7. Goose
Chapter 7
Goose
God bless the internet.
That’s what led me to this little bar situated in the bougie section of the suburbs near my new house. Thanks to the comments on the video Braxton had shown me, I discovered this was where my Gemma worked. Someone had recognized her and listed the bar by name.
Stepping inside, I was mildly shocked to find it so busy on a weeknight. People were packed in to the point where it appeared to be standing-room only.
Weaving my way through the crowd, I took a deep breath when I reached the bar. Elbowing between two other guys, that’s when I saw her.
Well, at least the part of her that was bent in half as she reached for a bottle beneath the counter. Her ripe ass was on full display in black jeans, and a quick peek down the length of the bar confirmed I wasn’t the only man appreciating the view. I wasn’t a jealous man; they could look all they wanted because I knew she was mine.
Unfolding her tall body gracefully, she spun around, quickly knocking the cap off a beer bottle with a counter-mounted opener before handing it to a waiting patron.
If the lower half of her body got my mouth watering, the upper portion had me swallowing my damn tongue. Gemma’s tits were front and center, pushed up by a black corset top, the edges of the bra cups lined with lace. If I squinted hard enough, I could make out the hint of a pinkish-brown areola peeking through. The top cinched her waist, giving her an hourglass figure, drawing attention to her full breasts and ample hips. The look was capped off with a purple, black, and silver threaded flannel shirt, which hung loosely off her shoulders as she worked.
Fucking hell, was there ever going to be a time when I didn’t get hard at the sight of this breathtaking woman? She looked like a dark angel. Luckily for her, I had enough light for the both of us.
Most people thought my ability to remain unruffled and optimistic, regardless of the circumstances, was strange. But a long time ago, I chose to be happy, letting anything that happened to roll off my back instead of allowing it to sink in and fester.
It might not work for many people, but it had served me well in life and in hockey. I could shake off letting a goal slip past me without letting it fuck with my head. I went right back to work, focused on stopping the next shot. It’s what made me one of the top goaltenders in the entire league. Hockey was a mental game, and the goalie position in particular, so keeping my mind sharp and focused—not getting down on myself when things weren’t perfect—was an incredible asset.
“Oh, hell no.” The voice of my favorite person had my eyes snapping up to meet my lovely lady’s scowling face.
“Hey, babe!” I gave her a bright smile, which caused the corners of her lips to turn down even further.
She pointed a finger at the door. “Get out.”
“You came to visit me at work, so I decided to return the favor.” I broke eye contact to give a quick visual survey of the bar. “Busy tonight.”
Gemma’s hands flew to her wide hips. “Look, I don’t know how you found me, but you need to leave. I can’t deal with you right now. You’ve done enough already.”
Though it was a tight squeeze, I managed to rest my forearms on the bar. “What do you mean?”
Gesturing wildly at the crowd, she explained, “This. All these people. It’s because of you.”
“Seems like whatever I did was good for business. And if you’re working behind the bar, I bet your tips are higher than average.”
She shot me a murderous glare. Damn, she was cute when she got all fired up. “It would be great if everyone here didn’t come just to have me scream at them.”
Tapping my fingers on the bar top, I huffed out a laugh. “Can’t say I blame them, Kitten. It revs my engine.” I tossed her a wink.
“Don’t remind me,” Gemma muttered, barely audible over the music pumped in from wall-mounted speakers. When I kept staring at her, she tilted her face toward the ceiling, blowing out a breath. “You’re not leaving.”
“Nope.” I popped the P, knowing it would set her even further on edge. If the people wanted a show, who was I to deny them?
“Hey!” the guy beside me shouted. “You’re the guy from the video.”
“Oh my God.” Gemma let out a frustrated groan.
“Yeah, that’s me.” Grinning, I extended my hand to the stranger. “Goose. Nice to meet you.”
He shook it, eager eyes shifting between me and Gemma. Nudging the guy on his other side, he said, “Ricky, get a load of this. We’re gonna get a live re-enactment!”
Guy Number Two—Ricky—leaned his torso over the bar to peek at me. “No way! And you didn’t even want to come tonight, Colby.”
