Needing a break from the noise, I carefully walk to where I think the bathrooms are. I wear heels often enough, but none this high. I’ve been drinking tonight as well. I need to be extra careful to avoid falling. When I find the hallway, I begin to feel dizzy, so I lean against the wall. If I’m not careful, I’ll move the wrong way and my dress will expose either my top or my bottom. Not thirty seconds pass with my hand on my forehead when a door squeaks.
“Are you okay?”
My knees weaken at the sound of a voice which is pure sin even with such simple and few words. I lift my head to see a man wearing a speedo. It’s the colors of the Canadian flag, which is kind of odd, and in the middle, barely concealing a tempting looking dick, is the maple leaf. There’s a medal hanging around his neck, too. When I manage to lift my eyes even higher, I see the bright blue eyes of a man with a beautiful grin, a slightly crooked nose that’s probably been broken at some point, and short blond hair.
Damn. He’s as good looking as his voice portrays.
“Are you?” he presses.
“Am I what?”
His grin widens. “Are you okay?”
“Oh. I’m fine.”
His gaze travels down my body, at first causing shivers, but then I wonder if my dress has moved, so I look down at myself. Nope. Dress is still covering me.
“You look hot.”
My head snaps up so quickly, it’s no wonder I don’t bump it on the wall behind me.
“What are you doing hiding in a hallway by the bathrooms?”
“I just needed a break. It’s crazy in there.” My freaking eyes keep dropping to the maple leaf. It’s just there! Standing out since it’s red on white and not to mention, there’s the fact that it’s doing a terrible job of concealing his dick.
“Not a fan of parties?” There’s a teasing in his voice that his seemingly ever-present grin confirms.
“Not really.” My eyes drop again. Man, I should get laid. This guy is toned and obviously has a good package. Maybe Sylvia was right. I should let loose. At least for one night. With the liquid courage coursing through me as my heart pulses so hard I can feel it everywhere from my head and down lower, I look into Baby Blue’s eyes. His mouth parts with another question, I assume. That seems to be all he does. Ask questions. That should stop. Before I can think this through, I launch toward him.
Baby Blue is surprised, but he grabs my hips. My hooker heels are amazing because they help lift me up to his height. When I press my lips to his, he kisses me back. His mouth parts and I slide my tongue inside, tasting alcohol. Suddenly, I’m pressed against the wall with my legs hooked around his hips and the maple leaf is getting acquainted with my lacy red boy shorts. His hands are holding my bottom and his fingertips dig in hard enough to cause an oddly pleasurable pain.
Fuck me now, he can kiss!
The pang in my chest at the realization that this is the best kiss of my life can’t be heard over the roar of my heartbeat.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispers against my lips before kissing me again. All I can do is nod because there’s no way I’m voluntarily removing my mouth from his. Baby Blue is walking and the next thing I know, he’s opening the door to a truck and setting me in the back seat. I walk backward on my hands as he crawls in after me. He kisses me hard, stealing my breath away.
I open my mouth to complain when he stops, but then he opens the center console in the front seat to grab a condom. That’s when I panic. I can’t do this! This is wrong. I don’t know anything about him, not even his name. I know nothing! Most importantly, he’s not my husband. This is a bad idea.
Baby Blue starts kissing me again. A loud moan resounds in the cab as his fingers graze over my panties. Shit. That moan was from me. The urge to leave floats away. I’m too consumed by a man wearing a Canadian speedo.
How is this my life right now?
“What’s your name?” he mumbles between kisses down his trail to my cleavage.
“Ivy,” I lie.
He chuckles. “Makes sense.” He lifts his head with that cocky grin. “Mind if I fuck you, Ivy?”
“Please,” I beg. God, who am I? There’s no time to think about it. Baby Blue has pushed down the speedo and put on a condom without me noticing. He pushes my panties to the side and enters me. His truck is quickly filled with moans and groans and grunts and pants. For a few blissful minutes, I’m not Elizabeth, or Lizzy, or a widow. I’m not the woman who avoids fun and happiness like it could kill me. I’m not the woman who has to be convinced for two weeks that I should go out and attend a Halloween party.
