Blindsided: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Victoria Denault

  “Always. My dad acts like it isn’t a big deal, but my mother was always vocal about it when they were married and she was also living on the farm,” I explain. “I think it might even have been one of the things that made her want to end the marriage. She was living and working on the farm, giving blood, sweat, and tears just like my dad, and my grandfather and grandmother were taking every last extra cent and throwing it at Louise for whatever she needed. She wanted to go to college, and they paid for two years before she dropped out. My dad didn’t apply to college because they told him when he was a senior in high school they needed him on the farm. When Louise got knocked up, my grandparents acted like it was the biggest blessing our family had ever received. According to my mother, when she was pregnant with me they barely acknowledged it, and when she announced she was having Jace they told her it wasn’t a great time because he was due in the fall during harvest.”

  “You’re kidding me?” Maggie says, her mouth hanging open. “That’s…”

  “Horrible. I know.” I sigh, bury my nose in her hair and inhale the scent of her shampoo, hoping she’s managed to get it all over my sheets too because I want to fall asleep to the scent tonight. I try not to think about what that urge means. “Anyway, the other day I’d had a particularly late night because I was coming back from a job and then had to get up super early for class and then my gramps called me bitching that I hadn’t picked up the extra wood we needed for the barn repair, and I swear I almost quit. I’m out there in my undies getting eye-fucked by strange women while I clean their toilets and he’s bitching about a Home Depot run that if Raquel or Louise were reliable, he could have had them do.”

  I feel her tense a little. She wants to say something. I hold her tighter. “Say it, Maggie. Whatever it is.”

  “Do you ever like…do stuff with them?” she asks, barely above a whisper. “Your Manly Maid clients?”

  “No. Never,” I say firmly.

  She wiggles and turns and now her chest is pressed to mine and her eyes are glued to my face. “Do they touch you or stuff like that?”

  “Some try but I remind them of the contract they signed,” I say. “I’m not there for sexual favors, just cleaning. I know some guys let the lines get blurred, but I’ve never wanted to and I never will.”

  “I’m sorry I asked. It really isn’t my business,” Maggie says softly and then gives me a chaste kiss.

  I take one of her hands that’s pressed up gently against my chest and hold it in my own. She’s got really delicate hands with long, thin fingers, and I remember she used to play the piano in grade school. “It’s kind of your business. I mean, since we’re doing this whole naked thing on the regular now.”

  “So this is a regular occurrence now?” she counters and I grin confidently.

  “If I have anything to say about it, yeah. I mean at least until market season is over,” I reply and press the fleshy part of her hand, just above her wrist, near her thumb, to my lips and give it a soft little bite. Her eyelashes flutter at that. “After that it might be harder to explain if we’re still talking to each other or seen around each other. But until then, I intend to keep this up if you want to.”

  “I want to.” Three simple words said so firmly it makes my heart beat quicker.

  “So then you have every right to know what is going on with my job,” I reply and take her hand and slide it down my bare skin from my chest to my stomach to my cock which is rock hard again. Her eyes flare and her cheeks pink as I press her palm against it. “For the record the whole bed buddy thing for me is exclusive. And I’d need it to be for you too.”

  “It is,” she whispers and wraps her fingers around my length. I bite back a groan of pleasure when she squeezes me gently. “This is all I want.”

  I roll on top of her. “Good. Me too.”

  And then I occupy my mouth with hers so that we both stop talking. I feel like we’re getting precariously close to saying things that we can’t take back. Things about feelings we aren’t allowed to have.

  14

  Tate

  She’s my first thought when I open my eyes in the morning, and that’s a dangerous thing. I know it, but I can’t help it. She makes me smile and not much else has been doing that lately. I rub the sleep from my eyes and throw on some clothes and stumble my way down the stairs. The house is begrudgingly alive, filled with toilets flushing and feet shuffling and alarms beeping for the fourth and fifth time, followed by moans of protest.

