Blocked

by Jami Davenport

  “What was his name?”

  For a moment, his shift to asking about my ex caught me off guard. “Wendall, but everyone called him Weasel,” I supplied.

  His brows shot up into his hairline, but he made no other comment. “I’m not”—he cleared his throat, as if he was choking down a snort—“Weasel. I’m me. You can’t paint us all with the same brush, Gen.”

  No one called me Gen but my dad. I always corrected anyone who made the mistake of shortening my name, and not very politely. This time I didn’t because Gen sounded so right coming from him, which meant only one thing.

  He was wearing me down.

  ~~Axel~~

  One good thing about road trips was being in all the same places as Geneva. This road trip to Colorado was only two nights, and I’d welcomed it.

  Coop was true to his word. Before each practice, he drilled the second line like the bastard he was. Then he shouted at us unmercifully during regular practice for being tired and sluggish. Ziggy, our left wing, grumbled about the extra work. Ziggy had always gotten by on raw talent and minimal work; now he was working as hard as anyone on this team, and the extra practice time was cutting into his sleeping and partying. The rest of us ignored his bitching. Coop, on the other hand, rode him extra hard, pushing him to be better.

  We won the Colorado game and flew back to Seattle, still in the hunt for a playoff spot and hopeful.

  I continued my gift giving to Geneva, including more chocolates, a nice bracelet, and a bottle of wine. We hadn’t talked since the sexiest kiss I’d ever had despite it being relatively chaste. I was biding my time. We had to get through the next week of games and make the playoffs. Hockey had to be my priority right now, and I had too many distractions as it was. Regardless, I wouldn’t turn her down if she said yes, no matter the timing.

  Kaden, Easton, Steele, and I had carpooled to the airport, so we piled in and drove home together. We were tired from the late flight, and Coop had us scheduled for morning drills before practice.

  Steele went straight to bed, but I hesitated. Kaden was in one of his moods, and I had the distinct feeling he needed a friend. I popped the tops off two beers and handed one to him, plopping on the couch next to him. He glanced over at me, then refocused his attention on the sports channel showing updates from recent games.

  “What’s up?” I said, not trying to sound concerned in the fear I might chase him away.

  He was quiet for so long I assumed he wasn’t going to answer. I almost jumped out of my skin when he did.

  “Have you ever met someone so special you feel as if you won’t ever find another like her, and you’re desperate to hold on to what you have?”

  I mulled his question around in my mind and decided to answer with raw honesty. “Yes, I have. And you?”

  “I think so. But how weird is it to fall in love with a woman you know zero about? Nothing about her family, where she was born, what she does for a living, not even what her favorite color is.”

  “I would wonder if it’s just lust talking.”

  He sighed and rolled his head backward to stare up at the ceiling. “I wonder that at times, but this is far beyond any lust I’ve ever known.”

  I related to what he was saying. I felt that way about Geneva more and more as each day went by, and we hadn’t even had sex together. From what I’d surmised, sex was all Kaden had with his secret lover. “I think I’d be leery of a woman who is so secretive.”

  “Part of me is pissed I’m not paying attention to the warning flags. I don’t even fucking know where she lives. We have to meet at nondescript hotels.”

  “Kaden, do you mind if I give you a word of advice?”

  He sighed and nodded.

  “I think there are too many warning signs with this woman. Take it from me and pay attention to them. There are tons of other women who’ll be open books. Why this one?”

  “I fucking wish I knew.” He stood and smiled at me, a sad, heartbreaking smile. “Good night. I’m wiped.”

  “Me too.” I followed him down the hall, and we turned into our respective bedrooms.

  I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I hadn’t realized that I’d been running on empty for quite some time. Sleep was welcome and blissful.

  ~~Geneva~~

  I prided myself on being a badass biker chick, though I feared inside I might be more of a marshmallow than a rock. I hated to admit it, but every day, I looked forward to Axel’s latest gift. None of them were expensive or elaborate, and I loved them for their simplicity.