Unfortunately, I’m apparently a woman who after a few too many drinks can be easily persuaded to climb into the back of a truck and fuck a stranger. This thought doesn’t hit me until after our orgasms, which were way too good for sex in a vehicle.
“I need to go.”
“What? Why?” Baby Blue asks, but I’m already slipping out from underneath him and nearly falling out of the truck as I open the door and try to get away.
I adjust my dress, kick off my heels, grab them, and run to the other side of the building where I parked as Baby Blue calls out, “Ivy!”
God, what have I done? I rip off my mask once I get onto the road. I’m so thankful I left my keys in my car and didn’t carry anything inside with me. This is not who I am. My sob can’t be helped. I’ve betrayed him. That is definitely not what he would’ve wanted for me.
“I’m so sorry, Roger. I’m so sorry.”
“I’M NOT GOING,” I say for the millionth time. Sylvia is really starting to piss me off with her insistence that I go on a date with some guy I don’t even know. She keeps setting me up on dates, each seemingly worse than the prior one. I was able to push her off some after Halloween and that disaster. She knew that was a bad time for me, even if she didn’t know exactly why, as I never told her what happened.
“Lizzy, at least meet him before you make up your mind,” she tries, going for a new tactic.
My mind is already made up. I don’t know why she’s wanting me to go out with this guy so bad. She knows I don’t like to date. She knows I have no interest in dating, especially after Halloween. There are too many other things in life I’m choosing to focus on instead.
“Meet him and if there’s no spark, then we won’t set you up. You can come with me to the game, and we’ll go to the bar with the guys afterward.”
That’s when it hits me. “He’s a hockey player? Come on! No.” My voice turns cold and hard. “You should know better, Sylvia. It’s not happening.”
Her gaze fills with pity and I hate it. Everyone always looks at me with pity when the briefest of thoughts enter their mind. Her voice softens. “Don’t say no because of that. He’s a really great guy, and I think he’ll be good for you.”
Good for me. Not necessarily to me. Sylvia has good intentions, I know. She wants me to jump back on the dating wagon and be happy again. Her intentions are off, though. She wants me to go on a date with this guy for my own sake. He’d be good for me. At least she thinks he will. She thinks he’ll make me smile again. Make me loosen up. Make me have fun and be happy again. I don’t know if that is possible. She thought I was resistant before? I’ve been even more so since Baby Blue. God, just thinking his name makes me feel weak in the knees and sick all at once, and that’s not even his real name!
It’s been ridiculous how often I’ve thought about him. How often I’ve dreamt about him and woke myself up from the orgasm in my dream. For a few moments, I smile and feel good. Then the guilt drags me down. I don’t want to date anyone and definitely not a hockey player.
However, I can’t stand Sylvia looking at me like she is.
“Fine. But I’m not going to the game.”
“Please? You’ll be too busy talking to us to even pay attention to it.”
“Fine.” I’m tired of arguing with her. That’s all we do lately. Besides, I can always leave if the game becomes too much for me. “Is Scott even okay with you try
ing to hook me up with one of his teammates?”
When Sylvia glances away to take a sip of her drink, I know Scott doesn’t have a clue.
“Sylvia! Are you insane?” I definitely can’t do it now. It’s just odd altogether.
“I’ll tell him. He wants you to be happy too, you know. He won’t argue too much.”
Either way, that won’t be my problem. Hell, maybe Scott will end up being on my side. Sylvia talks about how good this will be and I eventually tell my beloved sister-in-law that I have to go. My hands start trembling as soon as I walk out the door. Am I really going to a hockey game tonight? I’ve avoided all sports on ice for five—almost six—years now.
While I’ve come a long way, I still struggle in some aspects. I’m not sure the void will ever be filled, but I do the best I can. Despite Sylvia’s good intentions, this date will probably end up like the rest she’s made me go on this year. For some reason, she’s decided that this is the year I become happy again. I’m not unhappy, but I’m not happy either. I’m in this odd place in between where I can’t go back, but I can’t move forward either. I’m stuck where I am.
