Chapter 12
Oh my God. Relax, stupid. Damon forced a laugh. “Please. No one believes in that schmaltzy love-at-first-sight stuff.” Except for me, because you are killing me, Marlie. “It was a joke.”
She relaxed. “You really do have resting psycho-face.”
“It’s both a blessing and a curse.”
“Oh?”
“Well, a curse because it can intimidate people. But it’s also a blessing because it keeps most morons from causing trouble. Some people think they need to prove something by fighting a big guy. But I give them ‘the look’ and they rethink their decision.”
“Ah. Makes sense.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why agree to date me?”
“Date as in one date,” she seemed happy enough to remind him. “A reason? Pity, I guess.”
He guffawed. “I’ll take what I can get.”
She grinned, so damn pretty she took his breath away. It wasn’t just her looks, though he had no complaint there. Marlie sparkled with vitality, humor, and a persistent naughtiness just under the surface.
“You’re a pretty funny guy. I like that.”
“Yeah? What else do you like?”
He must have been a little too enthusiastic, because her expression turned guarded. “Now hold on. I agree to one date with you.”
“Out of pity.” He nodded. “Continue.”
“You’re kind of pushy. And weird.” She frowned. “You asked me out minutes after I broke up with the guy I was seeing for months.”
“How many months?”
“Um, nine.”
He cringed. “Nine months with Mr. Loafers? Man.”
She tried to smother a smile. “Well, Ben was nice. But I think that was my problem.”
“How so? I thought women dug nice guys.”
She squared her shoulders and looked him directly in the eye. “You want honesty?”
“Please.”
“We both know you’re here to visit your parents. Then you’ll go back to your regularly scheduled life soon enough.” When he remained silent, she continued, “You want a hookup. I decided to take you up on that.”
“Right now?” He glanced around. “I guess we could ask if they have a closet we could use.”
“Ha ha. Look, fella, I’m being honest. I’m not looking for another nice guy. I’ve had a string of nice guys. They suck.”
He kept his expression interested but not reactive, aware of her close attention.
“I’m thinking a fling with a bad boy might be fun.”
“And in this scenario, I’m the bad boy?”
“Well, it sure isn’t me.” She gave him a flirty onceover. “I’m super nice. Remember me being super nice at the party?”
His throat dried, and below the belt, he locked up. Tight. Fortunately, the server arrived with drinks and salads to distract him.
Marlie smirked, obviously noting the flush over his cheeks. Cheeks he’d shaved just for her. He’d imagined sliding them between her thighs when he gave her back the pleasure she’d given him the other night.
Well, hell. She wanted a tough guy? A bad boy? He could fake that. He’d channel any of the dickheads he interacted with on a daily basis. The team had a ton of emotionally immature man-boys the ladies seemed to like.
Damon tried to give her a stern look, but she focused on her salad, not watching him any longer.
Hungry and needing to think about how best to play her game to get that second date they both had to have, he enjoyed his greens before the pizza arrived.
“Oh man. This looks fantastic.” Marlie didn’t wait and dug in, scooping two slices onto her plate.
He loved that about her. She didn’t act suddenly shy or demure. She didn’t wait for him to go first and suddenly like everything he liked. Sadly, he’d been on too many dates with women trying to fit whatever they thought he wanted, not being true to themselves.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked in between bites, her eyes full of suspicion.
Why that made him want to laugh he couldn’t say. “How’s the pizza? Just black olives and mushrooms seems boring to me.”
She studied his side of the pie, with all the meat and veggies—minus the onions. “I like to keep things simple. You’ve got an entire farm on that thing.”
“Well, yeah. I’m a growing boy.” He just smiled.
She huffed. “Whatever. Here.” She held her slice out to him, and he bit into it.
“Not bad.” He fetched a slice from his side and held it to her. “Your turn.”
She made a face.
“Eat it, woman,” he growled.
She blinked at him. “Fine, hardass.” She took a bite, chewed, and shrugged. “Not bad. But it’s not as sophisticate as my palate.”
“Yeah, right. You probably think wine with a screw top is fancy.”
“It is.”
“Well, that’s true. I mean, wine is for those who can’t stomach a good beer.”
She nodded. “See?”
He laughed. “Okay, Ms. I Want a Bad Boy. More questions for you.”
“Can I at least eat during this interrogation?”
“I don’t have that kind of time. The playoffs are in April of next year.”
She flipped him off.
He covered his heart with his hand. “I’ll treasure that love, snookums.”
She choked while sipping her drink.
“If beer comes out of your nose, that’s a clear sign I win this conversation.”
She shook her head, muttering under her breath. But the smile on her beautiful lips told him that beer or no beer, he was pulling ahead in the race. Now he just had to keep her enchanted with his sterling wit.
Somehow.
He ate three slices, trying to think of how to sound clever and keep her engaged at the same time. Then he realized she was staring at him. “What?” Did he have basil in his teeth?
Her eyes were wide. “You eat a lot. And fast.”
He sighed. “It’s my sister’s fault. She used to hog dinner, always leaving me hungry. Now I compensate by eating like a pig.”
“Tell me about your sister.”
Fortunately, she ignored his comment about eating like pig. Her interest told him he hadn’t ruined anything yet. He could work with that.
“Grace is a major in the Marine Corps. She’s about your height, maybe a little taller. And she’s mean. In a good way but annoying too. She never lets me forget I’m her little brother.”
