High Stick

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  With that thought, a new horror hit her. She didn’t know what was appropriate or have any way of finding out. If she asked Jarrett, like most men, he’d say, “Anything is fine.” Hell, he would have let her go to The Big Skate with Bridgestone Arena plastered on her shirt.

  The women would decide the dress code. Since it was New Year’s Eve, they would probably want to glam it up, but you could never tell. People were tired from the holidays already. Lots had gained weight. Not everyone wanted to squeeze into Spanx, sequins, and five-inch heels. Suppose she drove out to Brentwood and found something she could afford at one of those consignment shops where rich housewives dumped what they’d worn once and then she got there and found everyone else in jeans and leggings?

  Somehow, being overdressed was worse than being underdressed. Being overdressed looked like you were trying too hard and you were the only one who hadn’t gotten the memo. Being underdressed wasn’t as bad, because you were usually not the only one.

  Not that Merry had ever been dressed inappropriately. Her mother saw to that. Being the preacher’s wife in a small Southern town meant something. Within her circle, Sue Ellen Sweet was the first invited and the first with the details. Merry had never shown up in Sunday best to find all the other girls wearing skirts and sandals.

  Too bad Mama wasn’t in this circle. Merry could hear her now. “I talked to that nice Noel at the quilt shop. She’s wearing a cocktail dress and you know what that means. Short—as opposed to an evening gown, which would be to the floor. That would be overdoing it. So above your knees, but not too much. I don’t want you showing your fanny. Black or a jewel tone is what you want this time of year. A little lace, a few beads are fine, but you don’t want to blind people when the light hits you. And not too low cut, Merry. You have gorgeous breasts, but they need to be a welcome surprise to the man who has decided he loves you for your mind and heart. And remember: We are a reflection on your daddy. People are watching us. Those Presbyterians are just waiting for us to do something wrong.”

  Yes, Mama had taught her to dress and she’d always thrown in a little morality lesson. She hadn’t said much about posing half naked, but she probably hadn’t thought she’d had to. But Sue Ellen had written the eleventh commandment: Thou shall not be inappropriately dressed.

  Being able to afford a dress had become a miniscule problem compared to lacking the knowledge of the dress code. Merry had gotten herself into this and she’d make it work. She had money saved, including the Beauford tip money, that she had earmarked for necessities for the upcoming school term, but she’d just have to spend a little of it in one of those upscale consignment shops or maybe T.J. Maxx—after she found on what to spend it on.

  How to find out, how to find out? She would ask Jarrett. He might surprise her, but she wasn’t counting on it.

  She knew Amy from the shop, but there were a dozen reasons she didn’t want to ask her—not the least of which that Amy hadn’t been married a week. That’s what every bride wanted—a shopgirl she’d bought wrapping paper and wedding invitations from calling her up to ask how to dress for a party that Amy might not even know was happening yet. While Amy had never been anything but the soul of warmth and grace, that was when everyone had been in their proper places. Let’s not lose sight of that she hadn’t been a guest at Amy’s wedding, but rather an inept bartender.

  Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Jarrett knew more than she suspected. He had surprised her in other ways.

  Ah well, time to go. She had to make the coffee today before Foolscap and Vellum opened.

  But when she turned to go, she found herself face-to-face with a man—middle aged, average looking, dressed for an office job.

  “Well, hello,” he said like he knew her. Maybe he did. After all, she worked retail, went to Vandy, and saw hundreds of people at Bridgestone every time she worked.

  “Hello,” she said. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  “No. But I know you.” He shook his head, grinning all the time. “Hello, Miss January.”

  Miss January. Odd that she had been totally caught off guard. The last two years had taught her that when a man recognized her, chances were it was from that damned calendar. That’s the first thing she’d thought when Jarrett had said he recognized her, even though it had been seven months since the last time it had happened. And here it was again—right after the new resolves she’d made earlier. But it had been easy to be resolved in her own little home. Maybe the universe was testing her—or determined to kick her ass. She didn’t know what to do with that.

