The first comment appeared. How does it feel to be on the Bedlam after knocking out our captain?
Then another. Kelsey, how can you sit there eating wings with him after what he did to your brother? Where's your family loyalty?
That one ticked her off. Didn't they realize that she had a job to do? "Let's start with something easy. How has the transition been so far?"
He poured beer into his glass and pointed to her glass with a raised brow. At her nod, he filled her glass with the golden brew. "Buffalo is a lot different from L.A., and not only in terms of weather. I'm still living out of two suitcases, but I'm happy to be a part of a great team and looking forward to bringing a Cup home for the Bedlam fans."
More comments rolled in. A lot reminded her of the comments they screamed at Leo when he'd been on the ice during the last two games. "Speaking of the fans, how are you handling the reception you've received so far?"
He shrugged. "They're passionate about the team and its players. With Dylan being out of the lineup, I understand where they're coming from with their booing and, uh, enthusiastic comments, but once I hit the ice, I don't hear any of that stuff. My only concern is playing the best hockey I can and being a good teammate."
He was feeding her the typical player answers again. As much as she wanted to dig for something real and to learn his true feelings, it probably wouldn't happen as long as the fans were listening in.
"Let's talk wings. The hot sauce is made with vinegar, cayenne red pepper, salt and garlic." She pointed at each bowl. "This one is mild, and it's the only one I can handle without needing to cool my mouth off right away. Next, we have medium which is more like hot in terms of the heat scale. Then we have hot, as in three-alarm fire hot. And last, we have suicidal which is as hot as the sun."
"Suicidal?" Smiling, Leo shook his head. "Did the fans suggest that one for me?"
"No. But I wanted you to have the full heat range." Laughing, she pointed to the small containers of blue cheese dressing beside each bowl. "You're supposed to dip the wings in the blue cheese first."
"Thanks for the tip." He grabbed a mild wing, dipped it in the dressing, and took a bite.
She selected a wing from the same bowl. "Well?"
"It's good. I'm ready for the next level." He licked red sauce from his lips and reached for a medium wing. Matching him, Kelsey did the same. There wasn't a delicate way to eat the wing, and the fans were likely paying more attention to Leo anyway, so she ripped into it. Her lips and tongue tingled from the heat, even with the blue cheese dressing to cool it down. Mouth on fire, she reached for her beer and swallowed several mouthfuls.
Leo watched her with a grin. "My turn." He bit into it and raised one brow while he chewed. "It's definitely hotter."
But he still didn't reach for his beer. She blinked. Was he really able to stand the heat, or was he trying to show the fans how tough he was? She wiped sauce from her fingers and checked the new comments on the screen. "Ready for the hot ones next?"
"I think I'll jump right to suicidal." He picked up a wing from the last bowl. "Want one?"
"No way. I've learned my lesson there." Finally, a safe question appeared. "Five-year-old Jacob wants to know if you have any pets."
Holding the wing, he smiled into the screen. "Hi, Jacob. I had a dog when I was growing up. I'd like to have one now, but I'm on the road so much during the season that it doesn't seem fair to the dog. Since I live alone, I'd have to find someone I trust to take care of it. So for now, I guess I'll have to wait. But I'll definitely get a dog after I retire. While I eat this wing, maybe Kelsey can answer the same question."
She frowned, studying him. Maybe he wanted the attention off of himself in case the heat was too much to handle. "I have a white Yorkie. She's two years old and I adopted her a few months ago from the animal shelter. Her name is Icing."
"Icing? As in icing the puck?" Grinning, he lifted the wing to his lips. "That's awesome."
Pleased that his mind had immediately gone to the hockey term, she sipped her beer. "You got it right away. Most people hear her name and think she's named after cake frosting."
He coughed, or laughed, or a combination of the two. Face turning red, eyes watering, he dropped the mostly-eaten wing and grabbed his beer. He downed it in a few swallows, refilled the glass, and then drank that one down too.
Her sole experience with the suicidal wings had been the same. She pitched her voice to a whisper. "Are you all right?"
He nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. Coughing again, he pushed his empty glass aside. "That wasn't so bad."
"You did better than me. The only time I had them, I made my brothers stop for ice cream on our way home. Dairy products help cool the mouth down the best."
His arm brushed against hers as he shifted closer. "So, does that mean we're stopping for ice cream after this?"
The touch set off a liquid pull directly to her core. She shivered as goosebumps dotted her skin. The light emanating from the laptop screen reminded her that they weren't alone, that hundreds, possibly thousands of people were watching. "I could show you my favorite place. After all," she reasoned out loud for the benefit of the fans, "you've only been a part of the team for five days, so you probably haven't had a chance to see much of the city, have you?"
"I've seen my
