Icing

by Jami Davenport

  Meanwhile, Ziggy left with a gaggle of women within an hour of his arrival. He never ceased to amaze me. He was like a frat boy on steroids.

  About eight p.m., my last customer, excluding Steele, walked out the door. It’d be an early Sunday night for me.

  “I’m going to close now.”

  “That’s fine.” Steele made no move to leave. I hoped he didn’t plan on repeat performance of a week ago, though it was tempting. Regardless, my boss had been known to show up unannounced as I was closing on Sundays, and I didn’t dare take the chance. I liked this job. The tips were good. I had several regulars, and it was close to home.

  At twenty-four, I should be planning my future, thinking about college, or deciding what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I’d done none of these. I’d never been much for formal education, being more the free-spirited type. I’d been a horrible student in high school and doubted that’d change if I pursued a further education. The thought of going back to school gave me hives. It wasn’t in my future, even if I had the money for it.

  I had my activist work, which took up a lot of my spare time. I did marches, attended city council meetings, wrote letters, and rallied people for my causes. I loved doing such work. In fact, Delaney and I had become good friends because of our shared causes and desires to make the world a better place for all, not just a chosen few.

  Currently, I was keeping an eye on Ethan Parker, the Sockeyes’ majority owner, and his purchase of a private park adjacent to the Sockeyes practice facility. There were rumors he planned on erecting a building on that property, which would cause the destruction an urban heritage park and removal of a tree that had stood in that location longer than the city of Seattle. I wasn’t about to let that happen. I’d grown up in this area before it’d been reclaimed by the wealthy. That park meant a lot to me and many others. We’d lost so much as Seattle grew. Something of our history should be salvaged. How did a person put a price on an ancient cedar tree that’d withstood the ravages of time? While others saw it as a tree, I saw it as a symbol of resiliency and perseverance.

  My aunt Joan, who was nothing like my mother, insisted I forget about my causes and concentrate on hooking a wealthy man. I didn’t care about money, and I sure as hell didn’t need a man to fulfill me. But sex, now that was another story. I did need sex. Lots of sex. With Steele.

  Only Steele was trouble. All sorts of trouble. He’d cause trouble for my heart like I’d never been in trouble before, and that was saying a lot, as I did have a penchant for attracting trouble, but never this kind. Not in the past.

  My attention swung back to the man sitting at the bar. He gazed up at the television over the bar, intent on a hockey game. Yeah, I wanted sex, and I wanted it with him. I’d tried to wipe Steele out of my mind this past week when it became obvious he was avoiding me.

  Over the past week, I’d flirted with several guys at the bar and been asked out by a few. In the end, I wasn’t tempted by any of their offers. I’d fended off an invitation from my ex, Tug, for a roll in the hay too. He didn’t usually take no for an answer, and he didn’t this time either. He’d been relentless in his pursuit of me, or I should say my body. He didn’t give a shit about me as a person. We’d always had some raucous sex together. Tug didn’t understand why I wasn’t interested in a night of sex without strings—with him. It wasn’t like Steele and I had anything going. He’d made that abundantly clear by staying away from me. Yet I’d refused Tug.

  Now Steele was here, and the question that had to be asked was why? He and I had some levelling to do with each other because, much to my dismay, I’d put my sex life in limbo after we’d done the dirty.

  I made him wait, though, as I formulated how I’d approach this discussion. Rushing into it would put me on the defense, and I fully intended to stay on offense and make him handle being at a disadvantage.

  The hottie in question nursed a glass of water, and his eyes remained glued on the television now showing a late-night hockey recap of the day’s games. I’d watched more hockey since living in the condo, but I’d never been much for organized sports. I was a walker and sometimes a jogger, but I’d never played softball or volleyball or anything else growing up. My mom hadn’t been interested in any money being siphoned away from her drinking and partying and protesting. She used her activism as a reason to go rogue, and I’d been dragged into many of her debacles over the years.

