Back in the Game

by Meghan Quinn

  “So that means you have at least some skills.”

  “Not even in the slightest. In my audition tape, I cut a potato with a butter knife. Not my finest moment, but oh hell, did I tear open that potato. By the end of my night in the kitchen, that potato was asking me what it could do to make my job easier.”

  I study her. “You really love exaggerating, don’t you?”

  “One of my favorite pastimes.”

  “Good to know.” I chuckle and open the door for her, the smell of melted cheese consuming us. Damn that smells good. Not as good as Rachel, but pretty damn close. “Have you been here before?”

  “Never, and now I’m hating myself for it because from what I can tell, this is my new Mecca.” She releases my hand and goes straight to the counter, where she starts chatting with one of the employees. She’s animated with her hand gestures and speaks with such enthusiasm . . . about mac and cheese. It’s adorable.

  Walking up behind her, I put my hand on her hip and listen to their conversation.

  “Are we talking crispy bacon? It’s got to be crispy if it’s on top of mac and cheese.”

  “It’s the crispiest, ma’am. I agree with you, soggy bacon is a travesty, especially when mixed with noodles and cheese.”

  “Amen.” Rachel waves her hands in the air. “I’ll take the BBQ Bacon Bowl then.” Leaning her head back, she asks, “And what would you like, big guy?”

  Big guy? Jesus.

  “I would like the Crabby Mac Bowl please and two drinks.” I pull out my wallet and hand the guy some money while Rachel snuggles in close to me.

  “We’re on our first date.” Rachel coos up at me. “Can you tell?”

  The cashier smiles up at us and when he looks me in the eyes, his mouth drops open and he starts to point. “You’re . . . you’re Calder Weiss. Oh man, your game last night, when you slammed Declan into the wall, stole the puck, and shot it down to Holmes for that goal, dude, I re-watched that at least five times in a row. He had no idea you were coming for him.” He reaches his hand out. “Can I just shake your hand? Would that be alright? Just give me a sturdy shake.”

  Chuckling, I reach out and take the guy’s hand. “Thanks for watching the games, man.”

  “I never miss one. Even when I’m working here at The Mart. We have the game going on in the back.” He looks at me in disbelief, still holding onto my hand. “Man, this made my night. I’m so glad I work here now. Shit, I might start crying.”

  Casually slipping my hand from his and placing it on Rachel’s lower back, I say, “No need to shed tears man. Hey, how about you give me your information on the receipt and I’ll be sure to send you over some tickets.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  Rachel giggles next to me. “No, it would be my pleasure.”

  The kid rips paper from the receipt printer, pulls the cap off a pen, and starts writing frantically. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Calder Weiss is going to give me tickets. I can’t fucking believe this.” Holding out the paper, he hands it to me then oddly bows, clasping his hands together. “Thank you. Holy shit, thank you. This made my year.”

  “It’s no problem.” I put the receipt in my wallet and give him a small salute. “I’m going to try to woo my date now, but have a good night.”

  “You too.” The kid has tears welling up in his eyes and before he can set them free, I guide Rachel to a table and chairs, away from the potential crier. I like fans, I really enjoy them actually, but when they cry, that just makes me feel weird. I don’t think anyone should be crying over me.

  I pull out her chair for her but before she sits down, she places her hand on my arm and says, “That was super sweet of you, to send that guy tickets. You truly made his day.”

  “It was nothing.” I try to shake off the compliment, because I just did what any other professional athlete would have done, or at least should have done.

  “No, it was everything.” Standing on her toes, she presses a kiss on my cheek and takes her seat.

  Heat billows at the base of my stomach as I take a seat next to her, spreading my arm over the back of her chair, not really sure what to say. Thankfully, Rachel is talkative.

  “So, since you’re handing out tickets and everything . . .”

  I laugh. “Would you like to go to a game?”

  “I would love to. I’ve never been to a game before, so it would be really exciting.”

