Saturday, July 30, 2011

Chapter 10

I hope that you see right through my walls
I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling
I'll never let a love get so close
You put your arms around me and I'm home

I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth
And I've never opened up
I've never truly loved 'Till you put your arms around me
And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

(lyrics Christina Perri ‘Arms’)

He woke to pins and needles tingling in his arm and a weight on his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down at the mass of red curls spread across his shoulder and arm where it curled around her shoulders, holding her where her body curled against his. Her cheek was pressed against his chest and by the slow and deep way she was breathing, he guessed she was still asleep. 

This had been the way he’d wanted to wake up that first morning, back in D.C. but if she had he wouldn’t have known what to do. This morning, as sun beams slanted through the drapes, he laid there watching her sleep and didn’t want to move a muscle.  He was vaguely aware that he was hungry but the midnight trip to the kitchen for snacks had only ended up emptying his fridge of most of the fruit and all of the canned whip cream, most of which he’d licked off of her. Licking his lips Mike could still taste the intermingling of the sugary sweet desert topping and the salty goodness of her juices. 

Just thinking about the sounds she’d made while he’d swirled his tongue around her joy button made his cock ache to be inside of her again. He had never met a woman who overtly enjoyed sex the way she did. Most of the girls, at least the puck fucks he’d been with, spent so much time trying to sound and look like porn stars that he was pretty sure they forgot to actually have fun too. Chelsea not only obviously enjoyed it but most of the time she was the aggressor and besides that, she could go and go for hours. Now, as he lay with her arm draped over his stomach and her warm breath teasing the hairs on his chest he felt as if he’d just played back to back games, been in a fight and had a bag skate the next morning.

It was a good kind of tired though, he decided as he combed his fingers through the silken red strands of her hair. He felt certain he could happily wake up like this every day...well, maybe not every day he decided, imagining Boudreau screaming at him to pick up his fucking feet. Yeah, maybe not on game days.


Mike looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed but she was smiling in that playful kittenish sort of way. 

“I think I have some bread...maybe some eggs.” He mentally went through his cupboards, deciding that he was going to have to get some groceries in. He was trying to remember if they’d ever closed the fridge door when he felt her hand slide down over his stomach.

“Not that kind of hungry,” she purred, opening one eye to look up at him with that look that immediately made him hard as a rock. He moaned as her fingers curled around the base of his cock and then groaned as her mouth closed around the small pink nub of his nipple. She’d discovered that particular weakness of his accidentally, while licking whip cream off of his chest. Now, as she swirled her tongue around it before gently closing her teeth on it Mike felt his balls pull up tight. She grinned at him, her straight, white teeth still tugging at the tiny pink nub as he sucked in a breath sharply. “I like having you at my mercy,” she chuckled as she kissed her way across his chest. He liked it too but he didn’t tell her that. He didn’t need to. It was pretty obvious in the way that he lay there and let her repeat all of those actions again while her fist slowly pumped up and down his hard on. 

Her hair was like another hand, sweeping lightly over his chest, almost tickling but not quite. He watched it splay out over his pale chest like it was a live thing, catching the morning light and turning into sparks, transforming into liquid fire. He dug his fingers into it, grabbed a handful of it and brought her mouth up to his.

She kissed him sweetly, her lips brushing innocently across his while her hand curled around his balls like a pro. Mike looked up at her, surrounded by a waterfall of flame and lost himself in her emerald eyes. Some of the guys dated models, and Ovie definitely had definitely had some hotties he brought over from the mother land but in that moment Mike didn’t think there was a more beautiful woman in the entire world.

“I want to be inside you,” he whispered, reaching up to cradle her cheek in his hand, to bring her lips down over his. She grinned right before she nipped at his bottom lip and then she tossed that mane of flame over her shoulder and slid back, moving over him, crawling down his body until she was hovering over him, her pussy lips just brushing the head of his engorged cock. 

He watched his dick slide up into her or her down onto him. This was a good angle. Her pert breasts bobbing with each of her movements, her whole body on display for him plus he could watch her as she came, her entire face suffused with pleasure. Mike reached up to capture her breasts in his hands but she grabbed his wrists and pinned them at his sides, leaning over him so that her hair brushed across his face, his chest and making it clear she was in charge here. 

That was fine with him, he thought as he watched her green eyes flutter closed and her ripe red lips fall open as her hips rose and fell, twisting and rocking in a rhythm that, even though they hadn’t known each other long, Mike already knew meant that she was wasn’t going to take long, which was a good thing. He never lasted long in the morning. 

She twisted her head to the side, bit down on her bottom lip and made a sound in her throat that was almost a whimper. Her eyes were shut tight in concentration and her knees tightened against his thighs as she rode him. She was practically masturbating on top of him and Mike did the only thing he could to help her along. He lifted his hips and drove himself up into her. Chelsea let out a cry and tossed her head back as her nails dug into his wrists. 

“Do it baby, I want to see you cum,” he told her as she pressed her lips together and rocked her hips forward, hard and fast. Mike looked down the plane of his body and watched her pussy lips part like a curtain to reveal his cock, glistening with her juices, just for an instant and then they came together again as she slammed her body down onto his. She whimpered and tossed her head back as he drove up into her one more time and then her head fell back, her breasts raised like an offering to the sky and her hands slid from his wrists as she reached back and dug her nails into his thighs. 

