by Harley Stone
“You got a name in mind?” Kaos asked.
“Mayhem,” Dylan replied.
Kaos chuckled. “That’s one you’re gonna have to earn, buddy. We’ll talk about it the next time we get you on the ice. You thought anymore about those turns I showed you?”
He was so good with Dylan it made my heart ache. Was this what a dad was supposed to be like? I’d never had one and I didn’t know…
But Kaos wasn’t Dylan’s dad. He was just a good man, letting us stay in his house. There might be feelings developing between us, but it was too soon for all that. Hadn’t I learned my lesson the last time?
I needed to get out of there… to go somewhere I could get my head on straight and my emotions under control. They were talking about stretches when I slipped out.
13
Kaos
MAN CAVES ARE traditionally located in basements or garages. Mine could be found on the third-floor landing of my house. Dark wooden shelves stocked with pictures, awards, and memorabilia from my hockey and Army days lined one full wall of the room, reminding me of where I’d been and what I’d accomplished. The opposite wall held a seventy-seven inch, 4k television, adjacent to a built-in fully stocked bar. It had been a major selling point of the house. Not because I was a lush or anything, but because it looked classy and grown up, and twenty-four-year-old me had been desperate to be seen as an adult.
Slipping behind the bar, I eyed the beer fridge, immediately dismissing it. The three beers I’d already drunk had done nothing for me. Tonight called for something stronger.
I wasn’t usually much of a drinker. Sure, I enjoyed the taste of a fine scotch or bourbon as much as the next guy, but I rarely overindulged. The last time I’d been rip-roaring drunk had come with four years of consequences, teaching me to pay closer attention to my limits. A wiser man would have marched right past the bar and locked himself in his bedroom, but unfortunately, I lacked both wisdom and willpower at the moment. I went straight for the hard shit, pouring myself a tumbler of twenty-five-year-old single-malt scotch. Flavor exploded on my tongue before burning all the way down.
It was some good shit.
Skating with Dylan had left me feeling sticky and in need of a shower. Leaving my glass on the bar, I headed through my attached bedroom and into the bathroom, shedding clothes as I went. Jerking off in the shower had become a necessity since Tina moved in, and as I stepped beneath the stream, my cock immediately rose to the occasion. With my thoughts affixed on her curves, it only took a couple of minutes to rub one out. The release helped sate my need, but it was far from satisfying. Kind of like settling for a salad when your body’s craving steak and potatoes that’ll stick to your ribs and last a while. Sure, the snack would keep me from starving to death, but it wasn’t what I wanted—what I needed—and I’d be hungry again in no time.
Toweling off, I slipped on a pair of sweats and headed back into my man cave. I wanted to keep walking… head right down those stairs and knock on Tina’s bedroom door. The more I thought about it, the harder it was to remember why that’d be a bad idea. Forcing myself to sit my ass down on a barstool, I considered my options and changed objectives.
Tonight, drinking wasn’t about enjoying a glass of good scotch.
No. If I was going to drink, I needed to get my ass so drunk I couldn’t move. That way, I’d have no choice but to stay upstairs and away from her. Plan in place, I let the liquor burn away my thoughts as I pulled out my phone and selected a playlist, connecting it to the surround sound. The feel-good vibes of Hawaiian music filtered through the room, easing some of the tension from my shoulders. I relaxed, letting the tunes carry away my worries while I drank alone.
Only I wasn’t alone for long.
As I finished the last of my second glass, Tina called out my name, her voice sounding uncertain as it rose up the stairwell from below. Turning, I spotted the top of her head. As she climbed, the rest of her appeared in a tantalizing reveal that had my full attention. She’d changed into a pair of sleep shorts that showed off her shapely legs and a loose T-shirt that did little to hide the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Especially with her still wet hair dripping on it.
My dick instantly hardened at the sight. She wasn’t a fucking salad; she was the steak and potatoes my body kept craving. And I was so damn starving I had no hopes of resisting her.
Thankfully, I didn’t appear to be the only one suffering.
