The bar they’d picked was the furthest thing from a sports bar they could have found. The upbeat jazz music playing in the background? If I didn’t know better, I could’ve sworn Nanna had requested it especially for me. It was one of her favorites.
I grinned at the memory of her humming it while trying to give Marcus, the baby wallaby, a bath. By the end of it, Nanna and I were soaked—Marcus, not so much.
Kelsey and Trent were deep in conversation when I approached the table. Josh wasn’t there yet—and wouldn’t be for another few hours—but they already had drinks in front of them, and a strawberry daiquiri was sitting at one of the two empty spots. Gimme, gimme.
Kelsey glanced up and grinned. “Hey, you actually made it.”
I laughed and the people at the next table visibly cringed. That’s right. I won the gene pool jackpot. I had beautiful, long auburn hair that looked like fire when the sunlight hit it just right. My skin was creamy and perfect—other than a splattering of freckles on my nose—and I had a great body (which I did work hard at, so there was that).
What I hadn’t been blessed with was a beautiful laugh like Kelsey. When she laughed, angels sang. When I laughed, they burrowed their heads in the ground and prayed their agony would end quickly—or at least that the world would end soon.
Oh, well. No one was perfect.
But it was that one imperfect trait that turned guys off. I knew it. They knew it. So all was good.
It didn’t cause me to stop laughing, though. Life was too short not to laugh. Nanna had taught me that.
“Of course I made it,” I said, taking my seat. “I stayed late at the office to watch some of Josh’s game.” I took a sip of my drink. “Wow, that’s good.” Now let’s keep them coming.
How did I meet Josh? Kelsey and Trent had hosted a dinner party a few months ago and he was invited. The two of us had hung out together as friends since then—as in, seeing-a-movie-together, Josh-helping-me-move-furniture, and I-need-a-woman’s-opinion kind of friends. Was it possible to be friends with a guy and sex not be involved? Absolutely. And unlike with some couples who invited their single friends out like a matched pair, neither Kelsey nor Trent entertained expectations that Josh and I would become a couple.
Which was a good thing because I couldn’t see it happening. Even if he was hot and my body got all tingly whenever I saw him. Josh didn’t come off as the settling-down type. Not that he needed to settle down when women were more than happy just to have sex with him—no commitment required.
How did I know? I’d seen him being hit on a few times; I swear the guy was a magnet for horny women. Did it ever bother me? Not at all. It was always fun giving him a hard time about it afterward. And yes—he did occasionally leave with a few of them.
Was I the settling down type? Well, I wasn’t looking to get married and I wasn’t looking to start a family. My career? That was my baby.
Maybe this was why Josh and I had become friends over the past few months. We were perfect for each other—strictly as friends.
And hopefully my body would eventually be fully onboard with that.
Kelsey, Trent, and I chatted until Josh eventually showed up, looking like he had just finished playing triple overtime. Not once did I mention Nanna. Not once did I let on that something was wrong. I just happily worshiped my drink.
And once I’d finished worshiping it, I started on round two.
“Enjoy life, Holly,” Nanna’s laughing voice said in the back of my head. “You need to seize life by the horns and all that clichéd crap, and enjoy it while you can. You don’t want to be like your parents—miserable all the time.”
I raised my glass as if to say cheers to her.
“Did I miss anything?” Josh asked as he sat in the empty chair next to me—and a happy heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol made a mad dash to my girlie parts.
All right, ten percent had to do with the alcohol. But the rest was unmistakable lust.
Down girls. This was Josh—Trent’s friend—we were talking about. We were totally not going there.
Somehow the “down” and “going” part got twisted in my head, and an image flashed across my mind of him actually going down on me.
And that was like tossing gasoline on a fire. Kaboom!
I squirmed in my seat, hoping no one noticed how aroused I was.