Colby crooked a finger, beckoning to Gemma. “Come on, sweetheart. Let him have it.”
A muscle twitched along her jaw, and I could tell she was holding back. So, I decided to taunt her, hoping I could light the fuse on the fireworks.
“Gemma, baby. What is it that they always say? The customer is always right? You’re not going to deny these fine people what they want, are you?”
Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. “Order a drink or get out. I don’t have time for your psycho bullshit tonight, Sasha.”
A groan rumbled from deep within my chest at hearing her say my name for the first time. “Fuck, Kitten. You’re killing me.”
Gemma scoffed. “Better you than me.”
“I’ll take whatever cola you have on tap.”
Her dark eyebrows rose to her hairline, where she’d piled her nearly black hair into a messy bun atop her head. “This is a bar.”
“I’m aware.”
Assessing me with a critical eye, she asked, “You don’t drink alcohol?”
“Nope.”
Something softened in her gaze. “How long have you been sober?”
“Since the day I was born.”
Gemma’s plush pink lips parted. “Wait. You’ve never had a drink?”
I shrugged. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not.” Her head cocked to the side. “I just—Is it for religious reasons?”
Lacing my fingers together over the bar, I explained, “I’ve seen how it ruins lives, and I’m not interested in that for myself.”
“Well, then.” Gemma cleared her throat. “A cola it is.” She busied herself, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice before pressing the button on the soda gun. The dark, carbonated beverage was placed before me on a napkin. “Here you go.”
I raised it to my lips, letting the bubbles tickle the back of my throat before coming up for air with an ahh . Tilting the glass in Gemma’s direction, I smiled. “Thanks.”
She sighed. “As you can see, I don’t have time to babysit you tonight.”
“Babe, I’m a big boy.”
“Oh, I know.” Her gaze dipped to my lower half, hidden behind the bar.
The smirk that curved on my lips couldn’t be helped. If she was thinking about my cock, that meant there was a chance. At the very least, she was curious about what a physical connection might look like. It wasn’t ideal, considering I was already halfway in love with her, but I could work with that.
Every great love story had to start somewhere. If ours began with hot sex, and her heart followed later, I didn’t care. Just so long as the end result was the same—her by my side for the rest of our lives.
“You’re back.”
There were open stools at the bar tonight, so I dropped onto one, folding my hands atop the polished wood counter.
“I’m back,” I confirmed.
Before I could ask, Gemma placed a cold glass of cola before me. It was routine by this point.
Every free night I had, I was here, watching her work. Initially, she’d been annoyed, but after a while, she accepted that I wasn’t going anywhere. My persistence and patience would eventually be rewarded, but for now, I was content to be calmed by her presence.
“I wasn’t sure.” She chewed her lower lip, eyes dropping to the floor. “You were gone for a while.”
I smiled. “Did you miss me, babe?”
“Miss is a strong word,” she shot back over her shoulder, heading toward a customer at the other end of the bar who had signaled for her with a hand.
When she returned, I explained, “I was traveling with the team.”
“Right.” She nodded. “You play some kind of sport.”
A snort flew past my nose. “Some kind of sport. Honey, if we’re going to be together, you need to learn what I do for a living.”
Gemma gave me the prettiest eye roll I’d ever seen. “Your mind must be a terrifying place.”
“It’s busy, that’s for sure.”
“Fine, I’ll bite. Tell me about your ‘sport’.” Her use of air quotes on that final word had me laughing so loud that several patrons turned to stare.
With agility born from years of practice, I hopped from my stool to stand atop the bar.
Gemma tugged on my hand, hissing, “Sasha, what are you doing? Get down!”
My height had my head nearly touching the ceiling, and I knocked on it to get everyone’s attention. Once all eyes were on me, I shot a loving gaze at the red-cheeked woman down below.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m trying to prove a point to my woman. You all know the lovely Gemma, right?” There were several grunts of acknowledgment in the crowd, so I continued, “By a show of hands, how many of you have heard of the Indy Speed?”
Every single hand in the bar shot up. My gloat-filled grin couldn’t be contained.
