My Lucky #13

by Piper Rayne

  I high-five her back and slide in next to Saige. “Hey,” I say like some thirteen-year-old boy who’s never talked to a girl. What is my malfunction?

  “Hi. Great game.”

  I want to ask her if she saw any of it because every time I looked at her seat, she was on the phone or not there at all. But that would alert her to the fact I was checking up on her.

  “Thanks.” I eye her over the rim of my beer, so she gets the point that I’m thanking her for more than the compliment. I’m thanking her for tossing the white wine at me.

  Her small smile says she understands.

  “So this is what you do when you win?” Tedi looks around the room. “You drink in a bar that has no dance floor?”

  “You wanna dance?” Ford asks her.

  “Yeah and…” She rises up on her knees and looks around. “Where’s Tweetie?”

  Ford glances my way and laughs as if this girl can’t be serious. I’m sitting right next to her and she’s asking for Tweetie?

  I snicker as Saige thanks the waitress for bringing her a white wine. I snicker again. Then the waitress sets a bottle of beer down in front of Tedi.

  “Tweetie isn’t here yet,” I say.

  “Oh.” The disappointment is clear in Tedi’s tone. She and Saige share a look that says maybe they should just leave.

  I’m not ready to call it a night with her yet.

  “You know I’m the right wing, right? Ford Jacobs?” He sticks out his hand and everyone at the table can see Tedi bruised his ego.

  “I know who you are.” She’s obviously not impressed at all. I’m shocked, because usually the ladies love Ford and his flirtatious personality.

  “Maybe I need a little good luck charm like Drake.” Ford nods in my direction and gives me the once-over.

  “Good luck charm?” Saige asks and tilts her head.

  “There’s no shame in it. You’re not the first one to improve a man’s game that way.”

  Damn it. I lower my head.

  “Why would there be any shame?” Saige asks, her narrowed gaze on me.

  “I just mean that Drake was lucky to find you. You’re turning his game around,” Ford says.

  “Well, he might think it’s me, but I don’t.”

  Ford looks at her as if she’s insane. “I thought you understood the whole athlete thing. Maksim said you were a social media person or something.”

  Saige glares at me then leans over the table toward Ford. “What exactly are you under the impression I do for him before a game?”

  “Ford.” I clear my throat.

  He laughs. “I don’t wanna embarrass you.”

  “Embarrass me?” she asks.

  I’m desperate to end this conversation and where it’s headed. I tug on Saige’s sleeve. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

  She doesn’t even turn to look at me when she says, “No. Now tell me what Aiden told you.” Her voice is more demanding.

  “He didn’t have to tell me. It was clear.” Ford sips his scotch on the rocks and smirks at her. “No judgment.”

  Tedi grabs his nipple through his shirt and twists. “Tell her what he told you.”

  “Jesus, woman!” Ford tries to get Tedi’s hand off him and looks at me as if I’m actually going to help him. I’d laugh if I wasn’t worried about one of them kicking me in the balls.

  This whole thing screams immature teenage boy shit, which is not the impression I want to give Saige.

  “Get off me.” Ford pulls at her fingers.

  “Tell her.”

  “Tedi, it’s fine. Let him go. I’m sure Aiden will fess up.”

  Both women turn toward me, but Tedi has yet to take her fingers off Ford’s nipple. I hold my hands in the air.

  “Hey, I thought it’d be my nipples getting twisted tonight.” Tweetie joins us, sliding in next to me, blocking my escape for after I tell Saige how juvenile I am.

  “Tweetie!” Tedi exclaims, releasing Ford.

  Ford stares down at his chest and swears again. “Good luck with that one, Tweetie.” He slides out of the booth and heads back to the bartender.

  Tedi follows him out of the booth, but only to join Tweetie on his side. Damn it all to hell.

  Saige scoots farther away from me, but then she’s sliding out of the booth. “Take care, Tedi. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

  Tedi waves, but she’s way more enthralled in Tweetie and his beard.

  “Whoa, where are you going?” I follow her.

  She stops short of the doors. “Listen, I don’t appreciate having rumors spread about me.”

