Something So Right

by Natasha Madison

  Motherfucker.

  Ten minutes later, I’m on the ice in my gear. It isn’t much. I just need skates, a helmet, and a stick. He comes out in full gear, making him even bigger than I thought he was before.

  “You really don’t need to be here. I’m sure I can do this myself.”

  Why does he feel the need to shit out of his mouth? I smile sweetly at him. “It’s okay. You paid for the service.”

  I work him hard. I have him skating up and down that rink, going in circles, zigzagging through cones, puck handling...it’s his first day, I should be going easy, but he brought this onto himself. When I think he is going to cave, he fucking smirks. I want to take his stick and knock his fucking helmet off. I blow the whistle at five fifty-nine.

  “Okay, Stone, time’s up. Get your gear off and meet Adam in the gym at seven.”

  “Will he be on time? And who takes care of the health section?” he asks with the cockiness of a bull. Right then in that moment, I think he has a big chip on his shoulder because he has a small penis. I mean, why else would you be a dick to people? You are making up for something.

  “I have your menu, and it’s already prepared. The only thing I have to do is make your pre workout shake. It’ll be ready when you come out of the shower.”

  “So let me get this straight. You train and do my shakes? Maybe you can keep the concession stand job.” He skates off, and I’m left staring at his back again. It makes me think how much laxative one person can ingest without making him go to the hospital. I’m going to Google that shit.

  One hour later he swaggers out, and I say swagger because that is what he does. It’s the girl’s version of swinging our hips. He is walking trying to swing his dick, if he’s found it.

  His protein shake is on the counter, minus the laxative, only because I didn’t have any on hand.

  “Okay, Mr. Stone, Adam is in there waiting for you. I have a class on the ice from seven to eight, and then it slows down till ten.” I don’t even know why I’m telling him this. I’m rambling. What the fuck am I rambling about?

  “What time does Parker get here?” he asks while downing his drink. Oh my God, this is going to be so good. Since he has no idea that I’m Parker!

  “At ten. The office is upstairs to the right, first door.”

  He puts the glass back and smiles, a full white grin. How does he still have all of his teeth? They must be fake. “It’s been fun, take care,” he says, jogging to the gym.

  Chapter Two

  I’m sitting in my office looking over the ice and class schedules for the week. I see that Cooper has six days scheduled, all at three a.m. His agent told us that he wants to make sure he’s in and out before people know he’s here. So far the only people who know he’s rehabbing here is my staff of six and, of course, my kids.

  After I got off the ice, I made my way upstairs, changing into my jeans. I’m telling you not only did I lose one hundred ninety pounds of dead husband weight, I also lost the extra twenty pounds I had floating around my body. It does help that I’m now skating and can say hello abs. Okay, it’s only two, but it’s better than none. I’m now wearing a black T-shirt that molds to my chest. Luckily for me, my boobs remained big no matter how much weight I lost.

  Standing up from my desk, I walk over to the window that faces the inside of the arena. My view from the office is of the ice rink below, which is now filled with three and four-year-olds learning to skate. Another thing I added to the program list once I took over.

  To the right I see the gym area, and my gaze lands on Cooper’s as he reaches up while he does chin ups. His shirt lifts a bit, showing me his bottom stomach. Holy fuck, is that a V? Holy shit, he does have a fucking V that women lust over. Of course he does, he has to. It makes up for the fact that his penis is small. At least that is how it is in my mind.

  The good thing about these windows is that no one can see I’m standing here gawking at them. So he has no idea I’m standing here watching him.

  I’m waiting for him. I know he’s coming. It’s going to be my absolute pleasure to let him know that he can take his shitty attitude and find somewhere else to train. It’s going to fuck up my budget, ruining my plans to add another rink, but I won’t let him get away with treating me or my staff members like shit.

  A knock has me turning around just as Cooper walks in the door. He didn’t even wait for an answer. Figures. I can tell he is surprised to see me.

