Redeeming Rafe

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  But damn it all to hell, he knew where Abby was; Giroux was feeding her something he’d plucked off his plate. It wasn’t right. It hadn’t been right before, but now it was abso-fricking-lutely unacceptable. Things had changed. Now he knew how she tasted and smelled, and the sound she made when she came. Even if he couldn’t be with her, she had no business letting Crazy Hockey Man put mushrooms in her mouth. Ah, there he went again, sliding a stuffed tomato not much bigger than a grape toward her, and she was opening her mouth like a baby bird. And they were laughing. Probably speaking French. Giroux let his hockey-playing fingers linger near her lips. Swear to the moon in the sky, if she licked his finger, Rafe was going to burn this place to the ground.

  “Canapé, sir?” A girl stuck a silver tray toward him.

  “No thank you, but you’re very kind to offer.” He was always polite to servers, no matter how mad he was. Many times he’d been the guy behind that tray at Around the Bend parties, and he hadn’t liked it one bit, especially when people acted like the tray was floating around on air by itself.

  “You’re welcome.” The girl looked startled at having been noticed. She started to move across the room toward where Giroux was feeding Abby yet another bite of some kind of froufrou party food.

  “Excuse me.” He looked at the name sewn on her vest. “Trina? Do you see that couple over in the corner? Don’t give them any food. Okay?”

  She pursed her lips. “Why not?”

  “Well, you see. He’s a buddy of mine, and he doesn’t like to look weak, so he won’t tell people about his food allergies. Stupid, huh? But the allergies are fairly new and he can’t get used to the idea. But I’ve told him it’s not worth dying over.”

  The girl widened her eyes. “Dying?”

  “Yeah.” Rafe nodded. “I was at a restaurant with him last week and we had to call an ambulance. It looks like he’d learn.”

  “What’s he allergic to?” Trina asked.

  “All kinds of things. Seafood. Nuts. Lemons. Eggs. Cream cheese.” As the list grew, so did the alarm on the girl’s face. “The worst one is plain old black pepper.”

  “Pepper! There’s pepper in everything. I’ve never even heard of that. ”

  “I know. Me neither until now. He really should only eat at home.”

  The girl studied Abby and Emile for a bit. “He doesn’t seem to be eating anything. He’s only feeding his wife.”

  Wife! “That’s not his wife.”

  “No? Well, he’s only feeding the woman he’s with.”

  Rafe didn’t like the sound of that much better, but he carried on. “But, see. Here’s the thing. He’ll forget and take a bite. And like I said, the allergies are new. I don’t think he’d sue a caterer …”

  “Sue! This is my brother’s business!”

  Rafe shrugged. “Probably wouldn’t have a leg to stand on since he didn’t tell, but who needs that kind of trouble? Right?”

  Trina nodded. “I appreciate your telling me, but I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Just don’t offer him anything. And pass the word. Believe me, he’ll be relieved. See how he’s feeding that woman everything on his plate? He knows he can’t have anything. If only he wasn’t the kind to get distracted.”

  Trina nodded. “That ought to be easy enough.”

  She purposefully walked away. Good. Mission accomplished. At least if Giroux didn’t have any food, Rafe wouldn’t have to watch him feed Abby.

  Of course, if Giroux was determined to feed her, he could order a pizza. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it; he’d made eight million dollars last year. Rafe had looked it up on his phone in the church vestibule to keep from watching Abby walk down the aisle on Giroux’s arm.

  “Gabe! You don’t have anything to eat.” Fabulous. Noel’s mother was descending on him. “We can’t have a hungry best man.”

  He considered pretending to be Gabe for a second, but he’d never been any good at it.

  “Sorry, ma’am. It’s Rafe. Just a groomsman, and the substitute one, at that. And I can assure you that wherever my brother is, he’s eating.”

  “Oh.” Yeah. He knew that look. Nothing like wanting Gabe and getting Rafe.

  “You certainly do favor.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He noted with some satisfaction that Giroux kept trying to flag down servers, who pretended not to see him. “We’re twins. Always have been.”

