I inwardly sighed as he uncrossed his arms to talk to me. Each movement he made showcased those rippling muscles. I’m always hungry. He gave me a wink, making the sex-deprived me wonder if he was actually talking about food. However, I did acknowledge that my lecherous mind may have been making too much of it.
Okay. So one of the casinos? I don’t think anything’s open in Ocean City this late. Ocean City was a great place to live, but there wasn’t much nightlife after the summer season ended.
How about The Anchorage in Somers Point? We can get food and a drink.
I’d heard of The Anchorage, but I’d never been. The talk was that it was a great place to go and sit on their outside deck. It looked out over the bay by the Ninth Street Bridge. We wouldn’t be sitting outside in November, of course, but I was game. Sure. That sounds great.
Okay. How long do you need here? Magnus’ muscled arm waved, encompassing the room.
I still hadn’t gotten my interview with him down yet, and looking behind me, I saw that the reporters were stacking up to get to him.
I’m not sure. We haven’t done our interview yet.
He shrugged and winked again. I trust you, Jennie. Make up your own answers. You know how these things go. He looked at the clock on the wall before glancing to me again. How about you meet me in the team’s parking lot in about forty minutes? I’ll drive you to your car and you can follow me to the restaurant. Will that give you enough time to finish up?
Yes. That sounds good. But you know I can’t just make up my own answers. Just a few questions, okay?
Sure.
I got the answers I needed, and with a parting smile, he dismissed me and turned to another reporter, wanting to get his obligation to them over with. Just before I turned away, he signed, See you soon, Ace.
Ace. Cute. I’d actually never been called Ace before, believe it or not. I’d wanted to be a reporter since I was a little girl, and it was my grandmother who had gotten me so interested in sports. She’d said it was something she could enjoy without being able to hear it. Grandmom was born deaf, so she never really knew what things sounded like. Not the way the hearing do. Even so, she used to insist she screamed in her head at referees’ bad calls or penalties her favorite teams took. She’d not only taught me how to communicate with the hearing impaired, she’d taught me not to judge people on their abilities or lack thereof. But most importantly, she’d taught me to love sports. Love them. The only one I couldn’t get behind was golf. I simply didn’t see the allure. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce, though; now was the time to get ready for my first “date” with Magnus Eriksson.
Chapter 5
Magnus
Traffic was light as we made our way to The Anchorage. Jennie followed me from the arena, as we’d discussed. Nerves I didn’t know existed fluttered in my stomach. Apparently I liked this woman even more than I’d originally thought, but I was determined to play it cool. After all, I was no untried youth.
To start the date off right, I stumbled out of my truck simply because I caught a glimpse of Jennie’s mile-long legs as they disembarked from her Highlander, her pencil skirt riding tantalizingly up as it got caught on the high seat of the SUV. I was nothing if not smooth—or not.
She was parked across from me and saw me get tripped up. You okay? She made her way over to me and placed her hand on my back.
Yeah. My foot got stuck on the doorjamb. Definitely smooth.
She laughed, although I was positive she wouldn’t believe her gorgeous legs were the culprit. She didn’t see her own magnetism. Well, I’ll hold onto you until we get seated.
Since she’d linked her arm through mine, I spoke to her. “Thank you. You’re saving a valuable hockey star, you know. The league would be grateful for your service.”
Her smile was still in place as she responded. “I’m sure they would. It’s a sacrifice any hockey lover would make. And for my next selfless act, I’m going to make sure the big, bad hockey player doesn’t go hungry. I’m thinking wings and mozzarella sticks. Or maybe burgers. What do you say?”
I placed my hand over my heart. “As long as you don’t mention fried foods or red meat to the coach, I’m all in. I really don’t feel like salmon and a salad right now. I’m lucky he lets me get away with my pre-game grilled cheese.” I ate healthy ninety percent of the time, aside from beer—I’d never give up a tall, cold one. Tonight, though, I wanted to be a normal, tavern-going man. Beer and bar food, along with the good company of a smart, beautiful woman.
