Defending the Reaper: A Standalone Steamy Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romances Book 5)

by G. K. Brady

  “No, usually not.” Her lips tipped up in amusement. “So I guess I’ll have no problems walking her that day.”

  “Yeah, about that. Thanksgiving, I mean.” The hurt hand dove back into his pocket. “Sonoma said you and Finn aren’t doing anything, and … well, Sonoma and I aren’t doing anything either—not that we usually do Thanksgiving together—but she thought … we both thought it might be nice for the four of us to spend it together. At my place. I’ll cook.” Now one of her eyebrows quirked. Yeah, he was totally blowing this. “You could bring Casper,” he tossed in.

  “And walk her at your place?”

  “Absolutely. If you want to. Totally up to you where you walk her, of course. Your place, my place. There’s a park right around the corner where I run with Benny … when I have him. I won’t have him at Thanksgiving, though, so Casper would be on her own. In the canine department, that is.” Either he was a complete and utter moron, or he was doing a damn fine job imitating one.

  Ellie must have agreed because her lips quivered like she was holding back a laugh. He couldn’t blame her. Should have texted instead. He braced himself for the shutdown that was inevitably coming any second now.

  “I can’t speak for Finn, but Casper and I would like to come. What can I bring?”

  Stupefied, he stammered, “N-nothing.”

  “Do you have time to get everything? Aren’t you playing a bunch of games between now and then? In fact, I think you play the night before, right?”

  She’s paying attention! A grin broke free. “Well, yeah, but it’ll be no big deal to get what I need.” I hope.

  “How about this, then? I have a greenhouse in my backyard where I grow herbs. Can I at least contribute those and some wine? Maybe something for the dessert table?”

  It was just sinking in that she’d accepted, and something cartwheeled through his stomach. “Yes!” he said a little too enthusiastically. He got himself under control. “In fact, I’ve been watching these cooking shows, and there are a bunch of recipes I’ve been wanting to try. Just didn’t have the audience to try them on.”

  Her eyes seemed to spark with interest. “Which shows?”

  “Pretty much anything on Food Network. I really like Beat Bobby Flay.”

  “I used to watch him. Not lately, though. Too busy to cook, but I do like to eat. Text me what you need, and I’ll raid my herb garden.”

  “I can do that.”

  It took an hour for his stupid grin to wear off.

  Chapter 16

  Of Turkeys and Spangles

  Ellie let out an inner groan. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving, and with the box social only weeks away, Sonoma had convinced her it was a good time to get outfitted for the dancing portion of the event. Now she was at Sonoma’s mercy. When Ellie had told herself to shop for new clothes, she’d never imagined the first store she’d step into would be a … a … she wasn’t sure how to classify it. Maybe it stood in a class of its own. Spangly, shiny, poofy things adorned the walls. She was surrounded by figure skaters’ costumes on steroids. Bigger, brighter.

  “Ya’ll come in. Don’t be shy,” said a platinum-blond bombshell who reminded her of a slighter version of Beth Chapman. “What can I help you ladies with today?”

  “My friend here is attending her first square dance, and she needs a prairie skirt and maybe some shoes?” Sonoma announced cheerfully. “And I’m in the market for something new myself.”

  Ellie’s eyes fastened on the vivid, satiny fabrics embellished with yards of lace. “Nothing too, uh, fancy for me, please.”

  Bounty Hunter Beth swept Ellie with appraising eyes. “Size six, I’d say.” The woman didn’t wait for her answer, instead making a beeline for a round packed with skirts in every color and pattern imaginable. “First square dance, huh? Got you a fella?”

  “No, I—”

  “She’s going with my cousin,” a grinning Sonoma offered as she riffled through the clothing.

  Because you strong-armed us! “But I don’t even know how to dance,” Ellie grumbled.

  “Doesn’t matter if you’re in the right man’s arms,” the shopkeeper declared with a flick of her hand. “He’ll take you where you need to go and have you thinking about the foreplay, not your steps.” She gave Ellie a sly wink.

  What the hell does that mean?