  “I guess Parker isn’t in?” he asks with a snarl. Oh. This. Is. Going. To. Be. Fun.

  “Actually, I am in, as you can see. I’m sorry we weren’t properly introduced before. I’m Parker Moore, and you must be Cooper Stone.” I go to him with my hand extended to shake his. He doesn’t answer or even try. He puts his hands on his hips. Okay, this conversation is going to go more quickly than I thought.

  “So, Mr. Stone, as we discussed earlier, I have an email conversation between your agent and myself. I went back just to make sure I didn’t misunderstand the time we were scheduled to meet. I’ve taken the liberty of forwarding it to you again, just to make sure you get it. A second time. In this email you will notice that I said I would be here to open the door at three a.m.. I’m very sorry if you were under the impression that I would get here forty-five minutes before that time to open the door so your highness can get dressed. I’m also sorry that you see my establishment as ‘unprofessional.’ I will be more than happy to assist you in finding other alternatives to help you in your recovery.” I don’t even give him a chance to speak “I have also emailed you my recommendations. If you want to finish out the week, that is fine, but I believe you won’t be happy either way. So, for that, I apologize yet again for making you waste your time.” I stand up straight, waiting for him to shoot me back with something, but he does the complete opposite.

  “I’ll be here tomorrow at three. See you then,” he practically yells, then storms out of my office, slamming my door on his way out.

  My fucking door. I want to kick my desk. If I wasn’t afraid of hurting myself, I would have, but instead I go to my phone and call my person.

  “Lunch?” I don’t even think it came out as a question but more so an order.

  “Sure thing. Meet you at Overtime at noon?”

  “Yeah, perfect. See you there. It’ll be five o’clock somewhere, so prepare for booze.”

  For as long as I could remember, every single one of my memories have Meghan in it. She is my go-to, my person. It also helps that she is related to me. She has no choice but to accept me for who I am. She has been there through everything. She helped me sew a voodoo doll when I arrived home from surprising James. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it didn’t work because James still has his penis intact.

  I pull into the parking lot of Overtime. I am over tired, grumpy, and fucking aggravated. After placing the phone call to Meghan, I had to sit down with my dad, informing him of the morning’s scene. I also went down to speak to Adam, making sure everything was okay. I was shocked to find out Cooper was so polite with him. Of course he was. He must be a chauvinist pig. Scared of my vagina?

  I also spent a good amount of time stalking him on Google. I was looking for anything they had on him, which wasn’t much. He was completely off social media. He usually didn’t give interviews unless it was about the game. Not one picture of a girlfriend. Gasp, maybe he’s gay? What a fucking loss for the vagina team.

  I walk in, taking in the regular people who hang out here. Larry, Curly, and Moe are all sitting at the bar. Okay, that really isn’t their names, but that is what everyone calls them.

  Straining my neck left and right looking for Meghan, my eyes land on the blue ones from this morning. His baseball cap hides his hair. Honestly why, why the fuck is he here?

  Now I’m stuck. Do I ignore him or be the bigger person? My grandmother and her manners are practically yelling at me in my head. I huff, head his way, hoping to finally spot Meghan, but all I see is him.

  “I didn’t t
hink you would socialize with the locals,” I say, trying to be funny and quirky.

  “Funny how you made sure you’re on time for lunch.” His humor very dry.

  I finally snap. “Oh, please, will you knock it off? I wasn’t late.” I don’t have to be nice to him when we are out of the rink. His lips curl up on one side like he’s going to smile, but he’s interrupted when Meghan literally throws herself in the empty chair in front of him.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you were bringing a date.” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows.

  I want to reach over and smack it off her fucking face. “I’m not here with him...Meghan, meet Cooper Stone. Cooper Stone, meet my pain in the ass cousin. Also soon to be replaced best friend,” I say with my teeth biting together.

  She reaches out to shake his hand. I’m waiting for her to be denied, because this man has no common courtesy. Shockingly he puts his hand out, smiles, and has the audacity to say, “So nice to meet you.”

