Checked (Gold Hockey Book 7)

by Elise Faber

  It was too much already.

  And yet, it was also perfect.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said.

  “We’ll keep barreling into your life until you kick us out,” Bex declared. “I’ve taken a page out of Kevin’s book. Just be sweet and persistent until the other person gives.”

  “You can be sweet?” Brit teased.

  Bex waggled her brows. “What do you think? Kev—”

  “Ew,” Sara said, the final body making her way through the door. The former figure skater was soft-spoken but had been through hell and had a spine of steel. It was one of those things that infuriated Rebecca about herself. She had no trauma in her life. For sure, her parents divorcing hadn’t been easy, especially when her dad had taken off and built a new family afterward and her mom had shut down to the point of negligence.

  But kids went through that all the time.

  One parent left. The other wasn’t great.

  They coped.

  Hell, her sister had the same circumstances and it hadn’t slowed her down in the least. She’d just straightened her shoulders and finished college, getting a job at Fortune 500 company and making her way through the ranks there.

  Now Sandra was on her own, bringing bigger and bigger clients in to her consulting firm without missing a beat.

  And Rebecca had a blog.

  Yes, she was also with the Gold.

  But it wasn’t Wall Street or Fortune 500, and so it couldn’t begin to compare. At least according to Sandra and her father.

  “You okay?” Sara, the former gold medalist turned artist, asked, pulling her out of her own thoughts.

  “I don’t know if okay is the right word,” Rebecca admitted. “But thank you for coming. I feel like such a dummy saying this aloud, but I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Not dumb,” Sara said. “This is important. You want to mark the moment.”

  Yes, she did.

  Also, there went her stomach again, fluttering and tightening and—

  “Wine!” Bex declared, shoving a glass under Rebecca’s nose and handing out the rest of the filled goblets.

  “Who’s the last one for?” Rebecca asked.

  “Me.”

  She turned, saw Calle standing in the doorway.

  “Hi.” Calle waved awkwardly. “Is it okay if I invade? I don’t really know a lot of people in town, and Brit mentioned—”

  Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat, though for the first time in a long time it wasn’t with regards to herself. Calle was uncomfortable. Rebecca could make that better, make it easier.

  Wow.

  Could it sometimes be just that simple?

  Not a cure, not a be-all-end-all.

  But perhaps a way to cope.

  Tucking that thought away to deal with later, she took Calle’s hand and tugged her into the apartment, closing the door behind them. “Come in,” she said belatedly and smiled at herself before plunking the glass into Calle’s fingers. “I’m having a closet crisis, and I’m hoping that all these bags that Bex hauled in mean you guys are going to bail me out.”

  Bex grinned and handed her the final goblet. “Bail you out how? Do we have carte blanche—?”

  “I would highly advise against that,” Brit said.

  “But Rebecca—Bex dresses so well,” Sara pointed out.

  “If Rebecca wanted to look like a high-powered attorney for her first date with Gabe, then yes,” Brit said. “But I’m guessing she doesn’t want to go that route.”

  “Rebecca should feel comfortable in what she wears,” Mandy pointed out.

  “I know fashion, and—”

  Brit rolled her eyes. “You two may have the same name, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “But just saying,” Calle said, carefully maneuvering into the fray. “I don’t know if the robe/sweats combo is the way to go.”

  Sara snorted.

  Rebecca laughed. She’d witnessed Brit and Bex going around and around more than once, and while tonight it was happening in her apartment over what she was going to wear on her date, she didn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, it just felt like she was at work, with her people. And that made it okay. “When Gabe said he sent me something, I didn’t think he meant a bickering makeover squad.”

  “How about a bickering makeover squad with presents?” Bex asked, not missing a beat.

  “That’s better,” Rebecca agreed.

  “Okay. Wine. Then closet survey. Then bag appraisal. Deal?” Bex asked, or rather pronounced to the group at large.

  “Deal,” Rebecca said and took a sip from her glass. And as everyone followed suit, she led them into her bedroom.

  An hour and all three bottles of wine later, she’d texted Gabe and put him off by another thirty minutes.

  Sara was doing her hair and makeup, thanks to her former figure skater roots, and Bex had put together an outfit Rebecca would never have dreamed of. Mixing a clingy tank covered by a favorite lace vest Mandy had found in Rebecca’s closet with a tight pair of pleather pants Bex had pulled out of one of the bags. Calle and Brit had mostly stood back and watched, drinking wine, but they had chosen her necklace, and the long, draping chains of silver and gold went perfectly with the entire look.

  It was the sexiest she’d ever felt.

  It was also the most time she’d spent with other women since middle school.

  She hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing that, connecting with women, being around a gabbing group of women, and participating in that conversation rather than restricting herself to the outside because she felt awkward. That wasn’t to say it had all gone completely smooth. She’d stumbled over her words a few times and had gotten really quiet when Bex had pulled out a matching black lace and panty set, but no one had made a big deal of it. Well, they’d chastised Bex about her forwardness while reminding her of the fact that this was only a first date. To which she’d responded that Rebecca and Gabe had had four months of foreplay—accurate—and plus, there was nothing wrong with a woman having sex on the first date if that’s what she wanted—also true.