Mike sat up and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her pert little breasts to his mouth and swirling his tongue around their peach coloured tips. He felt her body sway into his, her arms wrapping around his neck and carefully, slowly he rolled her onto her back. He pressed his mouth over the jumping pulse in her neck, the shallow above her collarbone, the swell of her breast, the valley between them. He kissed the round of her shoulder, the curve of her waist, the slight swell of her stomach and dug his tongue into the shallow of her belly button. He kissed the smooth skin where her mound met her thigh and then, sliding further down the bed, he brushed the rough prickling of his whiskers against her inner thigh until she squirmed. 

Her pussy was glistening, pink and warm as he parted her inner lips and slid two fingers in and up inside of her. He heard her sigh as he slid the flat of his tongue from her entrance up to that hard little bud of nerves that made her tremble as he swirled his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. Her nails dug into his hair, his scalp, which was fine because it itched anyway. He ignored her pleas to make her cum. He could tell by the way her pussy walls tightened around his fingers that she was right on the edge but he wanted her to stay there and wait for him. He finger fucked her slowly while he dug the tip of his tongue under her clit and then sucked it into his mouth again. He could feel or maybe hear her heels drumming the bed somewhere near his shoulders and ignored that too as he pursed his lips against her clit and blew out, making motorboat sounds and vibrating her clit mercilessly until she screamed in frustration. 

Then, taking his cock in his hands and kneeling between her thighs, Mike held the tip of cock just outside of her, teasing her clit with it, dipping it just into her slit and then taking it out again as she protested loudly. The minute she reached down to relieve herself though, he turned the tables on her, grabbed her wrists and pinned them either side of her head while he slid himself balls deep inside of her hot, throbbing wet snatch. 

They groaned in unison and then held their breath, each of them knowing the other was so close and wanting to hold off that moment of release for at least another few, short moments. Mike looked down at her, at her pale cheeks filled now with a mixture of desire and exertion, her eyes almost glowing, her full lips plump and waiting for his kiss and he thought just that, just looking at her like that, might make him go. This was sex, really good sex, but he knew as he covered her mouth with his own and they started to move together, that this was now something else, something new. 

As her ankles dug into the backs of his thighs and her hips tilted up to take him deeper, he knew he was going to lose control. He let go of one of her wrists and reached for the, thankfully still open drawer at his bedside table and the condoms within. Her hand captured his before his fingers found their goal and their fingers laced and hers pulled his back onto the bed. 

“I want to feel you,” she whispered against his mouth, before pressing her lips back up against his. He moved his other hand to lace those fingers with hers and their bodies pressed as close as they could ever be. His brain told him this was dangerous but as her body shuddered and slid over the edge, taking his with her and her cry of release was muffled by his kiss and his own groan of relief, he decided he didn’t care. 


“So what’s the plan for today?” she called from the shower. Mike was already towelling off. Chelsea watched him through the glass surround on the shower as he bent to run the towel down his long, strong, lean legs. She was pretty sure she could still go another round. Mike, on the other hand, had been pretty clear that he was sure it would fall off if they tried. 

“I wouldn’t mind a hand with getting some groceries,” he called back as he ran the towel up his chest and then into his thick, dark hair, “and then I guess I better get you home. Your dad just being back from D.C., he probably wants to spend some time with you.” 

Chelsea didn’t argue. She could already hear the recriminations in her head, was already anticipating the dark looks she’d be getting and not just from her family. She could count the number of times she’d stayed out all night on one, three fingers, and she would be surprised if they all weren’t waiting right now with cups of dark coffee and staring at the door with grim expressions on their faces. 

“Yeah, I should probably call.” She winced as she said it out loud. It made her feel like a little kid to say it and she imagined it made her sound like a little kid to Mike too. She glanced over at him as she ducked her head under the water to rinse out the shampoo but he wasn’t looking at her and he wasn’t even making a face, except at himself as he dragged a handful of gel through his thick, unruly hair. 

“Maybe if we go now we can bring him some Timmy Ho’s on the way back,” Mike offered brightly, tugging at one lock of hair that wouldn’t follow the rest. Chelsea grinned at him. He was a good guy, a nice guy. If her grandmother gave him a chance she might even call him a keeper. 

Not that she was thinking about stuff like that yet, she told herself sternly as she poured a handful of conditioner into one hand and then put the bottle back in the tray hanging from the shower head before putting the goop in her hair. It was fun, they were having fun. There was no need to get heavy about it, she reminded herself as she dragged her fingers through her hair. In fact, she thought as she dragged her palms down to the ends of her hair, spreading the conditioner thoroughly, the reason she was with him was because she couldn’t handle heavy right now. This was exactly what she needed. Light, fun, no ties. He was leaving at the end of the summer and that would be that. This wasn’t a forever thing and that was a good thing. 

She looked down at her legs and made a face. She’d had them waxed before she left D.C. but she was almost sure she’d felt stubble on them as she’d run the loofah over them. Mike had an electric thing, an expensive looking razor plugged in over by the sink, she’d noticed. Maybe he had some disposable ones under the sink somewhere. She opened her mouth to ask when she felt his hands running through her hair, tipping her head back under the water and his lips on her neck. 

“Hey I thought you said...,” she began, laughing when his growl vibrated against her skin. 

