Max

by Sawyer Bennett

  She giggles, her eyes sparkling...turning golden brown again. "Well, you're really very good at this whole sweeping-a-woman-off-her-feet kind of thing. You must have had a lot of practice."

  "I've actually only had one serious relationship before," I tell her candidly. "And I wasn't very good at it."

  "Do tell," she quips.

  "I didn't put the effort in," I admit. "It was first love type of stuff. Met her when I was sixteen and then we dated long distance for a while when I went into the NHL, and then she eventually followed me to Florida when I played with the Spartans."

  "What happened?"

  I give her a wry smile. "Nothing happened. I just didn't put in the effort, you know? I thought it was enough to be in love, and I just figured things would work out. Apparently, she fell out of love long before I realized what was going on. She broke it off because I couldn't devote enough of my energy to her."

  "But surely she knew that being with someone in the NHL...someone that had to travel and--"

  I cut her off. "No, it wasn't about the amount of time we spent together, or lack thereof. It was about the quality of the time. She just didn't feel that she was important enough to me, and that's all on me."

  She considers that for a moment, her gaze dropping down momentarily before coming back to me. "Sounds like you may have learned some lessons from that experience then."

  "Yeah," I tell her softly, bring my hand from her back to cup her cheek. "I learned if someone is important enough, it's not all that hard to give them what they need. It kind of comes naturally."

  Her eyes go round, and yeah...she gets what I'm saying.

  She understands that she's important to me.

  "Max?" she whispers.

  "Yeah, babe?"

  "I hope I can give you back what you give me," she says hesitantly. "I want to. I want to give you everything that you deserve, but sometimes I feel like the world is pressing in on me and it can be hard for me to prioritize. I really, really like you and I want you to be a priority in my life. If you ever feel like you're not, you have to let me know."

  I lean in and kiss her, and when I pull back, I tell it to her straight. "You're doing just fine, Jules. And I really, really like you too."

  I know I should be watching the hockey game but I can't stop staring at Max in goal. I'm sure there's plenty of action at the far end, but I still watch Max.

  I wonder if he'd think that was weird.

  "Stop staring at Max," Kate says as she leans across the two kids that separate us, namely Annabelle and Ben. I've got Levy and Rocco to my right.

  I grin back at her. "Can't help it."

  "No, I suppose you can't," she quips sympathetically.

  I can't even believe I'm sitting here. Max surprised us with tickets when he showed up at my apartment this morning. That included a very hot kiss because as soon as I opened the door, he pulled me out so the kids couldn't see and proceeded to kiss the daylights out of me.

  It was a deep kiss filled with longing and frustration, because it's been a long, long week since we'd had sex. Granted, on Halloween night we'd had a lot of sex, but it wasn't enough to tide each of us over. And I suppose these past seven days is probably a good preview of how our relationship is going to be tested over the incredibly busy lives Max and I lead separate from each other.

  After we both woke up Sunday morning, he made love to me first, then he took me to Kate and Zack's and we picked up the kids. He then treated us to breakfast before dropping us off at my apartment. The rest of his day was spent between a workout, practice, and a team meeting. I spent that evening painting.

  Monday through Thursday was no better in the amount of time we had with each other. I did my normal work routine at Sweetbrier from seven A.M. to four P.M. and then spent good quality time with the kids until it was time for them to go to sleep. I then painted from about eight to midnight. Max traveled to an away game, so I didn't see him at all on Tuesday and Wednesday, but he did come over and eat dinner with me and the kids on Monday and Thursday. Friday he had an evening team meeting, so I didn't get to see him. The way I calculated it, we saw each other a grand total of four hours for the week, and out of that time we shared a few hot kisses once the kids were in bed. But then Max left me to my painting, because as he said I wasn't going to get paid unless I produced something.

