by Sophia Henry
In most cases, it wasn’t an act—I really didn’t give a fuck. I’ve heard guys tell a girl all this bullshit about how they felt an instant connection—like they’ve known each other forever. Girls eat it up. Next thing you know, she’s on her knees in the parking lot of the bar.
So I can’t tell if I’m completely full of shit or if this feeling I have, like I’ve known Bree forever, is real. Maybe those kids weren’t just blowing smoke to get some head.
Fuck. If Gribov knew I thought about Bree this way, he’d smack me over the head with an empty bottle of Smirnoff. How could I possibly feel that we have a connection when I don’t know anything about her or her life? I know how she likes to fuck. I know she’s up for anything sexual. I know she can take me like a champ. But I don’t know her. And I want to.
Jack’s death and the intensity of the days leading up to his funeral had me fucked. She was there for me at a really emotional and vulnerable time. Nothing more than that. But isn’t that the point? She didn’t know anything about me, or about Jack’s situation. She attended the funeral just to make sure I had someone there. She came outside to find me. She convinced me to attend the service.
Okay, she also knows that addiction runs in my family because I opened my big fucking mouth the first time she was at my condo. I blame being drunk. Drug addiction doesn’t really run in my family so much as my mom is a full-blown addict. After growing up with her, I never wanted to take my chances.
When I see Bree walk up, I jump up from the wooden bench outside the front door.
“Hey,” I greet her for our first real date. I lean close and kiss her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft under my lips and I catch a hint of her usual scent—vanilla and baby powder. From what I can gather, she wears mostly earthy and natural scents.
“What kind of food do they have here?” Bree asks as I usher her through the front door. Her head swivels straight to the gigantic fish tank built into the wall behind the bar. There’s a real cowfish swimming around in there somewhere.
“Sushi. Burgers. Burgushi,” I explain, stopping at the hostess stand to let someone know we’re ready for our table.
“I understand the first two from the name.” Bree laughs. “What in the world is burgushi?”
“Sushi-burger fusion.”
Her nose wrinkles at the words. I get it. It sounds weird, but it’s a unique concept and the food is always amazing.
“My gorgeous date has arrived,” I tell one of the hostesses. As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realize what a douchebag I sound like. Hopefully Bree didn’t notice.
Despite the mob of people waiting, the hostess grabs two menus immediately and says, “Follow me, Luke.”
Bree raises her eyebrows, but I don’t explain. I just wink and place my hand on her back, guiding her to follow the waitress. When we get to the table, there’s a booth on one side and two chairs on the other. Bree chooses the booth and I slide in next to her. When our thighs touch, she glances at me with a confused smile on her face.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
She nods. “I’ve just never sat on the same side of a table with someone.”
“Me neither,” I admit. To be honest, I always thought it looked lame. But being across the table from Bree seems too far away. I want to feel her body shake when she laughs and get a whiff of her shampoo every time I breathe in. And I may want to slide my fingers into her. Who knows where the night will take us?
Bree opens her mouth to speak, but stops and laughs quietly. “You surprise me, Luke.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
Our waiter comes by to introduce himself and asks for our drink orders. He fills two glasses with water and places the carafe on the table.
“I’m gonna need a minute,” Bree tells him with a smile. Her eyes are wide as she scans the enormous menu.
“They have a huge wine list,” I say, then add, “if that’s your thing.” I know she likes beer, but I’m not sure about wine. I’m trying to fill the silence so she can’t hear my heart beating. Being with her makes me happy, nervous, and so fucking turned-on.
“The craft beer selection is on point.” She smiles as she scans the menu.
“You like pilsners, right? Go with the OMB Captain Jack. Super smooth.”
“Done.” Bree says, closing the menu and setting it on the edge of the table.
“You might want to pick that up again. It’s the food menu, too.”
“I know,” Bree says. “I’m getting the California Roll. What kind of stuff do you like? Raw tuna and all that?”
My stomach rolls at the thought. I’m not a sushi guy. I can fake it by getting a roll without anything raw, but overall, I don’t really like fish. Which is blasphemy for someone born and raised in a coastal town.
“Nothing like that for me. I’m getting the All-American Bacon Double Cheeseburger Roll.”
“What in the world is that?” she asks.
“They use the ingredients of a bacon cheeseburger, wrap it in soy paper, and flash fry it so it stays together. Then they top it with a piece of pickle.”
My mouth waters as I explain the roll, but Bree doesn’t seem as excited. Her nose wrinkles and her lips purse in a look that can only be described as disgust.
“I thought Californians were known for keeping an open mind.”
“I’m a vegetarian,” she blurts out, then covers her mouth with both hands as if she’s said something wrong.
I laugh at her reaction. “It’s okay, Bree. It’s not a deal breaker.”
She laughs, too. “Sorry. I’m usually a lot cooler about explaining my meat preferences. Thank you for picking a place with variety.”
“So what made you come to Charlotte?” I ask. It feels weird to be on a first date with someone I’ve fucked in multiple positions. It’s actually a first for me. I don’t usually work backward.