“That was before I watched you,” he snarled as his teeth found her earlobe and tugged. 

“You’ve got all that stuff in your hair,” she warned as he lifted her off of the river pebble floor and pressed her against the slate tile of the wall, his cock nudging its way inside. 

“Wash out, put more in,” he replied with a feral growl before covering her mouth with his and silencing her, for the moment. 


It had been fun to have someone along to do something as mundane as buying groceries, especially because she’d made him pick out actual food rather than just energy bars and fruit cups and stopped him from loading up on chips and pop which was what he’d planned on buying for having the guys around. She’d even impressed the sommelier at the wine store they’d stopped at where he’d have been happy to buy the closest ten dollar bottle and she’d insisted on getting a thirty five dollar bottle of cabernet franc from some winery called Burrowing Owl and an even more expensive bottle of sauvignon blanc from some apparently award winning winery called Blasted Church. So much for a case of Pilsener and a bottle of cider for Backsy. 

As he carefully balanced a tray of Timmy Ho’s large double doubles and a box of Timbits and following her up the stairs as she fished out her keys, he was sort of wishing the day wasn’t about to end. He did have stuff to do before the golf tournament and he did have friends that he hadn’t had a chance to catch up with yet, but as he watched her turn the key in the lock he wanted to tell her not to, to get back in his car and spend the day with him. 

Getting soft Greener’ he told himself, or was that Brooksy in his ear again he wondered as she pushed the door open. The salty smell of bacon frying hit his nose and made his stomach grumble. They’d hit a Starbucks on their way to the grocery store but the pumpkin scone had definitely not been enough. 

“I’m home!” Chelsea called. She’d texted her father in the car. He hadn’t replied. Mike was half expected a gun in his face. He certainly hadn’t expected her grandmother in an apron with freshly baked biscuits on a plate and her father pouring orange juice and smiling at him as if he hadn’t just spent the last twelve or so hours tapping his daughter. 

“I hope you’re hungry,” her grandmother smiled warmly as she put the plate of warm biscuits down beside a plate of real butter. Mike licked his lips. 

“Definitely,” he replied, pulling a chair out and sitting down in front of an empty plate that was all of a sudden full of scrambled eggs followed by at least half a dozen strips of crispy bacon. Just the way he liked it. “I’m gonna have to spend some time in the gym after this,” he muttered, mostly as a reminder to himself.

“You look like you could hit some weights,” a voice rang out behind him and the warm, friendly and welcoming kitchen suddenly got cool and every face turned towards the doorway. Mike glanced over his shoulder to see that annoying cowpoke taking off his dented and stained straw hat as he stood by the still open door. “Sorry to interrupt folks,” the big sweaty cowboy grinned like he actually wasn’t sorry at all, “but I believe Snowbird’s about to foal and I could do with a hand.” 

Mike expected her father to grab an old fashioned doctor’s bag and go flying out the door but instead it was Chelsea that reached out and grabbed a strip of bacon off of his plate and tore out the door. He watched her go, unsure if he should go after her or stay where he was and not because he didn’t trust her but he sure as hell didn’t trust that overgrown primate. 

“May as well stay and eat that young man,” her grandmother decided for him. “You won’t be use nor ornament down at the barn. You’d just be in the way,” she added, adding two links of browned sausages to his plate. “You eat that and then be on your way,” she added before taking a seat beside him and picking up a steaming cup of black coffee. “They’ll let us know when they’re done.”  

Friday, July 22, 2011

Chapter 9

According to you I'm stupid, I'm useless
I can't do anything right
According to you I'm difficult, hard to please
Forever changing my mind

I'm a mess in a dress, can't show up on time
Even if it would save my life
According to you, according to you

But according to him I'm beautiful, incredible
He can't get me out of his head
According to him I'm funny, irresistible
Everything he ever wanted

Everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it
So baby tell me what I got to lose
He's into me for everything I'm not
According to you

(lyrics from ‘According to You’ by Orianthi)

She rolled over and felt the sun on her face. Opening one eye she watched the drapes float on the morning breeze. Breathing in a lungful of air she could almost taste the freshly mowed grass and warm scent of horseflesh. 


It was the first time she’d actually felt that way since she’d got back to town. Snuggling down beneath her comforter, she closed her eyes and listened to the birds, the sound of the tractor starting up and waited for the sounds and smell of her father making coffee downstairs. Instead she heard her phone vibrating across her nightstand. Chelsea reached out blindly and felt around until her hand closed over her phone and pulled it under the quilt and peered at it. 

Thought about you all night

She emitted a happy squeak and rolled over on her stomach. She didn’t remember exchanging digits with him but he had been playing Angry Birds on her iPhone when she’d gotten dressed. The goofy self portrait that was now in her contacts folder gave away the fact he’d entered his own which explained why he had hers.
Well I hope you got some sleep too she texted, adding a winky face in case he didn’t get that she was trying to be sarcastic. Her phone lit a few seconds later and she giggled at his reply.

Serious case of blue balls made that sort of difficult

Her fingers were poised above her phone, ready to text back a suggestion for relieving his problem himself when her phone vibrated in her hand.

Come out & play?? 

Chelsea rolled over on her back and contemplated playing coy, or hard to get or a combination of both but decided that she did want to see him again, and soon. 


