Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
MIKAEL
Kenzie is on my mind as I watch the West Coast hockey game. I can't find a woman in her twenties who isn't on a maintenance plan.
Kenzie is not pretentious. I admire her practical take on the business. However, I don't see her failing. I don’t have to be an expert to know that the potential of restaurant contracts will be lucrative.
She's oblivious to how charming she is. The talk of the vibrator makes me chuckle. The woman has needs and isn't ashamed to admit it.
I picture her nuzzling Sherlock in the park. The memory warms my heart. She's oblivious to her natural beauty. She is the only woman in my orbit who leaves the house without fake eyelashes. Steph slept with her makeup on. I never understood that.
My fingers hover over my phone. I pause. It's too late to text Kenzie. I'm still thinking about her hours later.
Why didn't I kiss her?
She's too perfect to touch.
I’m thinking about her and it’s driving me nuts. So in typical male fashion, I reach out.
What are you doing?
I’m in bed but I doubt I’ll sleep.
Why?
I rarely sleep through the night.
That sucks.
Yeah. Maybe I’m ADHD or something.
Or EFG
That makes me chuckle.
Very funny. My mind doesn’t shut down.
I’d like to say that I have a cure for that but I refrain from typing it.
I hope tonight is different.
Thank you.
I send her a smiley face with heart emojis before I haul my ass to bed. However, I toss and turn all night.
I awake after a restless night but I head to the gym in the morning and meet with my trainer, Lucas. It’s my routine to work out a. minimum of three times a week.
Lucas is six feet tall, has a square face, and a thick neck to go with his muscular back. He walks like the Hulk with a strange gait because his thighs are overdeveloped. But hey, it's his business. I hate him for looking better than anyone has the right to look. But mostly because he has a lovely wife, and she adores him.
“Hey,” I greet him on the mats.
“How's it going?” he asks. He's in perfect shape and takes pride in making me miserable. I hate doing jump squats. Unfortunately, I see the benefits. It's increased my lung capacity, lowered my blood pressure, and made my thighs massive, which makes me a faster skater.
“You still on the protein shakes?”
“Every morning,” I smile. I hate kale. I'm sure it won't hurt if I skip a few greens. Besides, I find green drinks revolting. There's something about green shakes and green eggs. Yuck.
“Good. How are you feeling?”
“Great. No complaints.”
I drop to the mat and begin to stretch.
“What's happening? You have any plans with Steph?”
“We broke up.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“It's nothing. It turns out we weren't compatible.” I'm sitting on my butt, and after reaching for my toes, I hold the stretch. This requires discipline, and I only do it correctly when Lucas is here. Otherwise, I'd rush. I'm goal-oriented, and I like pushing weights or lifting weights better. The repetition of the weights keeps me focused. I feel like I am accomplishing something when I have weights in my hand.
“You say that about everyone,” he chuckles.
“I do. I haven't found the right one. You were lucky to find Sara before you became known.”
“Maybe, but if a woman knows who you are, she knows what she's getting into. It's not like you walk the red carpet. Oh, wait, sometimes you do,” he jests.
I snicker. I've attended huge fundraisers with cameras flashing. Hell, we get photographed on tarmacs every week. I have a collection of monkey suits. We're the athletes who have an image to uphold. I wouldn't have the nickname Mikael Styles if I wore baggy sweatpants with my underwear showing. Women view us as sex symbols. I have a reputation to uphold, and I like it.
After fifteen minutes of leg and arm stretches, we move to the free weights. I can't avoid the walls of mirrors. I know they are for watching our form, but I'm conscious of how I look. I wonder if I'll like Bella's friend. I've heard in passing that she's a fashion designer.
“Let's start with thirty-pound dumbbells,” he says.
If he weren't here, I'd do less.
I lift the weights and pump three sets of curls.
“How does that feel?”
“Like weights,” I smirk.
“You're a smartass,” he replies. He glances around the gym before he marks on the sheet attached to his clipboard.
“We need to concentrate on arms today. We'll get some cardio in with plyometric jumps.”
