Chapter 11
Marlie thoroughly enjoyed her Thanksgiving. Her brothers had been unable to bother her about Damon without possibly losing him as a coach. And then there were her slew of Dick pics for the day.
After Dick Cheney and Dick Butkus, Damon had fallen silent, his five-pic quota all used up.
She’d been impressed, curious to see if he’d send her any the next day.
Thus far in her Friday, she’d received Dick Francis, which, as a reader, she appreciated. But then he’d gotten a little desperate.
Emily Dick-enson.
Charles Dick-ens.
Scrooge McDick. Which should have been Scrooge McDuck, but she decided to give him a little latitude.
Waiting to go on her date inside Jeff’s place—because no matter who he might be, Damon didn’t rate knowledge of her address on a first date—she felt a strange bundle of nerves about going out.
Odd, because she hadn’t expected to be nervous.
Not like tonight would go anywhere but maybe a romp in bed.
Still, she kept remembering his smarmy grin, those huge hands and broad chest, but more, his beautiful gray eyes that seemed to shine with constant mirth when looking at her.
“I can’t wait to hear all the details,” Jeff reminded her. He still wore his work clothes, minus the lab coat.
“You look tired.”
“Thanks. You look like a hag too.”
She turned at his snark and crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”
“Well, no. Taking my advice is a good look for you.”
“Thanks.” She wore jeans that hugged her butt, a soft pink sweater that didn’t cling but did showcase the fact she had a waist, and her hair down. She wore minimal makeup: eyeliner and a hint of blush. But she’d worn her lucky sapphire studs in her ears, per Jeff’s orders.
“Try not to be too easy. Make him work for it.”
She laughed. “Please. I’m not you, Jeff. I always make a man work for it.”
“Very funny.”
“What are you going to do while I’m out with my stalker?”
“One, you have to stop calling him that. His name is Damon.”
“I remember.”
“Thank God for that. And two, I plan on catching up on The Great British Baking Show and maybe eating some leftover pumpkin pie.”
“I can’t believe your dad let you take the leftovers. He’s kind of rabid about pie.”
“I know. That’s why Mom made two.” He plopped back on the couch and put his big feet up on his coffee table. “Dudette, you need to hear me when I say, do not become Carla. Husband number four was looking a little rough last night. I fear there’s trouble on the love front.”
“Seriously? They’ve only been married two years.” She paused. “Then again, isn’t that her relationship expiration date?”
He sighed. “I kind of like this one too.”
“Sean?”
“Shamus. He’s got a hot accent. Irish, I think. Plus he’s a nice guy. Carla has a tough time with nice.”
“At least they don’t have kids. Divorce is hell on families.” She’d been fortunate, not like many of the kids she coached.
“I know. But she’s made it clear she doesn’t want them. Not like me. I’m going to have a bunch.”
“Why? You have animals all the time. Pets, kids. Same difference.”
“Says the teacher.” He huffed. “Don’t even try it. You’re just like me. You want kids too.”
“I do. But I’ll skip the teenage years.” Tutoring and coaching high schoolers was both rewarding and challenging. Especially with sarcastic young women who could wound with a word.
“I hear ya.”
“But you’re right, Jeff. I do want kids. Eventually. But hell, I’m nearly thirty. Maybe it’s just not in the cards for me. My brothers are all single.”
“Yeah, but they’re idiots. You’re the smart one.”
“That’s true.”
“Well, Will’s not really an idiot. And Ed’s nice.”
No mention of Steve, which had her grinning with him. Though she loved her brothers, her twin could get under hers and Jeff’s skin like no other.
A knock came at the door.
Jeff bolted to his feet. “He’s here!” He raced to the front door while she turned away from the window.
Nervous and annoyed because of it, she didn’t smile when Damon stepped into the entryway.
He didn’t smile back.
They stood glaring at each other.
Jeff sighed. “Dueling death stares. Nice. Marlie, ease up.”
“Tell him that.” She planted her hands on her hips, amused when Damon’s scowl darkened. A real bad boy? He was making her hot. Then he smiled. Instead of ruining her attraction, that dimple on his cheek deepened it.
“Hey, Mad Marlie. Your chariot awaits.” He looked her over. “Jacket?”
Damon wore jeans, boots, and a black pullover that clung to his broad chest under a jacket. His hair had been combed back, his face freshly shaved. When he took a step closer, she smelled a hint of aftershave or cologne that went straight to her head.
“What the heck are you wearing?” she blurted.
He blinked. “Um, my people call them clothes.”
Behind her, Jeff coughed but didn’t manage to hide his laughter.
“No. That scent.” She yanked her date down by the collar of his jacket.
“Damn, girl.”
She sniffed the crook of his neck then pulled back, only to be face-to-face with the giant. “You smell good.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, and she wondered if he’d be offended if she tugged him close for a kiss.
Then he shocked her by putting a hand over her face and gently pushing her back.
“I’m not that kind of guy, Marlie. Not on the first date. And not in front of Jeff.” His scandalized tone had Jeff dying of laughter.
Marlie shoved his huge hand off her face. “It’s like getting mauled by an Alien face-hugger,” she muttered.
“You like horror movies? Me too!” Damon manhandled her into the jacket Jeff tossed him, then dragged her with him into his truck.
“Hey, Mr. Handsy. Watch it.”