  I whip my head around so fast I may have given myself whiplash. “What the fuck is your problem?” I stare at him.

  Meghan’s mouth hangs open. “Okay, how many cups of coffee have you had?” She turns her head to look at Cooper. “She is usually the social butterfly. She is probably having a bad day, excuse her.” She gets up, ushering me away from him before I say something else, shoving me into the booth.

  “What the fuck was that?” she whispers.

  I shake my head, proceeding to tell her about my morning run-in with jerk face. Rolling my eyes, I know it’s childish, but I don’t care.

  She smiles at me like she’s a cat that caught a canary. “You like him.”

  My mouth quickly shuts. “What did you just say to me?” My brows draw together in shock that she would jump to that conclusion. I’ve just basically told him to go fuck himself. Surely she knows the difference between flirting and hatred!

  “You like him. You haven’t been that into someone since douchebag fucked you over.”

  I stare at her, thinking I’m in some parallel universe. I’m watching the world go crazy. “Are you out of your mind? That wasn’t like, it was loathing. It was ‘I would rather cut my arm off and eat it before sharing a meal with him’.” Anger rises within me. I was supposed to be here with her drinking and making fun of him. Not discussing my lust for him! Wait a minute, I don’t lust for him. Jesus, I need to get laid.

  Chapter Three

  I pull up in my driveway just in time for Allison to get home. I look up at my beautiful cottage I fell in love with. It was the first thing that was ever just mine. It was my reward, my sanity. It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s mine. Four little steps lead up to my wraparound porch where a hammock hangs. Around the corner leads into the back where I spend many nights falling into the love stories on my Kindle. I also have two white wooden Klondike chairs that I put for the kids to hang out in. I have beautiful tulip beds that are placed just under the railing. I know they don’t last long, but they are my favorite flowers, and I have always loved them.

  When I look up, I see one of my reasons for living, my princess, running up the driveway with her lopsided pigtails.

  “Moooommmmyyy! Moooooommmmmmyyy, I missed you, and Matthew didn’t make me pancakes. He said I wasn’t awolled to make my own, but then I told him he’s not the boss of me. Is he the boss of me, Mommy?” she asks all in one breath, cocking her head sideways.

  I stick my nose in her neck and inhale my happiness. “Well, he isn’t the boss of you when I’m here, but since I have to work in the morning, he will be the one in charge. How about we make pancakes for supper? We can call it brupper.”

  She smiles like I just gave her the keys to a magic kingdom. “We call it brupper. We have pancakes. Momma, can I pour it in the mixing bowl?”

  I’m just about to answer her when my phone signals a text message. I shift her to my hip, kissing her nose while I look down and see an unknown number. It doesn’t take me long to know who it’s from.

  What time is your highness arriving tomorrow?

  I’m sorry. You have the wrong number! Are you typing from your throne? And who gave you my number? It’s unlisted.

  Calm down. I’m not stalking you, and your phone number is at the bottom of the emails you sent me. So are you still showing up at 2:59?

  Okay, I’ll make an exception for you since you’re a princess and all. I’ll be there at 2:55. That is the earliest I will get there. If that isn’t good enough, dress at home!

  Princess, trust me, there is nothing female about me.

  What the fucking fuck is happening here? Is he fucking flirting with me after basically being the biggest asshole of all time?

  Okay, so 2:55 it is. See you then, Stone.

  I put away my phone, turning my focus back to one of the most important things. My girl.

  “So did you want chocolate chips on those pancakes or are we doing Mickey Mouse ones?”

  She giggles and squeals, and in that moment no matter how much I want James to suffer for breaking my heart, he gave me the best thing ever.

  The rest of the week goes by without incident. Well, if you count me ignoring him when he talks and him still being condescending, then it’s just like before.