  Ellie didn’t get the chance to ask because the woman was busy plucking a dozen hangered skirts. She tossed them over her sturdy arm and maneuvered her way toward a back corner, pausing to snatch a few more from a different round. “A pretty thing like you won’t have any trouble finding a different partner if you don’t like the one you’re with.”

  Foreplay? Switching partners? Ellie kept her mouth from dropping open. What had she gotten herself into? Dave might not be her first choice—hell, the dance wasn’t her first choice!—but what a crappy thing to do to someone. Hopefully, he wasn’t the type to swap her for a different date. Except this isn’t a date!

  “Dressing room’s back here, hon,” Beth sang over her shoulder.

  Ellie stumbled after, feeling as though she’d fallen through a trap door into the twilight zone of square dancing. She stepped into the dressing room as Beth was arranging different skirts and colorful petticoats on pegs. Some were showy, like the other stuff in the shop, but others were muted. Ellie fingered the drabber fabrics, picturing Laura Ingalls Wilder tumbling through tall grasses.

  “Holler if you need anything. My name’s Beth,” the woman announced as she closed the door. Ellie nearly laughed out loud. Is her last name Chapman?

  She dropped trou and tried one skirt after another, disappointment growing with each one. The bright ones were positively loud. The petticoats that went with them added a puffiness that made her look like an overgrown baby doll. But the calicoes washed her out and hung on her hips like her cargo pants. “If you’re going to blow a wad, at least pick something that looks good,” Ellie’s reflection told her.

  Beth peered into the room, Sonoma right behind, decked out in an emerald-green-and-white-lace number that looked spectacular on her. Ellie let out a long-suffering sigh as she inspected herself in the mirror in blue-gray blah. “These just aren’t me. Well, they are, but they’re ...”

  “Boring,” Sonoma chirped.

  “Are you dead set on a prairie skirt?” Beth said.

  “I guess not, but I wanted to get something I could use for other occasions too.” Can’t afford to dump a lot of cash on a dress I’ll use once in my life. Can’t afford to blow a lot of cash on anything right now.

  With a snap of her fingers, Beth pivoted and rushed off.

  “You can totally pull off that look, Sonoma. That dress looks great on you! Especially with the burgundy hair. I’m envious.”

  Sonoma inspected herself before raising her blue eyes to meet Ellie’s in the mirror. “Thanks. I really love it. And don’t worry. We’ll find something you love too.”

  Ellie pinched her own skirt on either side and held it up skeptically. “This was the best of the bunch. What do you think? I mean, does it really matter since I’m only going to wear it once?”

  Sonoma crossed her arms. “Of course it matters. This is your first square dance, and you want to feel pretty.”

  Beth reappeared with several dresses, and Sonoma hopped out of her way, announcing, “I’m getting this one. I’m just gonna change.”

  After Beth had hung up the dresses and swished out, Ellie’s eye was drawn to an ivory one covered in bright red roses. Not her style, and nothing she would have ever picked for herself, but something about it made her smile. She wiggled out of her clothes and pulled the dress over her head. It was lightweight, flowy, and floral, and she twirled in front of the mirror. With a square neckline, smocked bodice, and fluttery short sleeves, it hugged her in the right places. A two-tiered ruffled skirt fell from a snug waist and floated around her calves. She stared at herself in the mirror and saw not a bedraggled landscaper, but a young woman dressed up for a party. How lo
ng had it been since she’d felt this feminine? Too long.

  Beth stuck her head in. “Oh, honey, you do wonders for that dress! Just got that one in, and I haven’t seen it on anyone, but it looks like it was made for you.”

  “Let me see.” Sonoma barged in holding her green outfit and came to a grinding halt. “Oh, Ellie!” she gasped. “It’s beautiful on you! It really brings out the creamy color of your skin.”

  Ellie took another spin, letting the skirt swirl around her as she looked over her shoulder and admired the square back with a tie at the top. “I’m not into floral, but I think I could get used to this one.” I am rocking this! Wait. Is this outfit gonna say “ready for foreplay”? Shit.

  Sonoma dumped her dress in Beth’s arms. “Well, we found the dress. Now let’s find some shoes to match.” She tugged Ellie from the dressing room.