She stared at her phone and waited for his response but none came. After a couple of minutes she put her phone aside and rolled over so that her back was facing it. She knew she was being childish by pouting but she’d got that rush of butterflies in her stomach and now it was gone. 

The sound of small pebbles hitting the hard wood floor of her room merely puzzled her at first. The muffled curse that followed as he no doubt realized that the window was open and that he might have hit her with a rock made her laugh. Throwing her quilt aside, she jumped out of the bed and went to the window. 

He was standing beneath her window in a pair of faded black jeans and snug fitting black t-shirt that emphasized the width of his chest not to mention his mile wide shoulders. He had a Yankees ball cap pulled low over his eyes so she couldn’t see them but his broad effervescent grin was crystal clear from her vantage point, two stories up. 

“I asked if you could come out. What are you waiting for?” 

“Do you want to tell a girl where she’s going so she knows what to wear?” she called down. He tilted his head to one side and she could see him squinting in the early morning light. 

“What you’re wearing looks pretty good to me,” he called back, his smile broadening as Chelsea glanced down, trying to remember what she’d worn to bed. It was just a slip and a short one at that, leaving almost everything bare. She felt a warm heat spreading through her entire body at the memory of his hands on her skin. Did he mean to just take her back to his place and have his wicked way with her? Did she mind if he did? “Just bring comfortable shoes and get down here,” he called as she took stock of her lack of clothes. 

She nodded and was about to pull her window shut when she caught sight of Jimmy coming out of the barn carrying a saddle. He stopped and looked, first at Mike and then up towards the house. She waved. He didn’t even nod, just turned and walked towards the ring. Chelsea watched him go, feeling her smile fading.
She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, not intentionally and not to be cruel. Seeing the blank expression on his face took some of the pleasure out of seeing Mike...but not all of it 


Mike stared down at his phone and cursed quietly. A large helping of bacon, eggs, pancakes and hash-browns had just been put down in front of him and now his agent was sending him the reminder of the radio interview at the local sports station. 

“I’m sorry, can we have this to go?” he said to the waitress before she had even settled the plate on the table in front of him. Her ‘happy to see you expression’ immediately changed into ‘I had better get a whopping big tip’ look. Chelsea’s eyes got wide over the slice of bagel she had just bitten into. “I completely forgot,” he explained, handing her his phone as proof, “this interview. I’m really, really sorry. I promise it won’t take long.” She looked at his phone as the waitress took her plate and Mike steeled himself for an angry barrage. After all, he’d gotten her out of bed and she was looking way to fly to deposit in the front waiting room of a radio station but she just shrugged, downed her coffee and said nothing. He couldn’t believe it. Some of the girls he’d dated and in no way seriously, had thrown downright hissy fits over less than this. Mike peeled off one more twenty than was strictly necessary as the waitress came back and as they stood, he couldn’t help but ask. “You’re pissed right? I mean you have a right to be but you are pissed at me right?”

“No,” she smiled as they fell into step. “Strictly speaking I should have made you wait while I mucked out stalls but...I didn’t want to do that in this,” she added, making the hem of her sundress swirl around her knees. He’d have liked it better if it had been shorter, but the way the sun was shining through it now made the light butter yellow fabric almost transparent and Mike decided that he liked it just fine as he stared hungrily at the shadow of her breasts. “But I am gonna eat this on the way,” she continued holding up the half of a bagel she hadn’t allowed the waitress to take. “Unless you’re gonna forbid me to in your fancy car,” she added as he stepped down off the curb beside the driver’s side door. Mike eyed the raspberry jam and cream cheese spread on the bagel and knew that even with his boys he had a rule about no food and drink in most of his vehicles but there was something about the way she licked her lips after she took a bite that was making saying no to her a lot more difficult. “What is with you and the fancy wheels anyway?” she asked as he thumbed the key fob to unlock the doors of the baby Escalade. 

“I like nice things,” he replied immediately without having to give it a second thought as he leaned on the roof of the lowered, fully pimped out black Cadillac SRX. “I like you don’t I?” 

“Wow,” she grinned across at him but not like she was basking in the glow of the compliment but more like she thought he was the biggest cheesehead she’d ever met. “Do you get all the girls with your smooth lines?”

“I got you,” he laughed, opening the door as she did the same on her side and sliding in behind the wheel. He put on his shades and then leaned across the centre consul for a kiss. She smiled at him and then stuck her finger in the jam and cream cheese and spread it across his lips instead. 

“That remains to be seen,” she told him and then settled back into her seat and bit into the bagel and chewed thoughtfully, staring straight ahead. 

He liked this girl. She had something different from the other girls he’d met recently. She had spunk, he decided as he turned the key and backed the car out of the parking lot. 


She’d flipped through most of the magazines in the place and decided that someone seriously needed to speak to whoever ordered them. There was a good cross section of mens’ magazines like SI, GQ Esquire and of course every single solitary back issue of FHM and Maxim but there was not a single solitary issue of Instyle , Cosmo or Vogue, let alone Ladies Journal or anything else someone with a vagina would spend more than ten minutes looking at.

“Did you want to listen?” the receptionist, who hadn’t so much as popped her head above the desk that bore the call letters of the station was suddenly watching her with interest. 

“To...?” Chelsea reluctantly closed the copy of GQ she was holding with a sweaty Alex Skarsgard  on the cover and looked up curiously at the pixie-like face looking over at her. 

