Hey Victor, it’s Lindy. I’d love to come to a game. I just need at least two weeks notice so I can get the night off. Thanks for asking me.
I smile at the screen. I think this woman is truly nice. That word gets thrown around casually, but lots of people are nice when it suits them, and dicks when they think they can get away with it. But Lindy seems different—one hundred percent genuine.
Two weeks notice, though? Fuck that. I’ve got enough pull with the Blaze team management to get Lindy a night off anytime. And I already know what night it’ll be. New York is coming to town for a game in a few days. They’re ranked first in the league, so it’ll be a well-attended game.
I’m going to ask Jonah if Lindy can sit with his wife Lily in the family box that night. Lily West is a mother hen, and she’ll make sure Lindy has a good time.
I text Lindy back.
Me: Great. Friday night. Don’t worry about getting the night off, I’ll take care of it.
Lindy: Okay, thank you. My boss can be difficult, though.
Me: Your boss is an asshole?
Lindy: No! I didn’t say that.
Me: You didn’t have to. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. And Friday night won’t be a problem.
Lindy: Okay.
Me: So what’s going on with you?
Lindy: I’m watching SportsCenter with my dog Doc.
Me: Nice.
Lindy: There was a replay of your assist last night!
Me: Never gets old making SportsCenter.
Lindy: You’ve been on fire lately. Great job!
Me: Thanks. Our talk was a big part of it.
Lindy: It was all you!
Me: You’re gonna make my ego explode all over my kitchen…and that’ll be a mess to clean up.
Lindy: LOL okay then. So I’ll be cheering for you Friday night then.
Me: Perfect. Plan on going out with the team after.
Lindy: Okay. Will you be there?
Me: Yep.
Lindy: I’ll see you then. Thanks again for asking me.
Me: See you then.
I set my phone down and go back to the pan of roasted potatoes on the stovetop. When I pop one into my mouth, I find out they’re only semi-roasted—still pretty hard.
Fuck cooking. This shit is ridiculous. I’m still eating it because I can’t bring myself to throw away food, but from now on, I’m ordering in.
For a second, I indulge the idea of texting Lindy to ask if she wants to hang out and watch SportsCenter with me. I don’t find myself alone at home much, and it’s a little too quiet in my apartment.
I’d better not, though. I don’t want to give her the wrong idea. She’s a sweetheart. I want us to be friends, but nothing more. I’m not cut out for relationships, as demonstrated by the complete failure of my last one. Kristen cheated on me, which must mean she needed something she wasn’t getting from me. I’d end up breaking Lindy’s heart.
Instead, I text Easy. He says he’ll come over if we can play video games. After some eye rolling and swearing, I agree.
Easy’s fucking awful at video games—he’d never played until he was already an adult. And he always pretends there’s something wrong with the game or the controller instead of owning that it’s just him.
Better than being alone for the evening, though. And it’s also a good excuse to save my botched dinner for lunch tomorrow instead. Tonight, I’m having Chinese delivered.
Chapter Eleven
Lindy
“I can’t believe you did this.”
I run my hands over my freshly cut hair again, my voice awestruck as I tell Ari for the tenth time how much I love it.
“When you can’t afford haircuts growing up, you learn how to do it yourself,” Ari says as she packs her scissors back into a little purple bag.
“But it’s so…pretty.”
She hugs me from behind as I admire my hair in the hand-held mirror she gave me. “It’s not the haircut that’s pretty, chica, it’s you.”
I can’t help my hmm of disagreement with that. “I’ve been told so many times that I was named Belinda Boring for a reason, Ari. Everything about me matches that name. Bland brown hair, average brown eyes—”
Ari cuts me off, sounding pissed. “No hables mierda muchacha. No one talks about my best friend that way—not even you. Your hair is not…what’d you call it?”
“Bland.”
“I just colored it a nice warm brown with caramel highlights. It’s bonito, okay?”