I’d neglected to put on a shirt after my shower, and she was staring at my chest like she wanted to lick it.
Good. Let her be in agony alongside me.
Besides, even if I wanted to end her misery, standing was out of the question. I wasn’t wearing underwear, and the minute I stood, the tent in my sweatpants would be obvious as fuck. I kept my ass on the stool like a rude motherfucker, just trying to will away my boner.
She halted, taking in the space. I had no idea why she was there. She’d never come up to my lair before, and I sure as hell hadn’t been expecting a visit tonight. It couldn’t be Dylan. He fell asleep mid-sentence before I left his room. Judging by how exhausted the kid was, he was down for the count.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, hoping Matt hadn’t found a way to contact her.
Dragging her gaze up to meet mine, she nodded uncertainly. “Oh. Yeah. Everything’s fine. Great, even. I just… I came up here because I wanted to thank you.”
I tried to focus on the pink of her cheeks, rather than the pebbling of her nipples beneath her thin shirt, but it was a struggle. “To thank me?”
“Yep.” Another nod, this one more vigorous. “For helping Dylan today. Taking the time to work with him on the ice… it means the world to him. And to… to me. I know you said there’s no charge for coaching him, but I will pay you. Once I get back on my feet, I mean.”
God, her lips were fucking perfect. Every word they formed made me want to taste them. To see how they’d look against my skin. To watch them sliding up and down my cock. If she wanted to pay me, I could think of a few ways she could do it.
And fuck, I couldn’t believe my mind had gone there. But I couldn’t help it, either. I was so fucking desperate to touch her, I would have lied, stolen, or murdered for the chance. Extortion seemed like a drop in the bucket, comparatively.
“You never have to thank me for that. I enjoy hanging out with the kid.” I needed to shoo her ass back downstairs, but I didn’t have that kind of strength or self-preservation. Instead, I gestured at my glass. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I expected her to refuse—hoped and feared she would—but she didn’t. Instead, she perked up. “Do you have wine up here? That’s what I’ve been drinking, so I should probably stick with it.”
A little voice in the back of my mind kept pointing out that drinking with Tina was a very bad idea. Having never cared much for restrictions and limitations, I shut that little bastard down and nodded. “I’ve got just the thing.” Spinning my barstool to face away from her before standing, I tried to be discreet and not give her a show as I slipped behind the bar and poured her a glass of my favorite red blend.
When I turned back around, Tina had settled onto a barstool, looking like she planned to be there awhile. Accepting the glass, she sipped and beamed a smile at me.
A real smile.
It was the first one she’d ever blessed me with, and it stole my goddamn breath away.
Tina was gorgeous on a bad day, but that smile… holy shit, the woman was fucking radiant. I had to fight the urge to take a page from Wayne’s World and bow at her feet, chanting, ‘I’m not worthy.’ Instead, I calmly got myself together, refreshed my drink, and sat beside her. The clean, fresh scent of her soap wrapped around me, teasing and threatening to bring me to my knees.
“This is really good,” she said, angling her wine glass toward me. “Thank you.”
I nodded. “You’re welcome. It’s my favorite. I hide it up here so Carisa can’t find it.”
“She doesn’t clean up here?” Tin
a asked.
“Oh, she does, and I’m sure she knows about the wine, but she… she respects the power of the man cave.”
“Ah.” Tina’s eyes lit up with laughter as she looked around again. “I hope my presence here isn’t somehow disrespectful to the power of the man cave.”
“Not at all,” I admitted. “Strong, beautiful women only enhance the power of the man cave.”
She frowned at her glass. Not exactly the reaction I was going for.
I nudged her with my shoulder. “What’s that look for?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Come on. I’m the bartender tonight, which means you can tell me anything. Falls under bartender – patron confidentiality.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “It does, huh?”
“Absolutely. Bartenders have big ears and short memories. Whatever you say in this space, stays here. It’s the law. So, tell me what that look was for.”
She took another sip. “Well, I don’t feel very strong or beautiful.” She winced. “But that sounds like I’m fishing for compliments, and I’m not trying to do that. I’m just… I’m just a mess.”