  I was almost done with my closing chores when I realized Steele was no longer focused on the TV but watching me with an intensity that made me want to take him back to the pool room again.

  Regardless, I held back, and I knew why. Sex with him had destroyed my interest in other men. In fact, I’d been fantasizing too much lately about a healthy relationship with a stable guy. All my previous long-term relationships had been with losers and abusers. I wouldn’t know what to do with a guy who treated me well.

  I walked behind the bar to put a solid object between Steele and me for a little extra emotional protection from the magnetic pull of his hot AF body. I’d caught him gawking, and his gaze snapped back to the TV.

  “So what the fuck is going on? You’ve been avoiding me.” I lifted my chin defiantly, belatedly admitting his cool behavior had damaged my pride. I hadn’t realized I had an ego until now. I guess I did.

  “No, I haven’t.” Steele kept his eyes glued to the TV over the bar, refusing to look at me.

  “Yes, you have. Ever since we had sex, you have.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “I guess you consider me a big mistake and want to pretend that night never happened.” Bone-deep hurt laced my accusatory tone. I’d stupidly shown him how vulnerable I was. Letting a guy see your soft underbelly was never a good thing in my experience. I’d had my feelings used against me more times than I could count, so I developed the knack for not showing how I felt until now.

  He dragged his gaze away from the TV. His gray eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t feel that way at all.”

  “Then why all the bullshit?”

  “What bullshit?”

  I rolled my eyes. He was so infuriating. “Come on. We had epic sex, and you’re being a dumb ass.”

  “I am not a dumb ass. Yeah, we had sex. Yeah, it was fucking fantastic. We’re adults. We’ve had sex before. That’s it. That’s all.”

  I was insulted. With a shock, I realized I wanted him to admit it meant more than just one night, that hooking up with me rocked his world like it did mine. I guess I was wrong.

  “Where do we go from here?” I asked, because I hated this wall between us, and I could play this game too. He might’ve rocked my world, but he wouldn’t ruin it for other guys.

  “I don’t know. How about we take it one day at a time?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “We can still be friends.” Steele smiled at me, and my stupid heart melted a little, much to my annoyance.

  “We’re friends? I thought you didn’t like me.” I was pushing him, and I wasn’t able to stop myself. I needed to know more.

  “I guess I do, as much as your slovenliness irritates me.”

  “Not as irritating as you with your stuck-in-the-mud ways.” We were back on familiar ground, bantering and taking shots at each other.

  “I’m not irritating. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “For someone living in a rut.”

  “You aren’t going to start that again?” he said.

  “I am. You alphabetize your kitchen spices.”

  “They’re easier to find that way.”

  “You don’t cook,” I pointed out.

  He shrugged, and his slow grin caused a slow burn across my body. Basking in the warmth of that smile, I smiled back. It was like a ray of sunshine flooded the room, making my day much brighter and my step much lighter. It was weird and wonderful and scary.

  Steele wormed his way inside, and I was powerless to stop him. In fact, I didn’t want to stop him.

  Chapter Sixteen

>   The Mess

  ~~Steele~~

  One day at a time.

  I’d proposed we take things one day at a time. Only not planning ahead didn’t settle shit. Not discussing the real problem made things worse. Neither one of us knew where we stood. We didn’t declare we’d never have sex again, but we didn’t say we would.

  I had to get my head away from Cin and on the game. Tomorrow night we had a home game with the Las Vegas Sidewinders. They were going to be tough this year.

  A few days later, I came home from practice to a kitchen resembling a war zone, and my kitchen hadn’t won this war. Cin was baking and cooking up a storm. The aromas almost made me forget how much I hated messes. Ziggy sat on a stool and guzzled a beer. I noted there were already four empty beer bottles littering the counter in front of him. That guy wouldn’t have a functioning liver by the time he turned thirty. In front of him was a mixing bowl and a spatula. He scraped a hunk of cookie dough from the side of the bowl and slid it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and groaned, like he was a having a great orgasm. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the bowl from him. I used my finger to scoop up some dough and slid the finger into my mouth. Oh, shit, that stuff was heavenly, and she hadn’t baked it yet. Ziggy snatched it away from me, muttering rudely. I shrugged and didn’t fight him for possession.