The waitress picked that moment to check if we needed another round of drinks. I ordered a third daiquiri. “I’m taking a cab home,” I announced at Kelsey’s worried expression.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes. My mother phoned before I came here to tell me my grandmother died.” Did that sound I-don’t-want-to-ruin-your-fun casual? Somewhat close to that maybe?
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Holly.” Kelsey looked ready to fling herself across the table and hug me. Did I mention how much I loved her? I could guarantee Mum wouldn’t be hugging me when I showed up for the funeral. More like running around like an emu with its arse feathers on fire while she spoke to the caterer about the event.
“It’s okay,” I said brightly, thanks to the brilliant invention known as a strawberry daiquiri. “She wouldn’t want you to feel sad or sorry about it. She’s probably watching from Heaven, wondering when I’m going to toast her with tequila shots.”
Josh chuckled. The god of laughter had definitely been more generous with him. It was a sexy, full-bodied laugh that made delicious places I didn’t know existed on my body ache with desire.
Hmm. Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing. Now I was even hornier than before. As in, I’m-ready-to-jump-him-at-the-table horny.
Josh waved the waitress over and ordered a round of shooters for him and me.
“You really don’t want one?” he asked Kelsey. Trent was driving them back to her home afterward.
“I’m positive,” she said. “Tequila and I had a bad run-in at a party once and I haven’t been able to touch the drink since.”
“Looks like it’s just you and me then, Hot Stuff,” he said to me.
The corner of my mouth slid up. “Okay, Cool Stuff.”
The space between Kelsey’s eyes crinkled in confusion. “Hot Stuff? Cool Stuff? Am I missing something here?”
“He’s referring to my hair color,” I explained, “and I’m referring to his occupation.”
She laughed. “Got it!”
The waitress returned a few minutes later with lemon wedges, salt, and shooter glasses filled with tequila, all of which she set in front of Josh and me.
I dipped my finger into my tequila, smeared the liquid on the back of my hand, and sprinkled salt on it. Josh did the same, only instead of using his finger, he used his tongue…and my mind instantly imagined where else he could use that tongue—preferably on the ache between my legs.
The ache wholeheartedly agreed with that, and I came within a centimeter of groaning out loud. Not the rolling-your-eyes kind of groan. More like the Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-do-me-now groan.
I mentally sent the image of Josh’s tongue on my body packing to a deserted island, never to be seen again.
He lifted his glass and I did the same. “To your grandmother.”
“To hockey.”
He gave a small nod, almost as if thanking me for not bringing up what had happened earlier. We then licked, shot, and sucked our way to happiness—or at least close enough to it for now. Josh’s gaze dropped to my mouth and the lemon wedge there, and his eyes darkened.
I removed the lemon from my mouth and glanced over at Kelsey and Trent, checking if they too had noticed Josh’s reaction. That would be a no. They were busy being cozy with each other, Trent caressing her knee.
I pushed aside the momentary pang of sadness that Trent had fallen in love with Kelsey instead of with me. Until two months ago, I had been falling for Trent, only to discover he was in love with my friend.
But anyone could tell they were perfect together. Plus he wanted to have kids one day, as did Kelsey. Me? Not so much.
/> For me, my career was my one-and-only goal in life. Was I against kids? Not at all. I was just against the idea of being like my own parents. They weren’t the ones who had raised my brothers and me. That honor had gone to Nanna and our nannies.
All thirty of them.
That’s right, thirty.
Now, before you envision my brothers and me as the modern-day von Trapp family, let me point out—the problem wasn’t us. That award went to Mum.
“Lydia, why does Holly have that tiny speck of dirt on her? That’s completely unacceptable.”
“Julia, Holly’s B+ in English lit is unacceptable. You are expected to ensure she gets only straight As. If you can’t remember that, you might want to reread the employment contract.”
“Bertha, why is Holly climbing a tree? Didn’t we agree that was unacceptable behavior for a young lady?”
Point taken? I thought so.
