Playing Defense (A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance)

by Aven Ellis

  “You didn’t love him,” Holly concludes.

  I nod. “No. It was comfortable, but I never felt anything beyond affection. It certainly wasn’t love the way I think it should be. And I think he felt the same way, so we split our junior year. To be honest, I don’t know if real love actually exists, outside of rare cases. What you have with Matt is one example. I know more of heartache and disappointment than true love stories.”

  “Reese, Matt and I are not unusual. It’s out there, and more to the point, it’s out there for you.”

  “I’m difficult. I’m strong-willed. I need someone special to put up with me. Besides, I don’t want that right now,” I say, fiddling with my water bottle.

  But the words ring false as soon as they come out.

  JP isn’t intimidated by me, like a lot of guys have been. He seems to appreciate my strength.

  And he is the kind of man I could fall in love with if I’m not careful.

  “I don’t know if that’s true,” Holly says.

  “What do you mean? I know what I want.”

  “You know what is safe,” Holly says. “Having fun is safe. A deep relationship scares you, and after one date, I think JP is pushing the boundaries you set for yourself, which is freaking you out.”

  Shock resonates through me. Holly reads me like nobody else ever has.

  She’s right.

  “It’s time to start my second shoot,” I say, popping up off the bar stool as a distraction.

  “I know I’ve said enough,” Holly says softly, “but Reese, if anyone is worth taking a risk for, it’s JP. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t believe it with all my heart.”

  I swallow hard. “I know.”

  The problem is I don’t know if I’m brave enough to go for it, even if the man is JP. Besides, I don’t know if JP wants anything more, either.

  And with no message on my phone from JP, I might not need to worry about it ever again.

  ~ ~ ~

  As soon as I finish the second video, the one with more advanced sequences, the back door opens. I squint into the sunlight and see CiCi Hunter stepping out onto the patio.

  “Reese, darling, you were amazing,” CiCi coos, walking over to me. “I was watching you in awe. You move so effortlessly.”

  I watch her approach me, with Holly following behind. CiCi is so chic, with her flowing white pants and pastel-colored Missoni zigzag poncho creating the perfect summer ensemble. Her platinum bob is impeccable, with every strand in place. And, of course, her accessories are exquisite, down to the bracelets on her wrist and the monochromatic oversized sunglasses she’s wearing.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling at her.

  CiCi comes to a stop in front of me, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head without bunching up a single strand of hair in the process.

  I want to be CiCi when I grow up. I always mess my hair up when pushing my sunglasses back.

  “I was on my way over to NorthPark for some shopping, but I wanted to bring some meals over for Holly, as I know she’s not eating well during this editing process.” She pauses and gives Holly the side-eye.

  Holly blushes guiltily. “She’s my other mother. She knows I’m working through lunch this week.”

  “I do,” CiCi says. “Which is ridiculous, darling. Those characters can wait an hour for you to eat. Anyway, I had to stop and watch you go through your practice. Oh, how I long for that kind of flexibility. It would be so helpful for when I have the girls. Bella is walking everywhere now, and I constantly have to bend over. It makes for a long day.”

  I nod. Bella, along with her other granddaughter, Claire, is the core of CiCi’s being, along with her daughters, Amanda and Kenley.

  And all the other young women she has adopted along the way, I think as I smile at Holly.

  “Do you have a regular stretching routine?” I ask. “It’s important to have that component in your fitness plan.”

  “I tried yoga once, and I was bored out of my mind.”

  I smile. I can see that.

  “What about plain stretching?” I follow up.

  “No, and don’t you dare suggest a class. I don’t do classes in the stench of sweat-filled gyms. That is utterly vile.”

  Oh, I love this woman.

  “I could give you a private lesson,” I offer. “I could teach you some stretching basics that focus on the hamstrings, hips, and back.”

  “Would you?”

  An idea hits me.

  “You know, I’m inspired to do something. Would you be open to me filming our session? So I can show women of all ages pursuing fitness on my website? I would love to use you as a role model. Of course, I completely understand if you don’t want to and you’d rather it be a session with no camera.”

  As soon as I see her eyes light up at the words “role model,” I know she’ll do it.

  “Do you know what I like about you, Reese? You’re an assertive woman. You go after what you want.”

  “Except for texting men she’s had a date with,” Holly interjects. “Then she freaks out.”

  I feel my face turn red. I’m so going to kill her after I eat breakfast. I’m starving, so I’ll eat first, then murder Holly.

  Priorities.

  “What? The Swiss One?”

  Crap.

  “Um . . . I don’t want to bother him.”

  Well, that sounds absolutely pathetic, doesn’t it?

  “Pffft. Did you see the pictures he’s posted on Instagram? The Swiss One is not going to be bothered by you texting him if his sappy expression is an indication. That man doesn’t play his cards close to the vest if you look at his face. I guarantee if we ask Matthew, we’ll find out he’s a horrible poker player.”

  “Oh, we should,” Holly says, egging her on.

  “The Swiss One likes you,” CiCi continues. “I know these things.”