“That’s got to be hard. Eating healthy all the time. I hate eating healthy. I try my best, and I do most of the time, but I fail pretty often too.” She pointed to her body and with a deprecating laugh continued. “As I’m sure you can see.”
Oh, I could see. “Jennie, it’s my hearing that’s gone—not my sight.” I let my eyes roam her body from head to toe. “I’m glad you like to eat. Food’s part of the spice of life.” The rose tint that climbed up her cheeks kicked my desire up a notch. What was sexier than a woman who had no conceit but only innocent blushes to offer?
Her smile was smaller than it was earlier, but I saw her relief as her frown line relaxed. “Thank you. I must admit, I hate exercising. I know that’s probably hard for you to understand.” Her hand ran up my arm, giving it a squeeze. “You’re all so perfectly in shape.” She adamantly shook her head. “Seriously. All of you.”
“All of us? Such as—” I couldn’t help myself. I was just as susceptible to jealousy as anyone else. “Jaromir?”
“Jaromir? Why would you mention him?”
“No reason. Not really, I just noticed the two of you were pretty cozy at Cage’s.”
Before she could reply, we’d entered the bar and were greeted by a hostess. Her eyes widened slightly as she recognized me, but she didn’t make an issue of it. “Welcome to The Anchorage. Would you like a seat in the dining room or are you going to sit at the bar?”
Without the overhead lights from the parking lot, I couldn’t read her lips very well, so I turned to Jennie. I didn’t catch that.
No worries. Do you want to sit at the bar or get a table?
Sitting at the bar wasn’t ideal for me, because there, in order to effectively converse with someone, we had to sit sideways. It was certainly doable, but I’d always preferred tables or booths where I could sit across from the person I was with. Dining room if that’s okay with you.
Sure thing.
Following the hostess, I put my hand on the small of Jennie’s back, liking the way it fit there. When we reached our table, I pulled out a red, padded chair for her and took the one opposite for myself. We were so close to the woodburning fireplace that the seats felt as if they were heated.
Jennie looked around at the vintage décor of the room. It wasn’t a fancy place, which was one of the reasons I liked it. “Homey” was a good description for The Anchorage. The walls were red, the tables had soft, white cloths on them, and the dishes were mismatched. It was comfortable.
That fireplace feels great. I can’t believe this cold snap we’re having. I’ve lived in south Jersey all my life. It doesn’t usually get this cold for a while yet.
Our waitress came over to the table and took our drink order. A Seven & Seven for me, and a glass of Chardonnay for Jennie. I’d die without my fireplace at home. Growing up in Alaska got me used to brutal temperatures, but I never learned to accept it. Eight Ball loves the fireplace too. Like her human, she’s cold-blooded too.
Eight Ball? When I raised my hands to explain, she stopped me by placing her palm toward me. No wait. Let me guess. Eight Ball’s a Rottweiler that weighs over one hundred pounds. Am I close?
I had to laugh at her assumption. The big hockey player couldn’t have a small cat, right? Not even a little. Eight Ball is my eight-pound, black-and-white cat. She’s been with me since I lost my hearing.
How did you lose your hearing?
Now we were on murky territory. I was quickly finding out that Jennie was as nice
as Cage had told me she was, but the reporter thing—it wouldn’t leave my head. Is this on or off the record? I’d never talked about it. Again, I wasn’t a posterchild for disabilities.
Her chest rose and fell on a long sigh. Off the record, but hey, if you don’t want to talk about yourself, we don’t have to.
Our drinks arrived and she took a healthy sip of hers and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms while still holding onto her wine glass. She was most assuredly annoyed with me.
I’m sorry. You may have noticed that I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder when it comes to the press and my hearing—or my non-hearing, as it were.
That elicited a small twitch of her lips. I may have noticed. But seriously, Magnus, I don’t kiss and tell, so to speak. My private life is private, as is that of the people in it. When I’m on the clock, I’ll tell you. Fair enough?