  I really can’t wait for this weekend to come. The kids are leaving tonight for their week with their father and his concubine. I don’t think the bitterness will leave, ever. I also don’t think I will ever get used to sharing the kids. The house just dies when they aren’t here.

  I skate off the ice and head to take off my skates, slipping my feet into flip flops. When I’m finally finished, I check my messages. One is from James. Gross. I wonder if he ever washes his hands after sex. One is from Meghan. Hmmm, which one to click first? Meghan it is!

  Hey, we are getting together here tonight. I can’t find a sitter, so it’s better for everyone to come over. Starts at around 7-ish. I’ll be making my famous martinis. Should I make up the guest room?

  YES YES AND FUCK YES. Double that recipe. I need to clear my head.

  Hmmm. You need to have sex with a certain hockey player, just don’t pull the goalie.

  How the hell did you even land yourself a hockey husband?

  Meghan and her husband, Tom, have been married for two years. He was my first NHL star client recovering from a broken leg. He came in there falling in love with the town, the people, and most of all Meghan. It also helped that she got pregnant right away. Not that it was a mistake by any means. It just upped their plans. She then surprised him even more by giving him twin girls named Greysen and Harper. So he hung up his professional skates and decided to stick around. He now helps me train the high school kids and brings in most of the big names. I wonder if he knows Cooper. Ugh, dude, get a hobby. Forget him.

  My next text is James.

  I will be picking the kids up at the regular time, if that is okay? I also don’t know if I can make it to Matthew’s hockey game on Sunday since Tiffany’s family will be down visiting. Do you think you can take both Allison and Matthew till Monday?

  You fucking piece of shit sorry excuse for a fucking male.

  You know that you have been missing quite a few games lately, and I’m just going to point out that Matthew is not really back to the kid he was before the divorce. I thought you would make more of an effort.

  My blood is boiling. I can’t believe him. Matthew barely acknowledges his dad. Why he doesn’t want to mend that relationship is beyond me.

  Parker, I really don’t have the energy to argue with you. I had no idea about these plans, and they can’t be changed. I have been trying to deal with Matthew, it’s just a rough patch.

  He doesn’t have energy. Maybe the energizer bunny is finally slowing down. Hmm, maybe someone is listening to my prayers.

  A rough patch. It’s been two years. The longer you continue this, the harder it will take to get it back. Don’t you see that he’s 15? He needs his father. Just have the kids ready by 10:00.

  I don’t even bother wait
ing for a response because Cooper sits on the stool in front of the counter and clears his throat. I can’t deal with this bullshit right now.

  “I thought you would have had my stuff done already?”

  “You mean your shake that takes a whole three seconds to make? What I find funny is that you take longer to undress than to dress.”

  “You thinking about me undressing, baby?”

  I slam his glass on the counter.

  “Don’t fucking call me baby.” I turn around to storm upstairs, muttering asshole under my breath.

  The rest of the week goes by much the same, except with the little dabs from Cooper here and there. Little dabs toward me. The workouts kicked his ass, pushed him, but instead of giving me lip like he normally did, he would smirk at me or wink at me. At times it made my stomach flutter. But, then at times, I wanted to take his hockey stick and jab his eyes out. It was always a fifty-fifty by how things were going to happen.

  Chapter Four

  Saturday is finally here, and what a week it’s been. I’m bone dead tired. I’m also pissed at James, and I plan to sleep in till nine a.m. tomorrow. After taking a long hot shower and blow drying my hair, I think about the clusterfuck this week has been. I’m really looking forward to a couple of cocktails to cloud my thoughts, which have been of a certain blue-eyed devil in no clothing.

  I pull out my tan skirt, which should be called mini because it’s small, but my legs are the bomb, so why not show them off, even if it’s to the people who see them all the time. I pair it with a nice white spaghetti strap ruffled A-line tank that offers just enough cleavage and my brown wedges. I apply just a touch of mascara because I’m planning to drink, and taking off makeup while semi drunk is like a group of toddlers trying to color in the lines.