Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Viktor
Winning the semi-finals is incredible.
We’re going to the championship.
This is unheard of for an expansion team, but here we are.
The excitement, both on the team and in the city, has been out of control.
People have been showing up at closed practices, just waiting outside for a glimpse of any one of us.
We’ve all had to do multiple interviews, and the days leading up to game one of the finals are busy.
Luckily, my parents understand the pressure I’m under and have given me some space. Tonight, we’re all going to Holly’s parents’ house for dinner but after that, I’ll be somewhat sequestered with the team.
So, I’m a little surprised when Holly’s up early and tells me she has a surprise for me, promising it will be relaxing.
I ask her multiple times where we’re going, but she just smiles and directs me. We left home forty-five minutes ago, and I’m in a part of Georgia I’m unfamiliar with.
“You are taking me to see birds?” I ask finally.
She laughs. “The birds will be there, but no, I know that’s not your thing.”
“I think I would like to meet…Elvis.”
She grins. “And if we have time, you can. But that’s not what I have planned. Okay, you see that red mailbox? Turn into that driveway.”
I follow her directions and there, set deep into the property, is an old but well-kept farmhouse. There are red shutters on the windows, two white rocking chairs on the wraparound porch, and flowers everywhere.
“This is your grandmother’s house,” I say.
She nods. “Yes. You can park there.” She points and I slow down my SUV.
She jumps out before I can stop her and she goes around to the back, opening the hatchback and taking something out.
“What is that?” I ask curiously.
“A picnic.” She smiles and hands me a large, heavy basket. “If you can carry this, I’ll get the rest.”
“Of course.” I take the basket, which is heavier than it looks, and watch as she pulls out a big bag that seems to have a blanket in it. She closes the back and leads us around the house, down a hill and onto a clearing between some large trees.
“This will give us some shade,” she says, putting the bag down and pulling out a large blanket.
I help her spread it out and then sink down next to her.
“I thought this might help you relax,” she says. “Get us away from the house and the chaos.”
“This was very thoughtful.” I look around. “It is beautiful here.”
“I think so too.” She starts pulling plastic containers out of the basket. “So, I have some special food for you here. Some of your favorites. According to your father.”
“Yes?” I look down with interest.
“First, we’re going to start with blini and red caviar.” She opens a bag containing the thin, pancake-like discs and my mouth waters.
“Then there’s Olivier salad, pirozhki with meat, and borscht.”
I stare at the spread in front of me, and then at the beautiful woman sitting across from me.
She looks adorable today in denim shorts, a blue and white T-shirt, and blue sneakers. Her hair is in a ponytail and she has on a white baseball cap, but the only thing I want to do is kiss her.
I’ve forced myself to resist, waiting for us to get to know each other better before we have a repeat of some of the best sex of my life.
She’s become too important to me to rush the intimacy that burns between us. If there’s any chance of making her want to stay beyond the confines of our contract, I have to go slow. Give her a chance to know me.
But this is too much.
I lean forward and brush my lips across hers. Our mouths linger for a few seconds and I gently tug her ponytail. “Thank you.”
She smiles. “You’re welcome.”
“I can tell you secret?”
“Of course.”
“I do not like borscht.”
She blinks. “But your father said—”
“I know.” I wrinkle my nose. “My mother, she is known for her borscht. Everyone takes her recipe. Everyone asks her to make. She is the queen of borscht. But I hate it. I only eat to be polite because her feelings would be hurt.”
Holly bites her lip, like she’s holding in laughter.
Then it bursts out of her and she puts a hand over her mouth.
“I’m so sorry. I made poor Serena look up all these recipes for the most authentic borscht possible—and you don’t even like it.”
“Is okay. The thought is very special. I love caviar. And Olivier salad.”
“Are you sure?” She suddenly looks a little unsure of herself and I reach for her hand, bringing it to my lips.
“I love this,” I whisper, my voice coming out gruffer than I planned. I kiss the inside of her wrist. Then her palm. Then I look up at her. “Thank you. Truly.”
“You’re welcome.”
Our eyes lock and that jolt of chemistry that’s become all-too-familiar rockets through me. I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my hands off of her after this.
“I want to know what you think of the borscht,” I tell her playfully.
