Hawk

by Amber Malloy

  “To offset my man repellent nerdiness, my mom made me take ballet for years.” She exhaled once he leaned away. “Sadly, video games helped me with the hand-eye coordination part.”

  Taking a page from Remy’s book, Lexi poured an expensive foreign tap in a mug. She mistrusted her ability at flirting, but figured Hawk’s towering presence might convince the customer to accept the drink without complaints. Besides, the douchebags who surrounded the bar had no problem chucking balls at her face less than an hour ago. Fair is fair.

  “Hey, my woman needs a time-out. Can you watch the kidlets?” Knox squeezed in between the Local 301 losers, as she’d heard Remy call them.

  “No can do, man. I’ve got camp.”

  “Shit,” Knox hissed.

  “Whootosh.” One of the firemen mimicked a whip, only to receive a smattering of giggles from his co-workers.

  Knox faced the offender, who tried to duck behind his schooner of beer. “She literally just kicked your nuts in, and you assholes are making pussy-whipped jokes?” He held his fingers inches apart. “I was this close to almost feeling sorry for you.” Knox snorted. “Hit me with the tap, Hawk.”

  “A time-out?” Lexi mumbled. “That’s not sexist.”

  Hawk reached across her for what felt like the millionth time, to grab a clean mug. “Wait for it.” He let off a throaty chuckle near her ear. “Just wait for it.”

  “Can you hear me?” Tapping the microphone, Remy stood on the stage where the old timers had stepped off moments ago. “As the leading winner of our annual dodgeball game…”

  “Ladybugs!” someone screamed.

  “For the third year in a row”—girly applause and feminine whistles were offset by manly groans in the bar—“this win would not be possible without Hot Nerd over there by the bar.”’

  “Remy!” Knox shouted.

  “What?” She glared at him. “Lexi said she was totally cool with it. Right, gurl?”

  “Uh?” Warmth spread up her neck and bloomed across her cheeks. If she were lighter, her embarrassment would have been more apparent. “It’s fine.” She waved off all the attention. “I’m good.”

  “Damn right she is.” Remy pointed at her. “The other person this wouldn’t be possible without is my husband, Knox.”

  “Here it comes,” he grumbled before he knocked back half the mug of beer Hawk had set down in front of him.

  “He gave a sizeable donation to the Local 301 to make sure Captain Gilroy would not file another baseless complaint against the Ladybugs,” Remy told the crowd.

  “Okay, n-now dammit, Remy, that is n-not what h-happened,” the fire chief stammered from the opposite end of the room. “You are making that up. Furthermore, I’m not entirely sure that little gal you brought in wasn’t a ringer of some sort.”

  Remy shot Lexi a wide-eyed glance to most likely confirm that the fire chief was indeed a misogynistic idiot.

  “No hard feelings, Gilroy. All is well. I’ll accept your apology for trying to get the Ladybugs banned from the competition.”

  “Ha,” he bellowed. “I would never give you an apology.”

  “Is that so? Well, I invited a very special guest speaker who told me different. Ms. Gilroy?” The kitchen door opened to two Ladybug players escorting an elderly lady into the room.

  “Mama!” he shouted, unable to shove his way any closer. “This is low, Remy, even for you.”

  “No, sir, I can go lower. In fact…” She signaled to someone in the back of the bar. The Cha Cha Slide beat dropped over the sound system. “How low can you go?” She held the microphone off the stage to the audience to sing along with the lyrics.

  “Can you go down low?” they shouted back.

  While the fire chief pushed his way through the packed room, Remy shimmied to the floor to the lyrics of the song. Once all the way down, she knelt on the edge of the stage and held the mic out for his mother.

  “Tommy Gilroy, I didn’t raise you to be such a sore loser.”

  “Oooohhhh,” the bar instigated the older woman scolding her son.

  Unable to force herself to stop this pitiful display of public shaming, Lexi laughed. A hard belly jiggle that she hadn’t experienced for some time amused her to the point of tears.

  “Now do you see?” Hawk chuckled.

  “Nope,” she hiccupped, wiping her eyes, “I’m still not convinced she needs a time-out.”

