Pawliday Love

Chapter One, Part One

CHAPTER ONE, PART ONE

SCOTT SANDERSON

T he buxom blonde with breasts barely being held up by a white string bikini—no, let’s call it what it is, dental floss—only has one flaw that I can see the second she opens the door after I knock. It’s not her taut, tan skin, over those curvy hips I could admire for days.

Nope, the problem with the woman who greets me at the door: she holds a cat in her arms. A huge fluffy white one with gray-tipped ears, paws, and tail, who regards me with a resting grumpy face and steely blue eyes like I’m nothing better than the litter in its box.

If the woman would have answered the door with a dog by her side, she would have been a total ten, with me believing my luck had changed. And I don’t mean one of those tiny yappy dogs either, but a big one. Like a retriever or shepherd or Bernese mountain dog.

“Uh, hi. Are you Mabel Doubtfire?” I ask.

She looks nothing like the way my mother had described her old friend from college. I expected to be lodging with a middle-aged woman. Not with a beach bunny who somehow landed in the middle of Montana on a hot August afternoon, wearing practically nothing.

When the Vancouver Ice traded me away for the season to the new semi-pro expansion team, the Montana Frostbite, I didn’t have time to look for a place to live. Mom called Mabel, and that’s how I ended up here, on the doorstep of a sprawling log home on a prairie with a view of the mountains behind it and the big sky above. And a stunning view of this vibrant goddess peering at me with bold blue eyes.

“Mabel is my Auntie. I’m visiting here for the summer. I’m Dinah, and you must be…Scott Sanderson, the hockey player.” Her eyes flit up to meet mine. Whoa. I could swim in her wild orbs of ocean blue. Seriously, is this my life right now? I expect a camera crew to leap out of the bushes like I’m on some prank television show.

My old teammates back in Vancouver were right. They’d predicted that the second I stepped foot here in Big Sky country, I’d find a cowgirl to fuck. Screw that, I’ll take this cat-woman instead. Because other than my on-ice goal of playing my ass off—so I can get my agent to strike me a deal playing for a professional team as soon as possible—bedding this woman just became my one and only off-ice goal.

As long as I can get the white creature out of her arms, that is. It appears quite cozy there and growls at me, with its gray ears flattening back.

“Oh, hush, Mr. Winston.” She buries her nose into the cat’s thick neck in a lump of fur just above a diamond studded collar. When her lips become visible again, she giggles. “You’ll have to excuse him. He doesn’t warm up to people quickly. Which is difficult given his profession.”

“Profession?” I ask with a brow arched, shifting my heavy gear bag over my left shoulder and loosening my grip on my rolling suitcase.

She gasps and covers the cat’s ears with her hand. “You mean you don’t recognize him? Don’t let him hear you say that.” Then she’s back to snuggling him with a change of her voice to sugary sweet. “Isn’t that right, Winston, darling? You’re a star, baby.”

“Um. Okay.” I squint at the cat, who looks a little familiar, come to think of it.

“You’ve probably seen him in all kinds of commercials and shows, not to mention his latest hit with a major role in that cowboy spy sci-fi fantasy movie filming nearby. Which is why we’re here, shooting movie scenes for the rest of summer and fall instead of lounging on the beach in SoCal. Isn’t that right, my beautiful boy? Yes, it is. Who’s the best boy? My big boy. You are. Oh, you know it.” Her long, glossy red manicured nails scratch behind his ears. The cat preens and swipes his cheek along hers, his tail stiff but curled at the end like he’s found heaven in her arms.

Goddamn. The praise she lays thick on the furball has me wishing she’d rub me. How I’d like to take my cock out and do the same to her, caress her cheek with it as she kneels before me. I’ll bet I’d give her a good hour in heaven with my tongue, too.

Suddenly I’m a steel rod. Even though I’m not looking for a relationship at all. I bring my bag in front of me to hide what has to be the stiffest erection I’ve had all year, and I clear my throat, hoping she doesn’t notice.

“Sorry. I don’t have a tongue—er, I mean a ton of time to watch television.” I’ll make time to fuck Dinah whenever possible, though. The two of us here together? I’d be up for a simple friends with benefits situation, pure sexual satisfaction only. Would she? I see no rings on her fingers, but given her looks, something tells me she’s used to a certain high standard of living. But I’m not talking about wine and dine and expensive dates; a bed is all I need to show her the riches I possess.

Come on, Dinah. Give me a sign you’re into me. I just need a hint and I’ll take over from there.

“Oh, that’s right. Auntie said you’d hardly be around, given your hockey games and training schedule. Too bad. I could certainly use some fun around here.” She purrs through her words like she’s a black cat herself. It does nothing to hide her doe eyes dancing across my pecs and shoulders and dipping further down, before batting her lashes up at me, and it’s the exact spark I need.

I lean my forearm up on the door frame above her head. “Trust me. I’ll make plenty of time for fun.”

“Mm. Is that right?” She cocks her head with a hint of a sly smile at me. The instant heat builds between us like waves off a paved desert road. Oh yeah, she’s into me.

Winston hisses. Thanks to my quick reflexes, I narrowly escape his claws of death from scratching my pristine skin. Jeez. I need to keep alert around him.

In her next breath, Dinah’s back to baby-talking the cat. “Now, Mr. Winston, you are tons of fun. I meant nothing by it. Mwah. Mwah. Mwah.” Through all her kisses, Winston stares at me. If the cat could talk, I’d bet there’s some kind of warning in his eyes, like Back off, buddy, she’s mine.

Yeah, he knows how good he’s got it. He has Dinah wrapped around his little paw.

