Erik

by Sawyer Bennett

  * * *

  —

  The Sneaky Saguaro has become the go-to hangout for a lot of the players. It’s two stories of southwestern flair with the waitresses dressed in tight shorts and cowboy boots. I like it because it carries 127 types of beer and I like beer. The food isn’t bad either.

  The manager has taken to roping off an area on the second floor for the players so we can drink and chill out without fans swamping us. But that doesn’t mean we don’t attend to the fans that come here to see us. As soon as we arrive, we’ll mill about the first-floor bar area and give all the fans an opportunity to take pictures and we sign autographs.

  There are more and more coming to see us after every game, particularly because we’re doing so well. Tonight there’s an actual line of people waiting to get inside.

  I nod at a bouncer who now tends the door since the Sneaky Saguaro has become so popular and enter. It takes me a good half hour to make it to the second floor where I find several of my teammates sitting at tables or standing around talking. Several puck bunnies have been allowed in and are doing their best to get noticed by the players. The outfits are ridiculously sexy and I’m not complaining.

  Except, I’m not here for a hookup tonight.

  Haven’t been interested in that since I saw Blue at the harvest festival with Billy.

  Winding around tables, teammates, and hot women, I make my way over to Bishop and Brooke. I normally would go stand over with the single dudes and start my selection process for whatever woman I’d want to fuck that night.

  Bishop gives me a knowing grin as I sit down, but Brooke just gives me a sweet smile. That means Bishop hasn’t told her yet about my waxing, but I know he will. He won’t keep it from her.

  “You played great,” Brooke says.

  “Thanks,” I tell her and flag a waitress. She gets within five feet of me and I call out, “Give me something pale on tap.”

  When I give my attention back to Brooke, she adds on, “You kicked Reaves’s ass so bad.”

  “And only needed three stitches in the process,” I quip, pointing at my cut.

  Bishop gives me a nod, looking at my cut for a brief moment. “You really did play a hell of a game, Erik. Other players are going to think twice before fucking with you too.”

  That’s the truth. Part of being a good enforcer is being vigilant and watching everything on the ice. The minute one of the opposing players dares to think they can get rough with my boys, they’re going to pay. The formula is really simple, and we can use Reaves tonight as an example.

  Reaves cross-checked Tacker, which thankfully didn’t hurt him. But it could have, and Tacker is our leader and our most veteran player. On top of that, he’s averaging 1.32 points per game, which puts him second in the league right now.

  My job is to impress upon Mr. Reaves that it’s not a good idea to try to injure my teammates. I drop the gloves, we fight, and I hurt him. Sure, I got a tiny cut that bled, but Reaves had to be helped off the ice. He was a little disoriented when they picked him up and because of concussion protocol, he never returned to the game.

  Now, next time we play, Reaves will think twice about taking a run at Tacker.

  Our fight will be televised on all the sports shows tonight and tomorrow. Other players will see it.

  Those same players will also think twice about tangling with me.

  That’s the whole point of having an enforcer on the team.

  Tonight wasn’t just about physically kicking ass. It was about doing so on all fronts. We easily beat the Vegas Spades tonight and in addition to my awesome fight, I also got an assist. So Brooke is correct.

  I played great.

  Brooke leans in to Bishop to talk and I use the opportunity to do something I’ve been dying to do since I walked out of that waxing salon this morning.

  I pull up Blue’s contact information in my phone—courtesy of Legend getting it from Valerie—and I send her a text.

  I’m ready to take you out to dinner. What night is good for you?

  There’s no expectation she’ll respond right away. I have no clue if she’s a night owl or not. It’s closing in on eleven P.M. and she could very well be asleep.

  The waitress returns with my beer and I hand her a ten-dollar bill, telling her to keep the change. Her eyes light up as if that might indicate an interest in her past my gratitude in bringing me a tasty beverage. I don’t pay her any mind, though, as my phone vibrates and I see Blue has responded.

  Prove it.

  I snort, a wicked grin taking over my face. My reply is swift. Sorry. I don’t send dick pics to women. It’s crass.

  There’s no helping my laugh when she texts back. Ordinarily, I hate dick pics, but I do require proof. You see, you could be tricking me into dinner and still have all your curlies intact. So dick pic or no date.

  A bark of a laugh escapes and both Brooke and Bishop look at me curiously. I just shake my head at them, grinning as I write her back. Give me a minute.

  “Be back,” I tell Brooke and Bishop as I stand up.

  I have to say, this is never how I thought I’d be showing my cock to Blue. It’s humiliating in a way, having to use one of the stalls in the men’s room. After undoing my belt, unzipping my pants, and tucking my shirt up out of the way, I’m able to expose myself enough to get a picture.

  If I’m sending such a picture to a gorgeous woman like Blue, I’d like to impress her with my full size—a little over eight inches in all its glory and proportionately thick in its making. But there’s nothing about this situation that would induce an erection out of me, and besides…she’s seen me at my best before.

  So I merely hold the camera out as best I can and take a picture of my groin, smooth as a baby’s butt.