And out of all the crazy men Sylvia has set me up with, she thinks a hockey player is going to be the one for me? Maybe I should talk to Scott because she’s losing her damn mind. Just thinking about the game and his job makes me want to throw up and I don’t even know which of Scott’s teammates it is. Not that I would really know. I’ve stayed away from that part of his life.
Time flies by and too soon, Sylvia is here to pick me up. That’s one way to make sure I show up. She frowns at my outfit choice, but doesn’t try to convince me to change. I’m in simple jeans and T-shirt. I’m not here to impress anyone.
“You could’ve at least worn team colors,” she mumbles as she pulls out onto the highway.
My bright yellow shirt definitely isn’t the navy, black, or silver colors the team wears. “What’s the guy’s name?”
“Marc.” She begins telling me all about him. “He’s best friends with Noah Ramsey. He’s a fun guy with a great personality. He may seem a bit full of himself, but it’s all in good humor.” I start tuning out after that.
The closer we get to the arena, the tenser I get. Sylvia knows this is seriously pushing my limits and I fear I’ll break. My mouth stops functioning, turning me mute as we park and head into the arena. I don’t want to be here, especially not for a man. I don’t pay attention as she leads me up stairs and eventually to a door. On the other side is a group of ladies and a few kids. I don’t belong here with the wives and girlfriends.
A soft gasp escapes me when I see the ice. To everyone else, it probably looks normal with the red and blue lines and the Rebels logo in the middle. It’s shiny as it reflects all the overhead lights and looks slick from where a Zamboni probably went over it not too long ago.
But all I see is red.
Blood.
Lots and lots of blood.
A black tunnel narrows my vision. I’m overwhelmed with a sense of lightheadedness. My body feels light and heavy all at once. My chest starts heaving as I struggle for control.
“Lizzy? You okay?”
It gets worse as I hear the players with the slicing of their skates on the ice. Unwanted memories surge forward and consume me. I shake my head and back out of the room. I have to get out of here. Now. Outside the room and in the hallway, I fall onto my butt, rest my forearms on my knees and my head on my arms, and try to take deep breaths. This proves that it was idiotic to think that I could do this. Sylvia comes to check on me, but I’m too lost in my own head to answer. Air seems to evaporate and I struggle to breathe properly. All I see is red, and all I feel is panic and horror. I stare down at my stomach, repeatedly reminding myself that there is only a yellow shirt and not pools of blood on ice instead.
Eventually, I calm myself down, lifting my head to see Sylvia sitting next to me.
“Better?”
I nod.
“You should probably go see someone,” she says gently.
No, what I should do is avoid what causes me to react like this. “I’m just going to sit out here. I can’t...” I wince as if I can still hear the skates on the ice. “I can’t deal with the sounds. You don’t have to sit with me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
She heads back inside the room. To distract myself, I pull out my phone and play a game. Should I even stick around to meet Marc? I can’t even listen to him play. What’s the point of seeing if there’s a spark? It’ll never work. I can’t be supportive when I can’t stand the sport anymore. I should get up and find another way home, but I don’t even know if I’m capable of standing right now. Back and forth, I struggle with what to do. Apparently, I don’t decide in time. Sylvia comes out with a smile, lets me know the team won, and then we’re heading to the bar.
I order an amaretto sour to calm my nerves. Who knew I’d be nervous about this, especially with all the false bravado I was able to muster at the party? Two women approach our table and Sylvia introduces me to Theresa, Nathan O’Donnell’s wife, and then to Meredith Quick, Noah Ramsey’s fiancée, who kind of looks familiar for some reason. I’m too anxious to think about why she might be familiar, though. A few more women arrive, but I stay quiet, choosing to listen to their conversations. I finish two drinks before the guys arrive.
“Ladies,” I hear as an arm lands on my shoulder, causing me to tense. “Your favorite Rebel is here.” The voice is sexy and manly. It’s the kind of voice where if you ever had phone sex, you’d want this voice on the other end. I wince a little because if I tried, it could sound just like Baby Blue. Gulping, I find courage to turn to look at him.