  “We have a home game tomorrow; do you want to go?” I hold my breath, wondering if that’s too presumptuous, too quick, but when she smiles brightly and claps her hands in excitement, I think differently. She is genuinely excited.

  “Oh I would love to. That would be so much fun.”

  “Do you want me to get a ticket for your dad, since he knew who I was?”

  “Are you serious?” She presses her hand on my thigh and right about now, I would do anything she wanted just to keep it there.

  “Yeah, of course. I’m assuming he would want to go.”

  “Are you kidding me? He would die. Oh my God, look at me, I’m being just like that guy back there.”

  “Nah, I think that guy was ready to kiss—”

  Rachel leans over and presses her lips against mine, her hands gripping my shirt, her tongue pressing into my mouth. I grip the back of her neck, my fingers tangling with her hair while her tongue dances with mine in the most intimate way. Just like in the movie theater, I start to get hard, but before I can get comfortable with the way her mouth is moving across mine, she puts unwanted distance between us, her hand cupping my cheek, her eyes incredibly sincere as she says, “Thank you, Calder.”

  Clearing my throat, I twirl a piece of her blonde hair with my finger. “Of course. Hell, I’ll get you all the tickets if that’s the kind of thank you I get.”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  I hold my hands up. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Chewing on the side of my cheek, I think for a second before saying, “You know, if you want, after the game we can go out, maybe grab a drink with my buddy, Hayden.”

  She raises a fucking cute eyebrow at me. “Are you asking me out on a second date, Calder Weiss?”

  “I think I am. What would you say to that?”

  She leans back in her chair, assessing me. “Let’s see, you’ve been a gentleman all night, aside from the blatant ass grabs in the movie theater. You make me laugh, and are very handsome. You are a safe driver, which is important since you have a daughter, and you have a huge cock. Hmm . . .” she scratches her chin. “I think I’m going to say yes.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “It’s the big cock that got you, wasn’t it?”

  “Nope, it wasn’t the big cock, that’s just the cherry on top of the cake.”

  “Then what was it?”

  She presses her lips together, giving my question some serious thought. “Honestly? It’s the way you treat people. Your daughter, you dress up for her. The guy at the theater, you asked him how his night was going. The boy at the register back there, you’re giving him free tickets. You’re a genuinely sweet, kind, and giving man. It’s a very attractive quality.”

  “Thank you.” I look down at my hands.

  “And that right there.” She pokes my cheek. “The way you blush, it’s hot. You’re this confident, attractive man, but you can blush as red as a tomato in seconds. Some women like a cocky son of a bitch, not me, I like my men sensitive, sweet, and animals in bed. I know the first two are true, waiting to find out about the third.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  This woman, she has me by the fucking balls, and quickly. It’s scary how much I like her, and it’s not just because she’s smart, funny, and keeps me on my toes. It’s the way she can easily pick out my best qualities, the qualities I take great pride in.

  Leaning closer, I bring my hand to her hip and whisper in her ear while squeezing her. “I’ll tell you right now, you will be more than pleasantly surprised by the third quality you’re looking for.” I bite down o
n her earlobe. “You can count on it.”

  “Oh sweet heavenly mother . . .”

  Chapter Six

  RACHEL

  “Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun.”

  Calder squeezes my hand, his thumb still rubbing my skin, the feeling so comforting. “So did I, especially when you manhandled me in the movie theater and took advantage of me.”

  “Excuse me?” I put one of my hands on my hip. “Manhandled? Took advantage? You were the one begging to be made out with before we even got to the theater, I was just throwing you a bone.”

  He raises both eyebrows, his forehead creasing with surprise. “Throwing me a bone?” There is humor lighting up his voice. “Are you saying . . . you felt bad for me?”

  I shrug, not committing to his statement and loving the way he’s so easily joking around with me, how comfortable he feels. We’ve spent a few hours together, but it almost feels like we’ve known each other for years.