She reaches for a thermos and pours a little of the beet soup into a bowl. There are plastic utensils and she takes a tentative bite. She swallows and looks at me, her face a mask.
“Well?” I ask with a smile.
“I’m going to pass,” she says, closing the thermos.
“You will like the salad.”
She fills our plates with food, putting small squares of blinis covered with mayonnaise and caviar on a paper plate. I take one and pop it in my mouth, savoring the tangy and salty flavor.
“Really, this is my favorite. Of everything in the world.”
“Caviar is your favorite food out of anything?”
I nod. “Pizza is close second, but this—” I make a kissing noise. “The best.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“You must also remember to never tell my mother I hate borscht.”
“I promise.”
We smile at each other.
“This house is yours, yes?”
“Yup. My grandmother left it to me, along with the sanctuary. This is my mother’s mother, and it pissed off my father that she didn’t leave it to my mother.
I think she did that on purpose, though.
Dad has always wanted the land. If she’d left it to my mom, he would have made her sell it so he could develop it. ”
“Develop?” I look around. “We are nowhere. Excuse my English, you know what I mean.”
“Yes. It’s very rural, but the land has its own water supply—a creek that runs from the mountains to the north.
It would be a great place for a data center or something like that.
I think I could get a fortune for it, but I don’t care about the money.
I care about the memories and keeping the sanctuary alive. ”
“Does it cost a lot of money to run the sanctuary?”
She nods. “I mean, not an exorbitant amount, and we bring in a decent amount with tours and our annual fundraiser. But that’s to pay the two full-time staff who take care of the birds, feed the birds, keep up with the grounds.
Stuff like that. I have to pay the property taxes, the utilities…
it’s quite a bit. I’d like to have two charity events a year, but it takes a lot of planning and I just haven’t had time. ”
“Maybe we can help,” I say thoughtfully. “The team. Maybe bring some of the birds to the arena before a game. People can pay to play with them, take pictures, something like that? And a few of the players can be there to do…what do they call it? Community outreach? I will help.”
“You’re sweet,” she whispers. “And I would love that.”
“Next season,” I say firmly. “In the fall we will make this happen. After this season is over, we will talk to someone in PR.”
“Okay. Thank you.” She stares off at something in the distance.
“I have so many memories here from when I was growing up. My grandmother used to take me to the sanctuary and I learned to not just love the birds but appreciate them. Some of them, like the albino peacocks, are very rare. People come from all over the world to see them.”
“I would like to see them,” I say.
“You don’t have to pretend to love birds,” she says softly.
“I am not pretending. I do not know anything about birds but I am curious about the albino peacocks. And the kookaburra. My father was excited about this and so are you. If it is important to you, I would like to know more.”
“Don’t get me started talking about the birds—I can go on forever!”
“I can talk forever about hockey. Is okay.”
I finish my plate and take a second helping of the salad. It’s delicious. I have to remember to thank Serena.
But right now, I want to show my wife how much I appreciate her thoughtful surprise.
“We can walk?” I ask after we’ve finished eating. I get to my feet and hold out my hand.
“Sure.” She puts everything back in the basket and closes it before standing up and taking my hand.
It’s a beautiful day, not too hot or humid yet, and we walk in silence along the line of trees.
“Which way is sanctuary?” I ask.
She points. “On the other side of those trees.”
“How many acres?”
“Almost a hundred.”
I let out a low whistle. “That’s nice.”
“Someday, I want to retire here.”
“I understand this. It’s beautiful.”
“And relaxing. The only thing missing is a pool. Maybe someday.”
“I am glad our new house has a pool. We will relax together.”
She nods thoughtfully. “I’m looking forward to that.”
Out of nowhere, the sun dips behind the clouds and suddenly the wind picks up.
“Damn summer storms,” she says, looking up. “I think we’re going to get some rain. Come on—we can ride it out in the house.”
We hurry back to the picnic spot, and I grab the basket while she gathers the blanket and the bag. Then we hurry up to the house and she unlocks the front door. We get inside just as the first drops start to fall.
“Made it,” she says with a laugh before turning to me with a twinkle in her eyes. “So. What should we do to pass the time?”
I don’t even hesitate. “I have many ideas.”
Then I pull her close and cover her mouth with mine.