Chapter 20 #2
“It has notes of caramel and vanilla,” he says in a tone of sophistication and snobbery that is so not him it makes me laugh.
“How do you know that?”
He leans closer to me like he’s telling me a secret and places one hand on the back of the couch above my head.
He smells like he did that night in Vegas, whiskey and cologne.
I remember exactly how he tasted that night too.
Liquor and mint. An image of us kissing flits through my mind.
We’re on the Vegas strip. The street is busy with people walking and lights flashing around us, but we’re still.
His hands are tight around my waist, lifting me off the ground and clutching me to him, and my hands are draped around his shoulders.
I don’t know if it’s memory or fantasy but my body flushes.
Does he remember pieces of that night too, and is he thinking about it like I am?
“It was on the menu,” he says in a loud whisper.
I hear him but the words don’t penetrate. I’m still in Vegas with his mouth covering mine. His tongue sweeps in, hot and demanding, and he groans a deep guttural sound of pleasure that vibrates through me.
“The menu describes all the different whiskeys.” He picks up the rectangular drink menu with the hand not behind me as if to further clarify, and I manage to force images of us kissing out of my head.
“Right.” I look away from him, face on fire, and take another long drink of my cool water.
I feel Travis’s stare linger until Conrad asks, “What the hell is Victor Aven doing here a week before we play Houston?”
Travis sits tall but leaves his left arm resting behind me. “I have no fucking idea.”
“Who’s Victor Aven?” If my voice were being analyzed like whiskey, they might say it has notes of desire and denial. I glance around but there are too many people to pick out the object of their attention.
“He plays for Houston,” Travis says.
“Hockey?”
Travis smiles at me in a charmed sort of as my wife you should probably know this grin. Oops.
“Yes.” His happy expression dissolves as his focus returns to the guy I can now pick out as Victor.
For one, he’s tall and built in a way that makes him stand out as an athlete. And two, he’s looking this way.
Travis’s arm behind me drops to my shoulders and he scoots closer on the couch as Victor approaches.
“Bennett. Shepard. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Us?” Conrad asks. “You’re the one who’s obviously lost. Did you read the schedule wrong? Our game isn’t for days.”
Before Victor can answer, Travis jumps in. “I hadn’t seen the news. I’m sorry.” Travis’s tone is full of fake sympathy.
Aven’s scowl intensifies. “What the hell are you yapping about, Bennett?”
“I assume since you’re here before the rest of your team, Houston finally got tired of your shit and let you go.
But our roster is set, man. Especially for guys whose talent is disproportionate to their ego.
I hear Moonshot has a competitive beer league though.
” Travis is all smiles, but I feel the animosity for Victor in the way his body has tensed next to me.
“No.” Conrad wears his contempt more openly. His sharp features take on a dark edge I didn’t expect from him. “They deserve way better than you. They love hockey. They respect the game and the people they play with. Something you can’t seem to fathom.”
Aven rolls his eyes in a way that tells me this hatred among them must be well established. “Trust me, I don’t enjoy being in this fucking shit state any more than absolutely necessary, but my sister lives here.”
“You have a sister? And she tolerates you?” Travis asks him. “Does she know you’re the world’s biggest asshole?”
“I don’t know.” Victor’s smile falls into a sneer as his gaze slides to me. “Does your pretty new wife know you’re the league’s highest paid joke? Or is that something you two have in common?”
Travis stands, but not before Conrad jumps between them.
“Get the fuck out of here, Aven. You’re full of shit and you know it.” Conrad stays blocking Travis from Victor. My heart is racing with a mixture of fear that they might start fighting and hope that they do. What an asshole. God, no wonder they hate him.
Aven stands his ground long enough to flash a smug smile to show off his obvious pleasure at riling them up and then turns to leave. “See you on the ice, boys.”
Conrad is the first to glance back.
“You good?” he asks Travis.
“Yeah.” His tone isn’t completely convincing. He sits, worry etched into his features as he looks me over. “I’m so sorry he brought you into our shit. He was looking to piss me off. You’re a fantastic gymnast.”
My lips curve, which seem to confuse him. “You’re worried about me right now?”
“Yeah?” It comes out like he’s questioning my question more than the idea of worrying about me at this moment.
