Chapter 13 Clara
CLARA
Every table in the Beardog Brewery was full. Like The Last Chance, Charlie's craft brewery attracted both Rapidians and skiers from up the mountain. Unlike The Last Chance, the Beardog had a selection of mocktails and loose-leaf tea mixes, so I never felt out of place.
Megan snagged us the big corner table. Charlotte sat across from me with Emma next to her.
All the player’s girlfriends and wives were at the table, waiting for the Beardog Growlers to arrive.
Evie perched on a stool she'd dragged over.
GJ claimed the head of the table, her boyfriend Clarence seated to her right.
Mr. Plow's wife, whose actual name I'd already forgotten, laughed at something Evan's wife, Sarah, said.
It was a lot. But it felt good, and thanks to the Beardog Growlers, we all had something in common tying us together.
"So." Megan leaned in. "It looks like you two sorted things out?"
My cheeks burned. "You could say that."
"Really." Megan set down her glass and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Clara, are you sure about this? I know how badly he hurt you."
I looked down at my chamomile and hibiscus blend. "People can change," I said quietly. "I understand what happened in the past. I forgive him."
Megan reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Then I'm happy for you."
GJ elbowed me hard enough to leave a bruise. "That boy is head over skates for you, dear. Anyone with eyeballs free of glaucoma can see it."
Evie shook her head. "GJ…"
"It's alright," I said. "We've got quite a bit of history."
"Oh, we know." Charlotte, Evie, and Sarah all spoke at the same time, then laughed. I joined them.
I couldn't stop glancing at the door, my heart leaping into my throat every time it opened. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be excited about a man. Then the door opened and the men of the Growlers poured in, including mine.
The energy was chaotic, but joyful. Beck's hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans, the most Chance Rapids outfit he'd worn since he'd been home.
Home. Was that how he saw it?
Our eyes locked and his face brightened. I had to grip the edge of the table to keep from jumping up and pulling him from the restaurant to a secluded alleyway.
GJ elbowed me again. "Told you."
Instead of socializing, Beck crossed the room and kissed me in front of everyone.
"Hi." He sat down beside me. "Ladies." He spoke to the rest of the table and was met with giggles. As the rest of the team joined us, his hand found my thigh under the table. I rested my palm on the back of his hand, threading my fingers through his.
"Hi." The noise of the restaurant disappeared as Beck focused all his attention on me.
Charlie appeared with pitchers of beer, setting them down with a grin. "Half price for the winning team."
Emma leaned in. "Just so you know, it would've been half price for the losing team too."
Laughter spread around the table, and everyone relaxed, taking turns filling glasses from the pitchers. Beck waved him off when Logan tried to pour him one.
"I'm good. Thanks. I'll stick with the water."
I leaned closer. "You don't have to not drink because of me. I'm fine with it."
He turned, his knee pressing against mine. "I wanted to be one hundred percent sober tonight."
"Why?"
His eyes held mine. He curled his finger for me to lean in. His breath was hot on my ear as he whispered, "So I can remember every second."
Heat pooled low in my belly.
Our table was rowdy. Beer sloshed out of his glass as Wick reenacted his assist. Nick grumbled about a shitty offside call from ref in the first period.
A hush came over the group as Logan stood and raised his glass. "To Beck Shepherd," he said. "The newest Beardog Growler."
Everyone cheered. Beck lifted his water glass.
"Speech, speech, speech!" Freddie the electrician slapped his palms on the table.
A flush of pink spread along Beck's jawline.
I released his hand and he squeezed my leg before standing.
"I had a hell of a team out there tonight.
Getting drafted to play in the Christmas Classic is almost as exciting as when I got drafted to the NHL.
" He paused. "And since I'll be staying in town to oversee the development, I might need a permanent number on the team. "
My pulse skipped a beat, then hammered a drummer-boy rhythm against my ribs. Maybe this was going to be his home after all.
Charlie delivered giant plates of nachos.
I ate a few chips, but I couldn't focus on the food or the conversation.
All I could feel was Beck's hand holding mine under the table, his thumb tracing slow circles on my palm.
My mind drifted to how those strong stick-handling hands would feel on other parts of my body.
"Clara!" Beck nudged me. "Someone wants to say hi."
I turned. It was Maddie's dad, Phil White.
"Hey, Mr. White."
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to tell you that Maddie has been practicing her lutz non-stop since she landed it. I think she's going to wear out a spot on the kitchen linoleum from all that spinning in her socks." He beamed, the look of a man who's spent ten weekends in a row at a rink.
"She's a good little skater."
"And she hung her Dorothy costume on the wall next to her Taylor Swift poster. You've brought so much joy to our daughter's life."
My throat tightened and I bit my lip to stop myself from tearing up. "It's a two-way street, sir. Your daughter is a joy to coach."
He turned to Beck and shook his hand. "Thank you for saving the programs. Without this woman, there would be a lot of kids pushed out of figure skating."
Beck draped his arm over my shoulder and squeezed me tightly. "She's a true small-town success story."
The tears welled in my eyes once again, but this time I had to grab a napkin to make them disappear.
"She is." Mr. White stepped back. "I'll see you at the rink. No, wait! I'll see you at the town meeting tomorrow.” He waved and disappeared into the crowd.
Beck leaned close. "I'm so proud of everything you've done here."
