Chapter Three
Scott flew around the ice in the game-day skate, the sheer joy of playing blocking out most everything but Hannah’s response to his gift. He couldn’t wait to get back to the dressing room to check his phone. The gift shop worker he’d bribed into bringing the jersey to Hannah should be back by now. Yes, it was a hugely risky move which could be misinterpreted as arrogant, especially for a woman he’d known only a short while, but it felt right. He hoped Hannah would take the gift as what it was—a display of his affection. Seeing her in his jersey would definitely get his blood pumping; he would readily admit that. But it wasn’t some caveman-like need to mark her that had driven him to make the purchase.
After the skate was over, Scott lumbered right into the private dressing area and tossed his gross, sweaty gloves on the floor. Grabbing the phone, he unlocked it and grinned when he saw he had a text message. Sure, it might not be from Hannah, but Scott had a feeling it was. How could she ignore his gift?
And she hadn’t. Scott actually noticed his facial muscles stretching as his smile became wider.
Scott-Thank you so much for the jersey. The only one I’ve ever had is Darren’s, and it was actually my sister’s. I will wear it with pride.
The thought of Hannah wearing only his jersey, spread out on his bed with her hair fanned out over his pillow had his dick hardening inside his cup. That wasn’t a comfortable situation, and Scott forced his thoughts to less dirty topics, composing a text back to Hannah.
I’d like you to come see me play. I know tonight is probably short notice, but soon. Maybe this weekend?
Though he was loath to wait until then, Scott figured if Hannah came to a weekend game he could take her out after that, then with any luck, bring her back to his place and have more wild monkey lovin’.
Ow ow ow. Need to get out of this cup before I think any more about Hannah.
Scott put his phone down, reached to the floor to pick up his gloves, and went to take a shower. He needed to eat and get home for his pregame nap. Sleep didn’t always come, but if not, he’d read or just lie there in bed.
Later, Scott was a starter during the game, and as the centerman, he took the opening faceoff. To his chagrin, he lost it, and Scott immediately went into defensive mode as the league’s best player – a man who Scott had fed for a goal during the recent All-Star Game, streaked down the wing toward the Stingray’s goaltender. Luckily, the man threw his blocker up and deflected the puck to the corner, where Scott and a teammate fought for it against a couple of opposing players.
Scott came out of the fray with the puck and an elbow to the kidneys for his trouble. He tried to school his grimace of pain and passed the puck off before turning and laying a good cross-check on the culprit. The ref was watching the play as it advanced, and Scott let out a relieved breath he hadn’t been called for a penalty. He hated taking penalties and was one of the least-penalized players in the league, but sometimes a guy had to stand up for himself.
He hauled ass to catch up with the other forwards and his winger must’ve caught sight of him going to the net because the next thing he knew, a saucer pass was on his stick and he shot. The puck hit the post with a loud ping and careened to the left, where one of the Stingrays’ defensemen had moved up on the play and was now camped right outside the crease. He tangled with an opposing player, but managed to reach out and push the puck past the goal line. The red light went on and Scott let out a whoop.
As he sat on the bench a few moments later, he wondered if Hannah was watching. Was she wearing his jersey? She hadn’t responded to his return text, and Scott was starting to worry he’d come on too strong. There was nothing he could do about it now, though, so like the professional athlete he was, Scott put it out of his mind and concentrated on the game.
The teams traded goals back and forth until near the end of regulation when it was 3-3. The Stingrays had a busy week, and what with the All-Star Game making his particular week even more hectic, Scott didn’t relish the idea of sudden death overtime. His coach barked out his line would be next, and a few seconds later Scott jumped over the boards, heading for the play on the other side of the ice. One of the wingers from the other line was battling it out by the penalty boxes with two opposing players, and Scott flew in to even things up.
When the puck finally landed on his stick, Scott sent it into their offensive zone and the member of his line who’d managed to get on the ice along with him took the pass and weaved around a defenseman, using him as nothing more than a pylon. Even as Scott admired his teammate’s fancy footwork, he felt the burn in his legs as he moved himself into position to receive a pass. As expected, the guy gave the puck to him, and out of the corner of his eye, Scott spotted the third member of his line, finally coming onto the ice as the player from the last line left it.
He sent the puck back toward the blue line and his teammate skated into it, taking a huge slap shot. The goalie didn’t have a chance, and with a little more than two minutes left to play, the Stingrays went up 4-3. That’s how the game ended after a hard-fought remaining regulation time, and Scott went back to the locker room, his mood improved since they hadn’t had to play overtime.
Though he was itching to get to his phone, Scott was obliged to answer a multitude of questions from the New York-area media. It was a good twenty-five minutes after the game before he was able to step into the shower. The hot water felt good on his aching muscles, and Scott debated a quick dip in the hot tub before getting dressed, but then decided he’d take a detour through the dressing area and scope out his phone first. He felt like a thirteen-year-old girl checking his messages so obsessively, but that didn’t stop him.
There was a message from Hannah.
Nice pass. I was out earlier but saw the end of the game. Saturday is the only night I’m free. Is that game okay to come to?