“I know! No, it is. You’re an absolute genius, Ari. I just mean my natural color.”
She snorts. “No one’s natural color looks that great. It takes work to look your best.”
Mateo scoots into the kitchen on all fours, pushing a small toy truck along the floor.
“There’s a tunnel, Mateo!” Still sitting in the chair Ari did my hair in, I raise my legs up in the air. “Hurry, get through the tunnel!”
He grins and crawls under my legs, then takes his truck beneath the kitchen table to drive it up the legs of each chair.
“I can’t believe he’ll be three soon,” Ari says. “It’s true what they say about how fast it goes.”
“He’s such a great kid. You’re doing an awesome job.”
Her eyes soften. “Thanks. I don’t know how I’d make it without my mom and sister taking care of him while I work.”
“It takes a village, right?”
She sighs softly. “When you’re a single mom, it does.”
“Well, I want to hang out with Mateo next time we both have a day off, so you can have a day to do something you want for yourself.”
Ari waves a hand. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. You just gave up your whole morning to do my hair and nails and makeup. And you loaned me a top to wear tonight.”
“That’s what friends do, Lindy.” Ari looks at me with a question in her eyes. “You’ve had friends before, haven’t you?”
I shrug, my face heating. “Kind of. But none like you.”
“My chica, I’ve never had a friend like you, either. Nothing’s ever a competition with you. And you don’t judge me.”
My stomach rumbles audibly, and I put a hand over it. Not that it helps stifle the sound.
“How about if I order us some lunch?” I say, getting my phone out.
“Yeah, let’s do it.” Ari pushes off the counter and opens the door of the old green refrigerator in her small apartment kitchen. “Mateo’s picky, so I’m gonna make him a grilled cheese.”
Mateo gives a yelp of approval from beneath the table.
“My kid lives on grilled cheese and fruit snacks.” Ari shakes her head.
Over several containers of Thai delivery food, Ari makes me cringe with her Tinder tales.
“Oh my God, that reminds me.” She sets down her food container on the coffee table, sitting forward on the couch. “You know that usher Amanda? The one who’s, I don’t know, in her fifties?”
“Yeah. The redhead.”
“She told me she’s on Match and she got matched with Bruce the other day.”
“No!” I recoil.
“Yeah. His profile said he’s looking for a soul-deep connection.”
“I can’t even think about Bruce that way.”
“Can you imagine him in bed?” Ari sits up taller, puffing out her chest and lowering her voice, trying to mimic Bruce. “You didn’t spread your legs wide enough! You’re not supposed to groan, I told you to moan.”
“Stop!” I’m laughing so hard I have to wipe my eyes. “Don’t put images like that in my head!”
We’re both calming down from our fit of laughter when Ari gives me a serious look.
“We need to get you set up on Match or Tinder.”
“No.” I shake my head adamantly.
“Come on, it’s fun.”
I arch my brows and give her a pointed look. “So I can get matched with Bruce?”
“You’re not in his age range, so tha
t wouldn’t happen.”
“I’ll leave the swiping left and right to you. I’d be terrible at it.”
“You would not.”
I glare at her. “Ari. I appreciate the thought, but no way. I’ve never…been on a date. I’ve never even kissed anyone.”
Ari’s mouth drops open in shock. “Never?”
“That’s what I said. Don’t make me feel like a weirdo for it, okay?”
“Sorry.” Her expression softens. “But Lindy, you could get dates if you wanted to.”
“Well, I don’t want to.”
After a moment of silence, she says, “I guess it doesn’t matter. Victor’s into you. You won’t find anyone better on Tinder.”
“He’s not into me. He asked me to watch a game.”
“And then go out after. On a date.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, with his entire team.”
“You’re his date for the after party, and you know it. Why else would you let me do your hair and nails?”
I flush and look away. “I just don’t want to look like I don’t care that he invited me or act like I get invited places all the time, you know. Watching my first, in-person, NHL game is a good enough reason to get my hair done, isn’t it?”