“Aren’t we all?”
Her head whipped around, and she met my gaze. “You’re not.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No.” She gestured toward my wall of memorabilia. “You’ve won medals, earned your bachelor’s degree, served our country, and you have the resources and ability to help others. You’ve lived on your terms, and you didn’t let anyone hold you back.”
“Yeah, but I’ve also never had anyone to share my accomplishments with,” I admitted. “Living life on your own terms can get really fuckin’ lonely at times.”
I probably shouldn’t have said it—shouldn’t have opened up and shown her that vulnerability—but being around her and Dylan had really highlighted all the shit I’d missed out on. Besides, there was no taking my words back now. We sat in silence for a while, nursing our drinks as Tina bobbed her head to the music.
“You like this song?” I asked.
“Never heard it before, but it’s catchy. Surprising, though.”
“Why surprising?” I asked.
“It’s mellow and… upbeat. Aren’t bikers supposed to be into something a little darker and more anti-establishment? Shouldn’t you be up here raging against the machine or planning out your route on the highway to hell?”
I chuckled. “You sure do have some interesting theories about bikers.”
She winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out as judgy. I was really just messing with you. The bikers from your club seem… nice.”
She’d only met me, Tap, and Rabbit. Tap could probably be defined as nice, but Rabbit… Rabbit was fucking crazy. “No, you’re right. Rock and metal are usually what they play at the fire station, but I was a hockey player long before I was a biker. Had a teammate who introduced me to these tunes. Now, it’s what I listen to when I need to chill the fuck out.”
Her brow furrowed as she sipped wine. “Are you stressed about something?”
Not so much stressed as horny. And frustrated. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
“We’re not…” She seemed to struggle with the words. “If our being here is stressing you out—”
“It’s not,” I said, putting an end to that line of her thinking. “I like having you guys here. Breaks up the monotony and gives me someone to talk to. It’s nice.”
That seemed to appease her. She turned away, studying my wall of memorabilia. After a time, she asked, “What made you join the Army?”
It was one hell of an abrupt change of subject, and I cocked my head to the side, wondering what she wanted to hear.
“I mean, you clearly didn’t need the service to pay for your college. Were you after a certain experience? Or are you one of those wannabe superhero types?” The smile playing on her lips softened her words. I couldn’t tell if she was flirting with me or what.
“No. It’s nuthin’ as honorable as a superhero complex.” In fact, it was downright embarrassing, but I refused to sugar coat it or lie to her. “You sure you want to know? You’re probably gonna be disappointed. Might not ever look at me the same way again.”
“Oh?” She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Now I’m definitely interested. Do tell.”
“Well, I had a bit of an ego back before I joined the Army.”
She leaned closer, giving me a close up of her bright, hazel eyes, and it took everything in me not to fucking drown in them. “I’d imagine an ego is a requirement for athletes who play professional sports,” she said.
I smiled. “Thanks, but there’s no need to make excuses for my shitty behavior. Too many people let it slide over the years, and their leni… lenien…” Unable to get my tongue to form the word, I gave up. “And that shit didn’t do me any favors. Nowadays, I try to surround myself with people honest enough to knock me down a peg or two whenever I get to thinkin’ I’m all high and mighty.”
“Carisa…”
“She doesn’t knock me down a peg or two. She shoves me down the whole fuckin’ ladder, then beats me with it for my trouble.” My smile turned into a chuckle as I shook my head. “But yeah, I appreciate the hell out of her for it. Anyway, the team I was with decided not to renew my contract. My agent had secured a couple of other offers, but they were nowhere near what I thought I was worth. I was at the bar, throwin’ a fuckin’ toddler-sized tantrum and feeding my anger with whiskey when an Army recruiter plopped himself down on the stool next to me. He introduced himself, and some sort of dumbass bullshit came out of my mouth, sounding a lot like, ‘Oh, I always wanted to join the Army’.”