  “You want something comfortable. They have some cute flats, but it’d be fun if we could find something colorful for you.” Sonoma’s eyes scanned a wall of shoes, and Ellie’s gaze followed. Soon that gaze wandered from the Mary Jane, T-strap, and crossover styles that were so not Ellie to a different wall that held cowboy boots in an explosion of colors.

  Ellie’s eyes wandered from turquoise to magenta to cobalt, resting squarely on a pair of cherry-red suede boots with a fringe cuff. These weren’t Ellie’s style either, but something about them called to her. “Sonoma, can you square-dance in cowboy boots?” Ellie had always wanted a pair of cowboy boots, and though she’d lived in Colorado her whole life, she’d never tried on a pair, much less owned one.

  “Sure, as long as they’re comfortable.” Sonoma turned just as Ellie plucked the sample boot from its shelf.

  Beth swooped in. “Love, love that boot with the dress,” she crooned. “Let me see if I have your size.”

  When Beth returned and Ellie pulled them on, she spun in front of a full-length mirror and nearly laughed and cried aloud at the same time. The look was perfect! Even better, they were comfortable, and she’d wear them and the dress more than once. It had been a long time since clothes had given her a lift, and her stomach was all aflutter—until she looked at the three-hundred-dollar price tag on the boots box. Oh shit! Why didn’t I check that before falling in love? Now her stomach settled below its starting point, and she sagged into her seat to tug them off.

  “These are out of my price range. Maybe I’d better stick with something less expensive?” As it was, the dress was already stretching her budget at a hundred and fifty.

  She settled on a boring pair of faux leather black Mary Janes that pinched her heels, but at fifty bucks, they were the cheapest option. With a sigh, she turned her purchases over to Beth and got dressed. Oh well. At least she had the pretty dress. When she exited the fitting room, Sonoma handed her one of two shopping bags.

  “What’s this?” asked Ellie.

  “It’s your new outfit.”

  “Oh. I didn’t expect it be bagged up already.” She set it on the floor to wrangle her wallet from her purse, and as she did so, she glimpsed the box of red boots inside the bag. “Wait. I was getting the Mary Janes.”

  Sonoma pushed at her hand holding the wallet. “Put that away. It’s all paid for. Dave’s treat.”

  Wait. “What?”

  “Dave told me to buy whatever you and I needed.” Sonoma grinned. “And no arguing.”

  Ellie’s gaze bounced between Sonoma and Beth. Beth gave her a knowing smile. “Honey, just relax and enjoy. Your man wants to spoil you.”

  “He’s not my man,” she started to protest, but Beth barreled ahead. “Trust me, you’re gonna have yourself a grand time. And if he’s as generous in bed as he is with his wallet …” She paused to fan herself dramatically. “My man’s that way, and I’ve been happily married for forty years. I knew the first time he took me in his arms on that dance floor that he was the one.” Then she winked salaciously. “You can learn a lot about the way a man moves in bed by watching his hips on the dance floor. I’m sixty-five and he’s sixty-seven, and we still make whoopee twice a week.”

  Ellie’s mouth dropped open and snapped closed before she croaked out a “Thank you.” Honestly, what else was there to say?

  Ellie parked in one of the designated visitor slots Dave had told her about. As she gathered Casper’s leash and a box filled with herbs, wine, and pumpkin-cream cheese cupcakes, she looked around for Finn’s truck and Sonoma’s SUV. Not here yet. She walked to the row house marked 3625, and before she could ring the bell, the door whipped open.

  “Hey, let me help you with that,” Dave said as he liberated the heavy box from her grasp. Then he propped the door open with his shoulder and motioned her in with a jerk of his head. She tugged Casper inside, though the dog was more interested in sniffing Dave’s bare feet than in following Ellie. Of course she was. Ellie bent to remove her booties, taking in the living room furnished with … gym contraptions. Such a guy way of decorating.

  He closed the door behind them. “You can leave your shoes on if you want.”

  “Is it okay to let Casper off her leash?”

  “Absolutely. Sorry for the tight space. This was supposed to be a living room, which is a total waste, so I turned it into my gym. Follow me. The actual living area is up here.” He headed up a staircase lining one wall, Casper right on his heels. “Any trouble finding the place or using the gate combo to get in?”