  He got me. I wasn’t one for expensive jewelry or pretentious items. He’d figured out I loved chocolate and funky jewelry.

  Esme and Eunice, along with Teagan, were as excited as I was to see what each day brought. My brother was disgusted, but I think he was also secretly amused. His negative comments decreased day by day until he didn’t do much more than grunt. He even ate some of the chocolates.

  Over the next week, our liaisons, if you could call them that, in the team laundry room became the highlight of my day. Not that anything happened, at least not physically, but emotionally lots was happening. I’d never been attracted to a guy this intensely that I hadn’t fucked within in a week or so of meeting him. This was so different and special and, yeah, he was chiseling away at my crumbling resolve.

  Axel’s daily visits brightened my days and made my evenings.

  I’d never been a coward, and I’d started to wonder why I was being such a coward. I knew, of course, but my reasons for holding out seemed feeble. I’d prided myself on being a risk taker, yet here I was afraid to make this leap.

  The team hung on to its playoff hopes by a thread, and everything came down to the last game of the regular season. It was simple. Win and we’d have enough points to make the playoffs. Lose and we’d all start our vacations earlier than we wanted.

  Our opponent, Winnipeg, already had a slot in the playoffs, so we were hungrier. The team came out aggressive from the first puck drop. The second line scored the first point. They were on fire. The work they’d done with Coop had paid off. I found it hard to concentrate on my job as the game wore on. My gaze kept slipping to Axel, who was having the best game of his NHL career. He was all over the place. His passes were spot on, his skating was insane, and I don’t think the other team was able to keep track of him. He scored two goals, and by the final buzzer, we’d beaten Winnipeg in a hard-fought battle by a score of three to two. My brother was brilliant also, and I was so happy for him.

  We were going to the playoffs. Champagne corks were popped in the locker room, and everyone, including the team owner, coaches, and even me, was doused with champagne. None of us minded. This season had its ups and down, but the team fought back and managed to pull it off despite the adversity of losing two top players.

  After it was all over, I was a sticky mess, which wouldn’t work well for someone tasked with doing the team laundry. Exhausted and exhilarated, I took a shower in the private staff bathroom and put on clean clothes. Then I went to work while everyone but the equipment staff continued their partying.

  I was waiting for the first loads to finish when the laundry room door opened. I turned expectantly and wasn’t disappointed.

  Axel stood in the doorway, his hair still wet from a recent shower. He pushed it off his face and grinned at me. He was dressed in the required pants, dress shirt, and a loosened tie, and his suit jacket was slung over one arm. I wanted to take off that tie and lick him all over. There wasn’t anything sexier than a man in a suit unless it was that same man naked and on top of me.

  The visual woke up my lady parts, and I did something spontaneous and uncharacteristic. I wasn’t a hugger. No one in my family was a hugger, but I launched myself at Axel and threw my arms around him. After taking a moment to recover, he hugged me back. He smelled of fresh soap and aftershave, like heaven with a dose of naughty. He smelled exactly like a man I’d like to fuck. There, I’d said it. I’d admitted what I wanted. I no longer di
d relationships because I sucked at them.

  When I finally came to my senses and extracted myself from his arms, we both stared at each other. I was breathing hard, even though I hadn’t done anything strenuous, and so was he. His green eyes had gone from the color of an emerald to a dark, lush pasture.

  “Congratulations.” I stepped back to put more distance between us. Heat rose from my cheeks with embarrassment at being so demonstrative.

  “Thank you. You can congratulate me anytime if that’s what it takes for you to hug me.” He grinned, but those eyes stayed that intense green.

  “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

  “I wouldn’t leave without seeing you.” His words were from the heart, causing a surge of emotion in mine. Normally, I avoided such emotions and concealed my innermost feelings, but I was having a difficult time regaining control in this man’s presence.

  “I’m sure you have a party or three to attend, and I need to get back to work, or I’ll be here all night.”

