by Avery Flynn
“No. He’s a friend and you need to be nice.”
J.J. threw his hands up in a gesture of “whatever” but I ignored him. His teasing was harmless. A sign that he was comfortable with me and not one of disrespect.
“Remember how I told you guys that I’d bring the cup back with me if we won?”
“You also said you’d buy us pizza and soda,” Tyrique reminded me as he rubbed his belly. At over six feet tall and on the upper end of one-hundred-ninety pounds, I knew he cared more about the food than the cup.
“I did and I’m here to keep that promise.” I pointed towards the cup and the man charged with keeping it safe. “That is Mr. Motz and you do exactly what he says when it comes to the cup. You can have your picture taken with it, with me. Anything goes as long as you’re respectful and careful. If I have to buy a new one because you knuckleheads broke it, I’ll bust some heads. I promise you that.”
They all stared at me, eyes huge and full of surprise for one hot minute and then they burst out into laughter. Blowing off my threats they rolled their eyes and headed to the cup and an anxious Edwin. He held his own though, handling the kids with stern direction. They lined up, mugging for the camera as the photographer snapped pictures as fast as they could switch poses.
I snagged Tyrique by the back of his collar before he could head over to hog the camera. “Did I even scare them a little bit?”
He shook his head, his smile shy but open. He was a gentle giant and I could count on him to keep the other kids in line. He had a gift with children and I couldn’t wait to see what he did with it.
“No way, DC,” he said. “You don’t have to threaten them. They’re more afraid of disappointing you than getting a beat down. They’ll keep it straight for you, man. You don’t have to worry about that.”
He bolted to join the group and I found myself smiling.
“That says a lot about you, Jamie.” Etienne observed, his shoulder brushing mine as he moved in closer. I got a whiff of his aftershave, a complicated scent that was made up of spice and fire and summer nights. It made my mouth water and I steadied my breath under the intense weight of his gaze. “You’ve really reached these kids.”
“God, I fucking hope so,” I said, my mind going back to when I’d first met them. I’d worked hard to gain their trust. “This youth center is open to everyone but these kids are all LGBTQ, for the most part minorities and growing up poor. I want them to know they can have more than what is promised on the streets and that it gets better. Whatever shit is weighing them down now is just temporary.”
“You grew up here?” he asked.
“Yeah, with my mom. I never knew my dad. He was dead before I was old enough to know that I didn’t have one.” I met his gaze, glad to see only interest and not pity. “I knew I was gay when I was fourteen and I buried it down deep because it would have gotten me killed on these streets. I was lucky enough to have this center, luckier to find hockey and it became my focus. I knew it was my only ticket out. I wasn’t a great student and I didn’t have any money.”
“So, you want to come back here and help these kids?”
“I do. If I get the offer from the team here, I’ll be able to do even more than send checks and fly in when I can.”
He kept his eyes on me and I didn’t want to break the connection. This was me, the complete unvarnished truth. I wanted him to see it and I wanted to see what he thought of me. If I was honest, it was why I’d invited him here. As dangerous as that could be for my sanity.
Etienne observed me closely and I wondered if he’d clue me into what he was thinking. He didn’t disappoint.
“You’re a good man, Jamie Washington and while I don’t want the Rage to lose you, I hope you get an offer from the enemy.” He dipped his chin and looked up at me through his dark lashes. It was a seductive gaze, whether he intended it to be or not. “You’re not the guy I thought you were when you first joined the Rage.”
“It took me long enough to get here,” I answered, thinking of all the time I’d wasted hiding who I really was from everyone. How many times had I missed out because I was afraid? I didn’t want these kids to do have to live that way.
“But you got here.” He placed his hand on my shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. His fingers brushed against the bare skin just above the collar of my shirt and we both jumped, our eyes locking at the jolt of sensation. I took a deep breath, wondering if he could feel my pulse jumping just a fraction above where he rested his hand.
The doors burst open on the other end of the room and Dr. Carla Androghetti entered, her arms full of pizza boxes. She was followed closely by two other volunteers with more pizzas and sodas.
“Cho! Co” Etienne said, his accent strong as he took in the sight. “That’s enough food to feed an army.”
“Or a bunch of teenagers,” I said, glad to have his attention off me while I got my shit under control.
The kids swiveled on their heels, drawn by the smell of grease, cheese, and every kind of topping. A cheer went up from the crowd and they swarmed the food like they’d never eaten before. Or in the last hour. It was almost the same at their age.
Carla emerged from the crowd, laughing and holding a lone slice of something with lots of cheese on it. She took a bite, exaggerating her love for the slice as she teased the kids with it. Tyrique pretended to be hurt by her action but she gave him a light shove when he reached for the slice and then skipped away from the crowd and towards me.
I scooped her up into a hug when she got to me, dodging the slice of grease still clutched in her hand.
“That cup is huge,” she said, looking towards Etienne for confirmation. “Am I right? Why does it have to be so big? I think it’s because hockey players have small dicks. I’m a doctor, I know this kind of stuff.” She nudged me with her elbow, not taking her gaze off the hot man standing next to me. “You going to introduce me?”