What more could I ask for? Fair enough. So, when I was fifteen, I got a virus. A simple virus that came with a very high fever which lasted for several long days. And that was that. The fever eventually went away, but took my hearing with it. Crazy, huh?
That’s it? A fever? That is crazy.
We took a few moments to scan the menu when the waitress ambled over to us once more. The Anchorage’s burgers were out of this world, so I ordered one of them. Jennie ordered the same. A woman who ate big burgers. Be still my heart.
Okay, so you got a fever and lost your hearing. Where does Eight Ball fit in? And why did you name the poor thing Eight Ball? Mrs. Whiskers too dainty for you?
Mrs. Whiskers. Hell, even Eight Ball would turn her tail up at that. Her face is black with a round patch of white in the middle. She looks like an eight ball. You know, from pool?
She laughed as she nodded. Yes, Mags, I know what an eight ball is.
Got it. So as I’m sure you can imagine, I was less than happy losing my hearing at such a young age. A fifteen-year-old kid isn’t the mildest-mannered thing in any case, but I was worse. When I started to feel better physically, I got worse mentally. In the beginning, we had hoped my hearing would come back—even partially. Obviously it didn’t.
I had missed all but two of my finals. When my father had finally had enough of my moping, as he put it, he marched me into the bathroom, none too gently pulled my pajamas off, pushed me into the shower, and stood there yelling and waving his arms at me until I had washed everything and shaved.
It sounded worse than it was. Everything my parents had ever done for me was done out of love. Jennie didn’t interrupt with any opinions or observations. Instead, she took another sip of her wine and waited for me to continue.
Our food was delivered then, stalling my story. We both took a bite of our burgers, and Jennie’s shoulders relaxed as her mouth tilted up. I could just imagine her sound of joy over the taste of her dinner. It would have been nice to be able to hear her sound of pleasure.
Putting that thought out of my mind, I swallowed my bite of food and carried on with my tale. Long story short, I was walking home from summer school after taking the finals I had missed when I was sick, and there was Eight Ball. Some jerk had dangled her from a tree over the river so that half her body was submerged.
Jennie’s eyes widened as her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my God.” She got some curious stares at her outburst but ignored them. How did you get her down?
I almost didn’t. I’m not proud of it, but my first thought was that at least I wasn’t the only thing suffering that day. I watched her struggle for almost a minute before I climbed up that tree. I hated to think about those moments. I knew I was a troubled kid right then, but what kind of sick fuck watched a tiny kitten struggle to breathe at the end of a rope?
Oh, Magnus. Thank God you were there.
I wish I’d acted quicker. When I came to my senses, I shimmied out onto the branch and pulled her up as fast as I could. As soon as I had her in my hands, I took the rope from her neck. She was shaking with the cold. Remember, I grew up in Alaska. Those rivers are freezing. They’re fed from the snowmelt trickling down the mountains.
Anyway, I took her wet, trembling little body, steeled myself to the shock, and stuffed her into my shirt to try and get her warm. Holy hell was she cold!
Jennie’s burger was disappearing and mine was hardly touched due to my retelling of the Eight Ball incident. I took a break to inhale some more of my dinner, watching Jennie as I did so. She was licking ketchup off her fingers. It was mesmerizing.
“That’s very sweet. After you rescued her, of course.” She took one last bite and puffed out her cheeks. For all her talk of not eating healthy, she still had a half of her burger left and about a quarter of her fries.
“Are you done?” By the time she’d pushed her plate away, mine was empty.
“God, yes. That burger was huge. You want the rest?”
“I do, thank you.” I grabbed her plate and took a bite. “Hey, where’s the bacon?” I asked around a mouthful.
Staring at her full lips as she spoke was not a hardship. She had a luscious mouth. Her brows rose when she said, “Are you kidding? The bacon’s the best part. I ate all that.”
I loved bacon as much as the next man, but that wasn’t the best part of the meal. Not by a long shot. Jennie was.
We finished our meal, and as we were leaving, I realized that she’d gotten me to talk about myself all evening. I’d learned next to nothing about her. I wondered if that was by design.
