Chapter Nine
Damon
“Do you want to grab some dinner with me? I’d love to keep talking hockey, but I’m starving,” I ask Joslyn.
It’s Thursday night, and we’re reviewing candidates for the head coach position.
I’m hungry, but I want to spend more time with her.
I’m enjoying our conversation more than I ever could have imagined.
I’m surprised and thrilled by some of her observations about the players, and I don’t know anyone else who is this knowledgeable about hockey, except maybe Jonesy.
She hesitates for a moment, then nods her head with a shy smile. I’m guessing she’s concerned about the boss-employee dynamic. I remind myself to remain professional. We’ll see how that goes. I can’t stop thinking about her in an extremely unprofessional and very naked way lately.
“I know just the place. It’s right around the corner, and it’s the perfect place to talk more about hockey. Plus, they let me bring Abby, so I won’t have to leave her at the arena.”
She stands up, looking around to gather her things.
The short navy summer dress she’s wearing flows around her thighs, giving me the perfect view of those tanned and toned legs.
There is nothing hotter than an attractive woman wearing a sundress.
Sure, it’s on the conservative side, but that doesn’t make it any less alluring. Not when she’s wearing it.
I look around because I’ve forgotten all about Abby, who is curled up at Joslyn’s feet, content to bask in her presence.
Yeah, me too, girl. Me too.
I spent all day with her, but I still want more.
I want to watch her cute little nose crinkle when she’s deep in thought or watch her eyes shine when we agree on something important.
My favorite thing is when her face lights up with laughter because of something I’ve said.
I catch myself trying to make her laugh just so I can see that beautiful expression again.
She’s your boss.
That thought should bring me up short, but it doesn’t.
I ignore it and smile wider as I hold the elevator door for her and Abby.
It’s seven thirty at night, and the office is empty, but it’s summer, so the evening sun still shines through the bank of windows lining the hallway to the elevator.
It catches her auburn hair, creating a halo of fire around her gorgeous face.
I try to swallow, but my throat is dry, and my dick is hard. God, she’s stunning. All I can think about is fisting that fiery hair and pushing her against the elevator wall. Feeling her perfect body against mine while I taste those lush lips.
As she walks past me, I catch a whiff of her signature scent—honeysuckle, vanilla, and sunshine.
I want to bury my face in her hair and breathe it in while I bury my cock between her legs.
I want to hear my name on her lips when she comes.
I have to close my eyes because the image is so vivid and intense.
Fuck! Get it together. You’re in the goddamn elevator.
I quickly push the first-floor button, willing my dick to behave. But she’s right here, and I can still smell her, which makes my dick even happier, and that’s not helping with my hard-on issue. I put a hand in my pocket, hoping it helps to disguise my predicament. If I’m lucky, she won’t notice.
The elevator door opens to the arena lobby. I hold the door again as Abby trots ahead of Joslyn into the lobby. She follows with her typical confident stride, high heels clicking on the floor.
Do not look at her ass, Damon. Do not! Damn it.
I can’t help it. I try to pull my eyes away, but Jesus, with those heels, it just sways. Her dress is just tight enough to show off that perfect peach, and I want to grab it like I’m a twenty-year-old kid. I fist my hands and purposely will my unruly thoughts back into submission.
I nod at Eddie, the nighttime security guard, as he holds the door open for both of us.
She gives him a fond smile while Abby licks his hand and wags her tail in greeting. They’re obviously old friends.
“Night, Eddie. Say hi to Rosie for me.” She pulls Abby away from her love-fest with the security guard with a wave in his direction, then heads out the door and to the left in her usual confident stride.
“Goodnight, Ms. Joslyn. Be safe.” He looks at me meaningfully, and I nod, accepting the responsibility for her safety from this point on as the heavy arena door clangs shut behind me.
I jog to catch up, placing my hand on the small of her back as I fall in step beside her.
It’s one of my favorite spots on a woman, so smooth and soft.
I love those dimples a woman gets right above the gentle curve of her ass.
So fucking sexy. I want to run my hand up and down her back until I can feel them through her skirt. I don’t, but God, I want to.
Not yet anyway…No, not ever!
“So, where are you taking me?” I raise an eyebrow, curious about her favorite hangout, even as I ignore the wayward thoughts in my head.
“You’ll see,” she answers with a bright, impish smile.
We walk in companionable silence for a few blocks until I glance up and spot an old storefront sign halfway down the street.
It’s worn but still lit. The Wolf Den Diner.
I’ve never even heard of this place before, and I used to live around here.
It’s a hole-in-the-wall, but then again, some of the best places are.
The windows and doors are so dark I can’t see inside.
I’m concerned it’s empty until I realize it’s only a window tint. We step inside, and I’m blown away.
It looks like an old fifties diner, but on a smaller scale—only a few booths and tables.
It’s a small space, but you don’t notice because it’s set up so well.
The booths are aqua with white edging, and the tables are black and shiny.
Team colors… hmm. Wait, are those stuffed wolves everywhere?
Yup, on the counter, at the table, hanging on the walls.
Then, I see it. A big Colorado Wolves logo is painted on the wall above the small counter with a cash register.
I smile. This place is almost perfect. It’s only missing one thing. I look around… and there it is.
Abby turns excitedly toward the cash register, tail wagging in anticipation.
A beautiful husky with a furry black and white face peeks around the side of the counter to greet Abby with a lick and a whine.
Yup, there had to be a dog. The husky trots over to Abby, and they engage in the typical dog greeting, complete with butt-sniffing.
Eventually, the husky realizes there are people around and comes over to investigate.
I offer my hand for him to sniff, then run it over his head and through his silky fur.
He licks me as if to say, “You’re acceptable,” before turning around to seek the same treatment from Joslyn.