  * * * *

  Styled in a fancy suit and tie, Hawk walked the backstage area of the United Center. Training camp had finally ended earlier that week. Tomorrow pre-season would officially begin, but today the front office wanted to parade the starting lineup on stage for the press and fans.

  “Oscar Nyman!” the emcee called out the center’s name to thunderous applause.

  Hawk stepped past the craft food table, which was covered in junk—most of the rookies lived off of the empty calories. On the other hand, the veterans only ate fruits and vegetables. He plucked a couple of strawberries off the platter, then plopped one in his mouth. This small test of wills was a type of welcome to the pro’s hazing. If the kidlets continued to eat crap, they would burn out fast.

  Since his health was already compromised, he couldn’t take any chances. Not to mention his damn-near-ancient age didn’t do him any favors. Hawk had to play smarter, not faster than everyone else.

  “Axel Larsson,” the emcee announced.

  Hawk stopped behind the thick backstage curtain and munched on a raspberry he had swiped as well.

  On his way past, the kid flashed him a huge grin. “Let me show you how it’s done, old man.” The young idiot jogged onto the stage with an off-the-rack suit and a smarmy smile, sure to fool even the sweetest of the Northern Royals hockey fans. Shooting finger pistols at the crowd, the little shit did a fancy spin for the cameras.

  “Now that one’s going to be a problem. I can already see it on the wall.” Coach Camden stepped beside him. They kept their eyes on Axel, who high-fived the fans nearest to the stage. “Maybe front office could tempt you into a coaching position?”

  Hawk chuckled. He had no idea what he wanted to do once he retired, but babysitting the arrogantly stupid wasn’t it.

  “These rookies”—the gray-haired giant sighed. Weary was the best way Hawk could take in the defeated posture of his former hockey idol—“are very different from past generations, but I believe they may be able to relate to someone like you a little better than someone who’s been out of the league since the ice age.”

  Hawk’s text alert went off. He dug his phone out of his breast pocket and smiled at Lexi’s text.

  Not what you’re used to, but let’s see how you do with Ari Lennox, Solange Knowles and Summer Walker.

  Unwilling to leave things lingering in the air between, Hawk had asked the bar manager about her musical influences—an ice-breaker of sorts to keep the door open for them to keep in contact without coming off like a cornball. Not much of a music connoisseur, he didn’t listen to much other than eighties hair bands or grunge rock from the nineties. However, the influence of Prince, Lenny Kravitz and Jimmy Hendrix always had a spot on his playlist. He typed back—

  Fine, but a report will be due on Sound Garden, Nine Inch Nails and Pearl Jam ASAP.

  The orphanage hadn’t had much in the way of entertainment. It wasn’t until he’d won that golden Willy Wonka ticket to prep school that he was introduced to different music.

  Naturally, he had gravitated toward the big-tittied blondes of the metal world and the sad-sack life of the grunge. As of late, he had become used to the old timey stuff the regulars played at Moe’s, but when it came to the bastard love child of blues, he was an absolute novice. Over the past few months, Lexi had slowly integrated neo soul into Moe’s steady rotation. He was intrigued not only by the music, he was captivated by the manager as well.

  She responded—

  LOL. If this is a challenge, trust me, I’ll win.

  Scoring anything less than a C results in an automati
c retest.

  Once he typed out his message, he put his phone back into his pocket.

  “And finally, one of the most celebrated players in the league and a fan favorite,” the announcer yelled.

  Hawk stole a peek at the audience. The grandmothers who had cheered him on at every home game screamed from the front row, waving their signs in the air.

  “A freaking fan favorite? Those old nuts would sell you their adult grandchildren. You’re more popular than the goalie or captain. Tell me, son. How the hell did you do that?”

  Hawk straightened the sleeves on his suit jacket and rolled the kink out of his neck. “Face it, Coach. I’m just a charming mutha fucka!”

  The old ladies stood, flashing their gaudy shirts that had his face on them.

  “Enforcerrrrrr Hawthornnnnne Maze!” Determined to enjoy every second of what could be his last season, he took a minute to let it all sink in.