  I immediately text it to her and I barely get myself tucked back into my pants before she replies, I can’t believe you did that. I guess I owe you a date.

  Yes, she does and I don’t want to leave her any room to get cold feet. Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7 PM.

  Chapter 8

  Erik

  The drive to pick up Blue for dinner takes me only about twenty-five minutes from my home in Scottsdale. Not surprising, she lives very close to the Cresson in a neighborhood that reminds me a lot of Billy’s group home. Small homes and duplexes in drab-colored stucco and a front yard of mostly dirt with little patches of brown grass. There’s a tiny tree that’s brown and mostly dead.

  I park out on the street and follow a straight walkway up to her front door. There’s not much of a porch but on the outer edge is a hanging basket of flowers in pink, blue, yellow, and white. A welcome splotch of color in this otherwise dull environment. I consider the contrast to my own ridiculously expensive house that’s all about color. Rich salmon-colored stucco walls, red-tiled roof, lush grass, and tropical plants of green. A koi pond in the front and a massive pool in the back brings in the blues. My house would be a veritable rainbow next to Blue’s, not to mention it’s about five times as big.

  I’m not liking the way I feel about Blue living here in a neighborhood that looks pretty sketchy the more I take it all in.

  There’s no doorbell so I rap my knuckles on the door. Flecks of peeling paint get knocked loose and fall to the concrete porch.

  “Coming,” I hear Blue yell from inside and I can imagine her plopping in an earring, grabbing her purse, and wondering if she turned the curling iron off. She sounds frazzled and rushed and I can’t wait to fucking see what she looks like when she opens the door.

  And there she is.

  I told her a little black dress would be proper attire when she asked what to wear for our date but she’s dressed in red. And it’s not little, but it is spectacular. Crimson material conforming to every inch of her body. The neckline of the dress skims just below her collarbone so no skin or cleavage is exposed but it does
n’t matter. The curve of her breasts is beautiful. The narrow waist and flared hips, all cocooned in red is sexy as shit. The hem of her dress comes down below her knees and the dress is so well fitted, I know there has to be a slit up the back so she can walk. She has on a pair of black stiletto heels that lift her up a good four inches but not high enough to put us eye level with each other.

  “Holy wow,” I say as I don’t make a secret of my ogling. I let my eyes roam down and then back up again to find her smirking at me.

  She’s got a black clutch purse tucked under an arm, with her head leaning to the side so she can put her last earring in, just as I’d imagined. The simple silver hoop earrings look great.

  “You look very nice yourself,” she says as she does a much more cursory perusal. I’d worn my best suit tonight in a gray so dark it’s almost black. I went with a lavender shirt and darker shade of lavender tie, and if you look hard enough at the weave my suit, you’ll see lavender pin stripes.

  I step back from the door as Blue crosses the threshold. She locks a deadbolt and then the regular lock before tossing her keys in her clutch and turning to face me.

  I hold my arm out to her and she curls her fingers in just below my biceps so I can escort her to my car.

  “That’s certainly flashy,” she says as she takes in my Vette.

  “I have a truck too. Would you have preferred that?”

  She gives a low laugh. “Only if we were four-wheeling or moving furniture. Flashy totally has its place and it works tonight.”

  “Well, tonight is special,” I tell her as I open the passenger door and hold her hand while she slides in.

  “Why is that?” she asks, peering up at me.

  I release her hand and prepare to shut the door. “Because this is our first date.”

  “You make it sound like there will be others.”

  She gets a cocky wink in return. “There will be.”

  “We’ll see,” she murmurs with a smile.

  * * *

  —

  “You know I wasn’t looking to date a hockey player,” Blue says after taking a sip of the wine I’d ordered. “Not at this stage of my life.”

  “But you’re rethinking that,” I surmise from her tone as I lean back in my chair.

  She chuckles and sweeps her hand around to indicate the interior of the restaurant I’d chosen. “It’s hard not to be impressed by this.”

  I let my gaze move up the upscale establishment I’d selected for our first date. Not a single table occupied by anyone else. Ours is in the center of the dining room and we are utterly alone because I rented out the entire restaurant so we could have privacy. Came to an agreement with the owner and agreed on a ridiculous amount of money that would compensate him for what he would have normally made in food and liquor sales. I also paid the staff that got an unexpected night off, including what they would’ve made in tips, which was a lot since the menu is exorbitantly pricey.

  “That was partly my intention,” I admit to her because Blue is a smart enough woman that she can figure out what this is costing me tonight. “To impress you. But I also wanted privacy so we wouldn’t be bothered.”

  “By fans?” she asks.

  “Yeah…it’s part of the territory, I’m afraid.”

  “Hey, I lived in LA. I know the deal,” she returns as her finger circles the top of her wineglass. We’d put in our order and the waiter has retired to the kitchen, giving us absolute privacy while we enjoy our wine.

  “What were you doing in LA when we met?” I ask her, more than curious about the woman she was and the woman she’s changed into.