Ari grins knowingly. “Lies. You’re not nervous about the hockey part, you’re nervous about the Victor part.”
I don’t tell her she’s partially right. I’m most nervous about the Victor part, but also nervous in general about every aspect of tonight.
Normally, I’d be serving beer and nachos tonight. That, I know. But sitting in a VIP box with people I’ve never met? People who are probably super rich and stuffy? Having to talk to them and act like I belong there?
I’m so nervous about that. No amount of highlights and makeup can cover up the awkwardness that resides deep within me.
And in six hours, it’ll be on full display.
Lily West passes me a glass and I glace at the red-colored drink. She leans in to whisper something to me.
“It’s almost all cranberry juice. There’s like a teaspoon of vodka. I drink these so everyone thinks I’m fun, but I don’t like getting drunk.”
I smile, relieved. “Thanks.”
“Ready to go find our game seats?”
“Sure.”
Lily West is an absolute angel. As soon as I arrived, she took my arm and led me into the room where dinner was being served to the team’s families and front office employees. We sat with Mia Marceau, Anton’s girlfriend, and made conversation over our roast beef and mashed potatoes.
Mia’s a South Side girl, too. When I told her I work in Concessions, she told me about the bar she used to work at, Lucky’s. She grew up just a couple miles from my dad’s house.
“How’s your grandpa doing?” Lily asked Mia over dinner.
Mia’s brows drew together in a sad expression. “Not very well. I wasn’t sure I should leave to come here tonight, but the nurses told me he’ll probably sleep the whole time, so I did.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lily said.
Mia met my eyes and said, “My grandpa has Alzheimer’s. His condition is pretty bad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. He and my grandma raised me, so it’s been brutal to watch him suffer this way. But he’s in the best place possible and he’s not in pain.”
“That’s a blessing,” Lily said.
“It is. I appreciate you asking about him. Lots of people think I don’t want to talk about it, but I do.”
And she does. Mia tells us all about her grandparents, and my heart breaks for the strong man who can no longer remember his life. She seems lighter when she talks about him, though. Even though Mia is sitting with other people in the box we’re all in for the game, I feel a kinship with her now.
Lily leads me to two seats in the front of the box, away from the crowd.
“Do these look good?”
“Perfect,” I say gratefully.
Lily snags two bags of popcorn from the server working in the box tonight. It’s Alicia, and though I recognize her, we’ve never worked together. She gives me a confused look as she walks away. I laugh internally, thinking, Girl, I’m just as confused by this, too.
“I’m dying for salt,” Lily says, popping a couple pieces of popcorn into her mouth.
She’s beautiful, with long blond hair, big blue eyes and a perfect figure. I’d never imagine her dying for anything except maybe…water?
“Puck drops in five minutes,” she says, “which is enough time for me to tell you a secret.” She grins. “Promise not to tell anyone?”
“Of course.”
I’m so grateful to Lily that I’d do anything she asked of me right now. If she has any enemies she’d like taken out in cold blood, I’m her girl.
She leans in to whisper in my ear, “Only your glass has a little vodka in it. Mine’s just cranberry juice because…I’m pregnant.”
I break out in an excited, open-mouth grin. She brings a finger to her lips to shush me, then leans in again.
“We’ve been trying for almost two years. I had a miscarriage last year. So we aren’t telling anyone until the second trimester. But I had to tell someone, and I felt like I could trust you.”
“Absolutely,” I say out loud. Then I lean close to her ear and whisper, “Congratulations. You’ll be a great mom.”
Her eyes fill with tears as she covers one of my hands with one of hers, squeezing. “Thanks.”
Once the puck drops, our focus is entirely on the game. It’s crazy to be watching it live from a VIP box. We have a clear view of the ice, and the crowd’s energy is contagious.
My dad and his friends are watching the game at home on TV. I feel a silly urge to wave at them, even though they wouldn’t be able to see me.