  “I didn’t spread any rumors.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Aiden. I know what your friend thinks I did for you.”

  I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “He assumes because that’s what kind of person he is.”

  “And you didn’t correct him? You’re just as bad then.” She turns toward the door.

  I grasp her elbow to stop her. “Wait! I did tell him, he just doesn’t believe me. I just… I’ve never been in this situation before. To need something from someone else to make my game better. It’s ludicrous, I know.”

  Her angry demeanor softens first with her shoulders, then her eyes. “I can’t continue on with this if people think I’m sleeping with you just to improve your game.”

  I hold up my hand. “I know. I know. Give me a minute to clear this up?”

  “I should go.” She glances toward the door.

  “Please? Just give me a second and then let me buy you a drink as a thank you.”

  She doesn’t say anything, so I use the opportunity to embarrass the hell out of myself. I’m going to be razzed about this for years, but it’ll be worth it.

  I stand on a nearby table, thankful it’s a weekday and the bar isn’t as crowded as it gets on Fridays and Saturdays. In fact, it’s mostly our team here. I use two fingers and whistle to grab everyone’s attention. Everyone quiets and I suddenly regret this decision. But I own my mistakes, and for some reason, I want Saige to know that about me.

  “Okay, okay! As you all know, I’ve been out of my funk for the past two games.”

  A roar of shouts commence.

  I glance toward the door where Saige stands. “I’ve never been a superstitious guy, as you all know. Never needed it.”

  They all call out “cocky bastard, arrogant ass, Shamrock.”

  “But someone has changed that. On New Year’s Eve, I met her, and what happened at midnight is what I think has turned my game around.”

  Saige cocks an eyebrow.

  “No kissing and telling!” one of my teammates yells and a few others laugh.

  “I didn’t kiss her.”

  “No fucking and telling!” another one yells.

  “I didn’t fuck her. All she did was throw white wine in my face.” I wave Saige over and squat on the table, asking the waitress to grab me a bottle of white wine. “You all need to know that was all that happened. That’s it. Some of you might share Ford’s dirty mind or assume I just wasn’t coming out and saying that we slept together but that’s not the case. We did not sleep together. And so, I welcome her to do it again as penance for me putting her in the position to be embarrassed in the first place.”

  Saige shakes her head with a small grin. The waitress comes over and pours the glass, holding it out to Saige. When Saige still refuses, the waitress throws it in my face with a laugh. Then Tedi jumps off Tweetie’s lap and pours a glass of wine, tossing it in my face right after with a huge smile on her face. Yeah, she’s enjoying this. My tongue slides out and I lick my lips.

  “Anyone else?” I ask good-naturedly.

  A few of the girlfriends and wives come over and dump more drinks on me with smiles, relishing the opportunity to get in on the action.

  I look at the last of the wine bottle and wave it in front of Saige. “Come on. Finish me off.”

  “Poor choice of words,” she says but walks toward me anyway. “You know it was childish to let
them think you’ve had your way with me? That I would even sleep with you in the first place?”

  “I do.”

  She takes the bottle out of my hands and tips it over my head. “I’ll forgive you once, especially since you fessed up like a man.”

  I hop down from the table and the bartender throws me a clean rag to wipe my hair and face. No matter what, this suit is getting dry cleaned.

  I look at Saige with complete sincerity because I’m really not one of those guys. “I’m really sorry, Saige. It was never my intent, but regardless, I should’ve set the record straight as soon as I knew what they thought.”

  She nods. “Thank you. I appreciate your apology.”

  “Then you’ll let me buy you a drink and you’ll stay?”

  “Sure.”

  But as soon as she says it, the door to Carmelo’s opens, and Joran steps through. Just my luck.

  Aiden and I look toward the door and disappointment washes over me like all that wine just did Aiden. I shouldn’t feel let down when Joran walks through, arms raised, shouting to the team about what a great game it was.

  He spots Aiden and walks over, but stops short when he sees me. “Saige?”

  “Hey, Joran.” I wave like an idiot.