Hell yeah, it was okay with him. But then Scott debated. Should he try to see her before then?
Sounds great. How about dinner or something Wednesday? I’m off and will want to relax.
His phone rang in his hand and Scott jumped, nearly dropping it, then glanced around quickly to make sure none of his teammates had seen him looking like a complete idiot.
“Hello?”
“Scott? It’s Hannah. I figured this might be easier.” There was a slight pause and then Hannah asked, “Are you in the locker room? I can hear some strange noises in the background. I don’t even want to think about what might be making sounds like that if you’re not. It reminds me of a herd of moose or something. Pretty weird through the phone.”
He laughed. “Yeah, they’re strange all right. My teammates are a unique bunch, let’s just put it that way.”
“I heard that,” one of them called out from around the corner.
“I wasn’t trying to be quiet,” Scott shot back. Returning his attention to Hannah, he said, “I’ll leave two tickets at will call for you on Saturday. Bring your sister.”
“I was actually thinking about bringing another friend.”
Scott’s danger radar went up. “A male friend?”
Now Hannah laughed. “Worried?”
“A little bit, yes,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve laid his cards out like that, but with Hannah it seemed like he couldn’t do anything else.
“Don’t fret. My friend Bethany likes hockey and doesn’t have enough money to go to many games. I thought it would be a nice night out for her.”
“Oh, definitely. Glad I can help then.” Scott wasn’t sure what current ticket prices were, but since he played in Manhattan he could imagine they weren’t cheap. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What about dinner?”
He shivered when a blast of cold air went through the room and glanced down at himself in surprise since he was rarely, if ever, chilly. Then Scott rolled his eyes as he remembered he was still standing there in a towel and his shower shoes. Yeah, maybe he should’ve changed before picking up the phone to text.
“I ca
n do dinner Wednesday night, but it would have to be early. I have a presentation the next day, and I don’t want to be yawning all over everyone while I’m in the middle of it.” She cleared her throat. “And I can’t stay. Just dinner.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll take a train in and meet you at the restaurant. Where did you want to go?”
“Are you sure? I can come out to you. I have a car.”
“No need. There are tons of places in Manhattan I haven’t tried.”
“Is the train safe at night?”
“Listen to you, all concerned. Yes, the train is safe. I take it all the time since I don’t own a car. Now, where are you going to take me?”
Scott panicked momentarily. He hadn’t even thought of a place to suggest. “What kind of food do you like?”
“Not a huge fan of spicy, so probably not Mexican or Indian or anything like that. I like Italian. I like sushi. I dunno. What do you like?”
“Sushi sounds good. There’s a place not far from my apartment. It’s called Fumé.”
“Works for me. Meet you there at five thirty?”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Lowering his voice, he then said, “Good night, Hannah. Sleep well.”
“You too.”
He hung up and popped the phone back into his locker, dropping the towel to get dressed. No point in going over to the hot tub now since he’d let his muscles get cold again after the shower, and his body had dried while he’d been talking to Hannah. Soon he was on his way back to his apartment, thinking of other things they could do. Yes, New York boasted thousands of fabulous restaurants, but that wouldn’t be a very creative date if they did it over and over again.
Idly he wondered if she’d ever been on one of those carriage rides through Central Park. Normally he stayed away from the tourist attractions in the area, but for Hannah he was willing to do just about anything. Scott wasn’t completely sure if that made him pussy whipped already, but if so, he was okay with that.
* * * *
On Wednesday, Hannah was late getting to Fumé because she’d taken time to look it up on the internet and to take a quick shower. It took her fifteen minutes to decide what to wear as she vacillated between casual and semi-dressy. Finally, she ended up with a jean skirt with tights and boots, along with a light blue sweater, kind of halfway between her choices.
Scott was standing near the front door, chatting with the hostess as she fawned all over him, finding ways to touch him. He appeared friendly, but was plainly not responding to her attentions. A quick hit of pride coursed through her. Yeah, he’s mine. Hands off. She wasn’t used to feeling jealous, but supposed if she kept dating Scott that kind of thing was going to happen more and more.
When she approached him, he turned to her, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. The hostess glowered. “There you are. I was getting worried you’d stood me up.”
She smirked. “I doubt you’ve been stood up in your entire life.”
His smile widened. “Always a first time. Our table is ready.” The hostess led them toward the back of the restaurant, and Scott guided Hannah with his hand between her shoulder blades. It was a little set apart from the others, and Hannah imagined he often got the best table in the house. He helped her into her seat, asking, “so are you ready for your presentation?”
“I think so. I don’t do a lot of these in my position, but it does help to be able to add some cool graphics. Presentations can be pretty boring.”
“I can imagine. That’s one of things hockey players luckily see little of, though the league does like sending out PowerPoints when they make rule changes and stuff. They’re usually pretty dry, and we’re all struggling to stay awake by the end.”
“That sounds just like Corporate America.”
The server appeared then, and Scott ordered a nice white wine to go with the sushi, instead of the more usual sake. It was dry and soft with a hint of floral bouquet, and she swirled it in her mouth to enjoy the first clean taste. She noticed Scott did the same.
