Chapter 32
Damon wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but Marlie kept giving him odd looks, as if puzzled by his existence. After her win on Thursday night, celebrated by the best blowjob he’d ever received, he helped the Mavericks win on Saturday.
He’d celebrated by giving her many orgasms later that evening before hanging with his parents to give Marlie space and time to finish grading her final exams.
Finally stress-free, Marlie had joined him in a magical week of dating. They went out, attended shows and movies downtown, and watched more scary movies at her place when not falling in love with Larry and Bird.
A night out with Jeff and Will—imagine that—had produced laughter and an insider view of how competitive the Reynolds siblings could be. And Will and Jeff still hadn’t told Marlie they were dating.
She had to suspect something. Then again, she seemed fixated on Damon, for which he couldn’t complain.
The woman must have taken lessons from her mother on how to interrogate a guy. She now knew everything about him, from his shoe size (13) to his favorite color (gray), number (1), sports teams (obviously the Raptors), and food (pizza).
With Jeff watching Larry and Bird for them this weekend while Damon took Marlie to the Portland game, and his home, he had nothing but time to get her to admit she liked him a lot more than as a temporary friend.
Damn. Could she not see how much he loved her? Everything about her appealed to him. Even her tendency to make a big deal about him putting his shoes in some stupid shoe basket by the door, not in the closet, which he did at home all the time.
“What now?” he asked, feeling her gaze on him on their drive to Portland.
“You want more dicking? Because I can and will do it, you know. Let me pull over at Government Camp and I’ll ball ya good, sweetness.
” He normally stopped there anyway to hit the restroom on his trips to Hope’s Turn.
The midway point, Government Camp in Mt.
Hood, gave him a place to stretch his legs.
She rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh, and pretended to bury herself in her book again. Yet she’d been on the same page for too long to be seriously reading the thing.
“You need to hit the bathroom?” he asked.
“Might as well.”
They stopped and made use of the facilities. Then, because he always ran into someone who seemed to know him, especially in Oregon, he signed a few autographs and took photos before rejoining Marlie in the truck.
“You seem freaked out,” he blurted as they started out again. “Are you okay with going to the game?”
“Freaked out?” She huffed. “By whom? You?”
“Whom. Nice. I see what you did there.”
She just looked at him.
“Hey, I know I scare you. Just admit it.”
“Maybe once, when you followed me out of a restaurant after I broke up with my boyfriend to ask me out. Yeah, then you were a little odd. Now I find it endearing.”
He beamed.
“But you’re still weird.”
“Maybe, but I went to your basketball game and enjoyed myself. Hold on. That is weird.”
She shot him the finger.
He ignored her and continued, half to himself, “I mean, I kind of had to or your family would disembowel me.”
“Even Irv?” she said dryly.
“Well, maybe not your dad. He’s cool. Your mom still wants to arrest me for something. I can feel it whenever she sees me. In fact, I think she’s been following me. I’ve seen her around Morgan’s office and once at the veterinary clinic, when I took the kittens back for Jeff to look at them.”
She shook her head. “I don’t ask questions. I don’t want to know. And no, I’m not scared of Demon Sinclair. But it’s bizarre when we see people who gush over you. I mean, you’re just you.”
“Right?” He nodded.
“But you’re also kind of famous.”
“Infamous, but yeah. It goes with playing for the Ice Raptors.” It didn’t really matter to him.
Now he had to hope it wouldn’t matter to her. And hell. He had to get to the guys on his team and make sure they didn’t paint him in a bad light. Because if Ford or Mickey said anything that annoyed her, he’d break them in half.
“Gripping the steering wheel pretty hard there, killer. Are you scared?”
“Of screwing things up with you? Of course.”
She blinked in surprise. “What?”
“Marlie, I like you.” I love you, woman! “I’m bringing you home with me to impress you. What’s mine is yours.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded. “So if I said I want your truck, you’d give it to me?’
“Well, no. Not the beast. Though I like to think of you as my beast. So maybe.”
“Hold on. I’m a beast?”
That annoyed her.
They spent the next half hour arguing, and Marlie’s eyes gleamed with amusement. The woman did love being contrary. After grabbing some takeout they ate on the way, he drove her into his city. Though Damon had been raised in Hope’s Turn, Portland felt like home to him as well.