  But the point was, even when things didn’t go perfectly smooth and everyone wasn’t in complete agreement, they still continued moving forward.

  Plus, they all had their own awkward moments.

  The difference was that while there was good-natured teasing in response, no one made anyone else feel bad.

  Lifting up rather than slamming down.

  She hadn’t recognized it before.

  “Gabe texted!” Mandy called, tone bordering on a shriek. “He’s coming in ten minutes whether we’re ready or not.”

  Rebecca jerked and nearly impaled herself with the mascara wand.

  Sara put a hand on her shoulder. “Freeze. I’m almost done.”

  Bex was scurrying around the room, grabbing clothes and shoving them into bags. Calle gathered wine glasses. Brit and Mandy began straightening the mess in Rebecca’s closet.

  “It’s okay,” she began. “I can—”

  “Hush,” Sara said. “Let us do this for you, okay?”

  Instead of arguing—or nodding since that mascara wand was still very close to her eye—she just whispered, “Okay.”

  Two minutes later she was done, and Sara was packing up the makeup bag, which she set on Rebecca’s bathroom counter and wouldn’t hear any argument about Rebecca paying for any of it. Five minutes after that, her heels were on, her closet was straightened, the wine glasses were drying on the rack, and the girls were walking out the door.

  She opened her mouth to thank them again.

  “Absolutely not,” Brit said, hugging her briefly before leaving.

  “Put that thanks away,” Sara chimed in.

  “But—”

  “I got to use you as my real-life Barbie doll, so shush.”

  “Exactly,” Bex said then grinned. “Plus, we’ll be watching Gabe’s reaction from the bushes.” She held up her camera.

  Which Calle promptly snatched from her
hand. “Um. Nope, we will not be watching from the bushes,” she said and started walking, Bex hurrying after her, demanding the camera back. “Thanks for letting me hang out!” she called before descending the stairs.

  “I’d better go make sure that doesn’t turn into something,” Mandy said.

  “Calle is strong.”

  Mandy smirked. “And Bex fights dirty.”

  Rebecca laughed then hugged her tight. “I know I haven’t been an easy person to be friends with, but—”

  “Shut up before you make me smack you,” Mandy declared fiercely. “You’re smart, beautiful, and loyal. I’ve never seen you not do the right thing, even if it’s hard. Yes, you’re quiet and reserved, and maybe you struggle to put yourself out there, but you’re perfect the way you are, Rebecca.” A beat. “It’s easy to like you. To love you. No matter who told you differently.” She pulled back, jostled her lightly. “Even if that person was you.”

  Then as if she hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb on her soul, Mandy left.

  But she stopped at the top of the stairs.

  “Also, you’re as good for Gabe as he is for you,” she said. “He’s taken the blinders off. Because of you.” Mandy hesitated for a second longer before descending. “All you, Rebecca.”

  Sucking in a breath as her friends disappeared, she carefully closed the door to her apartment, teetering on her heels, mind swirling.

  But this time it was for a different reason.

  This time it was a good swirling.

  Something she’d never thought was possible until the tornado of girls had invaded her apartment and her life.

  At Gabe’s direction.

  She smiled and went to retrieve her purse. Her legs were shaking and her heart was pounding, but that wouldn’t stop her.

  Fifteen

  Gabe

  He was going to kill Mandy and company.

  Not really, of course, but they’d taken the sweet veneer of Rebecca completely away and now she was all spice, and he was going to have a perpetual case of blue balls.

  Hence, the killing.

  But then his gaze made it back to her face and he saw.

  Scratch that, he was going to buy them each a case of wine. Joy radiated inside her, shining through her eyes and punching him in the gut. Fuck. That might have been the purest thing he’d seen since . . . well, Maggie. He’d watched her radiate joy when she’d gotten her acceptance to medical school, when she’d been declared cancer-free the first time in high school, when he’d visited her while she was sick.

  Gabe swallowed hard.

  “What is it?” Rebecca cupped his cheek lightly. “Are you all right?”

  “I feel so lucky to have a woman like you in my life.”

  Her breath caught.

  “You’re beautiful.” He touched her cheek.

  She smiled. “You wouldn’t have thought that ninety minutes ago when I was freaking out and wearing holey sweats and a ratty bathrobe.”

  “I meant on the inside.”

  “Gabe!”

  He blinked at her tone. “What?”

  “Don’t make me cry! Sara did my makeup, and Bex and Mandy helped me with my clothes, and Brit and Calle picked out my necklace—” She sniffed. “And now you’re being so unbelievable you’re going to make me cry.”

  It was punctuating the statement with a stomp of her foot that did it.

  He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her close. There was just enough time for her to say, “My lipstick!” and for him to growl, “I don’t give a fuck,” before he slammed his mouth down onto hers.

  Thankfully, she forgot about the lipstick and was right there with him.

  Her hands came up to his head, weaving into his hair, and she launched herself into his arms, those gorgeous long legs wrapping around his hips.

  “Fuck, yes,” he murmured against her lips.

  She moaned in response, her tongue slipping into his mouth to tangle with his. Heat burst down his spine, and he knew if he didn’t stop them in the next few moments, they would keep going all night.