  “Certainly.” She looked at him expectantly. He knew that look, too. She was ready to move on, but felt she should give him a few more seconds of her valuable time, and she wanted him to provide the conversation.

  He nodded to the big cabinet across the room. “I like all your little china people and dogs.”

  She brightened up at that. “Thank you! My late husband’s family built this house in 1897. His great-grandmother began collecting the Staffordshire when she was a bride. Over the years, the family has added to the collection. I do what I can, though it’s getting harder and harder to get them. See the shepherd on the third shelf? The one with the black and white dog and three lambs?”

  Saints deliver me. Please. As soon as possible. Send me to hell if necessary.

  The saints failed him, so he had to answer. “Yes. Very nice, what with the shepherd’s crook and hat and all.”

  Rafe wished he had a shepherd’s crook. He’d use it to hook Crazy Hockey Man and shove him out the door like a bad vaudeville act. He was touching Abby’s arm, and she was letting him.

  “That’s one of my most prized processions.”

  Rafe nodded. “I can see where it would be.”

  She beamed at him. She liked him better now, didn’t mind so much that he was Rafe. “You still don’t have any food.”

  “I’m all set here.”

  “It’s traditional for the groom’s family to give a sit down rehearsal dinner, but, of course, our Nickolai is an orphan, so we’re doing what we can here. There’s a meat carving station and some cold salads in the dining room and tables scattered about, so you don’t have to make do with the canapés being passed. Noel insisted this was enough, that it would be too hard to do a formal dinner with the reception being held here tomorrow. But I’m not sure …”

  Damn it all to hell and French Canada. Abby was headed out of the room and Giroux was right behind her.

  “It’s a great party!” Rafe said. “And I know from parties. My aunt was in the party business, and my sister-in-law has taken it up. I believe I’ll go find that meat carving station.” He was already walking backwards.

  • • •

  Emile took Abby’s arm and guided her toward the buffet in the dining room. “Maybe we’ll have better luck at getting food here than from the waiters.”

  Abby wasn’t really hungry, but what Emile said was true. At first, the wait staff had been very attentive, but then it was almost as if Emile and Abby had become invisible. Emory would fire an Around The Bend employee on the spot for that.

  Emile let his hand slip from her arm to the small of her back. There was no lightning. Well, no matter. She wasn’t interested in him anyway, though it was nice to have someone to hang out with. She’d seen Rafe in deep conversation with one of the waitresses earlier. He’d probably been arranging to meet her later. She didn’t blame him. The girl was stunning, with dark hair, pretty eyes, and breasts big enough to give a bra a workout—probably give his cowboy’s callused hands a workout, too.

  Lucky girl. Lucky breasts. Lucky brown eyes that would probably get to see Rafe naked.

  Oh, what did she care? They had agreed there couldn’t be a repeat of what had happened between them. She’d said it first, in fact, and had meant every word of it. Still, it would have been nice if he’d argued a little.

  “… no time for a wedding trip,” Emile was saying.

  “Pardon me?” Abby said.

  “I was saying that it is a puzzle why Nickolai would get married the only weekend between training camp and the start of the season. There’s no time for a wedding trip.�
��

  “Nickolai and Noel said they’d be traveling so much during the season that they’d rather have a few days in their new house in Beauford. They didn’t want to wait until after the season to get married, and they couldn’t do it earlier because Noel’s mother was having some work done on this house to get it ready for the wedding.”

  “Makes some sort of sense, I guess. Still, only Nickolai would do such a thing.”

  “Not only Nickolai,” Abby said. “Noel is getting married, too.”

  Emile laughed, though it wasn’t that funny.

  Two men wandered up. “What so funny, Giroux?”

  Emile put an arm around Abby. “Abby is funny—though she is a Bruins fan.”

  “No!” one of them said in mock horror.

  The other cocked his head to the side, took a sip of his drink, and gave her a cool look.