With some of the nannies, we had rejoiced when they’d quit after the first month or two. They could’ve easily been close cousins of Hitler—minus the German accent. I still shuddered at the memory. If my parents hadn’t driven them away, my brothers and I might’ve considered going von-Trapp-kids on them.
There had been a few nice nannies in the mix, but they weren’t around long enough to become the surrogate parents we needed—the loving and supportive parents our friends had. The nicer the nanny, the shorter their stay with us. My brothers and I had it down to a science when it came to predicting how long a nanny would last.
That skill came in handy with my current career. I was great at predicting things and creating the ultimate algorithm for the situation at hand.
But if there was one thing my parents had taught me (well, two really), it was that I didn’t know what it meant to have someone love me, and I didn’t know how to be the amazing mother my kids would deserve.
Okay, this wasn’t a hundred percent true. Nanna had taught me that I was worth loving. But she was the only one to instill that lesson in me, and it was often easily forgotten.
“I need another round,” I told Josh.
Once it arrived, Josh and I toasted Nanna again, and I quickly forgot about my old life back home. Tequila was awesome that way.
After the shooters, I switched back to daiquiris. The four of us talked and laughed for the next hour.
“We’re heading out now,” Trent told us after Kelsey had yawned for the third time, which I loosely translated to mean, “I’m taking my beautiful girlfriend home and fucking her brains out.”
Except I wasn’t ready to leave yet. You could blame the daiquiris and tequila and Nanna’s death for that. I wasn’t ready to go back to my lonely apartment and face the truth—that I had lost the one person who had loved me unconditionally, other than my brothers.
“All right,” Josh said, waving them off. To me he said, “Are you ready to leave, or do you want to hang out together a little longer?”
Hell yes to the latter.
4
Josh
I waited for Holly to answer, hoping she wasn’t ready to call it a night. Yes, when I had left Travis and the guys at the arena, I’d been more than interested in hooking up with some random girl. But for some reason, ever since meeting up with Holly, Trent, and Kelsey tonight, that need had burned away like the San Francisco fog. Now I was more interested in hanging out with Holly instead.
No, I wasn’t falling for her, nor did I believe my life would be more complete with her in it. I didn’t buy into that bullshit. The only true love I had room for in my life was hockey. Between the training, the practices, the games, and the road trips, there wasn’t much time for anything else.
And let’s not forget the complications that arose if you were traded. If you were married, your family now had to put their lives on hold to move to a different city and start all over again. Same deal if you were in a serious, committed relationship.
But what happened if you weren’t?
What happened if she decided to move in with you and you weren’t interested in the extra baggage—no matter how incredible she was in bed?
No, I wasn’t talking from experience, but a few of my teammates had sworn off girlfriends because of it…like Travis.
But for a guy—like me—who wasn’t interested in marriage or having a family, being a hockey player was the perfect career.
“I’m ready to go,” Holly said, answering my question. “But I’m not ready to go home yet.” Her mouth spread into a playful grin. “Let’s go somewhere and really have some fun, mate.” There were times when Holly’s accent was stronger than normal. Apparently after having a few drinks was one of those times.
Did I mention my cock really appreciated her Aussie accent?
Before I could ask what she had in mind, she jumped up from her seat and held her hand out to me. “Let’s go dancing.”
A few minutes later, we were cabbing it to a new nightclub that had recently opened, which meant it was currently the hottest spot in town. Fortunately, the bouncer was a hockey fan. He waved us in with little more than a “Next year, man. Next year,” and a fist bump.
Yes, being an NHL player had its advantages. And I for one wasn’t against making the most of it—especially after our loss.
Inside, the club was as busy as expected, both on the dance floor and off. Pop music pulsated through the speakers, making it hard to have any sort of conversation. But I didn’t come here to talk to Holly. And from the way she was swaying, talking was also the last thing she was interested in.
“Let’s dance,” I said, then without giving her a chance to reply, I grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd to the dance floor.
