadn’t changed since the first time Gavin and I met her all those years ago.

I glanced down at my watch. “Chad should be here any minute, and I can’t believe the girls didn’t beat me.” I threw my coat, gloves and scarf over the back of the chair at the end of the row. “How have things been going with working here?”

Jordan’s face lit up as she whipped her short black bangs off to the side and out of her eyes. “I fucking love it. Best choice I’ve made in a while. Kyle is an awesome owner, and so is the rest of the staff.” Jordan pointed to the front door, and I turned to see Chad Tomlinson walking in with his Ollie is My Homeboy shirt on.

He took the seat next to me. “Hey man, how’s it going? Haven’t seen you around the station lately.”

I took another sip of my beer. “McBee and I have been working a lot of nights lately. We completely got the short end of the stick on that one. How’s the new lady? Word is you’re falling hard and fast.” I usually didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone’s love life, but with being knee-deep in the holiday season and the never-ending grin that was plastered on Chad’s face, I just couldn’t help but get wrapped up in the magic of all of it. Every time I saw him in passing, he had the biggest shit-eating grin and a bounce in his step. I had to admit that I was happy for the guy. Chad was definitely one of the good ones.

I was usually the smartass jerk friend who was quick with a backhanded compliment or witty remark and I kind of enjoyed that part of my personality, but it was starting to get a little lonely. With Gavin wifed up and Brayden having a new baby with Karla, the days of shooting the shit with the guys and talking about our weekend conquests were far behind us.

Tomlinson burst with excitement, turning to me like a middle school girl about to gossip about a schoolyard crush. “Charlie is freaking amazing, a tiny dynamo with killer curves. I’m hook, line, and sinker into this chick, man.”

Jordan was quick with his bottle of Coors. I raised my glass in the air, and Chad brought his to mine as I said, “Cheers to that, man. I’m happy for both of you.”

Jordan slammed another draft of my favorite milk stout down in front of me. “Thanks.” I smirked at her.

Shooting over a quick wink, she glanced down at her watch. “Where the hell are the girls? They better not be late.”

I held up a finger. “Give me a second, I’ll check on them.” I walked past the three barstools with reserved signs taped to the back of them, waiting to be occupied by the rest of my crew once they arrived. Just as I was about to hit the green button to call McBee, her bright smile and piercing eyes captivated me. My partner had turned into one of my best friends over the last year and I hated to admit it to myself, but there was a small ember of something more growing within me. I fought it hard, but even so, it burned deep down in my gut.

“Hey,” I greeted all they with a wave before helping Jessica take off her coat and threw it onto the chair that was quickly piling high with all of our outerwear.

Myla and Karla took their seats, leaving Jessica and me to sit in the middle next to each other. It was normal, but in that moment, I felt anxious. My hands went all clammy. I could feel my pulse in my neck. My stomach flipped and flopped.

Get a grip, man.

She’s your partner—completely off limits.

“What took you guys so long?” I asked.

Chad hugged McBee as Myla leaned onto the bar to get into my field of vision to answer. “We wouldn’t have taken so long if the babysitter hadn’t gotten stuck on the train. Sorry.”

I shrugged. “The national anthem hasn’t even started. I think you’re good.”

Karla kissed my cheek. “You’re always the nice one of the group, Sean. Some people think they can throw hissy fits for no reason when someone is five minutes late.

Myla stuck her tongue out at her kind-of-sister-in-law. “Just because my brother and you have a kid together does not mean you can make me late to watch my boys play.”

Karla rolled her eyes teasingly. “They’re our boys, My. Don’t forget that Gavin and Brayden play on the same team.”

“Have they been like this all day?” I whispered into Jess’s ear.

She giggled while nodding. “It’s a big game, so they’re just full of nervous anticipation.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Jess put her hand on my knee for just a split second as she replied, “Yeah, they’ve been like this and it’s be quite entertaining.”

The touch was innocent and fleeting but I missed the feeling the second she moved her hand and continued talking with the group.

* * *

There was a minute left in the third and the Otters were down by one goal. As the clock wound down, Gavin had the puck, unfortunately missing the shot right as the buzzer rang. In unison, we all slammed our fists onto the bar. As fans, we had all been spoiled with win after win. A loss had been bound to happen, but it was still disappointing.

Right as Myla was starting in on her rant about the bad calls the referees had made during the game as the post-game show started to air, a few guys at the other bar across the restaurant started yelling at each other. Chad, Jessica, and I all jumped into cop mode as a bottle smashed on the bar top and punches started to fly.

Tomlinson and I grabbed each of the drunken hooligans as McBee called in the brawl. One guy’s eye was busted open pretty badly, and the other was bleeding profusely from his swelling lip. They were both struggling, shouting profanities at each other and us. The overwhelming aroma of vodka emanated from them as I tried to get some straight answers.

“All right hotshots, care to tell us what this was all about?” Even though the three of us were off duty, the police officer in us never really was. The meaning of “protect and serve” was always pumping through our veins.

The one I had by his shirt collar spit blood onto the floor at my feet. “Fuck you,” he growled as Jordan handed him a clean towel to help soak up some of the blood gushing out of his eyebrow. “Mind your own damn business.”

McBee got right up in the dude’s face. “Check your attitude pal. I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with right now.”

The douche canoe Chad had in almost a headlock tried to wriggle free as he yelled, “Fucking cunt. I’ll kick your damn ass too.”

“Wrong answer.” I laughed as Gabi walked into the bar. I loved how badass the women in our department were. They were tougher than a lot of the guys, and I had to give them props for it.

Gabi strutted in, hands on her belt. “Everything okay here?” She glanced around at the three of us as we continued to keep the two hotheads apart. She was totally putting on a show, and the entire bar was eating out of the palm of her hand.

“I think you can handle it from here.” I slapped Gabi on the shoulder, getting close enough that only she could hear me. “It was just a drunken fight, no big deal, but that one”—I pointed to the guy with the busted lip—“kind of threatened McBee. Scare him a little, will ya?”

“Ha! What an idiot. Consider it done.” We shook hands. “Thanks, guys. See you around the station.”