by Keeland, Vi
“How’d she sucker you?”
Max grinned. “She smiled at me.”
We both laughed. “What are the dogs’ names?” Maggie asked.
“Fred and Four. I adopted Fred from the pound. My nieces named the Pomeranian. I always called the girls Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Three, so my brother started calling the dog Thing Four while they were trying to think of a name for it. It stuck, but I shortened it.”
“What do the dogs do when you’re on the road?”
“I have someone who comes and stays in my guest room. They take care of my apartment and my boys. It’s actually two sisters who do it as a business. I give them my road schedule in advance, and they work it out between themselves for the season. They’re dog lovers. It’s great because the dogs get to stay in their own home, so it doesn’t upset them too much when I leave for a few days. One of the sisters sells homemade organic dog treats, and she uses my kitchen when she stays, so they sample every batch. Sometimes I think they’re pissed when I come back.”
“Do you have any pictures of them?” Maggie leaned in. “If you do, it’s bonus points. Assholes don’t usually have pictures of their dogs on their phones.”
Max dug his cell from his pocket. “I think there are a few videos of them snoring, too. They’re bed hogs, and one snores louder than the other.”
Maggie pointed to me. “Oh, so like Georgia.”
“I do not snore.”
Maggie deadpanned to Max. “She snores. Loud.”
I laughed. “Just shut up and let’s see the dogs.”
Max punched in a code on his phone and slid it across the table.
Maggie picked it up and blinked a few times. “You’re just going to hand me your phone and let me look through your pictures?”
Max shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“I don’t know. Every man I’ve ever met hovers nearby, ready to snatch the phone out of your hands when a woman so much as looks at one photo.”
He laughed. “I don’t have anything on there to hide.”
Maggie started to swipe through the photos.
Max pointed. “There’s a folder called dogs somewhere. My oldest niece made it. There’re more pictures than you could ever want to see in it. My nieces make me text them photos. I made the mistake of deleting them once, and the little one cried. Now I keep them all.”
I leaned over Maggie’s shoulder as she opened the folder and started to swipe through. Most of the photos were just the dogs, but Max was in a few, too. I noticed her swipe lingered when we came to one of a shirtless Max wearing a backwards baseball hat. The man had an eight-pack carved into golden skin. She caught my eye and smirked.
“Do you have Georgia’s number in here?” Maggie asked.
“I do.”
She hit a few buttons, and my phone vibrated inside my purse. She winked. “I thought you might like to use that one for his contact photo. Just in case you forget what he looks like.”
When we were done looking through pictures of the dogs, Maggie slid the phone to the other side of the table. “Back to my questions. I think you were trying to distract me by showing those adorable photos.”
“You’re the one who brought up dogs,” Max said.
“Still.” Maggie shrugged. “Okay, next question. What’s the longest you’ve ever let food sit on the floor before you picked it up and ate it?”
Max raised a brow. “Are we talking sober or drunk?”
“Either.”
He hung his head. “I ate an Oreo that was on the floor for about five minutes. Actually, I wound up eating it out of the sink. It was the last one, and my brother and I were fighting over it. I’d scooped it off the floor and almost had it to my mouth when he knocked it from my hand and sent it flying across the room. It landed in a pot full of greasy water my mother had been soaking from dinner. It was probably floating in there for thirty seconds or so while we wrestled over who could get to it first.”
Maggie wrinkled her nose. “That’s kinda gross. But I won’t hold it against you since you were a kid.”
Max grinned. “It was six months ago. We were at my brother’s for dinner.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re lucky you got extra points for taking in your nieces’ Pomeranian and adopting from the pound,” Maggie said. “Because that just lost you one. Gross.”
Max waved her on. “Hit me with another one. I can win this. I know I can.”
“Alright.” Maggie stared off for a few seconds while drumming her fingers against the table. She then raised her pointer in the air, and I all but pictured a giant light bulb in a cartoon bubble above her head. “I got one. Food you eat frequently.”
“Easy. Cheerios.”
“Really? That’s weird. Not bread, or chicken, or even pasta or rice. Cheerios?”
“Yep. I freaking love ’em.”
Maggie shrugged. “If you say so. What about your favorite book?”
“Probably The Boys of Winter.”
“I don’t know it.”
“It’s about the nineteen-eighty Olympic hockey team.”
Maggie’s nose wrinkled, and she pointed to me. “Sounds as boring as the crap she reads. A few years ago I caught her re-reading The Great Gatsby. Who reads F. Scott Fitzgerald unless it’s assigned to you in high school? And even then, you skim and read the CliffsNotes version.” She shook her head. “Okay, next question. This one’s double or nothing, so you better answer it right. Do you or do you not have any plans to live in London anytime soon?”
Max flashed a dimple and looked at me. “Definitely not. I’m no dumbass.”
“Good answer.” Maggie grinned. “What’s something you like but are embarrassed to admit?”
Max hung his head again. “I sometimes watch Jersey Shore reruns.”
“Interesting. Would you rather hang out with Snooki or JWoww?”
“Snooki. No contest.”