  This was a bitter pill to swallow. I wanted to use my talents to help support me and the kids. Max helped me with an amazing opportunity, but it did nothing to alleviate my time crunch, and thus limited my time with Max. This truly sucks because for the first time in a very long time I want something for myself, and for the first time in also a very long time I don't feel guilty for wanting it. Max has sort of made me see that it's okay to have something for myself. He helped make that true with getting me started back with my painting, something I love doing, and it's just an added bonus that I can make something from it.

  "So what are you and Max going to do tonight?" Kate asks when there's a break in the action on the ice.

  She taught me all about TV timeouts, and while my eyes stayed pinned to Max as he skated slow circles in front of the net to stay loose, I told her, "He said the team usually gets together over at a bar across the street from the arena after and he wanted to take me there."

  Yes, Max wants to go out after the game, and while I'd personally like to spend just another quiet night with him, I got the distinct impression from Max that this was important to him.

  "Houlihan's," Kate says with an understanding nod. "He wants to show you off."

  Max, unbeknownst to me, earlier in the week had asked Kate if she would watch the kids again for the night. I didn't feel great about this because it seemed like a huge imposition on Kate and it made two Saturdays in a row she'd watched my three little ones.

  I don't give any credit to her theory that Max wants to show me off, not because it doesn't deserve it, because it's probably true, but because I have something more pressing. Turning in my seat and finally taking my eyes off Max, I ask Kate, "Are you sure you don't mind watching the kids tonight? I'm not feeling the best about this."

  Kate waves an impatient hand at me. "Please, girl...game nights in our household are very low-key. Zack won't want to do anything but relax in his recliner with a beer, and the kids will zonk out as soon as we get home. It's a late night for them."

  This was true as evidenced by the fact that Annabelle's been rubbing her eyes for the last fifteen minutes. While Levy and Rocco are totally into the game, Annabelle's been a little bored, and if it wasn't for Ben sitting next to her, she probably would have conked out long ago. Even though Ben's the same age, he's got a vested interest in the game and has been around hockey his entire life, so he was into the game too. But he's such a sweet boy...he'd be cheering for his dad out on the ice one minute and then the next he'd turn in his seat and chatter away with Annabelle.

  "If you and Zack ever want a date night, all you have to do is call me. I'll take Ben in a heartbeat," I offer her.

  "You're sweet," she says with a smile. "I'll take you up on that. Besides, that's what we do. The Cold Fury is a family."

  Those words cause me to jerk in my seat because they pack quite a punch. Am I part of the Cold Fury family? I mean...I'm not married to Max, and we've only known each other about five weeks now, but still...he seemed like it was no big deal for him to ask Kate and Zack to watch my kids. Is that because he's thinking because we're together I'm automatically brought into the fold?

  "So listen," Kate says as she leans toward me a bit more. "I was in Fleurish the other day and Stevie and Olivia showed me your paintings, and Jules, they are stunning. I mean, Max told me they were amazing but when I saw them...I was just blown away."

  My face flushes red but I try to maintain some semblance of grace. "Well, thanks...that's really nice of you to say, Kate."

  She nods. "And I was wondering if I could commission you to paint something for me to give to Zack for Christmas. I swear he's so hard t
o buy for, but I was thinking of having a portrait done of Ben, but not like just a regular portrait. I'd want it done in all those fantastic bold colors...make it slightly abstract."

  A zap of pure happiness runs through me and I eagerly nod at Kate. I've never been asked to paint something for someone before, and it's beyond flattering. "I'd love to. But no way are you paying for it. I'd be happy to just give it to you."

  Kate rolls her eyes at me and then leans over farther and pats me on the knee. "You're really cute, Jules, but seriously...wise the hell up. This is your business. It's how you make a living. You charge for your talent."

  "But, I couldn't--"

  "You can," she rolls right over me, and then in a voice that does not mess around, she says, "If it bothers you that much, cut me a five percent deal or something, but I'm paying you or I'm not going to let you do it."

  My jaw drops slightly from her fierce attitude, but then I snap it shut. Cheeks red, I give her a nod. "Okay, if you're sure."

  "I'm sure I'm sure," she says with a grin. "Now turn back around and watch your man's ass while he's in goal."