Marlie laughed. “Kind of like Steve. He and I are the youngest. Ed is two years older than us, and Will’s four years older.
Steve was born two minutes before me and likes to pretend being twins doesn’t count, that he’s technically not the baby.
Of course, I’m the only Reynolds girl, and my brothers are pretty protective. ”
“I know. Will gave me the third degree at the party.”
She froze. “He did?”
“Yep. But I told him you started it, so it wasn’t my fault.”
“Wait. What?”
He couldn’t help laughing at her horrified expression. “I’m kidding. I told him I liked you because you were pretty and tough. No. I said hot and tough. And that you’re a grown woman who could make her own decisions. That he should back off. So he did. I think.”
“Oh. That’s, ah, good.” Her pink cheeks charmed him.
“Mad Marlie, are you blushing?”
“Shut up and eat your pizza, stalker.”
“Ah, the pet names. I knew you were falling for me.”
“Eat more, talk less.” They consumed three quarters of the pizza before speaking again.
He broke their silence. “I know how you like your pizza, that you prefer Italian to ranch dressing on your salad, and that you plan on ordering dessert because you have a sweet tooth.”
“Your point?” Marlie asked, staring at the dessert menu.
“What do you know about me?”
“That you like breasts, because you keep looking at mine.”
He didn’t feel an ounce of shame. “True. They’re very nice. And I haven’t even seen up close without clothes yet.”
“Hey, I didn’t get an eyeful either. Just a handful of you. Yowza.”
“Please. It was more like two handfuls. And that’s the truth, not a brag.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She finished off her beer. “So back to your question, I know you have parents who got in a car accident. That you have an older sister. And that you play hockey.”
“And?”
“And you seem to like bossy women.”
“You’re not bossy.”
She smiled. “True. I’m assertive.”
“No, you’re mean.”
She scowled. “I’m nice.”
“Said with a growl.” He chuckled. “Well? What do you want for dessert?”
“I can’t decide—and you’re not off the hook for that mean comment.” She studied her menu, the slight frown line between her eyes captivating. He wanted to kiss his way across it then down to her cheeks, and farther down to those sweet lips.
He had to force himself to stare at his menu and convince his dick to relax. “So are you thinking the crème Brule or the carrot cake?”
“Well, both, plus the cheesecake and flourless lava cake.”
He ended up ordering a sampler of the entire dessert menu.
They shared most of it, though Marlie threatened to stab his hand if he touched any more of the lava cake.
Through it all, Damon fell harder and harder for the woman. He knew it didn’t make a lick of sense. Surely his father had filled his head with nonsense. No one fell in love with a person they barely knew.
But Damon couldn’t help feeling a sense of connection.
“Oh my gosh that was good.” The woman had cleaned up the plate. Not that he hadn’t also partaken in the smaller servings of all the desserts. But damn. Marlie didn’t play.
“Want something else?”
“Yeah, to walk this off.”
“Good call.” He signaled the server for the bill.
Marlie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back.
“Is this where you argue for me not to be macho and split the tab?” he asked wryly.
“Hell, no. You asked me out. You pay.”
He grunted. “Finally. You’re talking sense.” He left the server a generous tip and walked with Marlie out of the restaurant.
But not before a few fans stopped him, asking for autographs.
He gave them his trademark glower, which made one of his younger fans flinch. Then he laughed and patted the kid on the shoulder. “Forgot for a minute there I wasn’t on the ice.”
The small crowd in the front of the restaurant laughed. Marlie, he noted, nodded for him to continue, so he greeted everyone who asked for a picture or autograph before hurrying to her side and out the door.
The weather, though cold, felt pleasant enough to indulge a short walk to a nearby bar he’d planned to visit with her.
“That was nice.” She smiled up at him. Unfortunately, she’d tucked her hands in her pockets, so he couldn’t latch onto her.
“What? Scaring kids? It was pretty fun.”
“No, knucklehead. Being kind to your fans. Those teenagers were over the moon, and so was that little boy once he stopped shaking. You do have a killer mean face.”
“Aw, thanks, Marlie.” Screw it. He grabbed her hand from her pocket and engulfed it in his.
She blinked up at him, her cheeks pink, and not just from the weather. But she didn’t pull her hand away.
“That never gets old,” he admitted. “I mean it. I remember how much it meant to me when I’d see someone I admired on the ice. Not being a dickhead to fans should be mandatory. Well, to Flyers or Bruins fans, sure. But not Ice Raptor fans.”
She snickered. “What about Maverick or Shark fans?”
“Huh?”
“My brothers’ team, the Mavs? And their rivals on Sunday? You haven’t forgotten your promise to coach them have you?”
“Of course not. Though those names kind of suck.”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t have picked them.”
They turned a corner, and white lights twinkled in the trees, the moon bright overhead.
“What would you have picked?” He asked. “No, don’t tell me. The manglers. The stranglers. The maulers.”
“Why are all those names for killers?”
“Gee, I wonder.” He snorted. “Who was it that thought I planned to kill them and stuff them in my hockey bag?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was that the same person who mentioned how tough it is to saw through bone?”
“You never did say if you liked horror movies.”
“Well, I do.” She huffed. “But I’m sure you don’t.”
“Of course I do.”
“Really?”
The discussion devolved into the genres of torture porn, psychological horror, and gore.
So naturally Damon led her into the next fun portion of the night.
Ax throwing.