“Do you want to listen to the interview?” She thought for a moment, wondering if there’d be a lot of talk about a sport she didn’t know much about and then decided she did want to know more about him and nodded. The woman behind the desk smiled and then disappeared behind the large screen of her computer and suddenly Mike’s voice was filling the room. 

She could hear the smile in his voice, that playful tone that in turn made her smile. He talked about teammates whose names she didn’t recognize and games she’d never seen but she liked the laid back way he talked about everything. He didn’t sound self important, in fact most of the time he sounded downright self-conscious when the on air personalities played up his role on the team. 

“You two been dating long?” the young woman from behind the desk suddenly appeared in front of her with a can of diet Coke. Chelsea thought about asking if they had the real thing around anywhere but decided against it and took the can as she shook her head. “Ah...I see,” the woman raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips and suddenly Chelsea realized that she was being looked at differently. 

“We met in D.C.,” she said, sitting straighter and staring right back at the woman who then met her gaze with a slightly more respectful one of her own. Would he really have brought a girl here who he’d met at the bar the night before? Chelsea wondered as she took a sip of the cool, dark bubbly liquid. Not that she remembered many of the faces of his friends, who she now supposed might have been his teammates, but out of all of them she thought he was one of the least likely to be a player. He’d never seemed like one to her. 


“So the ladies of Calgary want to know Mike,” one of the announcers asked as the interview wound down, “are ya seein’ anyone? Will we be seeing you at Cowboys?” Mike laughed and shook his head. 

“I’ve already been to Cowboys since I got back,” he told them and the two on air guys gave him the thumbs up like they were glad he was still the guy they’d expected, the guy voted most likely to take pictures of himself tanked with two hot blondes and post it to Twitter.  “And I’ve got a night planned at Vinyl soon, when some of my boys come in for the charity golf tournament and I’m sure I’ll see you all at Stampede,” he added, thinking about how good Chelsea had looked in her tight jeans and debating how hot she’d look with a Stetson on. 

“I noticed you dodged the first part of the question,” the guys laughed and Mike felt heat enter his cheeks. He hadn’t really dodged it, so much as ignored it. “That’s okay. We’ll let him get away with that won’t we? Don’t want to cramp a playah’s style.” Mike was already taking off the headphones and laughing nervously as he held his hand out to one of the two guys to shake. 

“No word about the hottie waiting outside for you Mike?” the other guy asked. Mike swivelled and stared at the heavy set man sitting behind the mic. He froze, his hand still held out to one of the two interviewers while he stared down the other one. It was like facing down two streaking forwards, only this time there was no goalie behind him and if he made the wrong decision they were going to get any empty net. Mike mulled over several answers, looking for one that would cause him the least amount of grief, from his agent, from his friends and most of all from Chelsea. 

“Do people use labels anymore?” he asked with a grin that was in no way real and was, in fact, a hell of a lot closer to baring his teeth like a junk yard dog. “She’s a beautiful girl and I’m going to leave it at that. Have a great day guys and I hope everyone comes out for the golf tournament, it’s for a great cause and I’m hoping we get some great weather for it.” Mike turned from the mic then, signalling that there would be no more questions and immediately started hoping that Chelsea hadn’t heard what he’d just said. 

He’d had girls get mental when he wouldn’t hold their hands in public or didn’t introduce them to his teammates as his girlfriend even if they’d only met the night before. When he pushed the door open to the lobby he found her rifling through a magazine and when she looked up at his approach, she greeted him with a smile. 

“Ready to go?” he asked holding out his hand to help her up out of the chair. She looked at his hand and then back up at him and tilted her head to one side. 

“That depends,” she began, a mischievous glint in her eyes. It was only as he started trying to anticipate her answer the way he would try to anticipate whether an opposing player was going to make a pass or a shot through the defensive zone that he realized that the he was hearing the voices of the guys who had just been interviewing him playing in the room. His gut twisted as he waited for her to tear him a new one for denying their relationship. “You’re supposed to ask what on,” she prompted him, giving his sneaker clad foot a shove with those strappy gold sandals that reminded him waaaay too much of that night in D.C.

“On?” he mumbled, doing his best Droopy imitation. 

“What’s the plan Stan? Where are we going?” she asked, laughing as she grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, planting her body near enough to his that he could feel the heat of her skin. 

“Oh that...yeah...I wondered if you’d help me do some shopping for some bedding and stuff,” he asked sheepishly. Her face lit up and she turned, heading for the door, practically dragging him behind her.
“I’m good at shopping. I hope you’ve got good credit.” 


She was piling bright green and blue coloured towels in his arms when the realization that she’d been the only one talking for the last half hour. As she put the next folded towel on top of the last one she’d piled into his arms, she pressed down until she could see his face. At best he looked distracted, at worst, upset. 

“Okay, I know men hate shopping but you’re the one who brought me here,” she pointed out, and, when she got no reaction Chelsea rolled her eyes and went back to picking out matching hand towels and wash cloths.

“No...uh thanks. I totally need the help,” he muttered in reply. ‘Well d’uh, you’re a man’ she thought as she grabbed a handful of washcloths in each colour and then turned to pile them on top of the growing pile in his arms, her full hand pausing as his gaze held hers and a gentle smirk tugged the corner of his mouth up at a crooked angle. 