  My head snaps toward the ice and I immediately lock eyes on Max, the puck having been dropped and action commenced. And damn...even in those big, bulky goalie pads, he still looks phenomenal.

  It really didn't hit me until I walked into this arena tonight with the kids.

  My boyfriend plays professional hockey.

  My boyfriend is Max Fournier...the starting goalie for the Carolina Cold Fury.

  Not once in the past five weeks have I really had that sink in, and it's probably because Max and I haven't really spent much time together, but our developing relationship was never about something like that. It was about a man seeing a woman who he wanted to help and lift up, and a woman taking a chance on a man who believed in her.

  But here...listening to the fans chant his name or scream at the top of their lungs when he makes a great save...it's a heady feeling knowing that he's mine.

  --

  After the game, Kate brings me and the kids to the family gathering room that's just down from the locker room. We wait with a host of other wives and kids, waiting for the guys to have a quick team meeting and get showered. Kate introduces me to Olivia Case, who works at Fleurish. She's waiting for her boyfriend, Garrett Samuelson, and she spends five minutes gushing about my art. It embarrasses me, but I end up kind of falling a little for Olivia. She's got such a sunny personality and a hippie vibe, it's hard not to be drawn to her. In the few evenings Max had eaten dinner at my place this week, he filled me in on his other teammates and their significant others. I knew about Olivia's cancer and that she's in remission right now.

  I also get to meet Sutton, who's married to the team captain, Alex Crossman, and also happens to be Olivia's cousin. She's just as awesome and it truly feels like I'm being welcomed into the fold. By the time Max walks into the room, looking amazing in a dark gray suit with a pink dress shirt, hair still wet from his shower, I'd made tentative plans to get together with the three women standing around me. When I would do that was beyond me as I had almost no free time, and what little I did have, I wanted Max to have it all. But we exchanged phone numbers and we'd figure something out, I'm sure.

  Max spends a few more minutes introducing me to some other people and then I give hugs and kisses to Annabelle, Levy, and Rocco with promises I'll see them first thing in the morning. It's not lost on me when Annabelle holds on a little longer than normal, and just before she lets go, she whispers, "Love you, Mommy."

  My voice quavers as I whisper back, "Love you too, Annabelle."

  Max watches quietly, and when I stand up, his hand goes to my lower back, where his thumb rubs against me in acknowledgment of that emotional moment.

  Then he takes me out through the back exit that leads to the players' parking lot. He opens the passenger door and I climb in. After Max gets into the driver's seat I give out a little cry of surprise when he grabs me behind the neck, pulls me halfway across into his seat and kisses me hard.

  As he pulls away, he puts his forehead against mine and murmurs, "I missed you and I cannot wait to get my mouth on you tonight when we get back to my place."

  "We could bypass Houlihan's and head right to your place," I suggest with a grin, although I really kind of want to go to Houlihan's. I'm curious as to what Max is like when he's out in public and has to play the role of star goalie.

  "We could do that," he agrees. "But I really want you to meet Hawke and Vale and they agreed to meet us there for a few beers. But we won't stay long."

  "Deal," I agree readily, because honestly, I don't care what we do as long as I can be in his presence.

  So Max starts his car, puts it in gear, and drives the less than one mile to Houlihan's so I can meet more of his friends.

  I walk into Houlihan's holding tight onto Jules' hand. I've been here hundreds of times, many of them after a game such as tonight. It's where the Cold Fury hangs out and it's always packed shoulder to shoulder on game night, mostly with fans who hope to get a picture or an autograph. That's usually what these visits are about. Hanging out and giving back to the fans.

  But tonight is different for me because I want Jules to see this part of my life, and I want this part of my life to see Jules. I want my teammates to meet her and see how fabulous she is, and I want them to know that she's important.

  Which isn't to say I haven't brought women I've dated here before, because I have. While it's true I've only had one serious relationship in my past, it doesn't mean I haven't had relationships. I'm the type of guy who likes dating one woman. I like the intimacy of having that person's full attention, and I like the security that comes with it. So yes, I've dated before, and some of them have lasted months. Some of them I've brought here.