  “Shopping?” He nodded at the dresses in the window. “Aren’t those dresses a little conservative for you? Cover too much?” And he raised his arms above his head, imitating the way she had held the large glittery snowflake—the one that matched the smaller version that had covered her pubic area. “That one”—he pointed to a lacy red strapless dress—“might look good on you, but I know for a fact you’d look good out of it.”

  And he laughed.

  It was the laugh that did it. Suddenly, she knew what she was going to do with what the universe had handed her—and it wasn’t going to be what she’d done in the past. No running without speaking a word, no denying and slinking away shamefaced, no coldly saying she didn’t know what he was talking about and striding away with her head held high on the outside but not feeling it on the inside.

  She knew she ought not touch him, but just now she didn’t care. She had a man—and maybe a universe—to take down a peg or two. She grabbed the lapel of his jacket and jerked him down to eye level.

  “Who in the hell do you think you are?” she growled through clenched teeth. His eyes went wide and his face white. “You willfully decided to look at pornography—probably while your wife and children were in the next room.” Ah, she’d hit a nerve. “You paid money for it. And here you come, acting like you’re proud of it, but you think it’s appropriate to shame and make fun of me.” She manufactured a laugh. “You are pathetic and sick. I was just earning a living.” A skiing trip might not be a living, but a lot of the girls who’d posed for that calendar were trying to earn a living.

  His face went from white to red. “I . . . I . . . ”

  His befuddlement empowered her. Otherwise, she might have walked away then. “You are a bully. Do you know what I do to bullies?” She paused a second to give him time to speculate. “I shoot their balls off.” He went white again and began to sweat.

  “Just let me go. I’m sorry. You’re right. I was unforgivably rude.”

  Didn’t the imbecile know that he could just jerk out of her grasp and walk away? But then, she had threatened to shoot him with a gun she didn’t have. It might not be fair to punish him for every man who had approached her about that damn calendar in the last two years, but she wasn’t as concerned with fair as she might have been.

  “That’s right. I’m packing.” She’d always wanted to say that, even though the only gun her family had ever owned was her great grandfather’s hunting rifle that her father kept for sentimental reasons. As far as she knew, it hadn’t been loaded in two generations. “That’s right. It’s in the pocket of my jacket. And I am a perfect shot.” She’d never shot a slingshot, let alone a gun, in her life. “I could do it right here. I could say you attacked me. Maybe I would get away with it; maybe I wouldn’t. But either way, you wouldn’t have any balls, which would diminish your interest at looking at porn on the Internet.”

  “I’m sorry. Don’t do that. I acted stupid.”

  She nodded. “Never act stupid. You never know when you might be dealing with a crazy person—like me.” Her phone in her pocket vibrated against her leg. It was the alarm she’d set to remind her that it was time to make the coffee. Foolscap and Vellum was only two doors down, but she had to wrap this up. She sighed like she was making a decision. “OK. This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to go in that store and buy your wife one of those dresses. I don’t care which one, but it had better not be on sale. When y
ou come out, you won’t see me, but I’m going to be watching for you. You’d better have a dress box.”

  He nodded. “I can do that.”

  Slowly, she released his lapel. “Go on.”

  “Thank you.” He couldn’t get to the shop door fast enough.

  But before she could let him go, she had to get in one more barb. “Hey. Asshole.” He turned with one hand on the doorknob. “If you run into Miss April, you’d better not approach her at all. I’m nicer than she is. She shoots balls first and lectures later.”

  He nodded and disappeared into the shop.

  She stopped to wait for the shock and shakes to set in. It didn’t happen.

  In fact, she felt good.

  Chapter Ten

  Damn, Chicago was cold—probably no colder than Wisconsin had been at Christmas, but he’d been dressed for the weather there. Jarrett hadn’t packed well. It had been late and he’d been distracted with thoughts of Merry. He’d convinced himself he would only be going from bus to arena to hotel and he wouldn’t need an overcoat.