“Hey there, Sid. You’re such a good boy,” she coos, scratching behind his ears, which I can see he loves. And, of course, his name is “Sid.” A nod to the great Sidney Crosby. Hockey fans are a thing.
Then, like nothing happened, the husky disappears around the counter again. I look over it and see the furry cutie is happily ensconced in his aqua-blue donut bed. The dogs are clearly old friends, which speaks well for this place and our future meal.
“This place is fantastic,” I say, catching her eye and giving her a cheerful grin.
“Yeah, it really is,” she replies, her smile soft and her eyes sparkling with delight. “It’s fairly new, but the food is amazing.” She hits the bell on the top of the counter.
“Be right out! Seat yourself,” a voice bellows from the back, where two large black swinging doors guard the kitchen area. We look around, but it’s empty except for us, so we get to pick our seats. I gesture at a booth, looking out the big front window.
“Does that work?”
“It does.” She sits gracefully while Abby makes herself at home at her feet.
I slide into the seat opposite her, giving myself an excuse to look her in the eyes.
She grabs the laminated menus from behind the condiment stand and hands one to me.
I expect to see the standard diner fare, but I’m pleasantly surprised after perusing the menu options.
Not only are they creative, but they look delicious.
Each item has an imaginative name, and the colors match the décor. It’s such a compelling setup.
“I see you brought some company tonight, Jos?” A light, pleasant voice breaks through my menu inspection.
I glance up to see a very petite woman with short blonde hair and a wide grin walking toward our table. She’s wearing jeans, sneakers, and an aqua-colored chef’s jacket with “Boss Lady” embroidered on the top left. I chuckle. I’m not even a little surprised they know each other.
“You mean besides Sid’s best buddy? I did. Damon Hawk, meet the illustrious owner of this establishment, Astrid Marks. Astrid, meet the new general manager for the Wolves.”
She gives me the once-over, then looks at Joslyn.
“He any good? We’ve got a lot of rebuilding to do this year, so he better be.”
She eyes me suspiciously. I attempt to reassure her by returning her smile as I hold my hand out in greeting.
“Well, he’s a former Wolf, so he can’t be that bad,” Joslyn teases. “Played here as a rookie back in early 2000,” she adds slyly, smirking at me before she looks over at Astrid.
“Hmm, probably before Dad’s time, but I guess he can’t be too bad if he was a Wolf,” the petite blonde concedes.
I’m intrigued. “I’m going to assume your father played for the Wolves as well?”
“Oh yeah, the last eight years of his career. Retired a few years ago. Probably would’ve played longer, but he injured his groin, and there was no coming back from it, unfortunately.” The name Marks rings a bell.
“Marks? Johann Marks?” Now I remember. Marks was a well-respected and talented Swedish goalie.
He was at the height of his career when he was injured.
It was an accident—a player from the other team lost an edge after a breakaway.
Marks had his left leg out in a butterfly and was trying to grab the puck with his glove.
The forward who shot the puck was unable to stop and slammed into his leg.
Hit him right above his leg pads. I’ve seen the replays, and I wince with empathy every time.
His groin and his knee were never the same, even after tons of rehab.
It’s a hazard every player lives with, but to have it happen to someone so talented and at the peak of his career was tough to watch.
Every player knows that it could be any one of us someday. Damn shame.
“Yup, that’s Dad,” she chirps.
“I never met him outside of hockey, but I played against him a number of times. He was a beast in net, always hard to score against.”
“Yeah, Dad’s a warrior for sure. He was pissed when he had to retire, but Mom loves having him home.
He loves her, so he got over it after a while, but it took a bit.
Now they just travel and enjoy life. They’re over in Sweden right now, visiting family for a month.
Summer’s an excellent time for traveling in Europe,” Astrid tells us, and it’s easy to tell she’s happy for her parents. Hell, I’m thrilled for him.
“Oh, I love that they’re off enjoying themselves,” Joslyn says with a fond smile. “I remember your mom had a whole retirement plan for them. I knew she wouldn’t let him stew about his injuries for too long. How’s his knee doing?”
“Despite not being able to play hockey professionally anymore, he’s still as active as ever, if not more so now.
He’s doing all the things he couldn’t do when he was under contract and loving it.
They’ll be back for ski season, so don’t worry, Jos.
I’m sure they’ll call you for dinner at some point.
Dad tried snowboarding last year and can’t get enough now. It’s hilarious.”
She shows us a picture of Johann and his wife snowboarding. He’s proudly showcasing a ridiculous chicken hat, and the two of them are laughing like kids. It warms my heart because retirement can be a challenge for some guys, especially after an injury. It’s terrific to see a success story.
“Alright, enough chit-chat. What would you like to eat, you two? As you can see, it’s pretty busy here, but I can probably squeeze you in.”
She gives us a roguish look as she winks, then points to the menu.
“My burger is the house special. We grind our own meat, all organic and grass-fed. The patty’s a combo of buffalo and beef. I just finished cutting up some potatoes so I can pair them with some fries. How about it, big guy?” She looks at me with clear expectations.
I’m starving, and a nice juicy burger would hit the spot, so I give her the go-ahead. Joslyn orders the same with a glass of red wine. I stick with water, as usual, and we settle in to wait for the food to be ready.
We spend the next few hours talking about hockey, the team, and the upcoming season.
Then, we talk about our kids and being parents.
It’s late by the time we decide to head out.
We completely lost track of time, and Astrid practically had to throw us out the door.
I didn’t care one bit. It was the best damn time I’ve had with a woman in years, maybe ever.
The more I get to know her, the more I realize Jonesy is right - I am fucked.
Because she just keeps getting better and better.