  “See?” Holly says, shooting me the I-told-you-so look.

  “You are not my best friend,” I say to Holly.

  Holly laughs. “You keep saying that, yet here you are.”

  “Darling, you don’t want any man who doesn’t like a woman with initiative,” CiCi says, ignoring my conversation with Holly. “If he gets upset that you’ve texted him, he is not the man for you.”

  “We’re just hanging out,” I say, sticking to my mantra.

  “Hmm,” CiCi says, pressing her rose-pink coated lips together as she studies me. “I see.”

  I need to refocus her.

  I clear my throat. “So would it be okay if I videoed our session?”

  CiCi smiles knowingly at me, and oh, I know the topic of me and The Swiss One is not going to disappear. It might be tabled if I’m lucky, but I fully expect it to return during our stretching session.

  “That can be arranged. Why don’t we shoot at my house? Peter had a master designer do the backyard,” CiCi says. “He has gorgeous gardens. We can do it next week. That gives me plenty of time to buy an appropriate yoga outfit.”

  Ah! Both Jordan and Holly have been to Demons holiday parties at Peter’s mansion in swanky Highland Park. They told me it’s absolutely gorgeous, and I bet his gardens would be a brilliant backdrop for a relaxing stretching video.

  “Thank you, CiCi, this will be great,” I say excitedly. I bend down and pick up my phone so I can get her cell number.

  As I glance down, I see there are no new text messages.

  Damn it.

  “The Swiss One will text you,” CiCi says.

  I glance up. “He doesn’t have to. We’re totally casual.”

  “Right. Casual,” CiCi says.

  Ugh.

  “You may be casual, and, of course, he doesn’t have to, but I will tell you right now, that young
man will text you,” CiCi says. “And he wouldn’t care at all if you texted him first. I won’t belabor the point, as I have an appointment with my personal shopper at Neiman’s and I cannot be late. Let me give you my cell.”

  I hand CiCi my phone, and I feel as though my own personal Yoda is entering my life, standing at the ready to give me words of unsolicited wisdom about JP, as she keys in her number.

  Although I won’t admit it, I hope she’s right about him contacting me.

  ~ ~ ~

  I lug my bags up to my apartment. It’s lunchtime now.

  Still no message from JP.

  Argh, I’m sounding like that Swiss Miss girl. No more thoughts of JP. Otherwise, I’ll be the one showing up at practice in short shorts and pressing up against the glass to bask in his beauty.

  I clear my throat. Time to clear my head and focus on my purpose for the afternoon. I’m going to sit my butt down on the sofa and check in on the online community of Real.Life.Reesers and see how they are doing. Then I’ll photograph my afternoon snack and begin editing the yoga sessions from this morning.

  As I head to my doorstep, my phone buzzes. My heart leaps, and if I weren’t carrying such expensive video equipment I’d drop my bag and immediately check my messages.

  I take a moment to carefully put my bag down and retrieve my phone. I do send up a silent prayer:

  Please let it be JP.

  I swipe my phone and see I have a text from my apartment building management.

  To say I’m disappointed is like saying the Swiss Miss has a passing interest in JP.

  I sigh and read the text:

  You have a delivery. Please come to the front office between 9am-6pm to pick it up.

  Ooh. My mood perks up a bit. I wonder if it’s the sandals I ordered from Greece. I had them in my online cart all summer, and when they finally dropped to twenty percent off, I snagged them.

  Shoes absolutely make things better.

  They are almost as good as Oreos.

  I open the door and put my stuff in the entryway. Then I head over to the management building. I’m still in my black yoga pants and crop top from this morning’s shoot, and the sun radiates down on me as I walk. Ugh. While I’m excited I still have plenty of time to enjoy my new sandals, this heat is oppressive in the afternoon.

  Fall will be a nice change.

  Even if it means JP is gone all the time.

  Dammit! No, no thoughts of JP. I’m focused on today. On new sandals and chatting with my followers and making my yogurt snack this afternoon and getting the perfect shot of my homemade granola artfully arranged across the top of it.

  That is all I’m going to think about.

  I open the door to the office, and a swoosh of air conditioning blasts over me, providing an instant ahh moment to the baking temperature I was in outside.

  “Hello,” the receptionist says, greeting me warmly. “How can I help you today?”

  “Hello, I’m Reese Brannon in Unit 2415. I received a text to pick up a package.”

  “Oh, sure. May I see your license, please?”

  I nod as I put it down on the counter. She verifies my identity and smiles at me. “Thank you, Ms. Brannon. I’ll be right back.”

  She gets up and instead of going to the package room, she moves down to the end of the counter, picking up a huge vase filled with vibrant yellow sunflowers and accented with flowers in shades of blue, white, and orange.

  My hand flies to my mouth as soon as I realize they are for me.

  “We’ve been drooling over this bouquet,” she says, placing the vase down in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I say as she moves back to her chair.

  I remove the card and open it, my heart pounding as I do.