I think I have a grasp on the situation now. Mom said Mabel is some kind of author who hit it big with the Cozy Cat Book Cafe mysteries, many made into TV movies. That explains the no-expenses-spared sprawling ranch log home with views as far as the eyes can see.

Winston must make a decent living as a cat-actor, too, keeping Dinah here looking good, like he’s her sugar-daddy. Er, sugar-cat. Whatever, anyway, the high maintenance woman before me can get everything she needs from being the cat manager and fur mom. But I’d bet there’s one thing good ol’ Winston doesn’t have that I have in my pants. A long, thick?—

“Well, come on then, Scotty.” I cringe at her informal use of my name. On the other hand, if I can get her into bed with me on the regular, she can scream my name any damn way she chooses. “Let me show you to your apartment above the garage.” She shifts past me, down the front steps, still carrying the little devil and—holy hell—confidently strutting her fine ass ahead of me, the thong bikini hiding nothing from my view.

Mountains? What mountains? I take full advantage of the sights and scenery of Dinah in Montana.

Only over her shoulder, Mr. Grumpy Puss glares at me and growls.

“Nice place,” I compliment a few minutes later after she gives me the tour. “And… Where are you staying?”

“In the master suite of the house. Auntie won’t be back until Thanksgiving.” She coyly struts to the windows. The apartment isn’t some afterthought, since it takes up the entire top floor above the 4-car garage. Newly remodeled with a gourmet kitchen, the place rivals a five-star penthouse hotel suite, completely furnished with stylish western decor.

My stay here at Mabel’s is only temporary until I find myself a place closer to the rink. However, now I believe my plans may need adjusting. Sure, it’d mean more driving to and from town, but something tells me a little fun with Dinah would more than make up for it.

“In that big house all by yourself? It must get lonely.” I ignore the cat, who is keeping a wary eye on me, and draw closer to her, almost touching her back before I step to the side of her.

“It does.” She winks. “But then I remember I have Winston. And he’s the best?—”

“— Boy. Yeah. Got it. But a beautiful woman such as yourself certainly must have a man around to entertain her. Boyfriend? Husband?” I need to be sure I have no competition.

She sighs, her chest rising and falling. “Nope. I left an ex behind in L.A. Let’s just say this move to Montana was perfect timing. Winston’s work, my yoga poolside in the fresh air here, and plenty of me-time is helping to wash away what had to have been the worst two years of my life.”

Sounds familiar. The worst year part, at least.

“Damn. Sorry to hear that someone hurt you. Some men are assholes. Not me, though. In case you wondered.”

Her face brightens into a smile. “Hm. Would you like to do the downward dog with me?”

I cough. “Uh. What?”

“Yoga. You should join me. Winston is about ready for his afternoon nap, and I enjoy relaxing my body by the pool before dinner. See you in a few?” She makes her way to the door.

“Sounds…fun.” Although yoga never interested me, until now. “Lucky me, I don’t start practicing with the team until tomorrow. I’m all yours tonight.” I lean against the door frame and hook my thumbs through my belt loops.

She turns at the top of the stairs for one last word. “Great. We’ll do yoga, then we can go to town for dinner if you like. I can show you around.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” Maybe a little wining and dining is necessary after all. If there’s going to be a chance at friends with benefits, gotta be friendly first.

“Come on, Winston. Nap time.” She giggles and bounds down the steps, never once appearing tired of lugging the likely twenty-pound cat around. Then again, with a body like hers, it could be part of her fitness routine doing so.

“Bye, Winston.” I call and wave, earning another hiss and growl from him. Jeez, he better not get in my way as I pursue his cat-mom.

After they go, I quickly shove my clothes into drawers, and I change into shorts and a muscle t-shirt that should be fitting for a yoga sesh with Dinah—and more. I confirm my wallet is stocked with a couple of condoms, and stick my shaving kit on the bathroom counter. After washing my face and brushing my teeth to freshen up from the journey here today, I give myself a once-over in the mirror.

I attempt a cocky smile, only it falters at first. My hands grip the edge of the counter and I lean forward, taking in a deep breath to calm the anxiety. I try to forget the woman I left behind—Dinah isn’t the only one with an ex and a past to escape.

How was I to know the daughter of the coach of the Vancouver Ice would end up being such a psycho? Catherine had returned home from college, sexy as hell, working for her father. Warnings went around the team to stay away from her; we all know coach's daughters are off-limits. But as a rookie, did I listen? And she must not have received the memo to stay away from the players. She moved into my building and pursued the hell out of me, wearing down my thin restraint.

When things fell apart… When I realized how bat-shit crazy she really was… I’m lucky to still be alive. When her father found out… I’m lucky to still be playing in the league. I only hope the restraining order I have against her is strong enough.

“Shake it off,” I warn and clear my throat. I have friends on the team keeping tabs on Catherine, and so far, according to their texts, she hasn’t made a move to follow me here. Now that her father knows, I’m hoping he’ll keep a tight grip on her, too. For now, Dinah is the exact distraction I need, and she seems far from psycho—although her enthusiastic love of her cat is a little suspect.

I laugh it away and run down the stairs at a jogging pace straight to the house where Dinah stretches on the front porch. She bends over at the waist, her ass toward me, spies me through her spread legs, and waves.

As she straightens, it doesn’t escape my notice how she’s changed into red short shorts and a sports bra, still plenty of skin and curves showing. Plenty for me to take in as we make our way to the pool and begin yoga. Her bright smile draws me in the more we talk, and if I’m not careful, she could have me wrapped around her finger. I came to Montana hoping for a fresh start. This beginning is more than I hoped for.