  He didn’t move toward the door. Instead he dug in his jacket pocket and pulled out a puck. He held it toward me.

  I took it from him and turned it over, expecting to see another cute note. There was nothing on it. “What is this?”

  “It’s the game-winning puck. I want you to have it.”

  I turned it over in my hands, realizing the significance of what he was gifting me. My eyes welled with tears. He was a rookie. This was the goal that launched us into the playoffs, and he scored it. Normally such a puck would have a place of prominence on his mantel, yet he wanted me to have it?

  “I can’t take this. You should keep it.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “I want you to have it.” He repeated the words, and I could tell he meant them. I was beyond flattered and a little disconcerted. “There is a price, though.”

  Ah, a catch. Of course there was, and I knew exactly what that catch would be.

  “We made the playoffs. That deserves a reward if you ask me.” His expression was as innocent as a little boy’s with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

  “A reward?” I played dumb.

  “Go to dinner with me. You pick the place.” He was a determined man moving in for the kill. He had me where he wanted me, and we both knew it.

  “If I go out with you once, will you promise not to ask me again?” I sighed and contemplated my options. Did I dare? Yes, I was a strong woman. Just one date. Nothing more.

  “One date with me will never be enough,” he said, reading my mind in that uncanny way of his.

  I rolled my eyes, but he merely smirked, brimming once again with self-confidence in his masculine talents of persuasion and knowing he was good-looking.

  Okay, I’d play but by my rules. He’d get a good dose of the real me behind the polos and khakis. I’d bet my Harley he wouldn’t like what he saw.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll pick you up. Tomorrow night at five p.m. Dress warmly. We’ll be spending time outside.”

  I laughed out loud at his puzzled expression, then strutted away from him, leaving him to wonder what I was up to.

  Chapter 19—Date on a Harley

  ~~Axel~~

  The next night, I stood on the curb in front of the condo as instructed by Geneva.

  Bria had gone to ground and there hadn’t been any other Facebook posts. Geneva mentioned that Jock hadn’t heard from her lately either except for one odd late-night call demanding to see her children and issuing threats when he said no. She’d sounded drunk or high or both, and Jock had hung up on her. She hadn’t called back, as I understood it. Obviously, she hadn’t complied with Jock’s demands regarding substance-abuse assistance.

  This afternoon’s weather was cloudy and in the fifties. Not bad for March in Seattle. I wore a very warm sweater and black dress pants, along with a warm jacket. I thought I looked pretty damn good, enough to make Geneva glad she’d agreed to a date. In my hands, I held a small, neatly wrapped package of specialty truffles. Teagan had let it slip that Geneva loved chocolates, so I’d been showering her with different types of gourmet chocolates for the past week.

  A motorcycle roared down the street, going so fast I assumed it’d pass on by. At the last minute, the driver skidded into an empty parking spot in a cloud of dust and screeching tires.

  For a moment, I stared dumbfounded and unable to move. I’d seen this particular Harley before, and I’d know that body clad in leathers anywhere, even though I hadn’t had the fortune of seeing said body divested of its clothing.

  Someday, I swore to myself. Someday.

  Geneva shut down the bike and kicked down the stand. She pulled off her helmet and shook out her long, dark hair. She sashayed over to me, dangling a spare helmet in her hand. My eyes drank her in like I’d been lost in the jungle for twenty years and had finally seen a woman again.

  She looked me up and down and cocked a brow at me. “You’re wearing that?”

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I was slightly insulted. I’d never known a woman to have an issue with how I dressed. I wasn’t vain about it, but I did have good taste in clothing.

  “Nothing.” She smirked at me, amused by some private joke I wasn’t privy to. “You’ll fit right in.”

  Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on me. I frowned and narrowed my eyes, studying her closely. I didn’t have time to reconsider my choice of clothing. She tossed the helmet at me and strode back to the motorcycle.