  Joran and I are far from an exclusive couple. We’ve gone on one date and a few lunches because his schedule is so busy, so I shouldn’t feel as if I just got caught doing something I shouldn’t.

  He winds his arm around my waist and kisses my cheek. “What a surprise. You were my next call. Just finished up with work stuff.”

  I smile and let him touch me, but my vision shifts to Aiden, who’s intently watching Joran’s hand on my hip.

  There’s no way a guy like Aiden could be jealous of Joran. They couldn’t be more opposite. Now that I know him better, I can tell that Joran is the type of guy who’s always “on” and I doubt anyone ever sees the real him. Whereas Aiden is quiet and reserved. You never know what he’s really thinking, but when he speaks, he means what he says. Those dark eyes are fixed on you, and it’s unnerving and electrifying all at once.

  Joran dislodges from me and pulls Aiden into that handshake-man-hug thing guys do. “Two games in a row. I told you, you’re the man.”

  Aiden looks at me over Joran’s shoulder, and I swear there’s guilt lining his face. “Thanks. It feels good to be back.”

  Joran excuses himself and heads over to the bar. “Give me your best bottle of champagne.”

  The waitress, who first poured the drink on Aiden and whose name tag reads Brielle, says, “Look around. This isn’t the Ritz.”

  Joran puts his arm around Brielle and whispers something to make her push him off. I catch Aiden glancing at me from the corner of his eye and the entire thing makes me uncomfortable. I feel as though Joran forgot I was even here. Even if we’re not exclusive, there’s such a thing as being courteous.

  “He’s just a flirt,” Aiden murmurs. “Want to grab a booth? Or go back to Tedi?” The booth where I left Tedi is vacant and Aiden must notice because he laughs. “Man, she works fast.”

  “It’s her fuck-it bucket list,” I say as if it’s an excuse, but who cares? If she wants to screw Tweetie or whatever his name is, so be it. She’s a grown woman and it’s her business. “He’s a good guy?”

  “He’ll take care of her,” Aiden assures me.

  That’s all I need to know so that I can sleep well tonight. Not that Tedi can’t take care of herself. I’ve always admired how tough she is.

  “Then do you want to sit?” He gestures to a booth.

  “Sure.”

  I lead the way to the same booth we were in before and slide in. Aiden is polite and sits across from me instead of sliding into the middle of the circular booth.

  “Don’t you want to shower?” I ask him. He has to be sticky from all that wine.

  “Nah. I’m where I want to be.”

  My face heats with what I’m sure is a blush I hope the dim lighting hides.

  “Well, it’s not much, but we’re celebrating.” Joran folds himself into the booth, holding three champagne glasses and a bottle.

  “Hey, Brielle,” Aiden calls and holds up his beer.

  She nods to say she got his order.

  “I’m good, Joran, but thanks for the thought,” Aiden says. “That shit gives me a headache.”

  Joran’s shoulders deflate, but he recovers quickly, pouring himself and me a glass and raising his in the air. “To whatever the hell got you back on your game.”

  We clink glasses and Aiden holds his bottle up, gaze on me the entire time.

  Ever feel as if you’re doing something wrong even though you’re not? Right now, I feel as though I made out with Aiden in the back hallway then came out here, but we haven’t stepped over any line. Everything between us has been strictly platonic. I owe Joran nothing, but a part of me says that I’m playing games.

  “It’s me!” I blurt.

  Aiden almost spits out the beer he just swallowed, his eyes wide in surprise.

  “What?” Joran asks, but his phone rings and he pulls it out at the same time.

  “I mean, it might not be me. I don’t believe in superstitions and I certainly don’t think I’m a part of one.”

  Aiden purses his lips to stop from laughing as I try to backpedal my way out of this.

  To my surprise, Joran silences his phone and sets it on the table. I’m sure I’m not the only one who sees his body tense and his eyes laser in on Aiden. “What exactly did she do to become part of a superstition?”

  I throw my hands in the air. “Why does everyone in here think it’s sex?”

  Is that all these hockey players think of?

  “Because they’re testosterone-filled athletes,” Joran says. “Sex is usually part of the superstition—whether they can have it or not have it, who they can have it with, or whether that matters at all. Ask any player in this room and I bet each one has a superstition about it.”