  I resisted the urge to text you this morning and opted for Texas flowers for a beautiful Texas woman instead. Thank you for last night. I already want to see you again. Dinner tonight? JP

  He sent me flowers as a thank you.

  And to ask me out again.

  Chapter 17

  September 15th

  Today’s Schedule: Shoot yoga workout at Matt & Holly’s, 8 AM

  Dinner with JP, 7 PM

  “This is so cool,” I say excitedly as our host shows us to a table. “What inspired this choice?”

  JP pauses to pull out my chair for me. I have to repress a dreamy sigh from escaping my lips as he does. He’s such an old-school gentleman.

  My sexy Swiss gentleman has taken me out for a Turkish meal tonight at Ephesus, which JP described as a gem tucked away in a strip mall. Tables are draped in white and vibrant blue cloths, creating a Mediterranean vibe. Exotic music fills the air, and tables around us are filled with delicious-looking plates of exotic foods.

  It’s something I’ve never had before, and I can’t wait to share this new experience with JP.

  JP sits down across from me, and I appreciate how he’s gone dressy tonight by wearing a white dress shirt and gray pants. His shirt is open at the neck, revealing his tanned skin, and my pulse burns as I remember how his wet skin felt against mine in the cabana last night.

  “It’s our second official date,” JP says. “Time to be adventurous. For this good guy, eating exotic food on a date is my idea of an adventure.”

  I study him carefully, noticing the serious expression etched on his face, and I know he’s using his good boy curse as a disclaimer for his choice in case I don’t like it or think it’s too “nice.”

  When nothing could be further from the truth.

  “I find this incredibly adventurous,” I say, reassuring him. “It’s perfect for me.”

  Just like I think you might be, my heart whispers.

  As soon as the thought hits me, fear fights back. I push the romantic thought down, not wanting to think about anything beyond tonight.

  “Yeah?” JP asks, interrupting the war in my head.

  “Absolutely,” I say, refocusing on us.

  Right here, right now, us.

  “And the flowers weren’t too much?” JP asks.

  “The flowers,” I say firmly, “were romantic. When I told you I loved them, I meant it.”

  JP exhales and rubs his hand along his jaw. “Shit. I’m sorry. I need to quit second-guessing myself. You see me differently. I need to believe that.”

  I’m touched by his vulnerability. This strong man is wearing his heart on his sleeve. For me.

  “You do need to believe me. I’m not like the other girls you’ve gone out with.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Ooh! My heart leaps at the intensity burning in his hazel eyes.

  “Good evening, may I get you something to drink?” the server asks as he stops by our table.

  JP clears his throat. “Yes.” He shifts his attention to me. “Would you like to try a Turkish wine tonight?”

  “Sounds ridiculously adventurous,” I tease. “I’m in.”

  JP flashes me a huge smile, and the butterflies go manic in my stomach.

  “Two glasses of Yakut, please,” JP says, turning his attention back to our server.

  “Of course.”

  “And can we get some hummus and baba ghanoush to start?”

  “Excellent, I’ll get that right out for you,” he says.

  “Thank you,” JP replies.

  “Ooh, what did you order us?” I ask, eager to know.

  “Not Oreos.”

  I burst out laughing, and JP’s face lights up in a wicked grin.

  “I should hope not. I am well-versed in Oreos, but Turkish food is a brand-new adventure, and one I want to share with you.”

  JP reaches for my hand across the table, and when it covers mine, happiness radiates through me.


  “Well, since we’re sharing an adventure, I should let you know what you’ll be getting. Yakut is a Turkish red wine. Very distinctive.”

  “I like distinctive. In my wine and my dates,” I say, feeling flirty.

  “Good,” JP says, slowly tracing his thumb back and forth across the top of my hand. “Then I think I have this nailed down tonight, don’t I, Catwoman?”

  Ooh, the chemistry hasn’t left from last night. It doesn’t seem to matter if JP is in swim trunks or a dress shirt, if we’re swimming or eating Turkish food; what we have burns white hot.

  Every.Single.Time.

  “I’d say you do, Batman.”

  “Good,” he says.

  “Tell me about the appetizers,” I manage to say.

  “Hummus?” JP teases.

  I laugh. “No, I know what hummus is, thank you, but the other one.”

  “Baba ghanoush is an eggplant dip with tahini.”

  “Yum, I love eggplant, so I’ll be all over that. Now, what should I order?” I ask, as I finally get around to glancing at the menu.

  “Turkish cooking has lots of veggies,” he says, scanning the options in front of him. “Everything is fresh. It’s simple, but it’s my favorite food to eat.”

  “How do you know all of this? Was there a good Turkish restaurant you went to back home in Switzerland?”

  “Yes. My favorite restaurant in Zurich is 01 Ocakbasi,” JP says. “The kebaps there are freaking amazing. That’s kebab.”

  “Ah. So, what do you like to order here?” I ask as another server comes by and places two glasses of water on the table.

  JP glances up. “Excuse me, may I have a glass of water without ice, please?”

  The server nods. “Of course,” she says, taking the glass filled with ice away.

  I furrow my brow. “No ice?”