He grinned at her before shutting her inside his warm vehicle. Nice and clean, she noticed with approval.
After he joined her, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips.
Shocking her to silence.
“Sorry. If I’d kissed you inside, I might have mounted you in front of your buddy. Can’t have that.”
“I—well—I…” She couldn’t think. That kiss had been even better than the one Wednesday night. Which led her to remember what else they’d done.
“Yeah, exactly. We have great chemistry.” He beamed at her before pulling slowly away from Jeff’s. They drove for a little bit in silence.
“Um, want to tell me where we’re going?”
“Not into surprises, huh?”
“I noticed a big bag in the back seat of your monster truck. I know I’m tall, but you could totally fit a body in there.”
“Well, sure. But not your body. Do you know how difficult it is to saw through bone?”
She blinked. “What?”
He laughed. “Hey, you started it. I’m only a killer on the ice. Well, and in the sack. That bag is for my hockey equipment. Helmet, pads, skates. I always have a spare set just in case.”
“In case what? A random hockey game appears in front of you?”
“You never know.”
She chuckled. “And I thought my brothers were bad.”
“They like hockey, but you don’t?”
“I don’t mind skating. But hockey never appealed to me. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. So what sports did you play? Or what sports do you play?” He glanced at her before focusing on the road once more. “You look like an athlete.”
“Thanks.” She flushed at the compliment. “I’m big time into basketball. I love it. I played in college. Now I coach at the high school. It’s a lot of fun.”
“You coach? Do you teach as well?”
“Yeah. I teach at our community college. I tutor and coach high school. Jill of all trades.”
He grinned.
She wanted to reach out and touch his lips, to feel his smooth cheek under her palm.
Oy. What the heck is all this needing to touch the guy about?
“So you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“I did tell you we’d be doing dinner first. Have you ever been to Rielle’s Bistro?”
She gaped. “Where I broke up with Ben?”
“Our first meet.” He gave a dramatic sigh and laughed. “I’m kidding. Relax. How do you feel about pizza?”
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
To her pleasure, he got them a seat at the new upscale pizza place on the north end of town. Not too expensive, but not Little Caesar’s either. Not that she had a bias against one of her mainstays.
“Get whatever you want,” he said after seating her, like a gentleman. She watched him, bemused at the good-guy act. If it was an act.
“You have pretty nice manners.”
He shrugged. “I was beaten into being good by my dad. Guy’s a monster.” Yet he said that with affection.
She looked over the menu. Then she glanced at him, aware several people in the restaurant were looking at him and whispering. “What are you going to get?”
“A beer that’s not too frilly and a lot of pizza with cheese. Meat, maybe some veggies. I don’t know. But no onions.” He wiggled his brows. “Gotta have nice breath for my babe.”
She snorted. “Dream on.”
“Oh, I have been ever since I saw you.” He sighed and clutched his heart, and dang it all, she liked the guy. “Fair maiden, I am besotted.”
“Who are you calling a maiden?”
“The chick with the hot hands.” His naughty grin had her blushing harder. “Oh yeah. Lots of dreams.”
“Shut up.” She studied her menu then agreed to order a large pizza. Half her toppings, half his.
“So about the other night—”
“Hi, folks. Ready to order?”
Saved by their server, she ordered salad and a drink.
Damon placed his order, adding their pizza. From the look of him, she wondered if one would be enough.
Their server paused after taking their order, staring at Damon with adoration. “Er, um, Mr. Sinclair? Just wanted to say what a huge fan I am. The Ice Raptors are my team.”
“Call me Damon.” Damon grinned, not at all standoffish with the young man, who didn’t look old enough to drink. “The team is hanging in there. Missing me, I’m sure,” he added with self-deprecating humor. “Colby’s been doing a damn fine job in the cage.”
The server nodded. “Not as great as you, but yeah. He’s hanging in there.”
Damon chuckled. “I’ll tell him you said that.”
“Oh, uh, don’t do that. Well, I mean. Sure, but…” The guy laughed, blushing fire engine-red. “I gotta place your order.” He rushed away.
“Does that get old? Getting recognized?” She’d never really thought about it, but she supposed a pro athlete would be bombarded with people wanting his time when out in public.
Hope’s Turn wasn’t like most places, though. They had their share of scattered celebrities who didn’t raise too many eyebrows. Now if they’d had important ballers, like from the NBA or WNBA teams, Marlie would have understood the fascination for fame.
“You know, when I first went pro, it was a kick. I enjoyed it. Not being famous but feeling kind of important. Now?” He gave her a wide smile. “It’s still cool.”
“What about people who hate you?”
He laughed. “Marlie, I’m a hated kind of guy. Doesn’t bother me.”
“Huh. You seem almost nice.” Again, that image of him holding stray cats and kittens hit her.
His grin left him, and she swore a killer stared at her from those light gray eyes.
Hot. Want.
Then he smiled again. “I’m told I have resting psycho-face.”
“You totally do.” Crap. She sounded breathless. She coughed and took a large swig of water.
“Okay, I have to know. Why did you agree to go out with me? Did I wear you down? Or are you finally realizing you fell in love at first sight?” He leaned forward, placing his hand in his chin, his elbow propped on the table.
Speechless, she just stared. “Love at first sight?” She burst into laughter.
He didn’t smile back.
“Oh, wait. You’re serious?”