  “No, your instructions made it really easy.”

  The staircase opened onto a wide rectangular great room with a sleek kitchen at one end, and a large living space at the other. In between were a dining table and chairs for six, festooned with fall decor between place settings and a variety of glasses. By contrast to the festive table, the living area was stark, dominated by blank white walls, a humongous muted TV with a football game on, and an equally humongous black leather sectional. A heavy wood-and-iron coffee table with matching side tables and a navy-blue recliner filled the rest of the space. It looked as though someone had just moved in and hadn’t gotten around to decorating yet. In the background, the soft sound of a Spanish guitar played. Interesting blend of styles.

  Dave set the box on the kitchen island and returned to help her off with her coat.

  “Oh! Thank you.” Not used to gentlemen, though I’d like to be. She shimmied out of it.

  “I’ll just toss this in my room. Want me to get your purse out of the way too?” He held out his hand.

  “Um, sure.”

  “If you need it, it’ll be in the master bedroom. Just take a hard left at the top of the stairs.” With that, he jogged up yet another set of stairs, followed by his new ghostly white shadow on her four stubby legs. Wrapping her arms around herself, Ellie ambled toward the kitchen, where colorful foods were in various stages of preparation. Funny, she didn’t smell a roasting turkey.

  Dave brushed past her, startling her. She hadn’t heard him return nor felt him come up behind her. Her nose did pick up his scent, however: a wonderful combination of citrus, spice, and fresh woods. She suppressed the urge to follow the drift.

  “Can I pour you a glass of wine? Get you a beer? Make you a cocktail? I have flavored sparkling waters and some blood orange juice too.”

  She nearly coughed out a laugh. Was there such a thing as the “Sophisticated Wookiee”? Not that she’d thought of him as a Wookiee in a while. “A glass of red wine sounds good.” She heard a lapping sound and realized Casper was drinking out of a ceramic bowl beside the island. “Oh. Would you rather she didn’t—”

  “No, she’s fine. I set it out specially for her. Can I give her some dog biscuits?”

  “Sure. She’ll love you even more than she does now.”

  “Good. I need my dog fix.”

  He tossed a few Casper-sized biscuits, which the dog easily caught, before uncorking a bottle of red he poured into two goblets. Raising his glass in a toast, he said, “Happy Thanksgiving. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Ellie felt a blush rushing up her neck. “I’m g
lad I’m here too … um, we’re here. Casper and me.” What a dork! She took a quick sip. “I expected to see either Sonoma or Finn by now, though.”

  “Nome said Finn was gonna pick her up, but he had an errand to run and they’d be a little late.”

  “Oh! I didn’t realize they were coming together.”

  Dave’s eyebrows slowly raised. “Yeah, I think those two have something going on, but damned if Nome will spill anything.”

  “Same thing with Finn.”

  “Which means it’s serious,” they both said at the same time.

  With a deep, warm chuckle, Dave raised his glass again. “Here’s to fledgling love affairs. Not my thing, but more power to them. Let’s hope no one gets hurt.”

  Her glass kissed his, and she downed another sip, unsure what to make of what he’d just said. She put it aside and switched gears. “I have a bone to pick with you, Mr. Grim Reaper.”

  Now his eyebrows shot to his hairline, and his eyes went wide. “What did I do?”

  “You had Sonoma buy my clothes for the social square box dance thing.”

  His face relaxed, and a devilish grin formed. Oooh, it was a good look on him. “Box social. Square dance. And it was the least I could do after my cousin roped you into coming.”

  She started to protest, but he held up his hand in a stop-right-there motion. “No take-backs, and absolutely no paybacks.”

  I was afraid he’d say something like that. “I can’t take your charity.”

  He guffawed “What makes you think it was charity? I might’ve done it for my own selfish reasons.”

  “Such as?” She couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “Such as it makes me happy, so don’t shit all over my gesture or you’ll make me cry. Ever seen a Wookiee cry? It’s not a pretty sight.” The grin was still firmly in place.

  A laugh burst from her. “I expect it isn’t, what with the tears and snot and all that fur.”

  He laughed too, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Takes forever to clean up.”