“Come on, Jonah,” Lily says under her breath as two of the New York forwards pass the puck back and forth.
When one of them finally takes a shot on goal, Jonah moves to deflect the puck, and it bounces off his chest guard. Lily smiles and visibly relaxes.
“Do you get nervous for him?” I ask her.
“I do. Every time.”
“I can’t imagine. I hardly even know Victor, and I get nervous for him.”
“You hardly know him?” She looks at me, brows raised. “He must really like you.”
I blush hard and fast, realizing what must be going through her head. “No, it’s not like that. I just gave him some hockey advice.”
“He’s a good guy. One of my favorites, actually. Victor is humble and doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”
I smile at that. It’s good to know my crush radar is solid. If I have to adore a man I can’t have, I want him to be a good one, not some dickhead who treats people terribly.
Victor picks up another two assists, and the Blaze pick up another win. The mood is light as Lily, Mia and I take an Uber to an upscale restaurant to meet the team.
I see Victor approaching us in a charcoal suit with a navy tie, grinning. Damn, he’s handsome.
“Hey,” he says, hugging me. “You look great.”
My heart pounds wildly as I force myself to breathe in and out. He smells divine—a light, woodsy scent—and his body is as hard as it looks. That one hug will sustain my fantasies for a very long time.
Victor introduces me to everyone by saying, “This is Lindy,” and I can tell by the looks some of his teammates give me that they’re wondering who I am and why I’m here.
But for the next couple hours, I don’t think about the why. I just focus on not spilling anything on myself and talking to Victor. I’m so happy I swear I could take flight.
After our meal, we get time to talk alone as the table starts to clear out. Victor’s suit jacket is hung over the back of his chair and his shirtsleeves are rolled up.
“We’re playing Seattle next; any advice for me?” he asks.
“Hmm. Keep the puck away from Lancer?”
He grins. “Good plan.”
&nbs
p; “She knows her hockey,” Lily says to Victor as she stands up. “She pointed out a couple things to me during the game that I wasn’t even seeing.”
“She’s my puck whisperer,” Victor says.
I die, just from the warmth of his tone. But I come back to life quickly, standing up to give Lily a quick hug goodbye. “Thank you,” I say in her ear. “For everything.”
“I had a blast. Let’s get together again soon.”
Lily turns to face the people still sitting at our large table. “We have to get home, the old lady’s tired.”
“The old man’s tired, too, babe,” Jonah says, putting his arm around her waist.
They say goodbye to everyone, and when they leave, Victor says, “So you had fun? Lily was good company?”
“Amazing company. I had so much fun. Thanks again for inviting me.”
He nudges me with his shoulder. “Stop thanking me. I’m glad you came.”
The other players start clearing out then, some with women, some alone. Victor and I are about to be the last ones at the table when he says, “I guess we should catch an Uber home, huh?”
My heart somersaults. I know he didn’t mean we should go home together, but I’m immediately envious of women he does invite back to his house.
“I can call one for myself,” I offer, taking out my phone.
“Nah, I got it. I’ll take one to your place and then go to mine.”
“I live with my dad,” I blurt awkwardly.
He grins. “That’s cool.”
“I mean, not that you’re coming in or anything, I just…yeah.”
Oh God. I want to fall through the floor and disappear.
“Well, sometime when it’s not 1:00 a.m., I’d like to meet him,” Victor says, standing up and retrieving his jacket from the back of his chair.
“Um, yeah.”
Our Uber driver is a retired waiter who talks the entire way to my house. When we pull up outside my modest little white house, I’m reminded that Victor and I live in two different worlds. My four-horse carriage is officially turning back into a pumpkin.
Victor walks me up to the front porch, maintaining a friendly amount of distance between us.
“So you want to hang out again sometime?” he asks. “Maybe catch a baseball playoff game at a sports bar or something?”
Victor: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance Page 6