Tina giggled. Fucking giggled. It was the sweetest, most authentic, most musical sound I’d ever heard. I froze, staring at her and gobbling up every blessed second of it. She noticed, and her cheeks turned bright red. Straightening, she cleared her throat and said, “Continue.”
I needed to find a way to make her giggle again.
“Well, the recruiter pointed out that I wasn’t too old to join. My whiskey-to-brain-cell ratio was way out of whack, and I was pissed at the entire world for not recognizing me for the next Wayne Gretzky that I thought I was.” Okay, so that was a bit of an exaggeration, but her covered smiles and coughing laughter made it well worth it. I couldn’t tell if she was tipsy, or if I was so drunk I’d become a comedian, but it was working, so I ran with it. “Gave him my name, number, and email address, promising to come to his office the next day to sign up.”
Tina’s eyes widened hysterically. “You didn’t. I heard those guys are ruthless!”
“I did.” I finished off my scotch and stood to refill our glasses. The room swayed a little, but I got my bearings. “And he didn’t even get the chance to be ruthless because I made the mistake of calling my dad and telling him I was enlisting.” She cocked her head, expression confused, as if not understanding how my dad came into play, so I explained. “You gotta understand, my dad isn’t big on hockey. He was proud of the money and success I earned, but he saw sports as a child’s pastime. He wanted more for me. A man’s job.”
“That’s so weird,” she said. “I don’t understand why people are like that. You weren’t starving, you were getting paid big bucks for doing what you love, and you were happy. Why not be happy for you? No matter what Dylan does, I’m gonna be proud of him.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling vindicated. “But unfortunately, most parents have more… requirements for their children than happiness. Dad was so goddamn proud of me for enlisting. Prouder than I’d ever heard him be. He had that tone… the one he gets whenever one of my brothers does something to make him proud. I’d been workin’ my whole life to hear that tone directed at me, and I…” I shook my head. “I couldn’t let him down.”
She stared at me like I was speaking in another language. “You joined the Army to make your dad proud?”
“Sure did. It’s not as rare as you’d think. People do all
kinds of crazy shit to make their parents happy.”
“But you could have died.”
I neglected to mention that I almost did. “Coulda died driving to the school or practice. Coulda died crossing the road to get the mail.”
“Pretty sure the odds are much higher when you’re on active duty.”
She had a point, so I shrugged.
Tina sat back, frowning, and I could almost see the wheels spinning in her head.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Do you think Dylan’s always gonna want to make his dad proud?”
Just thinking about that piece of shit having any control whatsoever of Dylan’s emotional security made me grind my teeth. Matt didn’t deserve a kid as cool as Dylan.
Or a wife as sweet and caring as Tina.
Instead of answering her question, I blurted out one of my own. “Why’d you marry him?”
Her eyebrows rose.
“I mean… forget that. Fuck. You don’t have to tell me nuthin’. Excuse my nosy ass and pretend I didn’t ask.”
“No.” She drained the last of her wine. “I want to explain. He… You have to understand… he wasn’t that bad.”
“Okay.” Talk about the last thing I wanted to hear from her mouth. Not that bad? The fucker had tried to strangle her.
“At least, not at first,” she corrected. “I… I met him at a party my sophomore year of college. I hadn’t been to many parties, and I was young, inexperienced, and it was all so overwhelming. Er… that’s what I thought. Turned out the room was spinning from more than cheap booze and social anxiety. Someone roofied me. I don’t remember much about the experience.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, but I got lucky.” She grabbed my arm, and her hands felt good around my bicep. Comfortable, like they were meant to be there. “Matt found me passed out in a corner, and he took me to his apartment. Put me in his bed and let me sleep it off.”
“I’ll bet he did.”
“He didn’t try anything.” She gave my arm a squeeze. “When I woke up, I was fully dressed and… nothing had happened. He didn’t take advantage of my situation. He brought me Gatorade and soup and let me hang out there until I recovered. Then, he asked me out. I wasn’t really into him, but he was nice, and he’d rescued me from what could have been a very bad situation. I felt like I owed him a shot.”