  In the kitchen I find Cooper and Lex shoveling cereal into their mouths while standing by the sink. I push past them to grab my travel mug from the drying rack and notice the kettle is already on the stove about to whistle, so I grab a green tea bag from my stash in the cupboard marked Tate and snatch up the kettle. “Who turned this on?”

  Lex and Cooper both shrug and I shake my head. “We’re lucky we don’t burn this place down.”

  I pour the boiling water into my mug with the tea bag and then refill it and stick it back on the burner. Lex has his head cocked now and he’s watching me curiously. “Why you so happy?”

  “Who said I was happy?” I ask and steep my tea.

  “My facial muscles haven’t even woken up yet but you’re smiling,” Lex says and I reach up and touch my face. Then I smile even more.

  “See you two at the gym,” I say without explaining myself and drop the tea bag into the trash, which is almost overflowing, and head for the front door. It takes me a minute to find matching shoes in the heap that’s piled next to the shoe rack, not on it. Maybe we should hire Manly Maids, I think with a smirk.

  It’s a cold windy morning. There’re big, dark storm clouds making it look more like five in the morning than quarter to seven, but I have a job to do whether the weather likes it or not. I hop in the truck and head to the farm. I park next to the barn. There’s a couple lights on in the house, but I know my brother is getting ready for school, my dad is probably out in the orchard, and Gramps and Grams are still puttering in the kitchen. They start work later and later the older they get. I don’t expect to see anyone, and I don’t as I make my way into the barn holding my breath.

  I half expect to not find what I’m looking for, but there it is. Aunt Louise finally did something right. Well… I pause that thought as I examine the flowers. She did something half right. I’d asked her, since she works at the garden center in Colebury, to get me a deal on some flowers. I told her it was to spruce up the hockey house and then I gave her a specific list of types. Dahlias, pansies, marigolds. What I ended up with was not the ones I asked for—at least not from the pictures I Googled of them. But these were colorful and healthy looking, so I wasn’t about to complain. There was a note there with the amount, and I was pleased she’d kept it in my budget too.

  I load the flowers and a ladder into the truck, head on over to park like an FBI surveillance van down the street from Maggie’s apartment, and wait. I’d been texting with her last night, mostly sending each other snarky comments and sexual innuendos, but I managed to subtly find out that Caroline had gone home for a few days, she and Daisy had early classes, and Jasmyn was spending the night at her boyfriend Rhys’s place. Ten minutes into my stakeout, Daisy and Maggie emerge from their apartment. They’re holding travel mugs and talking animatedly as they lock the door and make their way down the street. I smile as I watch her and get this sense of peace I haven’t felt in a really long time.

  Once they’re out of sight, I take a deep breath and jump out of my truck. The risk factor in this little stunt is high. Jasmyn could come home. Daisy and Maggie could come back early. Someone in the building could not believe the cover story I have and call the police. So many risk factors, but I’m going for it anyway.

  I carry the flowers to her front yard and then up the ladder, which is not easy. Neither is climbing over her balcony railing with the flowers. But I really don’t like that she decimated her private garden to try and compete with my silly dunk tank trick. I don’t have a ton of extra cas
h to throw around but with Louise’s employee discount and the little cash I could spare, I manage to put something in each empty box and pot. It’s not a lot, but it’s something and it looks pretty, if I do say so myself. Most importantly, I don’t get caught…at least not until I’m making my way down the ladder to escape and the tenant below their apartment sticks his graying head out a window and stares at me.

  “Just a little emergency maintenance on the third floor. Sorry if I bothered you, sir,” I say with what I hope is a credible smile.

  He looks up at Maggie’s balcony and back at me. “I’ve been complaining about my dripping kitchen faucet for three months but of course the landlord fixes the hot college girls’ stuff first,” he huffs and slams his window shut.

  He might complain to the landlord, but I’ll be long gone.

  After heading home to drop off the truck and clean up, I walk back to campus and start my actual day. I don’t see Maggie or hear from her the entire time so I don’t know if she’s discovered my little gift.

