8. Nick
Nick
" Y ou might as well just stay out here, Nicky," Mom said, her words soft yet demanding. "You spend more time on the farm anyway." I had Mom on speakerphone so her voice echoed in the quiet kitchen.
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. “I’m good where I am, Mom.”
“Nicky,” she began again, another argument already perched on the tip of her tongue.
“It doesn’t make sense to lose an hour of sleep on game days or early morning practice.
And do you really want me driving on those dark roads late at night after being on the road for a game?
” It was a low blow, using her love for me against her, but a man sometimes had to use whatever weapon was in his arsenal.
She sighed, the sound heavy and defeated. "I know it Nicky, I do. I just want you to make more time for things that aren’t hockey or farming. You’re allowed to have a life, you know."
“I have a very full life, I promise.” Thunderhawks obligations took up a lot of my free time and what was leftover was usually spent at the farm, except a night or two for the occasional overnight romp. “Are you saying you want me at the farm less?”
“Hush your mouth,” she laughed. “I love having you around and you know that, but Max hardly leaves the farm so how am I gonna get some daughters-in-law? Or grandchildren?”
I groaned. “Mom, please.”
Her laughter, melodic and familiar, bounced around the kitchen. “What? I’m manifesting what I want, isn’t that how it works?”
“I don’t know,” I groaned and stirred the meatballs and sauce in the pot. “But please manifest something else. Please.”
She laughed again and I smiled at the sound. Dad died five years ago and she’d been a shadow of herself for most of that, but recently the old version of her, happy and feisty, had returned. “I’ll check my list to see what else I can manifest but happy in love sons will remain at the top.”
“Noted. But remember that Max is older and more settled.” It was my duty as the younger brother to throw him under the bus. “Now if you don’t mind, a beautiful woman left me some delicious meatballs for dinner so I have to heat them up.”
“Enjoy. There’s bread in the oven too. Love you Nicky.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Her words stuck with me long after we ended the call. Not about marriage and babies because I wasn’t ready for all of that, but there was someone I couldn’t stop thinking about, someone who had absolutely nothing to do with hockey or farming. Technically, anyway.
A knock sounded, soft and hesitant. This one wasn’t like the daydreams I’d been experiencing since I left Sonya’s office days ago. It was real.
I frowned and turned the stove down before crossing into the living room and opening the door to find Sonya standing there, all curves and confidence.
We just stood there for a second. Maybe two, possibly twenty.
Felt like forever. She wore a red dress that stopped just above the knee and hugged every single curve I remembered all too well.
Her hair was down in loose curls, and when her gaze flicked over my bare chest and abs, heat sparked behind her eyes.
“Sonya,” I said, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “This is a nice surprise. Come in.” My fingers itched to reach out and touch her.
Not yet, I told myself.
Her gaze swept over my bare chest again. Heated. Unapologetic. "Do you always walk around shirtless?"
I folded my arms across my chest and shrugged. "I’m home alone. Why not?"
"Good point." Her eyes did another slow scan of my body before her gaze met mine.
"Does it bother you?" I teased, letting the corner of my mouth twitch up.
“Not at all,” she answered too quickly. It didn’t bother her but it affected her.
I stepped back so she could enter and when she passed, I inhaled deeply, that familiar scent of orange and sandalwood that was sweet and sexy. She looked around my place with fresh eyes, more attentive to details than the last time she was here.
When Sonya finally turned to face me, the heat in her eyes was gone, replaced by cool professionalism. "You haven’t completed your questionnaire."
My brows dipped in mock confusion. “I haven’t? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Her tone was clipped, but I caught the amusement buried underneath. “Lucky for you, I’m here to make sure it gets done.”
“Lucky me, indeed,” I said, stepping closer. “I’ve got time now. Ask your questions.”
I moved to the kitchen, and she followed. Her heels clicking softly against the wood floor. It should’ve felt awkward having her in my house fully dressed with no plans to change it anytime soon, but it didn’t. It felt nice. It felt good. The place felt a little less empty.
Sonya inhaled deeply and let out a groan that hit me low in the belly and slid down to wrap around my cock. "You cook?"
I turned away from the stove to face her, shrugging casually even though the look on her face was anything but casual. "Sometimes when I have to but my mom sometimes leaves food in my kitchen like a little food elf."
Sonya’s gaze narrowed and I could only imagine what judgments ran through her pretty little head. She leaned against the wall on the far side of the kitchen, leaving the table and a small island between us. “Why?”
Extra points for a lack of judgment. I shrugged, flashing a boyish smile. "She worries. Thinks I do too much between hockey and helping out on the family farm. She's made it her mission to make sure I don’t starve."
"She sounds like a good mom."
"She is." I pulled out a second bowl and set it on the table with silverware. "You hungry? There’s enough for both of us."
Her expression softened. "I won’t say no if you’re offering."
My gaze heated. “I wonder if that extends to things other than food.”
Her lips curled into a smile before she licked her lips. “We have a questionnaire to complete.”
I nodded. “And a dinner to share.” I filled a glass with water. “Beer? Whiskey?”
“Whiskey, please. Neat.”
I brought the pot of meatballs and sauce to the table along with fresh garlic bread to the table. Instead of sitting across from her, I took the seat beside her. “Eat up.”
Sonya took three meatballs and lots of sauce before taking a bite. Her eyes slid close and then she groaned. "Mmm. Your mom can cook."