  Gabe wanted that. Fuck, he wanted it.

  But she deserved a first date.

  He pulled away, albeit slowly, their lips almost reluctant to part. Her little mewl of disappointment nearly undid the infinitesimal control he’d regained, but in the end, he did manage to slowly lower her feet to the floor.

  “I love how you end up in my arms every time we kiss, sweetheart.”

  Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “Don’t try to say you didn’t like it.”

  “That’s not in question,” he said. “The problem is that I liked it so much we might miss our dinner reservations.”

  She grinned, the stink.

  “Those pants should be illegal, you look so fucking good.” Pink spreading on her cheeks as he took a step back, hands clenching at his sides so he didn’t grab her again. “Do you have everything you need?”

  “Let me grab my coat.”

  “I can keep you warm.”

  She froze, then saw he was joking . . . kind of.

  “I think that’s what got us into this problem in the first place,” she teased.

  “Maybe.”

  Her fingers clenched on the doorframe. “I’d say come in but—”

  “That’s really what got us into the problem in the first place,” he said.

  “Exactly.” With a grin, she disappeared into her apartment, reappearing a few seconds later with her coat. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

  Gabe helped her into it then slid an arm around her waist. “Ready for the most awesomest first date in the history of all first dates?”

  “I’m ready to be with you,” she said. “Whatever form that takes.”

  Yeah. If he hadn’t spent the last four months falling in love with this woman, that right there would have done it.

  Little Italy.

  Not the place most well-known for vegan menus.

  Gabe figured most restaurants had bought stock in meat, cheese, and cream, but there was a small hole in the wall that offered up two menus. One for normal people, like him, he’d teased, and one for the crazy vegans.

  Rebecca had laughed when he’d told her that, the sound gliding along the inside of his heart, making him think sappy thoughts as the light tinkling noise tapped on the inside of organs and filled him with joy.

  Dinner had been easy, and hands down, the best meal of his life. But now he had to say goodnight to the woman he’d come to love.

  And he didn’t want to.

  Now, instead of poetry, cue the petulant little child inside him.

  They crested the top of the stairs and his heart sank.

  Yes, he was whipped. No, he’d decided that wasn’t a bad thing. Especially when he could smell the delicate scent of the rose he’d bought for her from the woman who’d come over to the table during dinner. Rebecca had picked the one with the broken stem, the one the lady selling them had tried to say was garbage, and tucked it behind one ear. That floral perfume had been teasing him the entire drive home, mixing with her cinnamon scent, and right about then, he wanted to roll around in it.

  Lie. He wanted to roll around with her.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Well, not tonight anyway.

  Because . . . why was that again exactly?

  He racked his brain as they walked to her door, trying to remember all the reasons that he had to go home to his place and not talk his way into hers. He'd started the evening with several and was now drawing a blank.

  She slipped her purse from her shoulder, retrieving her keys from the depths when he remembered.

  Respect.

  That’s right.

  What an idiot he was.

  Rebecca unlocked her door, pushed it wide.

  “Well, goodni—”

  She grabbed his shirt by the lapels and yanked him inside, slamming the door shut the same moment she slammed her mouth down onto his.

 
“Four months,” she said, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. “Don’t try to get noble on me now.”

  “Rebecca—” She nipped at his chin. “Baby—” His jaw. “We should—” Plink. Plink. Buttons on his shirt flew.

  “Stop thinking so hard,” she said, stepping back and reaching for the zipper of her jacket. She tugged it down sharply. “And fuck me.”

  His cock had been hard from the moment her mouth had touched his. Her words turned it to granite. Her coat and vest dropping to the floor turning it to . . . diamond—or something appropriately hard.

  Her shirt following suit had him obeying her order to stop thinking.

  Black lace. Ivory skin.

  Hot emerald eyes. A flush drifting down her throat, caressing the skin of her breasts.

  She reached for the button of her pants.

  He moved, sweeping her up into his arms, opening his mouth to ask if she was sure—

  “My bedroom,” she interrupted and then her lips met his and he was walking, her mouth on his making his head spin.

  Or perhaps that was her hand.

  Because those fingers had slipped beneath the hem of his T-shirt to stroke his stomach. But they didn’t stay there. Rather, they slipped beneath the waistband of his pants and cupped him over his boxer briefs.

  Then under.

  That was the moment he finally stopped thinking.

  Sixteen

  Rebecca

  Her thoughts were mid-swirl.

  But instead of panic, she felt need and desire and a lot of more. Faster. Now.

  Gabe dropped her on the bed, rearing back to tug off her heels, before returning to slant his mouth across hers. His hands moved in tandem, one coming up to cup her face, angling it so he could kiss her deeper while the other moved up and down her side, trailing low enough to tease the skin just under the waistband of her pants and then back up, along her side, her ribs, the outside of her breast.

  She shivered but set her own fingers to work on the remaining buttons of his shirt, wanting, needing to feel his naked skin against hers.

  Thankfully, he seemed to want that, too, because he sat up and yanked the shirt over his head without bothering with the rest of the buttons then was back on top of her, lips descending.