I turned to him. "It's time to go."
After some drawn-out goodbyes and a few exaggerated excuses about Dash's dinnertime, we put on our coats and stepped onto Main Street. Beck held my hand as we walked to my truck. The street speakers played an instrumental version of Silent Night. The snow fell in soft, fat flakes.
"I'm so glad you're back in my life, Clara Dalton.
" Without waiting for a response, Beck pressed me against the driver's door and kissed me.
It was soft at first, until I pressed my hips into his.
I could feel the unmistakable hard line of his desire, and my younger self would've shoved him into the truck and taken him right there under the streetlights.
But we were older, and more mature.
"We could park your truck on a side street?" He nipped at my ear and kissed along my jawbone.
Giggling, I pulled away. "Get in that fancy car and follow me. I live in the bunkhouse at the old Fallingbrook Ranch."
"I know where it is." His forehead rested against mine. "But I won't let you out of my sight."
True to his word, the headlights of his SUV stayed in my rearview the entire way out of town.
Red and green Christmas lights glowed along the roofline of my cabin. Dash's nose fogged up the glass in the front window. I got out of my truck and waited for Beck to park behind me.
"Can we take him for a walk?" I asked.
"Cockblocked by a hound dog." Beck laughed. "Of course. We've got all night, Clara Belle."
I'd been calling him Beck ever since the rink, but that was the first time he brought out my nickname.
The moon lit the way as we walked down the country road. Dash bounded ahead and barked at shadows while Beck's hand found mine. We walked in sync, our shoulders occasionally brushing, the only sound the rhythmic crunch of our boots on the frozen ground.
Until a coyote yipped in the distance.
"Dash!" I called, and to my surprise, he came. "It's time to go home."
The three of us walked back to the cabin together. Inside, the woodstove was still going and it was a balmy seventy-five degrees. Dash ate his dinner, then curled up on his bed in front of the fire.
I stood in the middle of the room, my hands trembling. It was real. Beck was in my house and we were about to crawl into bed together after fifteen years.
"Do you want tea? Or water? I can make coffee. Sorry, I don't have any actual drinks."
Beck scooped me up in his arms.
"Clara."
"Yeah?"
"Stop talking."
He pressed his lips to mine and I laced my fingers behind his thick neck. We didn't stop kissing, even when we reached the bed. We were hungry for each other; my body ached to make up for all the time that we'd missed.
Beck lowered me to the bed first, and then himself, straddling me with his hands pressed into the mattress next to my shoulders. His kisses turned softer. "I don't want to rush anything," he whispered in my ear.
The thrum between my legs was screaming 'rush', but I knew that Beck would be worth the wait. He had given me my very first orgasm, and I couldn't wait for another.
"Slowly." I bit my lip and wrapped my legs around his body, my heels gently urging him downward. Even if he wasn't inside me yet, I wanted his weight, all two hundred pounds of him, on top of me.
His hand found the hem of my shirt and goosebumps erupted across my belly as he slid his palm up to my chest, his massive hand cupping my breast. He squeezed gently and kissed along my jawbone. My hips had a mind of their own and rocked against his hardness.
Beck groaned. He rested his head on my chest. "This is killing me."
"Me too."
"Fuck it." He pulled me off the bed, so we were both standing, then fumbled with the button on my jeans.
"Let me. It will be faster." I undid my pants.
Like two firefighters, we were out of our clothes in seconds.
Beck's eyes tracked up and down my body. The only piece of clothing left was my white cotton panties with the little silk rose at the front. "Clara. You were a pretty girl, but you are one gorgeous woman."
He lowered me back onto the bed and planted a kiss just below the rose. His warm breath on the fabric between sent a shiver down my spine. My body pulsed beneath his lips. "Don't tease me, Beck. I've waited fifteen years for this."
He pulled my panties down my legs in one smooth movement then tossed them on the floor. The air on my skin and the anticipation of Beck pressing into me had me more turned on than I'd ever been in my life.
When Beck gently pushed inside me, stars flared in my vision. He did two slow thrusts then paused. His legs shook and his eyes were shut. The man was as close to coming as I was, if not closer.
My heels pressed into his muscular ass, urging him to pick up the tempo. His body was even better than when he played hockey full-time. He'd filled out, his abs were defined, and the v-cut was even more impressive than I remembered. His muscles rippled with every thrust, and I rocked with him.
Our bodies moved together, and even though we wanted it to last, it was impossible. Beck thrust hard into me, paused, and then kissed me.
"I'm close, Beck." I writhed beneath him. "Give me everything you've got."
"Oh, Clara." He pressed into his hands and his abs popped. His thrusts were powerful enough to shift the solid log bed. I tossed my head back and let the pleasure of his power roll through me. His body was hitting all the right places.
"Oh, Beck." It started with a murmur. As the wave of my orgasm rose and fell, my voice followed its cues. "Beck, fuck, you feel so good."
"Clara, you're so tight. You're so beautiful. You're so damn…"
He threw his head back and shuddered as he came. I grabbed his ass, and with his next thrust, my wave finally crested. The orgasm rushed from between my legs, down to my toes, and up to the crown of my head.
Beck dropped on top of me, panting. I kissed his ear. "That was better than I imagined."
"Same." He could barely get the words out. "Now, get a drink of water." He rolled off me.
"Why?"
"Because we're going to do it again."