  My day ends with hockey practice. The locker room is already half full and others trail in behind me at a steady pace as I undress and throw on workout gear. Today is dry land training, not ice, which means Coach Garfunkle is in charge. He makes us meditate for the first fifteen minutes. He’s been doing it since the beginning of the year, and as usual, snoring starts to fill the room because some of the guys fall asleep, which then leads to uncontrollable snorts and guffaws from the other guys. Garfunkle takes it in stride, like he always does, and tells us we’ll get better with practice.

  Then we go in groups into the drill room to do partnered resistance training with elastics and ropes and stuff. Coach Keller pops in and out to survey us but says nothing until the end when we’re back in the locker room about to hit the showers. “Nice work out there boys. I have high hopes for you in the season opener next week. I’m about to tell you who will be on that ice for puck drop in that game. And yeah it’s only the first game but it sets the tone for the year. I’m telling you six days in advance of the game in case you aren’t first line and want to be. Bust your ass in the coming days and change my mind. If you are on it and don’t want to end up on the bench when the puck drops, then don’t slack. I will change it.”

  He starts to read the names of the starting line, and mine is one of them. I want to smile and even crow in victory, but I don’t want to be an asshole to my teammates who aren’t on it. And Keller isn’t kidding, he will drop anyone to second line or third if he’s given reason to, so I sit there and just nod at my name and continue to undress.

  As I wrap a towel around my waist and head to the showers, Garfunkle stops me. “I told you that crystal would help.”

  “What?”

  “The crystal I gave you a couple weeks ago,” he says smiling. “It really changed your chi. I can feel it on and off the ice. You’re in a good place.”

  “I think I am, Coach,” I say and try not to laugh. “Thanks.”

  He looks so damn pleased with himself I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s because of a hot redhead not a hunk of stone he gave me. And, as if to prove that point, I feel my chi get even brighter when I step out of the arena twenty minutes later and see Maggie sitting on the steps, bundled in a thick, oversized cable knit sweater and leggings, sipping a coffee and reading a textbook.

  “Someone should snap your picture and give it to the admissions office,” I tell her as I walk over. “If I was a high school student, I’d take one look at it and immediately send in my application.”

  She glances up from her book and gives me the softest, most intimate smile, and I know she’s been home and seen her balcony. Everything in me gets warmer despite the cool air swirling around me and my still wet hair.

  “No compliments, Tater Tot. It’s not who we are,” she reminds me softly.

  “I meant because of the latte and the nice sweater. Total Vermont vibes. What really helps sell it is the fact your hair looks more brown than red thanks to the clouds and it shields that hideous face of yours from view,” I reply swiftly and her head snaps up and the look of pure shock on her face is priceless. I wink. “Better?”

  “I am one second away from tossing this latte in your face,” she warns and the amber in her eyes glints with mock anger.

  “Don’t waste good caffeine, Firecracker,” I reply. “Now, what are you doing here? Just had to see my face before you ended your day?”

  “Ha-ha,” she says and stands up, facing me. Her eyes are so filled with awe and something else I can’t place but makes me feel like a rock star. “Someone broke into my apartment today and instead of stealing stuff, they filled my empty flower boxes.”

  I fake shock. “Wow. That’s crazy. I guess someone took pity on your horrible gardening skills, or got sick of looking at your ugly muddy barren flower boxes and decided to take matters into their own hands. Did you call 9-1-1? Is there a statewide manhunt?”

  She’s biting her bottom lip, trying not to smile, but she’s failing. “I decided to forgo the police. I’m going to hunt this maniac down myself and deal with him my own way.”

  “Vigilante justice. I like it,” I say grinning. “I hope this monster gets what he deserves. What, exactly, do you think he deserves?”

  “Well…” She pauses and sips her latte as her eyes dart around.

  I do the same, casually glancing around to make sure no one is watching us. Not a lot of people in school know about how odd it would be to see us talking and not screaming at each other, but some definitely do and I don’t want to start a rumor that somehow gets back to our families.