  “Allow me to introduce my teammates—Bryant Taylor and Jarret MacPherson. Bryant is from Minnesota and Jarret is from Montreal.”

  “Ah, that explains it,” Abby said.

  “Explains what?” Jarret asked. He still didn’t smile.

  “Why you looked at me like I’m the enemy. I am.”

  Jarret flashed the barest suggestion of a grin and raised his glass. “Once a Canadian …”

  “Always a loser.” Abby raised her own wine glass.

  “I am going to do my best to make a Sound fan of her.” Emile ran a finger down her cheek.

  She was about to reply when the air was sucked out of the universe.

  Rafe appeared in front of her. His face was sweaty, and his hair was a mess.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said urgently.

  Abby’s stomach bottomed out—and not in a good way.

  “The children …?”

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second and then nodded. “That’s it. The kids. They’re okay. That is, nobody’s dead, sick, or hurt but there’s an issue we need to discuss.”

  “Then what?”

  He looked around. Abby saw the panic in his eyes as the waitress he’d been talking to before approached with a dinner plate on a tray. Apparently, she was bringing Rafe something special to eat.

  But instead, she stopped in front of Emile. “Mr. Giroux? I have a plate for you. It’s plain cold ham with some roasted Brussels sprouts and raw asparagus. I can assure you there has been no cross contamination.”

  Rafe seized Abby arm—and lightning struck. “We have stuff to take care of, Abby!”

  And in the wake of the aftershocks, he towed her away.

  “What?” Emile asked. “I don’t understand.” Abby wondered idly if that was in response to the food or that Rafe had morphed into a Viking warrior and was dragging her away like she was some Saxon woman whose daddy had done him wrong.

  They were halfway up the stairs before she recovered. “Rafe! You can’t go to the second story of someone’s home without an invitation.”

  “Don’t you have a room somewhere in this junk shop mausoleum? I assume it’s on the second story. Which way?” He looked left and right at the top of the stairs.

  “Rafe, I demand—”

  “Where?”

  “Third door on the left, but—”

  He threw open the door, pushed her inside, and slammed the door behind them.

  “The kids!” she demanded. “What’s this issue we need to discuss?”

  “That they aren’t here.”

  With that, he seized her, covered her mouth with his, and flattened her against the closed door.

  Immediately, they were in total sync. She couldn’t have protested even if she’d wanted to, with his tongue caressing hers, his penis rising against her, and his hands stroking her shoulders and neck.

  Her nipples peaked and dampness bloomed between her legs.

  Finally, Rafe came up for air. He held his pelvis fast against hers, but slid his hands over the jeweled bow at her waist.

  “Pretty,” he said. “I like this blue dress.”

  “My mother-in-law sent it.”

  He shook his head. “No. You don’t have a mother-in-law. That would mean you have a husband, and if that were true, I couldn’t do this.” And he drew his hands slowly up her sides, traced the scallops at the top of her bodice, and let them settle on her breasts, squeezing, caressing, lifting. “And for the record, you don’t have a Crazy Hockey Goalie either.”

  What? But then he settled his mouth in the hollow of her throat, and she couldn’t wonder what anymore; she could only melt and rotate her groin against his.

  “Yeah. Keep that up.” He pressed harder against her. “Do it again. Mmm. I was wrong about something.”

  “That this wasn’t going to happen between us?” she asked.

  “Yeah that, too. But I was thinking of something else. We don’t need you in high heels for us to fit together.” And he stroked his hardness against her to prove it. “Did you wear those sparkly, flat shoes for me?”

  She’d told herself no when she packed them. Now she wasn’t so sure. “Does it matter?”

  “Not much.” And he pulled her skirt up and let his hand drift up the inside of her leg. When his hand left the top of her stocking and met the bare skin of her inside thigh, he stopped and gasped. “What? What’s going on here? Did I tear your panty hose?”