Hannah nodded toward his glass. “You like wine?”
“Love it. I prefer whites, but I’ll drink a good robust red too. Don’t tell any of my hockey buddies, but I prefer a good glass of chardonnay to a Budweiser any day of the week.”
“I feel the same way. I have a glass of wine with dinner nearly every night. I’ve discovered the New York State wines. There are some excellent wines made in the Finger Lakes region.”
“Me, too! The New York State Rieslings are famous everywhere now, which is pretty cool since I can say I knew them when, so to speak.” He paused and seemed to be considering something and she waited him out, curious. “I’ve been meaning to get up there to visit some of the wineries during the Finger Lakes Wine Festival, but I never seem to be able to make it. Maybe we could go together this summer.”
His invitation sounded fantastic, but making plans for something months away scared her. What to say?
“Maybe. We could discuss it more when the weather is better.” How’s that for wishy-washy? Geez. “It is beautiful country up there.”
“Are you from New York?”
“Yes, I grew up in Corning.”
“I think I know where that is. I played a few games in the AHL in Binghamton before New York called me up.”
The waiter came back for their orders, and they had to beg off to look at the menu. They both picked out an assortment of seafood and tempura and agreed to share in order to taste everything. The waiter topped off their wine and then left.
“Where did you grow up? You don’t sound like a native New Englander.”
“I grew up in a small town in Minnesota called Red Wing and went to the University of Minnesota. Got drafted out of college.”
“Red Wing? Like the shoes?”
“Yes, exactly like the shoes, actually.” He laughed. “They make them there.”
“What did you major in? Basket-weaving?” She laughed, thinking she was teasing him, but he didn’t take it lightly and his eyes looked wounded. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”
“Not your fault. That’s what everybody figures.”
She reached over and touched his hand on the table. “Truly, I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing for me to say. What did you really major in?”
“Economics. And then I got a master’s degree in macroeconomics after I went pro. Those online classes come in handy when you travel as much as I do.”
“Oh, wow. That’s serious stuff.”
“I enjoy it. I manage my own investment portfolio, and some of the guys have asked me to give them help with theirs as well. I’d like to get my doctorate, but that’ll have to wait until after I retire. It’d be a kick to have.”
“Dr. Scott Richards?”
“You know it. Maybe I’ll become a financial advisor to athletes. So many get led astray because it’s not something they ever learned about in school. As you probably know, a good percentage of professional athletes never attended college, and oftentimes those who did were passed no matter what their grade should’ve been.”
“I had no idea that was a problem – you guys getting taken advantage of.”
“No one does. Anyway, everyone figures I’m a pretty boy, dumb jock.”
“But you’re not. I can see that now—not only your education, but the way you treat people. You sign autographs for anyone and everyone; you’re courteous and friendly to other people.” He turned red and she couldn’t help be charmed. Somehow knowing that she’d embarrassed him made him hotter, if that was possible. And she felt like she owed some compliments after her faux pas earlier.
Down, girl. Don’t climb the man during dinner. It’s bad form.
“Did you major in art?”
“Yes. With a minor in computer design, as in designing things on a computer, as opposed to designing computers.” She laughed.
“Yeah. Can’t see you designing motherboards for Apple. You’re way too pretty to be a nerd.”
“Tha
nks.” Now she tried to stop a blush, without much more success than Scott. “Actually, my interest in art started with the Corning Museum of Glass. I learned to design glass figurines and stuff at workshops there. I do my computer art at work to get money to invest in glass and dyes so I can make glass art at home. That’s my real passion.”
“Fascinating. What kinds of things do you create?”
“Everything, from little figurines to vases and freeform sculptures. Right now, I’m working on a replica of the Mayflower. It’s a challenge.”
His eyes got big. “No doubt. In glass? I’d love to see that sometime. Must be a masterpiece.”
“I wouldn’t say that, but it’s one piece I’m not going to sell. It stays with me.”
“Don’t blame you.”
Their sushi came just then and conversation petered out while they systematically demolished every piece of fish on the platters. It was fairly late by the time they’d finished and Scott had called for the check. She’d been having a good time and almost hated to leave, but he had such a strong personality, she was afraid of being drawn in like red dye into her colorless glass. Scott took it well, though, giving her a chaste kiss before seeing her all the way onto her train. Once it pulled away from the station, Hannah sat, looking out the window, but really her brain was focused on the past few hours. She had to admit Scott wasn’t like she’d pictured him, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
When Hannah and Bethany picked up their tickets Saturday night, she was amazed to find out they were in the fourth row center near the blue line. She shouldn’t have been surprised. It was the kind of thing he would do. No nosebleed seats for one of his guests.
They settled in and she enjoyed seeing the ice from that vantage point rather from above where she sat with Tammi and the other wives in Darren’s arena. The wives didn’t like to sit too close, preferring to gossip and talk about their families while their men dueled it out on the ice. The team came out, skating in seemingly endless circles for a few minutes. Then they started some drills, and a few of them stopped to stretch.
Seduced by the Game Page 10