Maggie took a deep breath and shook her head. “I was afraid of this.”
“What? Was JWoww the right answer?”
“No…not at all. You’re perfect for her. That’s why she won’t go out with you.”
“What do I need to do? Forget to hold the door and check out other women while she’s talking?”
“I’m not sure that will do it.”
“Umm...” I looked back and forth between Max and Maggie and pointed to myself. “You know I’m sitting right here, right?”
Maggie winked at me. She then proceeded to pick up her wine and chug the entire thing in one impressive gulp. She slapped the empty glass down on the table with a large aahh before abruptly standing.
“It’s been lovely, boys and girls.”
My face wrinkled. “Where are you going?”
“My job is done here. I think I’m going to pop over to Aaron’s lawyer’s for a booty call. All the testosterone in that arena got me in the mood.” She leaned down and kissed my cheek. “You two have a fun evening.” She wiggled her fingers at Max. “Take good care of my girl, Pretty Boy.”
Without another word, she turned and strutted for the door. I blinked a few times. “Well, that was…interesting.”
“Who’s Aaron?”
“Her almost ex-husband.”
Max’s brows shot up. “She’s booty calling his lawyer, not her own?”
“Yep.” I shook my head. “There’s an old saying—Never go to bed angry; stay awake and plot revenge. Maggie rewrote it as, Never go to bed angry; stay awake and have revenge sex.”
Max laughed. “I like her. She seems like a no-bullshit type of person.”
“She is.”
“Plus…” He reached across the table and weaved his fingers with mine. “She got you to come here.”
“That she did. Though I feel like I was duped. The only reason she pushed for us to come out was because she planned to duck out like she just did. I don’t know how I didn’t see that all along.”
“Thank you for coming to the game tonight.�
� He squeezed my fingers and looked down at my shirt. “I really like you in my jersey.”
My stomach did that fluttery thing it did every time we were alone. The man was just too damn sexy for his own good. Who the hell looked that good at eleven o’clock at night after playing multiple hours of intense sports? Why couldn’t he have some bruises and oozing things on his face to be at least somewhat hideous?
I stared down at our joined hands. “I liked wearing it. But…I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other. You seem like a really nice guy, but things between Gabriel and me… I just don’t know where they’ll end up.”
“But you’re fine going on Tinder for a hookup or meeting a guy you knew wasn’t someone you’d be into…”
“Those just seemed less complicated, for some reason.”
Max looked back and forth between my eyes. “What if I told you I was moving at the end of the summer?”
An unexpected pang of disappointment squeezed my heart. “Is that true?”
He nodded. “It’s not public yet. My contract here is up. My agent hasn’t worked out all the details, but as of this morning, it looks like I’ll be going to the Blades, out in California. I’ll have better postseason playoff potential with them.”
“Oh wow. So when would you go?”
“Training camp won’t start until the first week in September. But I’d probably want to be settled in by the beginning of August, at the latest.”
Max watched me intently as I absorbed what that meant. It was almost the end of April, so he’d only be around for a little over three months. I bit down on my bottom lip. “I don’t know…”
“Enjoy the summer with me. I’m not looking for anything serious, and I can tell we’ll have fun. But we’ll also have an expiration date, which will keep things less—as you said—complicated.”
It was a seriously tempting offer. I did want to date. At first it might’ve been only because Gabriel was seeing other people. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I realized maybe I needed some life perspective, too. A year ago I’d had my entire life planned out. Maybe I needed to stop planning and analyzing and just live a little, play things by ear? Though that sounded great, it also made my palms sweat.
“Can I…think about it?”
Max smiled. “Of course. That’s a hell of a lot better answer than no.”
After that, we stayed at the bar talking for a few hours. Then Max hailed a cab, and we both got in. My apartment was on the way up to his, so he told the driver to drop me first. When we reached my building, he pulled out his billfold and offered cash over the seat to the driver.
“Give me a few minutes so I can walk her up.”
The driver took a look at the bill and nodded. “No problem, boss.”
Max and I walked side by side to the door to my building.
“I’m on the road the next four days—games in Seattle then Philadelphia. My schedule kind of blows until the season ends. But that’s soon. And I’m having some people over next Saturday, if you’d be up for it. No pressure…but it is my birthday.”
“Really?”
Max nodded. “You can bring Maggie or someone, if you want. That way you won’t feel like it’s a date, if you haven’t decided on us yet.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
He opened my apartment building door and walked me to the elevator.
“Thank you for drinks and the ride home,” I told him.
After I pressed the up button, Max reached out and took my hand. He stared down at our joined hands for a long while before his eyes worked their way up. They stopped at my mouth, and he shook his head. “This is the second time I’m leaving you, and each time it gets harder not to kiss you goodbye.” His eyes met mine. The intensity radiating from them took my breath away. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad.”
I couldn’t say anything, though it seemed like he was waiting for a response. My brain was too busy sending electric currents racing through my body.
Our eyes stayed locked as Max took a pensive step forward.