“I went through a staffing company that places traveling nurses. Charlotte was one of the cities I was presented with. I’d never been to North Carolina, so that was one of the key factors. But when I researched it and found out I’d be within driving distance of the mountains and the ocean, it sealed the deal. I need to be near both. It’s like therapy for me.”
After establishing that we are on completely opposite ends of the carnivore spectrum, hearing something that highlights our similarities gives me hope. I already know I want to keep seeing Bree. She makes me feel calm and confident, two emotions I haven’t felt much since my injury forced me off the ice.
“I’d live in a treehouse if I could,” Bree continues. “If the tree is in the yard of a deluxe spa-bathroom thing.”
“That’s a bit more realistic. You don’t look like the squatting-over-a-dirt-hole kind of girl.”
“You’d be surprised at what I’ve done when nature calls while roughing it,” Bree quips with a grin.
Her eyes light up when she smiles. They’re already a beautiful sky-blue, but they seem to shine when she lifts her lips and shows a set of perfect, white teeth.
Now that the ice is broken, it’s time to bring up the topic that has me so nervous to be around her. The reason she affects me so much.
I reach between us, take her hand, and rest it on my thigh. Her eyes quickly move to our laps, but she doesn’t seem surprised at the gesture. “I never got the chance to thank you for what you did for me at Jack’s funeral,” I say.
She leans into me, pressing her shoulder against mine. “What did I do?”
I pause for a moment, basking in the fact that she likes to touch me. She does it often; it’s subtle, but noticeable. “You were there. Your support was everything. I never would’ve gotten out of my Jeep if you hadn’t knocked on my window.”
“Yes, you would have.” Bree lifts our hands to lace her fingers in mine. “You might have been later than we already were, but you would have dragged yourself in. It was too important to miss.”
“True,” I agree, without taking my eyes off o
ur intertwined hands. She must have some kind of weird, misplaced confidence in me, because despite agreeing with her out loud, I still wasn’t sure.
“I didn’t know if you had told any of your friends about Jack, so I wanted to make sure you had someone there. I didn’t realize the entire team knew him.”
Her kindness hits me like an arrow through the heart. I usually deal with things on my own. My friends come to me if they need to talk, not the other way around. I didn’t get as far as I did in hockey by being a talker. My leadership style is listen, perform, mold the young guys by example, and speak when necessary. People who talk too much get ignored.
Our server brings our drinks, setting a pint of Captain Jack pilsner in front of each of us. Bree lifts her beer. “A toast to our very own Captain Jack, who steered our ships to each other.”
She smells like cherries. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but her lips are shiny and red, so I’m hoping it’s some kind of gloss. I want to lick it off.
As I clink my glass against hers, I can’t help but think about how much I like this girl. Usually it takes me a while to warm up to women. Not sexually. A hot chick with a pulse is pretty much my type for that. But these weird feelings of wanting to get to know everything about her are almost completely foreign. Wanting to open up about my life to another person is something that never happens.
Any other time, I’d probably laugh off something crazy like that, because I’d have to be seriously drunk to want to share any part of my childhood with someone. I can’t get that real with too many people. And never with girls. Weakness is not sexy.
But Bree has a compassionate, sensitive, selfless way about her. It makes me want to tell her everything. Which shows just how much she’s gotten into my brain and made me fucking crazy.
“I found it really interesting that so many people from your team were at the funeral. Is that a normal thing to do for a kid from the hospital?”
Oh, shit. I completely forgot that Bree was new and didn’t know anything about the Dellingers’ situation. It’s not the conversation I thought I’d be having with her on our first official date.
“Jack was the son of a former teammate.” My voice cracks with the emotion I can never hold back when I talk about it. Jesus. I can’t let her see me cry again. Fucking suck it up, Daniels. “Brandon Dellinger. He took his own life a few months ago.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “When Jack was in his third or fourth round of chemo. I can’t quite remember.”
“I’m so sorry, Luke.” Bree leans closer to me.
“I don’t know what he was thinking. I mean, I can’t comprehend the amount of pain he lived with watching his son go through all that shit. I know I shouldn’t judge, but how does someone do that to his wife? His kid? Especially then. I just…” I stop.
I still haven’t forgiven Brandon for his decision. I understand how much it hurt to watch Jack deteriorate and not be able to help. As a father, Brandon did everything in his power to secure the best doctors and arrange for cutting-edge treatment, but the hard truth was that there was nothing he could do to stop what was happening to his son.
I don’t know what other things he had going on in his head. He’d had a few concussions before everything with Jack. He seemed fine, even if he couldn’t pass the tests doctors gave him, but no one thought he’d been affected that badly. Maybe his head was way more fucked than any of us realized.
“So that’s why you and Ally are so close,” Bree says in a low voice.
“Yeah.” I nod. It occurs to me that Bree may have thought we were a couple or something—especially with our interaction at the hospital the day she told me she was taking Jack home. I don’t want Bree to have the wrong idea. “There’s nothing between me and Ally,” I say quickly.
She stiffens, and I wonder how I fucked up. I thought being honest and straightforward was what women wanted.