Back in the parking lot, I walked her over to her car and stood there not knowing what to do. Should I kiss her? Was it too soon? It wasn’t really a date date. Just a late-night dinner between colleagues.
“Thank you for dinner, Magnus. Even though I was the one who asked you to go.”
There was no way in hell I’d have let her pay. I was man enough to admit that I had a bit of a caveman mentality. I’d never let a woman pay for dinner, and I wasn’t going to start anytime soon. “You’re welcome. I had a good time, but next time I want to hear about you.”
Her smile lit up the night. “Next time?”
I took a step closer to her and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “If you say yes. Would you go out with me again?”
She nodded and turned to get into her car. “Thanks again.” She looked at me over her shoulder and then slipped inside. I wore my smile all the way home. This could really work.
Chapter 6
The Saturday before Thanksgiving rolled around and the Penguins were killing us. I hated early afternoon games. I felt like I wasn’t in my groove yet. Plus, I hadn’t seen Jennie in almost a week, since we’d been on the road. She didn’t travel to our away games, and aside from one quick text, I hadn’t even spoken to her.
To add insult to injury, I was on my way to the sin bin. The Pen’s captain was a class A pansy with a ton of talent. The talent I respected, the constant crying to the refs I did not. Into the box I went for a phantom hit to Syd’s head. He’d had the puck, and it was a clean check to the boards that went nowhere near his head, but Syd was protected. The face of the NHL. Syd had embellished the hit. There was no way the refs didn’t know that, but they’d already made the call. They weren’t going to take it back, but chances were we’d get a makeup penalty later in the game. As welcome as that would be, it still took me off the ice for two minutes.
Liam Bucknell, one of our forwards, threw my helmet to me that I’d stupidly removed when I’d tried to drop gloves with Syd. Of course he’d never fight me. He was a shit stirrer with no backing to his taunts. I’d never respected a player like that, but every team had them. Including ours. His name was Rammer. Technically his name was Scott Rammstein. Of course I didn’t hate him. He was one of our own.
At any rate, I should have known better than to rough up the golden boy. I’d take my two-minute time-out and turn it into something positive. It was all I could do. I counted down the seconds as I watched our boys hold off the Pens with a man down. Penalty kills were a specialty of ours. Me being taken off left five Penguins on the
ice but only four Breakers.
I watched anxiously as our Bucknell stripped the puck from Hagelin and made his way to the other end of the rink. He released the puck, and it hit the back of the net, much to Pittsburgh’s goalie’s dismay. A shorty. Short-handed goals were a thing of beauty—if you were the team who had scored them. Fuck yeah, go Breakers!
There was still over a minute of power play time left for the Pens, but you could see their defeat in the way they skated. They sat back on their heels, skating a bit slower—a bit more defensive instead of offensive. Music to my…eyes. We were still down by two goals with only ten minutes left in the game, but it wasn’t an impossible deficit to overcome.
The official in the sin bin got my attention and pointed to the clock. As if I wasn’t glued to it. I looked at my teammates and the position of the puck on the ice. Everyone was aware of the penalty clock. When it got down to five seconds or so, our goalie would bang his stick to alert our players on the ice that the power play was almost over. Best case scenario, someone would hit it in the direction of the penalty box, and I’d have a chance of taking it down the ice to, at the very least, get a shot on goal on my way out to join the game. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.
Today it did. In my signature move, I slapped it in from the blue line, and now there was only one goal left to go in order to tie the game.
Jennie
Holy shit, I was going to have a heart attack. When Mags left the penalty box, Malkin was right there to meet him. He was another great player for the Pens that I loved to hate. Magnus grabbed the puck while simultaneously shoving Malkin hard, shoulder to shoulder. The hit threw Malkin off balance just enough to give Mags time to get his shot off. It was a strong shot, as most of his were from his favorite shooting point—his sweet spot. More importantly, it went in. I laughed and screamed, alone in my apartment.
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