by M. E. Carter
As she opens the door, I realize I like the way she looks too because Holy. Shit.
“You look… wow,” I breathe practically rendered speechless.
Her face flushes slightly, just like it does when she orgasms. Now is not the time to think about that, though. I’m here to take her on a proper date, not push her back into her apartment and ravage her. Although it is tempting…
“Lauren gave me a makeover today. You like it?”
“Yeah. I mean, I like you without it but you look so, so…”
“Hollywood glam?”
“That’s it.”
It’s the exact right phrase, too. Her lips are bright red and her eyes pop somehow. Maybe it’s the extra eyeliner she has or her lashes. I’m not sure, but the dark blue has just come alive. Her lavender-colored hair is sleek and smooth, one side pinned back. I know her clothes are on point, too, but I can’t get past those pouty lips long enough to look harder at what she’s wearing. She reminds me of a pin-up girl.
“Thank you. I honestly thought I was going to look like a clown when Lauren was done, but she’s pretty talented with makeup brushes.” Grabbing her purse from a small table, Ellery pulls the door closed behind her. “Are you ready to go?”
Taking her hand in mine, I intertwine our fingers, her tiny little fingers engulfed by my big paw. She smiles shyly but doesn’t seem to mind. Slowly, we make our way to my truck.
“Where would you like to go for our first official date?” I know it may be early to allude to having more dates in the future but I’ve never met anyone like this woman. I don’t want her second-guessing my intentions.
“I hadn’t thought about it. I just assumed you’d decide.”
“I almost did but then I realized I’d like to take you someplace you enjoy.”
Ellery thinks and then settles for the cop-out. “What do you like?”
I give her a pointed look. “I didn’t ask where I’d like to go. I’m trying to make you happy. What do you like? What is your favorite restaurant or bar? Favorite food on a night out.”
“I…” She blinks a few times, truly and completely stumped. “I don’t know.”
“Really? Or is this one of those things women say because they want French fries, tacos, and cheesecake and you can’t get all that at the same place?”
Ellery bites her plump red lip, which she seems to do a lot when she’s nervous. I hope I have a chance to bite it later. “I never thought about what I like before. Kevin used to just know where he wanted to go and I guess it’s in my nature to care about what others think. I’m so sorry,” she backpedals quickly her face pinkening again. “I can’t believe I brought up my ex-boyfriend while I’m on a date with you. That was so rude. I’m really not missing him, I swear.”
“Ellery,” I say with my most reassuring voice knowing she’s kicking herself internally. “It doesn’t bother me if you bring him up. You were with him for a long time and it’s still new to be without him. He’s still going to cross your mind for a while. Just because I’m taking you out, doesn’t mean I want you to censor your thoughts.” I open the truck door and guide her in the seat before asking her the question I know is going to be hard for her to answer. “But let me ask you something, do you really have no preference about where we eat? Or did that idiot never ask your opinion, so you’ve forgotten what you like?”
She blinks rapidly for a few seconds. Like I thought, I’ve stumped her. “I’ve always wanted to go to a hibachi grill,” she finally blurts out in a rush.
I smile in response, glad to see she’s starting to feel confident enough to tell me what she wants, and a little excited to get some ideas for my own recipes. “Then Hibachi it is. Watch your legs.”
I shut her in and make my way around the front of the cab, happy to have her sharing her opinions. Where to eat may be a small one, but I’m interested to know what she thinks about a lot of things, so I call this a win.
The drive to the place I know is about fifteen minutes. Long enough to make small talk about her job and some big promotion she seems really excited about. We talk about my love of cooking and the homemade Alfredo sauce I’m trying to perfect. She asks about my practice schedule during the off-season which I have no problem answering. But I deflect any questions related to my surgery. It’ll just put me in a bad mood and I don’t want that for our first official date. I don’t want it for any date, actually. But this one, in particular, seems special. Not just for me, but for her, and I want her to have good memories of it to fall back on when I’m out of commission for a couple of months.
The restaurant parking lot is pretty full, but I finally find a space and pull in.
“Should we have gotten a reservation?” Ellery asks as she looks around.
“For two of us, I don’t think it’ll take too long. They’ll probably slide us in at a table with a family to fill in the last couple of spots anyway.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “We won’t sit alone? We’ll be with other people?”
“Oh yeah. It’s a lot of fun. You ready to make some new dinner friends?”
She nods excitedly and I’m pleased at how much fun she’s already having and we’re not even inside yet.
Pulling the door open, Ellery’s eyes close and she takes a full breath in, enjoying the wonderful smell of Japanese food. When her eyes open again, she takes in the room, delight dancing in her eyes.
It’s a fairly stereotypical restaurant. Close to a dozen tables set for eight with a grill built into each one, are scattered around an open room that boasts lots of woodwork and decorative art pieces.
I hold up two fingers when the hostess asks how many are in our party and am pretty excited when she immediately seats us along with a family of five.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding we wouldn’t have to wait for long,” Ellery remarks as we sit.