I ignored her jab at my manhood and rolled my eyes, making the back-and-forth motion between the two of them. “Dr. Carla Androghetti meet Dr. Etienne Beaufort.”
“Psychiatry,” she said, shaking his hand.
“Physical therapy,” Etienne replied and then paused, his face scrunched up. “Wait. Are you Ryker’s boss?”
Her smile remained on her face but she squinted at him for a few seconds and then understanding replaced the confusion. “Are you his best friend from New Orleans? The real-time, sexy Cajun guy?” He nodded and she dropped the formality and hugged him, already deciding that this connection made them people who hugged. “It’s a small world and Ryker was so right about you being hot.”
I wracked my brain, trying to figure where I’d heard that name before and then it all made sense. Or I thought it did. The guy mentioned on the plane.
“The Ryker?” I asked.
“The one and only,” Carla answered, drawing close to me for another one-armed hug. She was a toucher, the only way to stop her was to put a physical barrier in between the two of you. Like a wall. Or a continent. “He’s my office manager. I know I’ve told you about him.”
“The guy who pulled all the real estate listings for me?” And the ex-con who’d served a few years for killing a man. I’d checked into him as best I could when she’d hired him and while his past was rocky, he hadn’t lied about it. I thought that counted for something and so far he’d been a stand-up guy to Carla.
“Yep.” She tapped me on the chest before she backed away. “Don’t forget, you owe him VIP tickets to a game.” She nodded at Etienne. “It was nice meeting you. I’ve got to run back to the office.”
“She’s the best friend?” Etienne asked as we watched her leave the room, the kids grabbing last minute hugs along the way. They loved her.
“Yeah. I met her here at the center when we both started volunteering. She works with the kids, runs a boating program on the river for them and offers free counseling services.”
“Ryker loves her.”
“Well, so do I.”
; The kids didn’t let the pizza slow them down. Hands full and fingers covered in cheese and sauce, they jockeyed to get their picture taken with the cup, their roughhousing and dirty fingers making Edwin twitch from his protective perch just to the right of the big hunk of metal. Etienne slid up next to me, handing over a paper plate with a slice of pizza on it. I took it and ate half of it in one bite. It wasn’t half-bad for delivery pizza. I’d had better in Chicago but that was a whole other thing entirely. Nothing touched the level of a Chicago deep dish.
Etienne was beside me, laughing as J.J. shoved Tyrique out of the way in his effort to photobomb the picture. Rachel sat to the side, eyes wide as she watched her friends acting like bunch of idiots. She laughed at them, offering up a quiet comment into their round of jokes. Tyrique clutched his chest and fell to the ground, acting like she’d thrown a fatal blow. I snorted with a laugh and caught Etienne’s attention.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
I let out a sigh, sifting through what I felt comfortable sharing. Her full story wasn’t mine to tell. “That’s Rachel. A year ago she wouldn’t have even been in this room much less joking with them. She’s made a lot of progress, living her life fully as a transgender girl. She had a rough time there for a while.”
I felt his hand on my arm and I turned to look at him. Etienne was staring at me, an expression of respect and affection on his face. I found myself smiling down at him, my heart rate kicking up at his attention. Every part of me liked that he was looking at me that way. Fuck, but he did it for me.
“What?” I asked, tossing my empty paper plate into the nearby trash can.
“They’re the reason.” He motioned towards the rowdy bunch making teenage asses of themselves in front of us. “The reason why you came out.”
I nodded, letting my glance skip quickly over to the kids and then back to him. It was true. “I couldn’t very well tell them to be proud of who they are if I was still hiding in the closet. They’ve had enough mixed signals and bad examples of being an adult from so many others. I wasn’t going to be one of them.”
I never saw it coming. But I didn’t miss it when he moved closer to me, our arms and chests touching. There was barely any daylight between us and I ached to close even that distance. Etienne was right there, moving in to brush a light kiss over my lips before pulling back with a self-conscious look towards the kids and then back at me. It had happened so quickly they hadn’t noticed. But I had. My whole body was on high alert. The adrenaline rush was higher than the moments before a game, those moments before I let my blade hit the ice and I flew.
This was a different kind of flying.
“You just keep getting better and better Jamie Washington,” Etienne murmured, his tone low and sultry.
He studied me, his own expression neutral in spite of the pride and lust I saw in the depths of his brown eyes. I couldn’t maintain the eye contact. It was making me self-conscious and horny. When he looked at me that way, I wanted him. But having a boner in front of the kids was a non-starter. Jesus, they’d never let me live it down.
Etienne didn’t help me out when he brushed his warm hand over mine and gave my fingers a lingering squeeze. Nothing obvious and nothing over-the-top but enough to make me wish for more and a room not full of teenage kids. But, I did the grown-up thing and didn’t touch him back and didn’t drag him into another kiss. I deserved a fucking medal.
Or maybe just more time with this man.
“I have dinner with my agent and Carla later tonight but I was wondering . . .” I hesitated, digging deep to find my nerve. I faced down hundreds of pounds of fighting men every night on the ice. I could ask this guy out on a date. I smiled and went for it. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Chapter 4
DC
“You’re never allowed to try to fix me up again.”