“Thank you all. You’ve been mighty helpful this evening.” I mimed tipping my cap to them before jumping down.
Arms folded, Gemma shot me a death glare. “Do you think you’re cute?”
“Do you think I’m cute? I’m more interested in hearing your answer to that question.“ I tossed her a playful wink.
“I think you’re the biggest pain in my ass,” she muttered.
Leaning over the bar, I dropped my voice an octave. “That can be arranged, sweetheart.”
Her eyes flew wide, and she stumbled back a step, glasses of hard liquor rattling as she bumped into the countertop along the wall.
“Sports,” Gemma breathed out. “We were talking about sports.”
“That we were. And what we learned is that you’re the only person in this bar who’s never heard of my hockey team.”
“In my defense, I moved to Indianapolis less than a year ago.”
“Fair.” I rapped my knuckles on the bar. “Where did you move from?”
It was the simplest question but her reaction to it had me taking notice. The fire went right out of her, and she drew in on herself—arms hugging her middle, shoulders slumped, eyes dropping to the floor.
“Chicago.” The word was said so softly I almost didn’t hear it.
Instantly on alert, I offered her my hand. “Hey, Gemma. Look at me.”
Those beautiful hazel eyes flicked up, and I nearly stopped breathing when her soft palm slid against mine. This was the first time she’d let me touch her—that fact triggered something in my brain and set off alarm bells.
“Did someone hurt you? Are you in danger?”
A rush of air flew past her lips. “It’s complicated.”
I shook my head, threading our fingers together so she couldn’t pull away. “No, it’s not. It’s a yes or no question. Did you or did you not move to Indianapolis to hide from someone?”
Gemma swallowed. “I’m not exactly hiding, but I am running.”
“From a guy?”
It killed me to think that there was some asshole out there looking for her, thinking she belonged to him. Because he couldn’t be more wrong. She was mine. I wasn’t letting anyone take her away from me.
“My family.”
My brows rose. That wasn’t the answer I’d been expecting.
Gemma was a thirty-seven-year-old woman, and as far as I could tell, she was capable and strong. She held her own. So what had made her so terrified of her family that she’d uprooted her life and moved hundreds of miles from home?
She pulled her hand away from mine, and I mourned the loss of her touch. “Look, if it’s all the same to you, I don’t really want to talk about it, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed softly.
Sighing, Gemma ran a hand down her face. “What are we doing?”
“Um.” My gaze swept the room. “Sitting in a bar?”
“No, I mean this.” She gestured between us. “What’s it going to take to make you move on?”
The answer was simple: I had no plans of ever moving on from her. I was fully committed to her until death do us part.
But I knew she wasn’t receptive to that idea. Not yet.
So instead, I took what most people would deem as the next logical step in our relationship. “Let me take you out.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She shook her head, and the loosely tied bun resting atop it wobbled with the movement.
“Why not?” I challenged.
“Because I don’t want you to get attached.”
Too late for that.
Resting my elbows on the bar, I leaned closer. “Just give me one date, Gemma. One chance to convince you that we might have something special. If you’re still not interested after that, I’ll let you go.”
A doubtful expression crossed her face. “You’d really leave me alone if, at the end of the night, I tell you I’m not feeling whatever love connection you’ve got brewing in your brain?”
Using a single finger, I made a cross over my heart. “I swear it. I only want you to be happy, Gemma.”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, well, not sure that’s in the cards, but it’s a nice thought.”
What the hell had happened to this woman that she didn’t feel worthy of happiness?
Reaching into my back pocket, I produced my phone. “Give me your number.”
Gemma huffed out a wry laugh. “I didn’t say yes yet, did I?”
I flashed her a cocky grin. “Well, then, I guess this is my new favorite hangout until you do.”
“Ugh, fine. Give me the damn thing. One date. That’s it. And then you lose my number.” Her fingers brushed mine as she accepted my cell, tapping on the screen to input her information.
“It’s a deal, Kitten.”
I finished my drink before leaving her to the rest of her shift.
This was a first step toward our future together. And I’d be damned if I wasted this opportunity.