“That was sheer luck. So, what do you think of your first hibachi grill experience so far?”
She looks around, nodding in greeting at the other adults at our table, which I assume are the parents of the kids also sitting with us.
“I’m really excited to see things catch on fire.”
I bark out a laugh at her candor. “Yeah, that is pretty exciting. Hand me your phone.”
Her brow furrows slightly. “What?”
I hold my hand out. “Your phone. I assume you’re going to want some pictures of your reaction the first time the flames jump.”
“Uh, no. I think it’s best if there is no record of how dumb I look when I squeal or whatever.”
I shrug knowing I have a phone too and I’ll be documenting this experience even if she doesn’t know it.
Just then our teppanyaki chef arrives and the show begins.
Ellery orders a shrimp dinner and I go with the chicken. My stomach grumbles and I’m looking forward to dinner, but not before the magic happens.
Our chef flips and spears and lights things on fire. I get several candid shots of Ellery and her reactions. We also laugh when one of the kids at our table begins crying, afraid her food is “going to be burnt up”. We have a great time and our chef puts on an amazing show.
When we’re finally tucked into our dinners, things get quieter and open up the opportunity for more conversation.
“Was your first time here everything you hoped it would be?”
I assume it is. The smile hasn’t left her face since we got here, but I want to hear it straight from her.
“More. That thing he did when the flame got so big—I thought he was going to burn the place down!”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never come to a place like this before.”
She swallows some rice before responding. “Kevin is an inspector for the health department so he doesn’t make a lot of money. A place like this was out of his budget.”
I highly doubt that, but if it’s what Ellery wants to believe, there’s no harm in it. It just means I lose a little more respect for the guy. I can’t help but wonder if he’s o
ne of those guys who has a health department badge he wears around so he can pretend he has some kind of authority over people.
Seriously, the more I know about him, the less I like him.
“Good food is never out of my budget,” I joke, trying to lighten up my own feelings on the matter.
“I’m with you there. This is amazing. And I’m surprised how comfortable it is sitting with strangers.”
One of the kids across from us flips a pea at her brother with a spoon, nailing him in the forehead. We both laugh at their antics.
“You ever want kids?” I ask. “Not now, I mean. But in the future.”
She thinks for a second as she chews and swallows. “I think so.”
“You don’t sound very sure.”
“I’ve always assumed I’d have them, just never put much thought into when. I was an only child and my parents had me when they were older so I guess it seems like I’ve got a lot of time. What about you? Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Two sisters actually. Both younger so I feel like I’ve already raised some kids.”
Ellery giggles. “I’m sure your mother would disagree with you about that.”
“Oh, I know she would. She has no understanding of the sense of responsibility big brothers feel.”
“I like that you love them so much. Do they live close?”
“Nah. They’re in Vancouver.”
Her fork pauses mid-air. “You’re Canadian?”
Her reaction makes me smile. People around here are always surprised to find out I’m technically a foreigner. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“If you tell me that you’re friends with Justin Bieber, I may have to reconsider this relationship.”
“Ha. Ha. And you tell Matthew McConoughey I said hi next time you see him.”
Ellery pushes her now empty bowl away with a smile. “Seriously, though. That must have been a huge change, just in climate. Canada to Central Texas?”
“I admit, I spent more time on the ice than necessary just to cool off when I first got here. I think my body was in shock.”
“So, you’ve been playing hockey your whole life then?”
“Pretty much.” My stomach clenches at the reminder that it could all be going up in smoke if this surgery doesn’t go as planned. And unlike our dinner, there’s no one to fix my career if it does.
Based on the look in her eyes, she knows we’re veering into difficult territory.
“When is your surgery?” she asks quietly.
Having lost my appetite, I push my bowl away, too, and quickly wave off a server who offers us dessert.
“Wednesday.”
“You nervous?”
“Not about the surgery.”
“You’re nervous about your ability to play again.”
I glance up at her seeing nothing but compassion in her eyes. It isn’t pity. It’s like a genuine understanding of what I’m going through.
“How did you know?”
“I don’t remember if I told you I was a competitive gymnast all the way through college.” I nod, vaguely remembering something about it from a couple of weeks ago. “Injuries weren’t uncommon and by college, you’re at the tail end of your career. It was so much harder to make a comeback after surgery at twenty-one than it was at fifteen. I don’t know exactly how old you are, but I assume you aren’t twenty-one anymore and you get kind of stiff whenever the surgery comes up in conversation. Obviously, I’m jumping to conclusions, but am I close?”
I’m impressed with her ability to deduce why this is hard for me. And admittedly, it’s a tiny bit nice knowing she understands how I feel. She’s not a gymnast anymore and she’s found a place for herself. It’s not encouraging per se, but I suppose it takes a bit of the edge off.
“I’m thirty-one. Most guys are already retired by this age. I honestly don’t know if I’ll have a job six months from now because of all this.”
Ellery puts her hand on mine and I immediately flip it over so our fingers clasp together.
“I can imagine how scary that is.”