  I look at Aiden and he diverts his gaze, sipping his new beer Brielle just dropped off.

  “Is that true?” I ask.

  Aiden makes a dramatic swallow as if he’s taken by surprise. “Joran has a point, but as for me, I’ve never believed in superstitions, so…” He shrugs.

  I swivel around in the booth, looking over the guys and spot who will tell me the truth. “Ford!”

  “Wrong person to ask,” Aiden mumbles.

  Ford comes over and slides in next to Aiden, making Aiden slide closer to me, which means his knee brushes against mine. I ignore the tingles rushing up my leg.

  Ford asks, “What’s up, sweet thing?”

  Aiden eyes him with an annoyed expression.

  “Saige,” I correct.

  “Sorry. What’s up, Saige?” Ford overemphasizes my name.

  “What’s your superstition about sex?”

  Ford’s eyebrows scrunch. “As in how it will affect my game?”

  I nod.

  “The more the better. I need to have sex in order to have a great game. One time I had three women at once and I had the best game of my life.” He winks at me.

  “Told you,” Aiden says under his breath.

  “So it’s normal for athletes to have this superstition?”

  Ford looks at Aiden as though he needs his permission to respond. Aiden nods. “Of course. Some only fuck when they win, others refrain during the playoffs, others won’t have it with one regular woman, others only do regulars. For some, it can be a specific woman for a specific city we’re playing in. It varies.”

  I shake my head. “Unbelievable.” I sip the champagne that’s not good at all. I’d much prefer my white wine, but I don’t plan to be here much longer.

  “Why is it unbelievable?” Aiden asks.

  Joran’s phone rings again and he excuses himself. Seriously? He doesn’t even care to stick around to see exactly what the superstition is? Good thing I’m not invested in what’s happening between us.

  Aiden’s knee touches mine
and I suck in a breath before I say, “You guys use women.”

  “Whoa!” Ford raises his hands. “We’re getting used too. Most of those women don’t care about us at all. They only want to brag they had us in the sack. Like your friend Tedi.” Ford raises a questioning eyebrow.

  Aiden says nothing, but I can almost read what he’s thinking. Tedi has a fuck-it bucket list.

  I concede that point. “Sure, okay, but they can’t all be like that. I’m sure you’ve broken some hearts.”

  Ford moves his head side to side. “Who’s to say my heart hasn’t been broken?” He can’t even keep a straight face before bursting out laughing. “There are all kinds of hockey players. There are some married men, guys who have steady girlfriends or boyfriends, some like Drake here who finally believes in superstitions and is having his agent’s girlfriend throw wine in his face.” He shakes his head as though he’s disappointed in Aiden.

  “I’m not Joran’s girlfriend,” I clarify, and immediately wish I could take back the words.

  Just then, Joran returns to stand at the end of the table. “Hey, I’m sorry. I gotta go. One of my clients is in trouble.” Joran leans over the table and kisses my cheek. “You’ll get her home safe, Aiden?”

  Everyone at the table is silent.

  “I’m sure Drake can handle that, right?” Ford claps Aiden on the back, laughing and sliding out of the booth. “Always a fire to put out, right, Joran?” He doesn’t wait for Joran to say anything before leaving us.

  “I’ll get her home,” Aiden says, his eyes on his beer, his fingers picking at the label.

  “Thanks, man. And way to go. Keep it up until trade deadlines and we’ll have tremendous bargaining power at the end of the year.”

  Then Joran leaves, out the door as though he was never here in the first place.

  I push away my champagne. “What is he talking about… trade deadlines?”

  “Hey, Brielle,” Aiden calls to the waitress. She turns before heading back to the bar. “Can you get Saige a white wine, please?”

  “Actually, I’ll have a vodka soda with a lime.”

  Brielle smiles and nods.

  “So is that your drink?” Aiden asks.

  “Answer my question first.”

  He stops twirling his beer bottle around. “Trade deadlines are at the end of February. Rumor is if I don’t pick up my game, I’ll be traded to another team.”