  “I see.” He releases my hand and steps away, pulling on the back of his neck while staring down at me. I’m about to take back my teasing when he pins me with one of the most consuming and sexy looks I’ve ever seen. Eyes dark, heady, full of lust. His body powerful, heaving, ready to pounce. His lips wet, desirable, addicting.

  Stepping forward, in one motion, he pins me against the door of my apartment, his hand to my hip, the other one by my head. His gaze locks on mine, the air suffocating me with his scent. His chest is so close, his head mere inches away, his lips glistening and ready.

  I’m aware that we’ve already made out, that we’ve explored each other’s mouths all night, but right here, right now, this feels more intimate than anything we’ve done thus far.

  “I don’t like it when people take pity on me, Rachel.” His voice is low, sultry, so freaking smooth. “I want a woman to want to kiss me, I don’t want her throwing me a bone.”

  He knows I’m joking, there was so much humor in his voice a few seconds ago, but right now, it almost seems like he’s trying to prove a point, and oh boy, am I going to let him.

  “Not only do I want a woman to want me, but I want her to crave me, to want to breath the same air as me.”

  “You want them obsessed?”

  He nods. “I want to consume them so I’m the only thing they can ever think about.”

  “That’s pretty cocky of you, isn’t it?”

  He shakes his head. “No, because I know when I’m with someone who I really like, someone who makes me laugh and smile, and someone who challenges me . . . someone like you, I will feel that exact way about them. I’ll be consumed by their scent, by their smile, by the way they gently take my hand in theirs. I’ll crave to hear their voice, to make them laugh, to catch a quick glance in my direction. They will be the only person I think about, the only person I want to hear talk on the phone, and the only person I want to see at night.”

  I take in a deep breath, my lungs feeling shaky and my heart beating a mile a minute.

  Calder’s eyes burn a path down my shirt, back up my neck, to my face, where he gently licks his lips and leans forward, his mouth a centimeter from mine.

  “I like you, Rachel, I like you a lot. You’re someone I can get lost in, easily, without even trying.” His lips skip my mouth and direct back again, where he whispers, “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And with that, he pushes off my door and without a retreating glance, he takes off, hopping in his car and driving away.

  My hands are pressed against the door behind me, granting me balance. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest while my lungs try to recover from the lack of oxygen inflating them.

  On shaky legs, I make my way through my apartment and straight to my bathroom, where I grip onto the counter and look at myself in the mirror. There is a light smirk on my face, my eyes seem brighter, clearer, and there is a warm feeling inside my stomach—it’s all fluttery and gooey and excited.

  God, I like him.

  Scratch that, I’m borderline infatuated with him.

  And that whole speech back there? He’s unlike any man I’ve ever met. One second he’s wearing fairy wings and a tiara for his daughter, and the next he’s handing out free hockey tickets to an unsuspecting fan, and then he’s pushing me up against my apartment door, telling me all the things that make me swoon and swoon hard.

  There’s no denying it, I’m more than thrilled with my bladder, because if it wasn’t for its inability to hold onto one more ounce of Coke Zero the other day, I never would have run into Calder.

  This is life-changing, I can feel it. You know how you can sense when something is so right deep, down in your bones? That’s what I’m feeling. This is so right.

  Rachel: Are you still awake?

  Calder: Yeah, staring at the ceiling. I feel like I can still smell your perfume on me.

  Rachel: You didn’t take a shower?

  Calder: I did, I had to . . .

  Rachel: What does that mean? (Gasp) Did you . . . pleasure yourself?

  Calder: Isn’t it a little early to be sexting?

  Rachel: It’s never too early to sext, and I’m not sure this qualifies as sexting, more of an informative text. So, did you wank off?

  Calder: Didn’t really have a choice. Do you not remember straddling my lap tonight? I swear to God, I can still feel you on top of me, barely rocking back and forth.

  Rachel: It took all the energy in my body not to dry hump you right there while Bruce Willis saved the world.