  Her face clouds slightly and she shrugs. “I just wanted out of Phoenix. Had stars in my eyes, I guess, and thought I could make it big out there. Just like thousands of other girls.”

  “Modeling? Acting?”

  “Either,” she replies. “I know I just wanted something big. Something I’d never attain here or in college.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “My parents didn’t see it that way,” she says with a laugh completely devoid of mirth. “I turned my nose up at a full athletic scholarship to University of Arizona.”

  “Swimming?”

  “Yeah. Money was always tight because of Billy’s condition so my parents were beyond thrilled when I got the scholarship.”

  Her voice trails off and she picks up her glass of wine. Cutting her gaze sideways, she takes a small sip.

  Even though we’re the only ones in the room, I lower my voice to a gentle tone. “I’m going to take a guess that your parents weren’t happy you went to LA and not to college on that scholarship.”

  Those soft brown eyes of hers come to mine and although she lifts her chin to perhaps give the impression she was confident in her life’s choice at that point, I can see the guilt in her expression. “It caused a rift between us,” she admits.

  Our waiter appears at our table with our entrees. He lays them before us and they don’t disappoint. I chose a prime dry-aged Delmonico that I know will be worth every bit of the ninety-five-dollar price tag for this hunk of beef. Blue ordered seared sea scallops and they look delicious too but would in no way be filling enough for me. The waiter melts away after we assure him everything looks good and I start to cut into my steak.

  Blue delicately cuts a large scallop into quarters and takes a dainty bite. She closes her eyes and moans with pleasure, a sound that hits me straight between my legs.

  “Good?” I ask her.

  “You have to try,” she says, spearing one of the pieces with her fork and holding it over the table to me.

  It’s a completely intimate move and one I didn’t expect from Blue. I had to do a whole lot of crazy just to get her to go out with me on a date, so I expected her to be reserved and cautious.

  Which is fine. I can be patient when I need to be.

  I lean in and let her feed me the morsel. The flavors of honey and lime explode on my tongue and I regret not getting a side of those with my steak.

  “Good, huh?” she asks with a smile.

  “Really good,” I answer after I swallow the bite.

  We eat in silence for a few moments, which gives me time to consider Blue and what I’ve learned about her so far. Clearly her parents are a touchy subject and I’d like to know more, but I decide to ask her about something that I know gives her joy.

  “So tell me more about Billy,” I say as I pause to take a sip of water. “What’s the age difference between you two?”

  “I’m six years older,” she replies with a tender smile.

  “What exactly are his limitations?” I ask her curiously.

  “You’ve seen some of the physical. He can’t really ambulate but for very short distances and with help, so he’s mostly in a motorized wheelchair. His arms have some significant contractures but his hands are pretty good, although he has to get a lot of therapy. He has some cognitive impairment so learning new things can be difficult and frustrating.”

  “I can imagine.” It’s an automatic response but I really have no clue what it’s like for Billy.

  “To me the most difficult thing is his speech. He can form a few basic words but his dysarthria—the difficulty to form words because his muscles are weak—is pretty severe. So while he understands what others say perfectly well, he can’t really communicate back with words.”

  “Then how does he make his needs known?”

  Blue gives me a bright smile as if pleased by my question and desire to know more about her brother. “He uses some sign language. A lot of times it’s me taking a guess and asking a question that he can say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to. Again, he can form some basic words but he can’t use them in a complete sentence because he just doesn’t have the muscle strength or coordination.”

  “And I assume he gets speech therapy a
t the Cresson for these things?”

  “He does,” she says with a regretful sigh. “But it’s not as good as his prior home. He’s only been at the Cresson for a few months and their staff isn’t as good as where he was before.”

  “Why did you move him?”

  Blue shakes her head and waves a dismissive hand. “You don’t need to hear all about this. We’ve talked enough about—”

  “I want to know,” I cut in on her. “You’re right…I don’t need to know but I really want to.”

  She studies me a moment, her gaze drilling hard into mine to see if what I’m saying is the truth. Seemingly satisfied with what she sees, she takes in a breath and lets it out slowly. “When my parents were alive, they were able to afford better accommodations. My dad made good money and had great insurance and my mom worked part time. They both had excellent life insurance policies too so that Billy could continue to get good care, but I’m having some problems with the policies so I had to move him in the interim to something that was more affordable.”

  Something weird happens to me. I had merely been deeply interested in Blue and that includes an interest in her life as a whole, which in turn includes Billy. But as it’s becoming clear to me that Blue has some really heavy burdens in her life, my interest takes on a different sort of feeling. I feel protective of her for some reason, which means she’s only the second woman in my life to cause that within me.

  The first being my own mother, which is only natural between a mom and her boy.

  “What are the problems with the insurance?” I try to keep the question light and conversational, but my brain is already trying to calculate exactly how I can help her.

  Blue stares at me, fork poised in the air to take a bite of her au gratin potatoes. I can see the question in her eyes.

  Why in the hell would someone like me—a known player and user of women—even care about that stuff. I merely hold her gaze and wait her out.