  “I think first I’ll explain that it was really hard to think on my feet when Daisy and Jasmyn questioned me about where the hell the new flowers came from,” she says. “And then after I berate him for that. Then…then I’ll tell him that it violates all terms of our agreement. And that I hate charity. But…”

  She looks down and then back up and her eyes are watery. “It was the sweetest thing I think anyone has ever done for me. That it makes me want to kiss him and…a lot of other things that I’m hoping I can show him tonight. If he dares to sneak back into my apartment or let me sneak into his.”

  “I’m pretty sure this vandal will most definitely let you do whatever you want to him tonight, wherever you want,” I reply and have to shove my hands into my hoodie to keep from reaching out and touching her pink cheeks. “Don’t cry, Magnolia. If you cry I’ll have to take you in my arms no matter who might be watching. I won’t be able to help myself.”

  She takes a ragged breath and takes one step back from me, regaining her composure. “Then I’ll have to throw the latte on you.”

  I smile. She smiles back.

  “Hey! Adler!”

  She freezes and I look toward the voice It’s Bennie Oldman. He’s a senior and like Maggie and me, he’s a local too and he worked on my farm a couple summers ago before everything started to melt down. “Maggie. Hey. I didn’t know you two were…friends?”

  “What? Who? No!” she barks out way too forcefully with an equally aggressive laugh at the end.

  “We’re just neighbors and in the same program. I was asking her for notes from a class I missed,” I say which isn’t a lie. It’s just not the truth in this particular situation.

  “I think he knows we’re neighbors, Tater Tot. He worked on your farm,” Maggie reminds me and Bennie laughs.

  “You forget me that soon?” Bennie laughs and nudges me.

  “Anyway, I have to run,” Maggie says and smiles at Bennie. “Nice seeing you Bennie. And…not nice seeing you, Tate. Bye.”

  “Bye,” Bennie says and waves as she leaves. I don’t bother with an acerbic retort. I just watch her go and wish he hadn’t interrupted us.

  Bennie chuckles. “When I worked for you guys any Todd was a bad Todd. You know your grandfather told me it wasn’t personal opinion but scientific fact because you could never trust a person with a first name as a last name.”

  I sha
ke my head. “My grandmother’s maiden name was Brent so that’s a load of garbage. How ya been Bennie?”

  “Good. Great, actually,” he replies falling in step with me. He runs a giant paw through his long, shaggy hair. Bennie is extremely tall and lanky which makes his hands and feet look stupidly disproportionate. His nickname as far back as grade school has been Shaggy like the cartoon character from Scooby-Doo. “I was bummed when I couldn’t get another summer job at your farm this past summer because you guys were a great gig, but I ended up working at the Shipley farm and it was good. Better than I thought. They’re keeping me on until November part-time, so that’s great.”

  “We really wanted you back we just couldn’t afford it this season, Bennie,” I say, feeling the crushing weight of guilt I felt when I had to tell him at the beginning of the summer.

  “Hey man, I know. Like I said, it’s all good,” Bennie says easily. “I knew it wasn’t just me when I saw Hank at the Biscuit.”

  Now that crushing guilt somehow gets even heavier. “You talked to Hank?”

  “Yeah all the time. Why? Don’t you?” Bennie asks and he gets incredulous as I don’t answer. “Did Hank do something?”

  I shake my head. “Hey, Bennie. I gotta head back to the hockey house and grab some food. Just finished practice and I’m starving. I’ll catch you later.”

  “Yeah. For sure.” Bennie nods amicably. “And if you need workers next year I’d definitely come back. So would Hank, I bet.”

  I text Maggie as soon as Bennie leaves my side.

  Sorry about that.

  A light rain begins to fall and since I don’t have a jacket, only a hoodie, I pick up the pace as my phone rings and Maggie’s alias appears on the screen. I didn’t store her number by her real name because I didn’t want anyone to see it come up. Her name is Prof Doyle, which is my Economics of Agriculture teacher. If someone looks through my phone and sees our texts they’re going to think I’m having an affair with a fifty-nine-year-old professor, but I’d rather that than anyone know the truth.