  “Do me a favor, Hawk.” The coach grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from his big strut onto the stage. “Consider my offer. I really think you can have a great afterlife in hockey.” He patted him on the back before he stepped into the blanket of bright lights and applause from his Northern Royals’ people.

  Chapter Nine

  Fat, sloppy snowflakes fell from the sky and coated the streets. At least an inch of snow blanketed the ground. Sipping on her minty hot chocolate, Lexi stared out of Moe’s front window.

  Her cell vibrated in her hand, and she glanced down at her screen. With no intention of speaking with her lawyer, she hit decline on the 310 area code. She was pretty sure her attorney wanted her to take a deal—something stupid where all the charges against her would be dropped if she relinquished her seat on the board or, at the very least, sold off her SugarTech shares. Lexi felt it best to ignore her.

  Taking full advantage of their separation period, Josh had called her one night to talk. Instead, Lexi had ended up at his place, engaging in a humiliating dose of sub-par sex. Her lapse in judgment had allowed Josh to creatively edit himself out of the final cut of his latest attempts at blackmail.

  If the public ever got hold of her poor re-enactment of Kim Kardashian’s porn tape, Lexi’s opportunity to reinvent herself in the tech field would go up into flames.

  Always the type of person to get ahead of a problem, Lexi decided to change tactics and sit this one out. ‘Let the cards fall where they may’ probably wasn’t the best strategy, but she no longer had any strength left for a fight. Her iPhone vibrated again. However, this time when she checked her screen, she smiled.

  10,000 Maniacs, The Cranberries and Bush are not grunge. Try again.

  Lexi laughed at Hawk’s text. It had been a month since she’d laid eyes on him. Their debate over music categories and level of taste—or, in his case, lack thereof—helped her to avoid dwelling on matters beyond her control.

  “Who’s that?” Simone asked from her station behind the bar. Lexi had nearly forgotten she was still there.

  “Huh?” Beyond embarrassed, she smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in her pencil skirt. “I don’t know what…”

  Simone nodded at her phone. “That wouldn’t be a famous hockey player by day, mediocre bartender by night…yay tall?” She lifted her hand well past her high, Mohawk-styled head of hair. “Super sexy.”

  “Why would you think—?”

  “Please.” She waved her protest away and set down a cup of coffee in front of Crazy Leg Carl, the only customer Moe’s had left. “You aren’t his type and he’s not yours, which means you two are perfect for each other.”

  “Make that make sense?” She bit her lower lip to hide her smirk. Simone was way too perceptive for her own damn good.

  “Some say it’s science, but honestly, whatever you think is working for you or him, for that matter, obviously doesn’t.” Simone leaned against the back bar.

  “Opposites attract?” Lexi asked.

  “If you think you two are opposites, then sure.”

  “Considering he’s my employee and I’m his employer”—Lexi switched from one high-heeled shoe to the other—“this conversation is purely hypothetical.”

  “Hawk doesn’t cash his checks, soooo”—Simone reached under the bar to grab her purse—“argument rejected. I need to get going before the snow hits. What do you say, Carl? You want a ride home?”

  The man grunted. Simone walked to the kitchen door and pulled her coat off the rack.

  “Did it escape everyone’s notice that it’s the beginning of November?” Lexi stepped toward the window. The flakes crashed to the earth, picking up speed fast. “Why does the city look like this?”

  Simone threw her knitted scarf around her neck with a snort before she walked over to Carl. “Spring and fall are iffy in these parts, but winter and summer always come in like a beast.” The bartender helped the old man off his bar stool, then assisted him to the kitchen door.

  “Welcome to Chicago,” Simone muttered.

  Carl threw a stingy wave in the air as the duo left her in the bar alone.

  “Night,” she called out. Lexi flinched from the sound of the metal back door slamming shut.

  Thankfully, most of the cleaning had already been done. All she had left were the bar stools and floors. She knocked back the rest of her hot chocolate.