"Yeah, she’s kind of a legend in the kitchen." I bit into a meatball and groaned. “I’ll be sure to let her know she’s found another fan of her cooking.”
She grinned and we ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before conversation picked up again. “So, a family farm huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Blaze Farm. My older brother, Max, he actually runs the place but I help out wherever I can, more since Dad died.”
Her smile dimmed. “I’m sorry about your dad, that must’ve been very hard.”
I stopped eating and stared at her. “You lost your mom pretty early. You know how hard it is.”
Surprise flashed in her eyes and then she nodded. “Yeah.” She shook off her sadness quickly. “This is cattle country around here, right?”
It was my turn to be surprised. "Yeah, but we’re mostly a grain operation," I explained. "Canola, wheat, and barley. There’s an orchard on the property too. Max handles everything but I help with accounting, harvest, equipment maintenance, whatever he needs when I’m not skating."
She nodded thoughtfully, taking a mental note of everything. "Sounds like a full plate."
"It is. But I like it that way."
Her smile faded a little. "I used to have a full plate too."
"You want to talk about it?"
She hesitated and shook her head. “We’re here to talk about you, not me.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But I already know all about me and I’m interested in knowing about you.”
That earned me a bright smile. She set down her spoon.
"My last job was back in Boston. I worked as a social media manager for a D1 basketball team. That’s high-level college basketball,” she explained.
"Many of those guys will end up in the NBA. Anyway,” she shook her head and explained about a few misogynistic posts and shrugged.
“They blamed me without naming me but they had to fire me to save him, which sucks.”
“It’s bullshit is what it is,” I agreed. “Fucking idiots, the whole lot of’em.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I like to think so, mostly because it doesn’t make me feel like a failure.”
"Their loss." I watched her carefully, already feeling as though I could read her emotions. She hid them well, but she wasn’t as closed off as she thought. “My good luck.”
She let out a breath that sounded like a half-laugh. "Yeah, well, it’s the reason I’m here."
"To Seville. To the Thunderhawks. And to me."
That made her smile. She shook her head but didn’t argue.
"How come we never met before that night?" I asked because it had been bothering me.
"Because I avoided the team like the plague," she said flatly. "Hockey took over my life for a long time. My dad was a player and then a coach. It was games, practices, road trips, film review, you name it. I didn’t get to have a normal teenage experience. And I definitely didn’t get to have a social life. "
"So now you resent it." It all started to make sense.
She nodded. “It was okay when Mom was alive because she’d make the road trips an adventure but without her, I was stuck in a hotel or doing my homework in the freezing cold stadium.” She looked away, hurt still lingered in her green eyes. “Now I’m here and hockey is everywhere. Again.”
"And now you’re working for the Thunderhawks."
"Exactly. The universe is laughing at me, or torturing me."
I set the garlic bread down and leaned forward. "You think the universe put me in your path just to screw with you?"
She smiled. "It kind of feels like it."
I watched her for a beat, admiring the way the light caught her eyes. "So what does that mean for us?" She could lie to herself that there was no us, but the chemistry between us was a living, breathing thing.
"It means we can’t do this." Her voice was gentle but firm. "Not only does my dad not want me involved with his players, but I don’t want my life to revolve around hockey again. And if I’m with you, it would be."
I nodded slowly. "But I’m not just a hockey player. I’m also a farmer. And a pretty decent cook and a knowledgeable foodie, if you ask me. Plus I’m a damn good dancer and I’ve got a killer playlist for every mood."
That got a laugh out of her. "Foodie and music lover? Now you’re just trying to win me over."
"Maybe I am. Tell me it’s working Sonya."
She started to respond, but her phone buzzed. She ignored it and stood, carrying her dishes to the sink. “I wish I could tell you it wasn’t. But,” she sighed. “We can’t.”
"I hear what you’re saying," I said, rising to put my dishes in the sink before I stopped beside her. "But I’m gonna be honest with you, Sonya. I can’t stop thinking about you. That night, that kiss... It’s stuck in my head. So I reserve the right to try to change your mind."
"Try all you want," she said, turning to face me, her expression unreadable. "But my mind’s made up."
"Then this won’t affect you at all." I leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t rough or demanding, it was just enough to remind her of what we shared.
Of how good we were together. How explosive.
Her lips parted and I slipped in like a thief rather than a bulldozer.
I kissed her slowly but firm, making love to her mouth until she hung onto me and moaned into my mouth.
Her hands were hot against my chest but when the slid down and hooked over my waistband the same way she did the last time we were together like this, I tilted her head back and deepened the kiss. The intensity increased and my need for her grew into something wild and greedy.
Sonya pulled back first, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. Her lush lips were swollen from my kisses and she still gripped my waistband. “Nick,” she whimpered and put her fingers to her lips.
I didn’t push. I just stepped back, letting the moment settle.
It was a reminder.
A challenge.
It was a damn confession.
“Just wanted to be sure,” I said, my voice low. “Because that didn’t feel one-sided.”
She released me and stumbled back, gasping when I reached out to steady her.
Her small smile was full of gratitude but she still put more and more physical distance between us before she stopped at the front door.
“It wasn’t one-sided. It isn’t, but I can’t put my life on hold for hockey again.
I lost too many years doing that already. ”
“I’m not asking you to put anything on hold. I just want a chance, Sonya. To know you. That’s all.”
She nodded. “That’s what makes you so dangerous,” she whispered before leaving without looking back.
I understood her reluctance but I couldn’t let it stop me.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.