“What?” she asked, her hand automatically going up to see if she had lipstick on her teeth or if it was smudged on the corner of her mouth. “Do I have a raspberry seed in my teeth or something?” 

“You’re really not bothered, are you?” he asked, his nose wrinkling and his eyes narrowing as he gazed steadily at her. Chelsea stared back at him, waiting for him to tell her what she was suppose to be bothered by, other than his sullen silence. Finally when his grin broadened, she dropped the washcloths on top of the pile and turned to walk towards the bathmats. She only made it a couple of steps when she felt his arms slide around her waist and the next thing she knew her feet were off of the ground and he was nuzzling her neck like a calf looking for a teat. 

“I...can’t...breathe,” she gasped, pushing down at his arms as they slid up her ribcage. He laughed and kissed her cheek before putting her down. “You’re weird,” she mumbled, trying very hard not to giggle as he held her against the width of his chest and nibbled on her ear like maybe it had suddenly turned into a cob of corn. 

“The boys are gonna loooove you,” he laughed, giving her ribs a crushing squeeze before he let her go and turned to scoop up the towels that he’d let drop to the floor. Chelsea turned and watched him, admiring the bootylicious angle as his jeans strained to contain what she knew to be solid muscle. 

“Boys?” she asked as he turned around. 

“Friends...teammates, whatever. Some guys I know are coming for this golf tournament and Stampede. You’re in right?” Chelsea raised an eyebrow at him and shrugged. 

“I might have things to do, I don’t know. I’ll have to check my calendar and get back to you,” she replied with a shrug. He only laughed, as if she’d just said something hilarious, and Chelsea quickly turned her back on him and headed back towards the bathmats so he wouldn’t see her smile. 


“There,” she said, dropping the last freshly plumped pillow in place before standing back to survey her handiwork, “guest room number two officially ready for visitors.” Mike leaned in the doorway and nodding approvingly. 

“Looks much better than it would have if I’d picked everything out,” he agreed. She turned and gave him a quizzical look. “You didn’t think I decorated my digs in D.C. did you?” he asked, watching the truth of his words dawn on her. 

“Yeah, I guess I have seen you bedroom,” she smirked and at the mere mention of his bed, Mike felt his balls tighten. He’d been watching her in that sundress all day, the silhouette of her body teasing him every time she moved. He wanted to drag her to his bedroom now but he had something he wanted to do first. 

“C’mere,” he held out his hand and she slipped her smaller one into his. Mike led her into the kitchen and, still holding her hand, reached for the marker hanging from the small whiteboard he usually wrote his work-out schedule on and scribbled a message for her while she read over his shoulder. 

Will you be my girlfriend?

Underneath he drew two, not very straight, boxes and beside the first he wrote Yes and No beside the second. 

He heard her snort and before he could even hand her the marker, she reached around him and with her finger drew an ‘x’ through the yes box. Feeling on top of his game, Mike reached up redrew the yes box and wiped off the question and before writing another.

Can we have sex now?

Monday, July 11, 2011

Chapter 8

I need someone to stand by me
Stand by me, just one time.
I hope somebody stands by me
Stands by me, just one time
I don't understand, it's slipping through these hands
I think by now I know when to let go
All I know is here I am baby
Won't you stand by me?

(lyrics from ‘Someone Stand by Me’ Stevie Nicks)

She wasn’t surprised that he’d been willing to let her go, especially after she’d said she wanted to do this before she lost her nerve. What did surprise her was that he insisted on taking her himself and furthermore that when they’d headed back to the garage that he’d handed her a helmet. 

There was something in it, Chelsea decided as she tipped her head back and let the wind blast her face. Maybe he’d known it would help to clear her head or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to talk, but she decided she liked being on the back of a bike, liked having her arms around his strong solid core, even if it was only a moped. 

A fresh onset of giggling plagued her as she recalled the kicked puppy look he’d made when she’d laughed at his bright red scooter and the matching red scarf he’d tied around his neck as he settled himself on the front of the seat. He must have felt her laughter transferred from her chest to his back because he shook his head and, just for a second, he took one hand off of the handlebars and gave her hand that was resting in the middle of his chest a little squeeze. 

She was going to need more than that in a minute, she thought as she let go with one hand and pointed up a street that looked like it lead to nowhere. 

‘What are you doing?’ she asked herself as she saw the lights of her closest neighbor’s house speed by. Her pulse sped up as she thought about what was likely waiting for her up at the house. Jimmy was probably pacing. Her grandparents were probably worried sick. What she’d done was selfish, thoughtless and now she was going to go in there and tell them that the girl they all thought they knew...well, that they didn’t. 

She leaned her cheek against Mike’s back and seriously considered asking him to turn back. She could hide out at his place, it looked like it needed a woman’s touch and from what she’d seen of his fridge he looked like he needed someone to cook for him too. 

“Is this it?” Mike’s voice carried over his shoulder with the wind as he slowed at the pasture at the foot of the hill, where the big gate stood ajar as if they were expecting her. 

Of course they are’, she sighed as she reluctantly let go of him and reached for the strap on the helmet. She’d never stayed out a whole night in her life and despite the fact that it was already dark every light in the house was on and she had no doubt in her mind that the coffee was too. It was going to be a long walk to the house. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, his feet on the ground but the engine still running as he turned to watch her shake her hair out as she pulled off the helmet. 