  None of them hold a candle to Jules, including Christine, who was the first woman I loved. And I did love her, but it just wasn't the type that could be sustained.

  Yes, I like commitment and monogamy. Maybe I'm a romantic at heart, and that's probably due solely to my parents, who have a solid, passionate, and deep connection that they've had for almost thirty years. So it's only natural I want that too.

  That is also not to say I haven't had one night stands. Not to say I haven't gotten blind, stinkin' drunk and fucked women that I couldn't even remember their names. I did go through a bit of a wild period after Christine broke things off with me and I spread myself around with meaningless sex.

  So you see...I've had it both ways, and the way I feel right now with Jules by my side...it's a fucking no-brainer. I do believe she's what I've been searching for.

  I do believe she's what I'm ready for now.

  Leading Jules through the crowd, I nod at a few familiar faces I see. The hardcore fans that are always there to either celebrate with us or mourn a loss. They're also the ones that tend to be unobtrusive, and over the years I've gotten to know some of them pretty well. I take Jules toward the back of the restaurant and away from the bar area where most of the team is congregated around a bunch of tables. While the kitchen is still open, hardly anyone here this late orders sit-down dinners, and the management doesn't mind us invading this part of the restaurant.

  The Cold Fury group is diverse, with a mix of players, team management, training staff, and significant others. The players are diverse as well, some married, others in committed relationships, and still others yet that are complete men-whores. And with the men-whores come the throng of women who are trying to get noticed by them, some accepting that it's just frivolous sex if they hook up but many hoping for something more lasting.

  Cassie Gates is one such woman, and I see her standing next to her sister, Allie, who's married to one of our defensemen, Kyle Steppernech. Great player, greater douche. Allie is a bitch. Cassie has her claws poised to sink into any available player. At one point she had her sights set on Alex Crossman, our team captain, and he took advantage of that for sure. But after he met Sutton, it was all over with Cassi
e. That didn't mean she went away though, and for a brief moment she turned her attention to me. I shut that shit down fast and made her perfectly aware I wasn't interested. Looks like tonight though her current target is poor Mikkel Erat, who is also a defenseman.

  Cassie's wearing a tight Cold Fury T-shirt that's straining to hold her breasts in, her cleavage so deep her navel's practically on display. She's got both arms wound tight around Mikkel, almost as if she's afraid she'll get left behind. She doesn't need to worry though. Mikkel can barely keep his eyes off her tits. He's not going anywhere tonight, and I sort of feel bad for the dude. His English is horrible and his accent thick, so I'm pretty sure he's not had the pleasure of having a deep conversation with her, so he probably doesn't get he's being manipulated.

  "Well, that's an interesting outfit she has on," Jules mutters dryly as she leans into me. I look down at her and see her eyes are pinned on Cassie.

  "She's a puck bunny," I tell her with an amused smirk.

  "A what?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she takes Cassie in, perhaps trying to see if she's got secret bunny ears or a tail.

  I laugh and pull her in tighter. "It's just a term for those women that want to hook up with a hockey player."

  "Oh," she says thoughtfully, then gives me a grin. "Well, I totally want to hook up with you so I guess that makes me a puck bunny like her."

  Shaking my head, my lips curved up, I tell her, "You are nothing like her. You are so not a puck bunny."

  As Jules laughs at me, I lead her over to a table where I see Hawke, Vale, Garrett, and Olivia. They've all got beers in their hands and just as I reach them a waitress materializes and takes our order. I ask for a Molson and Jules goes standard American with a Bud Light.

  "That's just nasty," I tease over her choice of beers.

  She sniffs, gives me a slight elbow to my ribs and retorts, "We can't all be as refined as you, Mr. Fournier."

  I throw my head back and laugh, because fuck, she's cute. She ignores me and turns to Garrett, who has his arm around Olivia. Jules puts her hand out. "And you must be Garrett?"