“What am I going to do if I can’t come back from this?”
I’m shocked by my own candor. It was one thing to share this question with my coach. I’m not the first one he’s pushed into retirement. He’s seen the outcome before and has networks he can reach out to if I need them. But it isn’t Ellery’s job to push me out of my comfort zone and help me find who I am outside of the sport I love. Yet here she is, looking at me with such understanding it makes it easy for me to open up. Almost too easy.
“You find something new that you love almost as much as hockey.”
“That’s accounting for you?”
“Oddly, yes. I like the stability of numbers. That there’s always a right and wrong answer. There’s no grey area to sort through. For me, the repetition is almost calming.”
I want to ask her more. Like how she discovered her love of numbers and when she knew it was the career path she wanted to take. But this conversation has started to take a depressing turn that I don’t like.
Clearing my throat, I gesture for the bill. “Well, maybe I’ll find something I like just as much at some point.”
Seeming to recognize that I want to move on, Ellery shifts in her seat, no longer leaning in as close as she was. I’m grateful to move on to lighter topics, but not thrilled about her distance.
“Do you already have a ride home from the hospital and someone staying with you?” she asks with a nonchalance I appreciate.
“Tucker… you know Tucker Hayes?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He’s the guy who makes me go to Trivia Night at the bar and wear an ugly green shirt.”
“Ah,” she says with a smile. “And he’s terrible at pool.”
I smile at the memory of him getting whooped by Dwayne the first night she and I met. “That’s him. He’s a good friend and is going to get me home.”
“But what about after?”
“I’ve hired an at-home nurse to help me for a few days.”
By the look on her face, she’s not pleased with my answer. “There’s no one else who can stay with you? No one from your family can come?”
“From Canada? Nah. They all have their own lives.”
She gives me a look of understanding. “You didn’t tell them about it did you?”
I look away, embarrassed to have been caught. It seemed like the best idea before, but now that she’s called me out, it feels a little different.
Tossing my credit card on the bill without looking at the total, I try to deflect. “There’s no reason to worry them unless I have to. I love my mom but she would freak out more than necessary.”
Ellery assesses me, searching for a lie I’m sure, but there is none. It’s not the whole truth—I just didn’t want to tell them. But I’m not wrong about my mom either.
Satisfied with my explanation, she nods once. “Can I at least come over and help you in the evenings after work? Cook you real food instead of letting you subsist on take-out until you can meal prep again? You are an athlete after all. Three months of junk food won’t help you get back on the ice.”
“You don’t have to cook, but I won’t turn down the attention of a beautiful woman.”
“It’s probably better if I don’t cook,” she admits. “Unlike one of us, it’s not my forte. But I can order a mean grilled chicken salad from this great deli by my house.”
“Sounds perfect.”
We head to the car and drive around for a little bit, with nothing to do. I’d love to keep her out longer, but with surgery coming up, I’m putting in extra work at the arena while I can. Ellery doesn’t seem to mind.
As I drop her at her apartment and walk her to her doorstep, I leave her with a not-so-chaste kiss, just like I promised.
Chapter Eleven
Ellery
It’s the second time I’ve been to Lauren’s house in two days. Not that I’m complaining. The house itself is inc
redible with huge vaulted ceilings and an airy open floor plan. It’s exactly what I would expect a professional football player to live in. Although I do wonder if it was Heath or Lauren who chose this place.
Even more exciting to me, though, is the company. When Liam and I made plans for our date last night, Lauren demanded I come over for lunch so I could tell her all about it. I jumped at the chance because it feels so good to have a female friend that cares about my date.
I only wait a few seconds after ringing the bell for the huge door to fly open. Only it’s not Lauren answering.
“Ellery! You made it!” Kiersten reaches in for a hug and then pulls me into the house. “Lauren is making some sangria to go with the charcuterie board.”
I follow Kiersten into the kitchen where Lauren is stirring a purplish drink full of various fruit in a glass pitcher.
“Hey! You’re here!” she greets me with a smile and gestures to her left. “Do you know Kiersten’s sister Nicole?”
The beautiful blonde bartender waves from the island stool she’s sitting on.
“I’ve seen you at the bar but we haven’t been introduced. I’m Ellery.”
“Nice to meet you, Ellery. Thanks for letting me crash your girls’ day. I don’t get time to do it very often.”
“I actually didn’t know it was going to be girls’ day. Not the I’m complaining,” I tack on quickly not wanting to offend. “I don’t get to hang out with women very often either.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for coming over after your big date last night.” Lauren waggles her eyebrows and I can’t help but wonder if she’s already started drinking the sangria.
“We weren’t out late. Liam wanted to practice early this morning so we just had dinner and then called it a night.”
Lauren wrinkles her nose. “So, no hot sex then.”
I can feel my face flame. “No. But dinner was hot. He took me to a hibachi grill.”
Kiersten grabs an olive off the wooden board and pops it in her mouth. “Oooh! I love those places. Nic, isn’t your anniversary coming up? You should get Kade to take you. You’d love it.”