“Sure.” I agree, but I dread the jumps. They kick my ass. My heart rate intensifies, and I'm pushed to the point where I don't think I can breathe. However, his job is to push me to surpass what I'd do myself. Now that I think about it, it's job security because I need him.
My phone pings. I look at it when I'm between sets, and I'm not surprised. Finn is reminding me to be at his house at one today.
I'll be there.
Bella's bringing Susan.
Great.
It’s the reply that’s expected but is it great? I’m always being set up by the wives.
I suppose it can't hurt. But there are times when I feel like prey. It's every woman's mission to have all the single men mated. Today will be a meet-and-greet, but I know Bella. She's optimistic, and I'm sure she has hopes for Susan and me.
It's a terrible time to meet someone. If we go on a few dates, we'll butt up to Valentine's Day; then it will be awkward. I hate awkward situations. Who doesn't? It's why I stay in a dead-end relationship longer than I wish. I don't want to let anyone down, and I'm not good with confrontation.
Women think I'm a player, but I don't see it that way. I hate to break up with women, and I get into these situations because there is an unspoken list of requirements for dating.
First meets are to feel the other person out. I want to know if there's chemistry. If we like each other, it's followed by a date and sex. I know women want to see something public when we're dating, and it's not long before the talk revolves around us being official on Instagram. It's a process. Women take note of these things even if I think it's cheesy. I hate my life being on display.
Lucas and I move on to the gym machines and discuss the team. We're hot this year. It takes all my willpower not to think of the Stanley Cup. I don't want to jinx it because we have a long way to go. I've had many years playing on teams, only to be derailed by teammates' injuries. It's inevitable.
I bid Lucas goodbye and head to the locker room. I shower and change into jeans and a blue form-fitting sweater. I know it brings out the blue in my eyes. It's an advantage I use when I meet a woman. Who knows? She might be my significant other one day.
I use an app to start my car and tug on my winter coat. I guzzle water and walk to my car as a fierce wind cuts me like a knife. By the time I get to my car, it’s had time to warm up the inside. I don't know how we ever lived without heated seats.
I drive to a liquor store to pick up a bottle of bourbon and stop by my favorite cigar store. The men will appreciate a stogie at a day-long event. Finn has a smoking room with a humidor, ventilation, and sports memorabilia on the walls. The comfortable leather recliners and big-screen TV complete his perfect man cave.
I carefully stowed my purchases in the trunk before phoning Kenzie's shop to place an order for subs. I'm advised it will be an hour before I can pick them up, so I head to Finn's. He had his colonial-style house custom-built on an acre of waterfront property. He has a dock and a boat we take on the lake in the summer. Finn likes to fish. I don't have the patience for it, but I will go with the guys. It's their afternoon adventure full of fish tales that I find amusing.
I park in the large circular driveway, carry my bounty to the door, knock briefly, and walk in.
Judging from the sound in the entertainment room upstairs, a few of the guys are already here. Bella is in the kitchen with a glass of wine. Her eyes light up when she notices me entering the room.
“Mikael,” she exclaims.
“Hi, Bella.”
“What did you bring?”
“The unmentionables,” I grin at her, then hug her while putting my bag on the counter.
“You are in trouble!” she teases. She turns to a woman behind her. “This is my friend, Susan.”
The woman has her back to me. Her buttocks are too big for her frame. Are those butt implants? She turns and smiles. Her face is tight, but her smile is sincere.
I extend my hand to the cute brunette. I’m not sure her double-D boobs are real, and her waistline is anorexic—as in non-existent. She has the figure of a blowup sex doll.
Oh my.
“Nice to meet you,” I smile politely.
“I've heard so much about you.” Her hand is petite. We shake, and then I turn to Bella. “I have to pick up subs in town.”
“Great, Susan can go with you,” she suggests. It’s too late to say no to her obvious meddling, so I invite Susan to ride shotgun.
Her face lights up at the offer, and she grabs her coat.
“Guard the goods until I return,” I warn Bella.
“I got you,” she agrees.
I am a gentleman, so I open the door for Susan, and it's almost comical watching her get into my car. Somehow, she managed to get everything inside, and I shut the door without closing it on any of her body parts.
I slide into the driver's seat and head to the bakery I love.