  “I’m not wearing panty hose. I’m wearing a garter belt and stockings.” She felt her cheeks go hot with embarrassment. Her midnight blue underclothes were old—gifts from a lingerie shower—but she’d never worn them. Gregory hadn’t been comfortable with provocative underthings. She’d packed the set because it matched her dress. Maybe Rafe would think it was slutty, too. Maybe she should go to the bathroom and change into her robe …

  He squeezed her thigh and groaned. “I need to see.” And he started pulling on her dress without one bit of respect for the fastenings.

  “Wait, Rafe! Don’t tear it. I plan on selling this dress.”

  He continued to pull on the bodice. “I’ll buy it. I’ll give you a thousand dollars for it. Five. Whatever—as long as it’s on the floor in about two seconds.”

  “If you want me out of it, you’re going to have to unfasten it.”

  “Have it your own way.” He reached behind her and fumbled around. “I can’t find a zipper.”

  She turned her back to him. “It laces up the back.”

  “What in the ever loving hell? What kind of sadist does this to a man? Where are the scissors?”

  “You are not cutting those laces. You’re going to have to go about it right.”

  “Fine!” He towed her over to the ornately carved sleigh bed and bent her over the mattress, face first. “Give me directions.” Abby doubted if this was what Deborah had in mind for this silk coverlet.

  “Untie the bow at the waist,” she said.

  “Okay.” He worked on it for a while. “Damn! Who did this? It’s in a knot.”

  “Noel. We didn’t want it to come loose.”

  “Yes we do. Wait. I know what.”

  And the next thing she felt was his face against the small of her back. “Rafe? Are you working at that knot with your teeth?”

  He answered her, but his words were muffled.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “There! Let me loosen this … Hey.” And he licked the bare skin above the waistline of her panties.

  She moaned. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been touched there before, let alone licked. Oh. And now he’d gotten it open enough to suck.

  “Okay,” he said. “Maybe laces aren’t such a bad idea. It’s like unwrapping a present. Sort of … Maybe.” And he slowly unlaced the dress, kissing and letting his tongue trail up her spine. By the time he got to her shoulder blades and ran his tongue there and up to the nape of her neck, lightning hadn’t just stuck, it had fried her and left her for dead.

  “I never …” she began.

  “You never what, angel?” His breath was hot on her hairline at the back of her neck.

  But she
couldn’t answer. If she did it would be disloyal. “I … I forget.”

  He pulled her to her feet with her back against him and worked the dress over her hips. When it was on the floor and she had stepped out of it, he turned her to face him and took a step back.

  “Well.” That was all he said, but the look on his face would have sent the most insecure woman on the planet on an ego trip into outer space. His mouth was a perfect O and his huge blue eyes were wider than she’d ever seen them. “Well,” he repeated, and then he blushed, dropped his eyes to half-mast, and let his mouth settle into a twisted grin. “Looking at you like this, I must seem like country come to town.”

  “Country’s not a bad thing,” she said.

  “Neither is town.” He moved closer to her and ran his fingers up her arm, over her shoulder and neck, letting it come to rest on her cheek. “You might have guessed by now that I haven’t been around the block as many times as Gabe.”

  “I wasn’t exactly thinking about Gabe.”

  “Good to know. It’s just that, truth be told, I’ve never seen any underwear like this.”

  “Some people might think it makes me look like some kind of cheap trollop.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Some people would be wrong. You’re beautiful. And classy. You couldn’t look cheap if you put a nickel price tag on your head and marched naked in the buy one, get one free parade.”

  “Thank you.” That meant more to her than it should have.

  “You are very, very welcome.” He encircled her with one arm and stroked her breast with the other hand, his calluses catching on the silk of her thin bra.

  “Not much there,” she said apologetically.

  “Plenty. Exactly the right amount.” And he laid her down face first on the bed. All her senses were sharper, more sensitive, so she wasn’t surprised when the sound of his zipper caused a fresh release of dampness between her thighs.

  As he covered her body with his, he slid his hands up her arms until they were palm to palm, their fingers laced together. Then he rolled his erection against her bottom before cradling it between her thighs. Soon. He would be inside her soon.