  Cin bumped a bin of flour with her elbow, and it spewed all over the counter, cabinets, and floor. My mouth dropped open in speechless horror. I’d be cleaning flour out of crevices for the next month. She didn’t notice. She was too busy concocting something. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked damn good. Maybe even worth being up all night putting my kitchen back to some semblance of neatness.

  Knowing I might say something to piss her off and end up wearing a bowl of dough on my head, I scooted off the stool and headed to my bedroom. My mom had called earlier, so I decided to divert my attention by returning her phone call.

  Mom answered on the sixth ring. She never picked up right away. “Hi, honey,” she said, sounding breathless, as if she’d been running. She was a fitness freak, so that wouldn’t be out of the question.

  “Hi, Mom, what’s new?”

  “Nothing much.”

  She was understating the truth, because her job was anything but routine, but I wasn’t going to press her. Honestly, I didn’t know what she did exactly. She said she worked for the Department of Defense, but that’s all she’d say. When I was young, my dad’s grandmother lived with us because Mom was gone a lot for a week or two at a time. After I started playing junior hockey and didn’t live at home, she moved to DC. She’d been there ever since. I didn’t know what her career choice was then, and I sure as hell didn’t now. Even my nosy grandmother had been in the dark.

  Ignorance was bliss. If Mom did something dangerous, I’d worry about her constantly. It was better for all concerned that I didn’t know.

  “Seeing anyone special?” I asked my usual question and expected the usual answer. My mom hadn’t really dated to my knowledge in all the years since Dad died. She claimed to be married to her job and didn’t need any additional complications.

  “Of course not. When would I have time for a relationship?”

  “I don’t know. What is it that you do again?” She’d given me an in, and I couldn’t help asking.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” She dodged the question as she always did and asked one of me.

  I was caught off guard and hesitated way too long. She jumped on it.

  “You are. Who is she? I want to know all about her. What does she do?”

  “It’s not like that. She’s my roommate. We’re not exactly dating. Mom, she infuriates me. We’re oil and water. She’s a hot mess when it comes to housekeeping. She’s a rebel activist and a bartender. She’s a free spirit where I’m a planner and a thinker. She’s a reactor driven by emotions.”

  “I see.” Mom didn’t offer much comment, and now that I’d opened the floodgates, I kept talking. I didn’t mention the sex part because there were still certain things I didn’t discuss with my mom, sex being on the top of that list.

  “I can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve never been this preoccupied with someone before.”

  “Your father used to do the same to me.”

  “He did?” My mom rarely talked about my dad, as if even after this many years the subject was too painful.

  “At first, thinking of her really affected my game. I’ve managed to fight through that. I’m torn. If I start something with her and it doesn’t work out, which it won’t because we’re so different—”

  “You don’t know that,” Mom interrupted. “It’s good to shake up your life once in a while with someone who makes you see shades of gray instead of all black and white.”

  “You think?” I didn’t like hearing I was rigid, even from my mom.

  “Perhaps. You’re old enough to decide, Steele. I don’t know her, but I do know that I’ve never heard you sound like this.”

  I sounded like something? “What do I sound like?”

  “Like a man who’s met his match.” She laughed a soft and loving laugh only a mother could give to her son.

  “I don’t know. I’ve only known her a few months.”

  “And you can’t stop thinking about her? And that’s never happened before?”

  “That’s right.” My mom was planning the wedding already. I heard it in her voice.

  “What’s her name? How old is she? Where does she work?” My mom was going to run a background check on Cin, I was certain of that. She’d done it before.

  “Mom, please, don’t check her out.”

  “Do you really think I’d do that?”

  “I know you would.”