Didn’t like dancing when the floor was packed? Then you’d obviously been dancing all wrong—and with the wrong partner. I slipped my fingers under the hem of her top and stroked the soft skin on her lower back. Her breasts pressed proudly against the fabric, beckoning me to tease them with my fingers, with my mouth.
She was wearing a tight gray skirt that hugged her sexy ass and revealed her toned, never-ending legs. Her toned and never-ending legs that I had fantasized about on more than one occasion wrapped around my hips.
The neckline of her cream-colored top, with the tiny buttons down the front, was designed to be professional, not to flaunt her cleavage. But that didn’t stop me from imagining what her tits looked like under the soft fabric.
With her hands on my shoulders, she arched back and her breasts screamed, “Touch me!” But while they might’ve said that, I wasn’t so sure if Holly would agree so readily. Just because a girl danced provocatively didn’t mean shit. She was having fun, not giving me an open invitation to touch her the way I craved.
“I need a drink,” Holly said after we’d been dancing for a while. I had to agree with her there.
We squeezed our way through the crowd to the bar and ordered our drinks. Beer for me and a strawberry daiquiri for Holly.
Curious glances were tossed our way. Some said the individuals recognized me. Other individuals couldn’t care less about me but were more than interested in Holly—which came as no surprise.
“You wanna dance?” one guy asked her as we waited for our drinks.
The twinge of jealousy that shot through me? Yeah, I couldn’t explain it either. Holly and I were dancing. We weren’t involved. She had the right to dance with whomever she wanted.
And apparently, she agreed.
“Okay,” she said to the guy. To me she added, “I’ll be right back.”
While I waited for our drinks, I watched her dance. But it had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with how she moved. Except unlike with me, she didn’t dance close enough for the guy to touch her. Every time he tried, she maneuvered her body away from him. The move was subtle but there nonetheless—and it made me chuckle.
I continued to watch and appreciate her long, lean body. A dancer’s body. With breasts. Though from the way she moved, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had once been a dancer.
From what Trent had told me, there wasn’t much she couldn’t do…other than laugh. Some women had laughs that caused all the dicks in a ten-mile radius to stand at attention. Not so with Holly.
But no one’s perfect.
In contrast to her, the guy was your average male who didn’t know shit about dancing. He mostly just swayed and stared at her. Or rather, stared at her tits. That’s not where her eyes are, dumbass.
“Hi,” a woman said next to me.
My gaze slid over to her and my puck-bunny alert system went into full effect—including the sirens and flashing lights. These girls were always easy to spot, once you had dealt with one or two of them.
“Hey,” I replied.
“You were amazing tonight,” she said, her voice a near purr. She was dressed the opposite of Holly, with a crop top that revealed her flat stomach and generous cleavage. She was pretty but had way more makeup on than I generally went for. She was the type of girl who spent an hour in the bathroom every morning before even her cat was allowed to see her.
On the other hand, she was the type of girl you never had to worry about when it came to spending the night. She was the fuck-and-bail type because of her fear of being caught without her makeup on.
“You saw the game?” Not all puck bunnies did. They couldn’t tell you a thing about the sport. They just knew who the players were and had Spiderman-like senses, enabling them to detect a player within the vicinity.
“Of course,” she replied. “Wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
The bartender parked the beer and daiquiri in front of me and I handed him the money. The bunny’s gaze dropped to Holly’s drink, and she ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip as if anticipating the taste of it herself.
“The drink’s for a friend of mine.” I nodded at Holly, who was now heading toward us, dancer boy no longer with her.
My gaze returned to the bunny. Something about her expression had me on edge. I’d seen it before when it came to her kind.
Now, we’re all familiar with the concept of the proverbial caveman, and how men have a tendency to regress into one whenever their woman is approached by other men—even if the other man isn’t a threat. We practically pound on our chests, grunting, “Mine.”
Decidedly With Baby Page 2