  The bellhop unlocked the door and put his bag on the luggage rack. “Shall I take this and have it steamed, Mr. MacPherson?” He held up Jarrett’s suit bag.

  “No. It’ll be fine.” And it probably would be. His suit was fresh from the dry cleaner, but even if it had gotten wrinkled on the trip over, who would have time to notice? Everyone was too busy fighting the elements.

  “The food and drinks Mr. Klepacki requested for you are in the mini fridge. We have a note to deliver grilled chicken with angel hair pasta and marinara to you at 2:00 p.m.” Damn. Life with Packi was good. “Is there anything else?”

  “Could I get a pot of hot chocolate?” he asked. That would be perfect. He could curl up in the bed for his pregame nap and drink hot chocolate and think about Merry until he fell asleep—maybe even call her.

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “If I’m in the shower, just leave it, please.” Jarrett handed him some folded bills. “Thank you for everything.”

  Jarrett opened his suitcase and pulled out a pair of flannel pants. Hot shower, warm pants, hot chocolate, dreams of his girl—well, maybe not his girl yet, but they were getting there. She’d kissed him and now she was going with him to Thor’s party. Progress.

  He had just stepped out of the shower when the knock came at the door. That must be the fastest hot chocolate in history. He would ignore it, let them leave it, and square the tip away later.

  But the knocking persisted. He pulled on his pants and opened the door. Not hot chocolate—fast or otherwise. It was Bryant Taylor—Swifty—who stood there. And he had his bags.

  “What?”

  Swifty pushed past him, threw his duffle in the corner, and hung his suit on the pole lamp.

  “Don’t do that!” Jarrett took the suit bag and hung it in the closet beside his own. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I’m moving in. The heat in my room isn’t working.”

  Oh, hell no. “You are not. Ask for another room. We get our own rooms on the road. It’s in our contracts.”

  “Not worth it,” Bryant said. “We’re only going to be here one night. It’s easier to bunk in with you.” He opened his bag and pulled out a pair of shorts and began to strip.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting comfortable for my nap.”

  “Have you noticed there’s only one bed?”

  “King size. You’ll never know I’m there.”

  Jarrett had a rule. He only argued so long before he accepted the inevitable. The inevitable was that Bryant wasn’t going to ask for another room. It was still up in the air where he was going to stay.

  “What about your future brother-in-law? Why aren’t you staying with Emile?”

  Bryant grimaced. “Have you ever slept with a goalie? I swear they play in their sleep—kicking, flailing around, standing up on their knees.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that, having never slept with a goalie.”

  “Oh, come on.” Bryant went to the mini fridge and helped himself to a Gatorade—Jarrett’s Gatorade left there by Packi, or at least someone he’d directed to leave it. “Don’t pretend in your younger days you didn’t have to share a bed when you were on the road.”

  “I did,” Jarrett admitted. “But never with a goalie.”

  “I have and I hope to never do it again.” Bryant picked up his shaving kit, laid it on the bedside table, and climbed into bed. At least he chose the side closest to the window.

  There was a knock at the door. That would be the hot chocolate.

  “Hey,” Bryant called as Jarrett moved toward the door, “if that’s one of the other guys and his heat’s out, tell him he has to go somewhere else. Our room is full.”

  “That would be my room.” Jarrett opened the door.

  “Your hot chocolate, Mr. MacPherson,” the bellhop said. “And Mr. Klepacki sent this.” He held up a camel hair topcoat covered in clear plastic.

  “Uh, yes. I’ll take it. Just set the hot chocolate on the table there. Thank you.”

  Jarrett glanced at the label in the coat before hanging it up. Just his size. How did the man do it?

  “Those were the days,” Bryant said after the bellhop had gone. “Packi seeing to my every need. Then it was over. Why didn’t you wear a coat, anyway? Didn’t you know where you were going?”