  She laughed, and we talked a few more minutes about various family members and my hockey season so far. When we disconnected the call, I had a feeling she’d be finding out everything about Cin, even though she didn’t have her name. My mom had her ways, and they never ceased to amaze me.

  When I walked back into the living area, Ziggy and Cin were gone and the kitchen was an even bigger mess. I gaped at the disaster for a long time, made a couple calls, and left the condo, mess and all. I’d have never walked away from a mess even a week ago.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Makeout

  ~~~Hyacinth~~~

  I snuck out of the condo before Steele returned, knowing he’d be beside himself when he saw the mess I’d left. After walking Herc for a half hour, I headed back for the condo and what promised to be a finicky man in a snit fit. I wished Steele would’ve left for his workout by now, while wishing he hadn’t.

  When I entered, I hesitated in the hallway. Herc ran ahead of me, barking joyously as he often did after a walk. Pots and pans clattered in the kitchen along with the sound of running water.

  Steeling myself for a tirade, I peeked around the corner. Herc sat at Steele’s feet, watching him intently in case any scraps might fall his way.

  “I’m sorry. I was coming back to clean up after Herc did his thing.”

  Steele swung his gaze from the sink full of soapy water to me and back to the pan he vigorously scrubbed. I didn’t know if he was supremely pissed or not. He was so hard to read at times. I watched the muscles flex in his biceps, as he worked on the pan imprinted by burnt chocolate frosting. Oops.

  My gaze drifted back to those arms. Steele’s arms were a thing of masculine beauty along with the rest of him. I didn’t know which part I liked the best, though there was this one part…

  “Cin! Did you hear what I said?” Steele’s annoyance grounded me back on earth. I shook my head a few times to clear it.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  He sighed one of those deep, put-upon sighs. “Nothing.”

  “I’ll help.” I shooed Herc out of the kitchen, ignored the scathing look Herc shot over his shoulder as he waddled off to his dog bed. Steele had already cleaned up the flour I’d sent flying everywhere. I grabbed a clean dish towel from the dr
awer and began to dry the mound of pots, pans, and bowls.

  The condo had a state-of-the-art dishwasher, which was currently humming away as it washed a portion of the dishes I’d dirtied.

  “It’s a damn good thing you’re an awesome cook, or I’d ban you from the kitchen,” Steele said, not taking his eyes off the dishes in the sink.

  “Really? You like my cooking?” He’d said as much before, but I loved hearing it.

  “Yeah, not bad for a vegetarian. It beats frozen pizza and TV dinners.”

  “That’s a great testimonial.”

  “Do I detect a note of sarcasm?”

  “I hope so.” The she-devil rose inside me as my hungry gaze dropped to his awesome ass. I snapped him on the butt with my now-wet towel. Caught off guard, he yelped and spun around. His gray eyes stormed, but not with anger, more like joyful revenge. I backed away, holding the towel at the ready as he advanced toward me. When he ventured within range, I struck again with the towel. Steele moved as quickly as a snake striking and grabbed the towel. Instead of letting go, which would’ve been the smart thing to do, I hung on as if my life depended on it. He reeled me in, caught me by the waist, and lifted me in the air kicking and screaming but also laughing my ass off.

  With an evil grin, the man tossed me over a stool, tush in the air, and held me down. My attempts to kick him in the shins missed their marks, as he easily avoided me.

  “Are you sorry?” His voice was filled with anticipation.

  I was laughing too hard to answer.

  “Are you sorry?” he repeated. His tone was light but laced with an underlying warning that didn’t scare me. It aroused me. I heard the swish of air before I felt a smack on my ass. It wasn’t a hard smack, but he was asserting himself, and I didn’t take kindly to being dominated, even in a benign way.

  I attempted to struggle free, but he was so much stronger.

  Smack!

  I was half laughing, half swearing at him. Three more smacks, and my butt burned from the spanking, while another part of me burned in an entirely different way. He pulled me to my feet and held me by the arms to keep me from running away. His eyes brimmed with amusement and arousal.