  Calder: You held back? That was you holding back? Damn, I can’t imagine what you would be like full force.

  Rachel: I very well might be too much for you.

  Calder: I’ll be the one who decides that.

  Calder: Good morning, beautiful.

  Rachel: Beautiful, is that your pet name for me? We’ve only been on one date and you’re using pet names already?

  Calder: Not a pet name, just a . . . uh . . . term of endearment?

  Rachel: Oh okay then. Good morning, prickly penis.

  Calder: Prickly penis? Uh, how is that a term of endearment?

  Rachel: I have no idea, it’s legit the first thing that came to mind.

  Calder: Well that’s concerning. Especially since you were pressed up against my penis last night. Did something sharp snag you?

  Rachel: If something sharp sprouted from your penis last night and “snagged” me, you can bet your beefy forearms I would have said something about it. I’m not one to be snagged by a penis and not say anything.

  Calder: You’re right, you definitely don’t seem like someone to go quiet after being penis snagged.

  Rachel: You get me. You so get me.

  Calder: Tickets are being held at will call for you, under the name, prickly penis.

  Rachel: They are not!

  Calder: . . .

  Rachel: Calder Weiss!

  Calder: I thought that was our pet name for each other.

  Rachel: You’re prickly penis, I’m beautiful. How could you possibly get those two confused?

  Calder: Hmm, my bad.

  Rachel: Are the tickets really under prickly penis?

  Calder: If they are, what will happen to me?

  Rachel: I’ll make your dick eat a cactus to ensure it really is prickly.

  Calder: (Runs to will call)

  Rachel: Smart choice, Mr. Weiss, smart choice.

  Rachel: I just ate a protein bar. I never eat protein bars, but for some reason, I thought maybe if I eat a protein bar, in some cosmic way it will make you bigger and stronger for your game tonight.

  Calder: You know, I picked up a car in the parking lot today and tried to understand where that incredible strength came from.

  Rachel: It was me! You’re welcome.

  Calder: You very well might have to eat a protein bar for me every day now if it gives me those kinds of super-human strengths.

  Rachel: But it was so chalky.

  Calder: But it gave me car-lifting strength.

/>   Rachel: (sigh) Fine, stick one in my mouth, maybe sucking on it will help.

  Rachel: I know you’re probably in game mode right now, but I wanted to say thank you for the tickets, my dad is in heaven right now, and good luck. Go kick some ass.

  Calder: Thank you. Glad you got the tickets.

  Rachel: Glad there was no prickly penis involved.

  Calder: It was tempting, believe me it was tempting.

  Rachel: I’m sure. Thank you again, I can’t wait to see you after the game.

  Calder: Counting down the minutes. Enjoy the game. See you in the family suite afterward.

  Rachel: Pummel some ass!

  Calder skates across the ice, determination in his movements, and slams into the glass, his opponent being the cushion for his check. The sound of them both hitting the glass, followed by the roar of the crowd, sends shivers up and down my spine.

  He’s hot.

  Yup, Calder Weiss is extremely hot on the ice.

  And it’s not just because I know the man outside of the rink and minus the giant pads on his body. His current hotness is distinctly superficial. There is nothing I can say to keep this from sounding superficial, but there is something about a grown man, playing a sport at the highest of levels, owning the game, taking charge, that turns me on so hard.

  Like, I’ve been clenching my thighs this entire game because every time I look over at Calder, a long, deep yearning takes root inside of me. Oh, I want him, and I want him bad.

  And the worst part about all of this is I can’t even sit here with my shirt up and over my breasts, flashing Calder just for the hell of it. Do you know why? Because the frog-like man cheering next to me is my father. And how awkward is that, to tell your father how turned on you are by watching a grown-ass man play hockey? Pretty awkward.

  “Wooohooo!” My dad fist pumps the air then shakes my shoulder for the hundredth time. “What a game, what a game!” He clasps his hands together and shakes them, almost as if he can’t believe he’s sitting in the stands right now.