  “I knew,” Jarrett said. “I just got distracted.” He poured himself a cup of hot chocolate. “Do you want some of this?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Accepting what he couldn’t change, Jarrett crawled into bed. “Stay on your side, Swifty. I’ll throw you in the hall if you touch me once.”

  “I’m not going to touch your saintly self,” Bryant said. “But I’m still not clear how you got here without a coat. Of all of us, I thought you were the one who didn’t need someone to help you think.”

  He took a deep breath. “I had a date.”

  “Really?” Bryant smiled. “It’s been a while.”

  “It has.” He hesitated. “But I really like her.”

  “Too bad it won’t work out,” Bryant said.

  “Hey! Do you want to go back to a room without heat?”

  “Look, Jarrett, I’m just being honest. There’s something wrong with everybody you go out with. No, no. Let me finish. I know what happened with Thea. I could have told you she was a bitch before you found it out on your own. Chloe was a gold digger, and Kara was no better. But there’s something wrong with everybody who shows any interest in you—that girl, Elaine. You went out with her twice and never asked again because you didn’t like how she dressed.”

  “She wore shorts to formal fundraiser.” And they weren’t even nice shorts.

  “And who was that you brought to Sharon and Mikhail’s lake house?”

  He had to think. What was her name? “Shauna.”

  “You didn’t like how she ate.”

  “She brought her own food, Bryant. Everything had to be gluten free, organic, and—oh, who the hell knows what else. Sharon was insulted.”

  “Sharon’s not hard to insult. I love her, but you know it’s true. And Camber. I got you a date with her.”

  “She was a puck bunny. You’d probably slept with her yourself.”

  Bryant shook his head. “No, sir. I had not. I had visited with her sister Cinder on occasion, and Cinder and Camber did not tread on each other’s territory. Besides, just because certain women enjoy spending time with hockey players doesn’t mean they aren’t good company. Camber had a lot going for her.”

  “I don’t see you marrying a puck bunny.”

  “No. I’m not.” His voice went soft. “But if Gabriella had been one, it wouldn’t have mattered. I love her.”

  Jarrett closed his eyes. “Camber had had sex with five of our teammates, including Emile. You were just trying to get me laid.”

  “Yeah, well.” Bryant rose up and punched his pillow. “I’ll give you that, but it might have helped
your disposition. The point I’m trying to make is you find something wrong with everybody. And you probably will with this one, too.”

  Bryant might have a point. “I don’t think so, Bryant. Not this time. She works two jobs to support herself while she goes to school. She doesn’t have casual sex. She wouldn’t even let me kiss her after our first date.”

  Bryant grinned. “And you count that as a plus?”

  “Well, not at the time. She doesn’t even drink. She’s a preacher’s kid. And she has a big appetite. As near as I can tell, she eats everything but salad.”

  “And that is the most important thing. Finding a woman who likes to eat as much as you do is truly a feat.”

  Jarrett sipped his hot chocolate. “There’s not much chance she’d turn down Sharon’s ribs and potato salad.”

  Bryant laughed. “I do hope it works out. Everybody ought to have someone.”

  “You didn’t used to think that,” Jarrett said.

  “I changed my mind. How long have you known her?”

  “Not long. I met her at Emile’s wedding.”

  “Yeah? Who?”

  “Nobody you know. She wasn’t a guest. She was tending bar.” He stuck out his chin. “And you had better not even think about making a smart remark about that, Bryant.”

  “Hey.” Bryant put up a hand. “If you think I would do that, you don’t know anything about me. That’s not who I am. Blue collar runs in my veins. I just got lucky with a hockey stick.”

  “We all did. Anyway, she’s in law school at Vandy.”

  Bryant let out a low whistle. “Wow. She’s smarter than you then. You’d better get this sewn up before she figures that out.”

  “That’s what I think. She’s going to Thor’s party, so you’ll meet her.”

  “Speaking of Thor’s party.” Bryant reached for his shaving kit.

  “Please don’t tell me you think you’re going to shave in this bed. I’ve accepted that I’m going to sleep with you, but I have my limits.”