“This...your my little pony bike doesn’t deserve the abuse of that road, for one thing,” she told him, climbing off the bike and handing him the helmet, “and you don’t need to protect me. I told you, he’s not gonna take a swing at me.” He actually managed to look hurt, even with the open face helmet pushing his slightly chubby cheeks in and making him look a little like Nemo, but with stubble. 

“You might need a ride somewhere...after,” he suggested. Chelsea reached out and traced the lines of the tattoo on his bicep as she shook her head. 

“They’re not gonna kick me out of my own house,” she sighed, her fingertips reading the word, Faith. Not the name of a girlfriend, but a mantra. She raised her gaze to meet his and he looked adorably confused. He’d obviously thought he was taking her to Jimmy’s and with the horses in the paddock having made their way to the fence to greet her, she could understand why. He opened his mouth to ask the question and she answered it before he had to. “He works for my family,” she shrugged and then leaned in and kissed him square on the mouth. “Thanks...for everything.” 

Go now before you lose your nerve’ she told herself as she clung to his scarf, pulling his lips harder against her own. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him, hard. His hair still smelled a little bit like a camp fire but the rest of him smelled like wind mixed with the warm musky scent of boy. 

She turned then, leaving him with her helmet in one hand and the brake and gas in the other. ‘Don’t look back’ she told herself as she kicked at a pebble and headed up the long, rutted drive. This had nothing to do with him. ‘Well not really’, she reminded herself. He’d certainly been the catalyst but the trip to D.C. had been the i.e.d. that had blown her safe little world apart. There was no need to rub Jimmy’s face in the fact that she wanted to be with another man. ‘And it doesn’t have to be him’ she told herself as she hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans and then sent another pebble skidding across the dirt. She could be with fifty different men if she wanted to. 

Yeah right’ she grinned at herself, ‘as if now that you’ve been with two men you’re suddenly gonna turn into a whore’. That’s the way that Jimmy would see it, she knew with absolute certainly. ‘Which is why you’re not gonna tell him’ she told herself firmly as she glanced towards the barn. The light above the tack room was out, which meant that Jimmy was also waiting for her at the house. So much for having a quiet one on one conversation she thought glumly as she turned and headed up the last stretch of the drive, sending another pebble skipping across the dirt. She watched it disappear under her car and felt her heart stop beating. 

There was a long, black town car sitting right in front of the house and that could only mean one thing. 

Daddy’s home. 

Chelsea stood there staring at the long, low, black car with the limo tinted windows and swore. 

 “You comin’ in the house or are you gonna stand there all night?” Chelsea looked up to see her father standing in the doorway, the light from the house spilling around his tall frame. Suddenly she didn’t feel like the brave, independent woman. She felt like she was five, with Anne of Green Gables braids and a band-aid on her knee. 

“Comin’ daddy,” she sighed, kicking another pebble ferociously against the bottom step, listening to the sound of it thudding off the old, faded wood. That helped. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt like it did. She took her thumbs out of her belt loops and suddenly her hand was in a warmer, bigger one. 

“I couldn’t let you do this alone.” She looked over at Mike and she was pretty sure her smile was brighter than the big old moon sitting low in the spring sky. The way he smiled encouragingly back at her filled her chest with the courage seeing that town car had stolen from her and the way he squeezed her hand as he took that first step up to the front door gave her the nerve to follow. 


It was like walking into McPhee’s office and finding Boudreau, Leonsis and maybe worst of all Fishman. You knew you were fucked if legal was waiting behind that door. That’s what walking into Chelsea’s house felt like for Mike as he saw the older couple at the small table eyeing him with distaste that made him wish he’d done more than pull on a pair of tattered jeans and what he’d hoped, in the semi dark, was a clean white t-shirt. 

Jimmy sized him up from the couch where he sat, fuming as he stared at their joined hands. Mike did his best not to smirk but knew, when the tall, lean cowboy’s hands fisted, that he’d lost the battle. Seeing the tall blonde’s blue eyes flash murderously did help Mike to stand taller, straighter though and for that he was grateful as he turned his attention to the man in the slick grey pin striped suit.

This was exactly like facing Caps owner Leonsis and his legal Rottweiler, Fishman, across a desk. His gut twisted and his palms got sweaty. He wiped his free hand down the side of his jeans and sent an apologetic glance at Chelsea but her eyes were glued to her father. 

She was holding her chin high but he could see her bottom lip was beginning to quiver. He’d expected the tears to be for the dusty cowpoke in the corner. He’d obviously been wrong. 

“Jimmy says you came off a horse. I was supposed to stay in Ottawa for two days. I came all the way home. Where have you been?” Mike watched her nostrils flare and her usually pale, freckled cheeks suddenly bloomed with colour. She was fucking him, in his bed. It was his fault she hadn’t stayed at the hospital. His fault she hadn’t been home when her father got here. 

“She was with me...sir.” He caught her grateful glance out of the corner of his eye but Mike’s gaze was how meeting the furious glare of a very angry daddy bear and just like he knew not to look away when facing down an opposition forward on a breakaway, Mike didn’t so much as blink as Chelsea’s father stared him down. 