I place a hand on his thigh. He glances down at the way my fingers rest just above his knee before his gaze locks back onto mine. “I know a bully when I see one. He would have said anything to get a reaction out of you two.”
Travis nods, tense expression relaxing. “Still. That was out of line.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. Victor Aven might even be right about me, but not about Travis and I won’t let him think it because of some jerk.
Conrad finally takes his seat too, but he looks far more agitated than Travis. “I fucking hate that guy.”
“I can tell,” I say. I start to pull my hand away, but Travis covers it with one of his. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk.”
Conrad’s lips twist and slacken into a small smile but then the dark clouds cross his expression again. “I’m going to take a walk.”
“You good?” Trav asks him.
“Yeah. I’ll be back.” With a nod, he’s gone, leaving me with one less angry hockey player.
Travis blows out a breath.
“That was intense,” I tell him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Aven’s a world-class prick. I just wasn’t expecting to see him here tonight. I wanted it to be perfect.”
“What?”
“Our first date.”
I let out a small laugh and his happy grin returns. He’s still sitting close, and his fingers still cover mine. His thumb absently plays with the band of my ring. I’ve gotten used to its presence remarkably fast. The weight of it has an almost grounding effect. Heavy but calming somehow.
“I had no idea I was on a date.”
“Didn’t you?”
I did or at least when I was getting ready tonight that’s exactly what it felt like.
Instead, I ask, “Is this your typical first date move? Take a girl somewhere fun and exciting, a little exclusive.”
“I don’t think I’ve been that deliberate in my planning, but yeah, I guess I tend to pick places I think we’ll have a good time. How’d I do?”
I hum a noncommittal response.
“Where’d you take the last girl on your first date?”
His brows lift but his smile lifts higher at the corners.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
“No, I do, but I’m just wondering if you’re asking because you’re jealous or…” He lets the sentence linger, like he’s making room for whatever other scenario might be at play.
“Just trying to figure you out.”
“I’m not that complicated, sweetheart.”
His constant changing of endearments and nicknames makes me smile.
He eases back into the booth but his hand still covers mine. “Ask whatever you want to know.”
I think for a moment. There are so many things I’m not sure where to start.
I go with an easy one. “Where are you from?”
“Michigan.”
“Did you go to college?”
“No. I signed out of high school and then spent a few years playing on minor league teams. First Florida and then Moonshot.”
“Does your family still live in Michigan?”
It feels like his body tenses as he reaches for his whiskey glass with his free hand. It’s the only question, so far, that I don’t know the answer to—or at least the Google answer. His smile is still intact though so maybe I imagined it.
“They do. What about you? Is it just you and your sister?” he asks.
“Our parents passed away when I was eleven.”
“I’m so sorry. Eleven?” The sincerity in his tone isn’t surprising, I’ve gotten it enough in the years since it happened, but his earnest expression goes beyond the nicety of the words.
I nod to answer his question. “Thanks. It almost feels like another lifetime now. They’ve been gone longer than I had with them.”
“I’m really sorry.”
I don’t usually share the details but he’s looking at me with so much compassion that I feel compelled. Or maybe I just want him to know more of me.
“It was a freak accident. They were driving home from the grocery store in the middle of a bad storm and a tree fell on the car.” If I really let myself go back to that day and the weeks and months after, I can feel that all-consuming grief of losing them.
But the truth is that over time the pain has dulled.
It’s not as suffocating, and I don’t spend as much time wondering about what things could have been like.
It’s easier now to push on, keep busy, not linger too long in the sadness. It doesn’t stop me from missing them or wishing they were here, but it’s hard to imagine my life any differently now.
I sense that Travis wants to apologize again but instead his mouth pulls into a flat line and his fingers brush lightly back and forth over the top of my hand.
“Wren and I went to live with our grandmother after that.”
“Is she still…”
I nod before he can finish the sentence.
“Yeah, she’s alive and living her best life.
She moved to Arizona over the summer as soon as Wren graduated high school.
That was her dream before…retire to Arizona and spend her days in the sun, playing tennis and doing water aerobics.
Doing all the things she put off while raising her grandkids. ”
I set out to get to know him and somehow, it’s me doing the talking.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.
“Nope. Only child.”
“I would have guessed that. You have strong only child vibes.”
He grins. “Coming from an oldest, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.”
“I’ll never tell.”