Carla took the drink the waiter brought to the table and took a huge gulp as she eased back in her chair. I’d invited her to dinner with my agent Bryan, for moral support for me and to introduce her to a guy she might be interested in. The support part had worked out fine. The potential love connection? Not so much. I was going to pay for it. No good deeds and all that.
“I had no idea he’d been married four times,” I said in my defense. “Why would I know that?”
“Jesus. How could you not know that?” She asked, her brown eyes huge with disbelief.
“He’s my agent and we both have penises.” I raised my hand to her, counting off on my fingers to make my point. “We talk about hockey and money. That’s it.”
“Look, everybody can make a mistake or four but that is not the guy who’s going to be able to handle me. I need a guy with more fight in him. Four divorces to me screams that he gives up too easily. Don’t give him my number if he asks for it.”
Carla’s current sex life consisted of serving as a third to couples who wanted an extra participant in the bedroom. It wasn’t that she didn’t date one-on-one, she just wasn’t willing to give up her extracurricular activities right now. Most of her solo partners had a problem with that and they didn’t stick around very long. So, she wasn’t wrong when she said he couldn’t handle her.
“I’m not sure who can handle you but I look forward to meeting him,” I thought about the complex woman sitting across from me and saluted her with my beer. “Or her.”
Carla clinked her whisky glass against mine and took another drink, looking me over with the eye of someone who’d known me long and well.
“Etienne . . .” She let drawled his name out and I braced for impact. “So, you asked that sexy man out on a date? Good for you. It’s about time you enjoyed your life out of the closet.”
“I came out just before the season began and then I had no time to actually date,” I defended my lack of love life for the past year.
“I’m not criticizing, I get it. You haven’t had a ton of time for walks in the moonlight.” Carla’s lips twisted up in an evil grin. “Although, I hope you’ve had time for fucks in the moonlight.”
I felt the heat hit my cheeks and I knew she could see it. Her level of sex positivity was at least six floors above mine. I wasn’t a prude but when you spent most of your life making sure nobody knew who was getting you off, you weren’t talking it about it so openly either. I had a lot of catching up to do. Or not.
“I got laid plenty but this is different.” I sounded cliché but it was true.
“You like him.”
“I might sound like a middle school girl but yeah, I like him.” I took another drink and shook my head at my own stupidity. “Shitty timing to do something about it.”
“The long-distance thing.” What I liked most about Carla is that she got me and that meant I didn’t have to do a lot of explaining. “If you get the offer, you’ll be in two different cities.”
“Yep. Long distance never works.”
She screwed up her ace in disagreement. “Not true but let’s say you’re right. So, why ask him out now?”
I smiled to myself. That was an easy answer. “I’m looking for more and he makes me feel that . . . more.”
She laughed and jumped up, coming around the table to plant a big, messy kiss on my face. I hoped her red lipstick wasn’t the kind that stayed on during a nuclear holocaust. I wiped off my cheek and lightly shoved her away.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“Long distance is hard . . . not impossible.” She leaned over to where phone sat on the table and tapped on it. “I’m going to the ladies and you’re going to text ‘Etienne-sexy-pants’ and set up your date for tomorrow. Have fun. Flirt. Get laid. Worry about tomorrow when it gets here.”
She walked away and I stared at the phone for a few seconds before I picked it up. This was dumb. I knew that there was no point. I was going to hang out with Etienne and unless he told me that he liked to kick puppies, I was just going to like him more. According to Bryan I was going to get a competitive offer from the DC team and that meant I would be moving
to this city, one thousand miles from New Orleans and Etienne within the next month. This was terrible timing.
I picked up my phone anyway. I might be stupid but I wasn’t crazy. I’d had a thing for Etienne since I’d first laid eyes on him. Carpe Diem and all that shit.
Me: Hey. You still want to play tourist tomorrow?
Etienne: I was wondering if you’d blow me off.
Me: No way. I’d like to play tourist with you.
Etienne: Can you handle ogling Daniel Craig’s ass?
Me: Sure? Is he coming with us?
Etienne: Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum. Tackiest place on earth. You ever been?
Me: Nope.
Etienne: You’ll love it. Meet at 10?
Me: I’m at the DuPont. Meet you there?
Etienne: Yeah. I’ll be the one wearing the “I heart DC” t-shirt.
Me: I hope you’re joking.
Etienne
“I know that smile isn’t for me.”
Ryker sat at the end of his couch, surrounded by the metric fuck ton of carbs we’d just consumed. He had a half marathon tomorrow so he needed the fuel. I had no excuse. I just ate all the things without stopping. I’d worry about a big gut when I got back to New Orleans.
I’d ignored his comment so he threw his napkin at me from where he sat and then lunged at me, grabbing for my phone. My arms were longer but he was bulkier and heavier with his boxer’s body so while the struggle was real, it wasn’t for long. I gave up, letting him have the phone. He launched himself back to his end of the sofa and thumbed across the screen and read my private messages. Ryker glanced up at me, the grin on his face wicked.
“Embrasse moi tchew,” I grumbled, reaching for my beer and taking a long drink while I waited for him to give me shit about this.