“And who, may I ask, are you? And why are you holding my daughter’s hand?” Mike hadn’t met the parents of a girlfriend in, well, maybe not since high school. Usually parents liked him. They took one look at him and thought, harmless. That had been before he’d been a professional hockey player. Now, he was pretty sure, most parents wouldn’t want him anywhere near their daughters and he didn’t blame them which is why he didn’t really ‘date’ much. He was trying to decide if this man might, however, prefer to know who he really was and that he had more to offer his daughter than a skinny guy in pale jeans who cleaned up horseshit for a living. 

“My name’s Mike Green. I met your daughter in D.C. I play for the Capitals there sir, but I live here in Calgary in the offseason.” He didn’t need to turn to look at her to know that Chelsea’s jaw had just dropped. He could practically hear it unhinge and couldn’t resist aiming a quick, smug grin at Jimmy who was looking at him like he was imagining taking him apart surgically and painfully. Mike’s chest swelled just a little. It was usually Ovie’s deal, getting under the opposition’s skin but right at this moment Mike knew why the great eight liked it so much. “I’m sorry you’ve all been worried but I can assure you, I’d never let anything happen to your daughter.” It was bullshit when it rolled off his tongue but when he turned to look at her, when he saw the gratitude and warmth in this leaf green eyes, he knew the only person he was bullshitting in this room was himself. 

 You are sooooo fucked’. It was Brooksy’s voice in his head and he could see his friend’s shit eating grin so clearly it was as if the big shouldered forward was right in the room, laughing at him. He wanted to kiss her, right here, in front of her family. He wanted to pull her close and inhale the sweet, berry scent of her hair. He ran his thumb across the back of her knuckles instead and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze instead. Hop along Jim Bob must have seen it because he got to his feet with a sound of disgust and pushed past them, almost taking the screen door off of its hinges as he set it swinging. 

Chelsea turned to watch him go and Mike could feel the vibration all the way down her arm and into his hand and knew that she wanted to go after him and he got that same feeling he got sometimes right before he put a guy into the boards. Sometimes it was automatic, a way to get a guy off of the puck, but sometimes he wanted to hurt the guy. Right now he wanted to hurt that guy...a lot. 

“Leave him CeeCee. He’s a big boy, he’ll get over it.” Mike glanced back at Chelsea’s father and immediately decided to like the man. “Well don’t just leave your young man standing there. Do you drink coffee or tea son?” 


“That was...interesting,” Chelsea mused as she led Mike out onto the porch. She could feel the eyes of her entire family still on them as they stood under the porch light. They had said their good nights but she knew they wouldn’t be far away.

“Actually I thought it was kind of fun,” Mike replied as he swatted at a moth. Chelsea raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed. “Well okay, just the part where Garth Brooks took off in a huff,” he added with a playful grin. That part, she thought, should be bothering her more than it was but as she gave him Mike a poke in the ribs she realized that she hadn’t thought about Jimmy at all since they’d joined her grandparents at the table and Mike had started telling them all about playing for the Caps and how, one day, he hoped to play for the Flames. 

“You handled them like a pro,” she added more quietly, sending a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. The house looked dark now, at least the front of the house did, but she had no doubt that there were still eyes on them. 

“They’re nice actually. Your grandpa’s a nut. I like him.” Mike gave her hand a squeeze and then tilted his head in the direction of the stairs. Chelsea nodded and followed him down the stairs. They walked down the pathway to the driveway, their joined hands swinging in the cool spring night air. 

“Well it explains your pad in D.C.,” she mused and he let out a bark of laughter. 

“I can’t believe all your theories on that.” She’d admitted to being there, just not when or why and had admitted that she hadn’t known that the place was his. Mike had snorted tea across the table when she’d expounded on her theory that she’d been brought to his father’s den of sin. “I’ll have to remember to tell my dad about that. My mom won’t like it but my dad will think it’s fucking hilarious,” he added with a low chuckle. 

“You didn’t have to do it,” she said as they walked past her father’s big dark car and headed alongside the upper paddock. 

“Well it was kind of my fault they were all worrying about where you were,” he reminded her. “Besides I’d have been kind of a dick to leave you to face the music alone,” he continued in an impish tone. Chelsea glanced over at him and found him looking at her, watching her. “I’m not sure with your old man there you’d have said anything to old hop a long,” he added, his gaze suddenly serious. She dropped her gaze from his and shrugged. He was probably right about that she admitted to herself and knew her body language said the same to him. “Having second thoughts?” he asked as they reached the end of the drive. She could see his moped sitting on its kickstand near the front gate. If he’d done that in D.C. it would have been gone or torched by now. 

Am I?’ she wondered as she listened to the sounds of crickets and the wind moving through the high grass. She felt bad if she’d hurt him, but she did feel like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Shaking her head, she turned to face him and offered Mike her other hand. 

“I guess that sort of depends,” she said quietly, moving closer to him, guiding one of his hands around her waist and letting go of the other so she could slide her hand up beneath his t-shirt, pressing her hand flat against his warm skin. 

“Oh yeah?” he replied, his tone low, voice husky, his lips so near to hers’. “On what?” She swayed against him, moving to a song that was playing in her head as she searched his face until her gaze focussed on his soft, pouting lips. 

“If you’ll be my boyfriend,” she asked in a playful whisper. His lips curled up into a smile and as her gaze flicked up to his he drew her against him and just before mouth captured hers, he laughed.