  Suspicion raced through me. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being set up. Perhaps she was trying to prove her point that we weren’t compatible. I wondered briefly if I should run inside and change into something more casual. I didn’t have a clue what she might be wearing under those leathers. Nothing would be acceptable.

  But I was regressing to the gutter my mind loved to wallow in whenever a hot female approached. Geneva was the hottest of the hot, and I’d gladly make a fool out of myself to be with her.

  “What’s the dress code where we’re going?” I asked.

  She gaped at me and snorted in an unladylike way. “If you’re worried about how you’re dressed, don’t be.” Geneva’s smirk said the opposite.

  She didn’t wait for my response but swung one long, leather-clad leg over the seat of the bike, pulled on her helmet, and gestured for me to take the seat behind her. I did. She started the engine and the beast roared to life.

  The Harley was mammoth. Knowing that she was piloting such a beast raised my respect for her a notch. I didn’t know anything about motorcycles, but I guess I was about to have my first experience on one.

  “Put your arms around my waist and hang on!” she said in my ear, and I realized the helmets had some kind of system allowing her to speak to me despite the roaring of the engine. I didn’t need to be asked a second time to hang on to her. First of all, I relished any physical contact with her, and secondly, we were jetting off. If I hadn’t hung on, I’d be splattered all over the pavement by now.

  I held on to her and enjoyed every second of it. Her hair whipped in my face, but I didn’t mind. To stop the sting, I leaned closer until our helmets clunked together. I wickedly considered sliding my hands up farther or down lower, but I wasn’t overly secure rocketing down Seattle streets on this iron horse without the steel structure of a car surrounding me.

  Still, the thought did have its merits. For one, payback. She might’ve considered mentioning this was a motorcycle date so I could dress appropriately.

  We turned onto I-5 and drove north for a while. The ride was exhilarating. I’d never travelled at such a speed without metal wrapped around me. This was different. Wilder. More carefree. I loved it. I might have to get one of these for myself.

  Geneva eventually took an off-ramp and pulled into a gravel parking lot several blocks from I-5. Geneva parked the bike and cut the engine. I got off, and she did so too, removing her helmet.

  I shed my own helmet and finger combed my too-long hair. The women loved it, so I put up with it. Besid
es, I had good flow, the term for hockey hair on the longer side that flowed out of the helmet. Hey, I don’t make this shit up. That’s what they call it.

  “That was a trip and a half. I want one of these.” I grinned at her, and she scowled. I wasn’t supposed to like riding a Harley, but I had.

  “Wonderful,” she said with sarcasm.

  “I thought you’d like that.”

  I turned to survey our surroundings and squinted into the setting sun to read the name of the place on a sign near the road. Hog House. Lined up in front of the nondescript building were dozens of motorcycles. There were cars, too, but the motorcycles far outnumbered them.

  “What is this place?” I frowned and faced Geneva. I did a double take. She’d shed her leather coat and wore a tight tank top that showed off a collage of incredible tats I was aching to explore. Vines with brightly colored flowers wrapped around her arms. The tank was low in front, showing off a great rack and some slamming cleavage.

  I wanted this woman more than ever. If she’d thought this little trip would discourage me, I had news for her.

  “Fuck,” I said for lack of a better word. But then you couldn’t get much better than the word fuck, in my humble opinion. It’s a word for the ages.

  She smiled at me and tossed her hair over her shoulder. My mouth was dry, and my dick was hard. Was it possible to screw on a motorcycle? I wouldn’t mind giving it a shot. I dragged my gaze away from her body, attempting to rein my libido in.

  “What is this place?” I repeated my question in an attempt to distract my dick from its mission.

  “It’s a biker bar. A lot of my dad’s buddies hang out here when they’re in the States from Vancouver.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” I sounded like a whiny wuss, and she threw back her head and laughed.

  “Of course it’s not safe, especially with you looking all yuppyized, but we’ll get through it. They won’t touch me, so they’ll leave you alone. Most likely.”