  Unsure if the storm was a little blip or a huge blizzard, she contemplated finishing everything the next day. However, Lexi took comfort in the menial tasks. Flipping the stools onto the tabletops one by one, she calculated how many of her unfinished development projects would be up for grabs if SugarTech’s board won their lawsuit against her.

  Before she was unceremoniously dumped, Lexi had deleted twelve apps, one program to rival Microsoft Word and another to compete with the best accounting software from SugarTech’s main server. She refused to allow them to profit off her creations. Deep in thought, she nearly missed the rusty creak from the back door.

  “Hello?” she yelled out, clutching the top of the chair. She had finally made it to the short tables in the middle of the room. If someone broke into the bar, her best escape route was the front door, which was too far to be a viable option. “Hello!” The first note of SZA’s Broken Clocks blared from the kitchen as her chest clenched in fear.

  Heavy footsteps forced her to scan the room for a weapon. Run, grab a weapon, run, grab a weapon. Lexi was trapped in a video game that looped in her mind. When the kitchen door swung open, a dark silhouette filled the doorway. Lexi lifted the stool inches from the ground.

  “Is this song about what I think it is?” Hawk stepped into the dimly lit barroom. While Lexi set the stool back on the floor and released a huge sigh of relief, an unfamiliar wave of happiness surged through her body.

  “Depends.” She foolishly grinned at the big beast. “What do you think it’s about?”

  After shrugging out of his leather jacket, he tossed it on top of the bar. “At first I thought she was singing about an affair, but the more I listened to it…” Hawk crossed the room, his white T-shirt stretched against his bulging pecs.

  As he shoved his wavy, shoulder-length hair away from his face, Lexi’s body responded to him in several different ways. Afraid she was drooling, she stopped shy of using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth. She had witnessed enough customers openly lusting after the man. Unlike many of those shameless creatures, Lexi wanted to hold onto the little bit of dignity she had left.

  “This song’s about a three-way. How does anyone make it sound…”

  “Inevitable?” she offered.

  “Sweet.” Hawk stopped in front of her. “You were right about H.E.R. and Solange Knowles. They’re good.”

  “Glad you approve.” While SZA crooned about the days of the week, an invisible, electric charge sparked between them. Maybe she’d let her loneliness fester to the point of delusion. Every time he worked, she witnessed the big, sexy man flirting his way through the bar. However, Lexi felt that their attraction was mutual.

  Mere inches apart
, the giant peered down at her. His bright hazel eyes dazzled from beneath his thick, dark lashes. “The team finally got a day off.” The first few cords of Ella Mai’s Trip played over the rumble of his deep voice.

  “And you thought you’d what, pick up a shift?” She smiled, amused that he’d found an R&B song, this time without her assistance.

  “No.” He took a small step closer. “I wanted to ask you what you thought about Oasis.”

  The prickle of goosebumps across her arms ran a shiver of excitement along the base of her spine. Beating back a smile, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth. There’s no way in hell he wanted to know her opinion on the group Oasis during an epic Chicago snowstorm. Tired of mulling over the smallest of problems, she decided to go with her freshly acquired devil-may-care attitude and play along.

  “Wonderwall was a bop.”

  “Personally”—he put his finger under her chin, tipping her head toward his, and a pulse in her pussy jumped—“I always felt Champagne Supernova was highly underrated.”

  “Disagree,” she whispered breathlessly. “We’re going to need an unbiased opinion to break—” Before she could finish, he swooped in to claim her, gently putting pressure on her lips.

  It was a soft and sensual kiss, not at all what she’d expected from this giant of a man. Maybe if she hadn’t been sex-free for close to a year, Lexi could have handled his chivalry better. Instead, she placed her hand on the side of his five o’clock shadow and parted her lips. Slipping her tongue into his mouth, she moaned from the strong feel of Hawthorne Maze against her skin.

  Brazen, perhaps, but she had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. The sexy man in front of her was the perfect remedy to hitting the off switch on her racing thoughts. The weightless feeling that took over her body sparked life between her legs. Without truly knowing if she could bottle this feeling, Lexi shoved her fingers into his wavy hair and pushed deeper into the big man.