All I can do is stare.
Blond hair.
Slight crooked nose.
Blue eyes.
Oh my god.
It’s Baby Blue!
“You I don’t know,” he continues talking. “What’s your name, beautiful?” If possible, his grin grows, looking exactly as I remembered.
My name? What is my name? I rack my mind but can’t think of my fucking name!
“Marc, this is Elizabeth,” Sylvia quickly jumps in. “We call her Lizzy, though.”
This is Marc?
Holy shit.
Baby Blue is the guy Sylvia wants to set me up with?
Baby Blue is Marc.
Marc is a hockey player.
Therefore, Baby Blue is a hockey player.
No, no, no, no, no!
Marc leans in, smelling fresh and clean from his shower, and softly kisses my cheek. “Nice to meet you, Elizabeth,” he whispers in a voice so low and seductive I have to stop myself from shivering and melting into a puddle. He pulls away, seemingly unaffected, and waves the waitress over.
He looks so different with a suit on instead of that speedo. But he’s still so handsome and beautiful. Yes, he’s a man—a beautiful, beautiful man.
This needs to stop.
It can’t happen.
Scott, Noah, Nathan, and a few other guys arrive, and Scott introduces me to each of them. I glance at Sylvia who is a grinning fool. Marc’s arm is still around my shoulders. I look to Scott for help but he’s laughing over something Noah said.
“How’d you get included in this group?” Marc asks once he has a beer in his hand.
“I’m an old friend of Scott and Sylvia’s,” I reply stiffly. If I mention being their sister-in-law, there will be questions and I’m not going there. I lift my third drink and down half of it. This is insane. I shouldn’t be here, especially not with Baby Blue. God, why couldn’t he have just been a wonderful memory?
“Just in town visiting then?”
“No, I live here.”
“Then how come I’ve never seen your lovely face before?”
I level my gaze at him. Part of me wants to remind him that he’s seen my face, and other parts of me, but I don’t. “Lovely, really?” Clearly, I’m going to need more alcohol. I finish off my drink an
d before I can wave the waitress over, Marc has ordered me another.
“You are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women.”
Meredith giggles and Marc cuts her a playful glare.
“I’m guessing by her laugh, that’s another line.” I wonder if he counts me as Ivy as one of those beautiful women.
“Ignore Meredith. She doesn’t know anything,” he says as the waitress returns with my drink. “Tell me about yourself, Elizabeth.”
“Lizzy,” I correct. I’ve always disliked how formal my name sounds. Hell, at this point, I almost wish he’d call me Ivy. Almost. “I’m a bank teller.”
“That’s it?” He raises an eyebrow.
“That’s it.” What else am I supposed to say? Past relationships aren’t something you talk about to begin with and I am definitely not going there. What I like to do? Seriously? No. I’ve already decided I’m not going out with him.
“Did you go to the game tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Nope.”
Finally, his smile falters, and for some reason, I feel a little guilty. Marc doesn’t know what to do with me, not that I can fault him for that. Unfortunately, this means he’s trying a new technique. “Do you ever smile, Elizabeth?”
“Lizzy,” I correct again. “And of course.”
“Let me see it.”
I frown.
“That’s not a smile,” he laughs.
My eyes narrow. “Why do I need to smile?”
“I want to know you’re capable. And if you can be this beautiful frowning, then I can’t imagine what you’d be like smiling.”
“You’re full of shit. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“And you’re a piece of work.”
My jaw drops and my eyes widen. Why did Sylvia think we would hit it off? I ignore him and pick up my drink, steadily sipping. I like him better as Baby Blue when talking was not a priority. His thumb brushes my shoulder and I realize his arm is still around my shoulders. I pluck it off, but he moves it right back. He’s not even paying attention to me anymore because he’s talking to Meredith, making her laugh like he’s a comedian. He’s not that funny. I move his arm again. It’s useless, though.
Back to Me Page 25