Through my peripheral vision, I saw the elevator doors slide open. It was right next to us, so we both clearly heard it, too. Yet our gazes remained steady. Max took another step toward me.
I think I might’ve stopped breathing at that point.
Then he took another step, and our feet were toe to toe. Slowly, Max reached out and lifted one finger to my mouth. He traced my bottom lip from one side to the other, then his finger slid down over my chin, over the length of my throat, and stopped at the hollow of my neck. He spoke directly to the spot as he traced a circle. “I’m not even going to ask to kiss you. Because I won’t be able to control myself if you let me.” He shook his head. “I want to leave marks.”
Oh my.
Max swallowed. Watching his Adam’s apple work made me feel woozy. But it was nothing compared to how the way he was looking at me made me feel. Or maybe the lightheadedness came from the fact that I still hadn’t remembered to breathe.
My mouth grew dry, and my tongue peeked out to run wetness along my lips. Max’s eyes followed, and he groaned. Somewhere in the distance, I heard a bell ding, but the meaning didn’t register until Max held out his hand to stop the elevator doors from closing. He tilted his head toward the open car.
“You better go,” he growled. “I’m not ruining my chance before I’m even given one. But I hope you’ll give my summer proposal some thought.”
“I will.” I had to force myself to step into the empty elevator car. “Goodnight, Max.”
“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.” He grinned. “I know I’ll be having them.”
CHAPTER 5
* * *
Max
“What’s up, old man? You have kids doing all the work for you again?”
Otto Wolfman turned. He smiled but tried to hide it as he waved me off. “Who you calling old? If you take a look in the mirror, you won’t see the left wing who scored three goals the other night. I believe that man is enjoying a Philly cheesesteak back home in sunny Philadelphia.”
Oof. That one hurt. We got our asses kicked in Philly the other day. But this ball-busting with Otto was all in good fun. It always had been. I walked over to where he sat on the penalty bench, and we slapped hands before I passed him a coffee. For the last seven years I’d been playing at the Garden, Otto Wolfman had tended to the ice, but he’d also been here thirty-one years before that. The ornery old bastard reminded me so much of my dad, though I’d never told him that. Every Saturday morning, I came an hour or so before practice and brought him the sludge he preferred from the street cart down the block. I’d made the mistake of bringing him Starbucks once. Once.
He pointed to the young guy driving his Zamboni. “This idiot paid ten-thousand dollars to do this. Can you believe that? Some sort of an auction where a bunch of rich, Wall Street types bid on shit. What’s he, twenty-three?” Otto shook his head. “At least it’s for charity.”
I looked over at the ice. The guy navigating the Zamboni around the rink wore a giant smile. He was definitely enjoying himself. I shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat, I guess.”
“Got the weekend off after practice this morning, don’t cha?”
“Yep.” I sipped my coffee.
“Any big plans?”
I shook my head and chuckled. “Apparently, I’m throwing myself a birthday party.”
Otto’s bushy brows pulled together. “Apparently? You sound like you’re not sure.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on it. But then I told a woman I was so I could get her to spend time with me.”
“Would be easier to just ask her on a date, wouldn’t it?”
I frowned. “I did. Multiple times. She’s not sure she wants to go out with me. So I stupidly told her I was having people over tonight to make it seem casual. Figured she’d be more likely to say yes if it wasn’t just the two of us.”
“A woman shot you down?” Otto’s head bent back in laughter. “
That makes my day.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“What’s so special about this woman that she’s got you acting out of sorts?”
That was a damn good question. She had big, green eyes, smooth, pale skin, and a long, thin, delicate neck that made me feel like a damn vampire. But those felt like bonus points with Georgia. What I liked best was that she seemed to know who she was, and while she could poke fun, she was also proud and unashamed. Too many women wanted to be someone else.
I shrugged. “She’s just kinda real.”
Otto nodded. “Real is good. But listen, Pretty Boy. Nothing good comes easy. When I met my Dorothy, I was working security at a nudey bar downtown. I was young and handsome back then, having the time of my life with the ladies who worked there. I had to get a new job just so Dorothy would go out with me.”
“I ain’t buying the young and handsome part. But I get what you’re saying.”
“You players have no idea what it’s like to work for a woman. I see the half-naked women who cozy up to you any chance they get. It’ll do you some good to have your redwood-sized ego chopped down a bit. I like this woman already. I bet you she’s a smart one.”
“Might be too smart for me. Graduated from NYU business school and runs a successful company she started on her own.”
“My Dorothy has been a librarian for thirty years. She’s read more books than I’ve had beers. And you know how much I enjoy my Coors Light. So let me give you some advice.”
“What’s that?”
“Smart women don’t believe the things you say. They believe the actions they see.”
I nodded. “Good advice…for a change.”
We sat side by side for a moment watching the ten-thousand-dollar Zamboni ride.
“He’s doing a pretty good job.” I jabbed my elbow into Otto lightly. “You better watch out. I bet he can afford to pay fifty K to replace you.”
Otto scowled.
I laughed. “That’s payback for the Philly comment. Now tell me how your treatment’s going.”