“It’s not my business. I shouldn’t have.” Bree casts her eyes down toward her lap and shakes her head.
“I swear, Bree.” I take her hand.
“It’s not that, Luke.” She looks up at me through long, thick eyelashes. “I should’ve never jumped to conclusions. It’s none of my business either way. And it’s completely unprofessional.”
“I want it to be your business,” I tell her. It’s true. I want to know Bree outside of my bed, and I want her to feel the same about me.
“I’m only here for a few more months. Let’s keep it light and fun, okay?”
Shot down.
Too bad that’s not going to stop me. But she doesn’t know that yet, so I just move on, letting her think I’m going to let it go.
“What are some things you’ve done in Charlotte so far?” I ask.
“The Mint Museum, the Bechtler, running in Freedom Park.” Bree pauses to think. “I haven’t gotten out much. Mostly places within walking distance of my apartment and the hospital.”
“Makes sense. You work a lot. Did you come straight here from a shift?” She doesn’t have her scrubs on, so I figured she changed at the hospital.
“No. I went home first,” she says.
“You should’ve let me pick you up. We could’ve driven here together.”
And just like that, Bree’s bright eyes dim and her lips lower into a line. She quickly lifts her pint glass to her lips.
“Or not…” I say. Maybe I’m reading our connection wrong. Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe I’m trying to chase a girl who really isn’t interested in more than a good fuck.
“I know we’re compatible sexually, but I’m still not sure I want this to go further than that. I thought if you got too personal, I could ditch,” she explains.
Her confession makes me laugh. “I like your honesty.”
“I’m too old to play games.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“So jaded for someone so young.”
“I’m not jaded, Luke. I just don’t want to get too involved with someone when I’m only here temporarily. I like Charlotte, but I would never move here permanently.”
“Simmer down, old girl!” I say, throwing my hands up. “Take the compliments and flattery down a notch. I’m getting a big head over here.”
Bree’s lips turn up into a smile. She leans closer, pressing her breasts against my arm and sliding her palm across my thigh. “I’m completely comfortable with your big head.”
Then she laughs and brown waves of hair bounce around her face. It brings out the bubbly, genuine side of her that fits seamlessly with the other sides I’ve seen: the kind, thoughtful side and the sexy, flirtatious side.
“I can laugh and joke and have a good time, but maturity and communication are integral parts of my job,” she continues. “Parts I carry into my personal life. I don’t have the time or patience for immaturity or people who aren’t ready to behave like adults.”
“I agree,” I tell her. “Hey wait. Did you just call me immature?”
“No. As long as you know that we are what we are.”
“Fuck buddies?” I ask.
“Exactly.”
“Just so you know, I think you’re smart, beautiful, and kind. And refreshingly honest.”
“Thank you.” Bree smiles. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who puts all his cards on the table, Luke. When we first met, you seemed a bit mysterious and closed off.”
“We fucked the night we met. How is that closed off?” I ask.
“Mentally.”
“I am.” Closed off. Gruff. Emotionally unavailable. Douchebag. I’d heard it all before. Even from friends.
She tilts her head. “Yet you just spilled how you felt about me on our first real date.”
“Well, that’s different. I have no problem giving you compliments and letting you know what a beautiful person you are. Doesn’t mean I’m opening up my closet to let you count the skeletons.”
“Are there that many?” As always, her
voice is soft and warm, rather than surprised and accusatory. It’s a welcome change from the girls I’ve dated in the past who would grill me as if I were on trial. I don’t open up like that.
“Enough to keep the door locked for now.” If I wasn’t careful I would spill my soul to Bree. I could already feel it coming on. Not tonight, but soon.
“Should I be worried?”
“Nope.” I wink. And change the subject. “Now that we’ve established that we’re being completely honest with each other, tell me something about yourself. Something not many people know.”
“For someone who just locked up the closet, you sure picked a personal question.” She wiggles a bit, adjusting her position in the booth as if she’s uncomfortable. Then she crosses her legs, which makes her dress ride up her thighs, giving me a glimpse of toned olive skin.
All I can think of is how much I want to adjust her straight onto my lap. My fingers itch to crawl up the inside of her thighs and settle between her sleek legs.
“I’m not talking about a deep, dark secret,” I say, shaking the naughty thoughts out of my head for now. I’m supposed to be wooing her.
The way she holds back a smile makes me think I might have struck a nerve.
“I’ll go first,” I continue. “I know the words to every 311 song recorded before the year 2000.”
She laughs. “Why did you stop there?”
“I don’t like the newer stuff. I’m a stuck-in-the-nineties kind of guy.”
Bree nods her head, humoring me. “They were our formative years.”
“Your turn.”
As she thinks, she nibbles her bottom lip. I take that exact moment to drape the black cloth napkin across my lap. The fabric is light, but maybe it will be a subtle signal to my dick to settle the fuck down, instead of making me think about how much I want to take her lip between my teeth or bury my face between her legs.
I’m just as immature as she thinks I am.
“I climbed Mount Lassen,” Bree finally announces with pride.
“I’ve never heard of it, but the fact that you climbed a mountain is pretty fucking awesome.”