He’d found a tight little condo in the Pearl District, not far from the Moda Center, where they played a lot of their games. Portland was weird, and he loved that about the city. They had freaks and geeks, athletes and musicians, and a lot of people who just wanted to chill.
He drove them to his condo and parked in the garage, then escorted her inside.
“Wow. This place is huge.” Marlie hadn’t stopped looking around her since they’d entered the building.
The concierge, a young man a few years Damon’s junior, smiled at him. “Hey, Damon.”
“John.”
The guy smiled at Marlie as well before assisting the Hynd couple, who owned a few starred restaurants in town.
Damon guided her inside the elevator and hit the button to his floor. “You’ve been to Portland before, right?”
“Yeah. But it’s been a while. I’m used to living in a small town. I like it there.”
“But Portland’s not far.”
“No. Not far. And honestly, this is like a special vacation. I’m so glad I’m done with papers and turned in my grades. I’m officially on Christmas break.”
“About time.”
The elevator stopped one floor up, where a lot of the common amenities—a weight room, kitchen and lounge area, and a library—could be found. In stepped a guy even taller than Damon, a basketball player who’d recently joined the Trailblazers last year.
“’Sup.” The guy nodded to them as the elevator moved again. He hit a button for two floors below Damon’s.
Marlie’s eyes grew huge.
Knowing how much she loved basketball, he had no doubt she’d recognized the guy. “Yo, Mannie. How’s the team looking?”
“Better than your bum knee.” The guy, who had to be six-eight at least, played power forward and had been getting more play time, subbing in for Deni Avdija on occasion.
“Smart ass.”
Damon didn’t watch a ton of basketball, but he’d been paying more attention since dating Marlie, who gaped at the guy and stammered, “Y-you’re Manuel Azilla.”
“Nice to meet you.” Mannie smiled and shook Marlie’s hand.
“This is my girl, Marlie. Marlie, meet Mannie.” To Mannie, he said, sadly, “She prefers basketball to hockey. Can you believe that?”
“Nice.” To Marlie, he said, “You’re probably too good for him.”
“Probably? I am.” Marlie looked Mannie over as he laughed. “You guys need to crush the Kings tomorrow.”
“That’s the plan.” They reached his floor, and the doors opened. “Gotta go. Nice to meet you, Marlie. Later, D.”
“Mannie.”
Mannie left, and Marlie turned and socked him in the arm.
“Ow. Quit hitting me.” He secretly loved when she gave him what he liked to call her love taps.
“That was Manuel Azilla!”
They reached his floor, and he nudged her out, carrying her bag that she grabbed back from him.
“You called him Mannie. I called him Mannie.” She was having a moment, so he let her as he guided them into his condo.
She followed him, still raving about meeting a Portland Trailblazer. But once inside his place, she stopped and stared.
“Nice, eh?” He wanted her to love the place.
The unit wasn’t big, but he didn’t want too much space. It had three massive bedrooms, two and a half baths, and a bang-up kitchen and living room, all with views of the West Hills and downtown Portland, Mt. Hood, and the Willamette River.
The real reason he’d purchased the place—the views. When he had downtime, he liked to relax and look over the city, feeling like a part of it all despite being alone.
But now, with Marlie, he didn’t feel alone one bit.
She dropped her bag and walked around, so he followed, showing the place off.
All done in neutral shades with punches of color, the house had been designed by one of the best in the state—his mother.
Damon had never been a showy guy, and he liked how his mom put things together in their house.
Plus, she listened to what he wanted and usually tailored things to him.
For all that he griped about her being bossy, he loved that woman to death.
Marlie moved down the hall to the bedrooms.
One of the them, used as a study, had his mementos framed and positioned on bookshelves.
There, his first goalie mask in the pros sat with a huge crack in the forehead where he’d been trucked by a puck then a stick.
Next to it were several trophies. On the wall, photos of the team over the years in addition to his rookie jersey.
And there, the first puck he’d ever saved.
Lots of great stuff that gave him all the feels.
As warm as he felt when standing next to Marlie.
“This is amazing.” She studied it all and turned to him.
He didn’t like that he couldn’t read her expression.
“What? This is good, right? You’re turned on even more and totally into me, more than you were at home, I’m sensing.”
She laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Because this weekend could go the wrong way. He didn’t want to freak her out with too much fame or money. He knew pro athletes got paid a ton more than they needed. And he always appreciated his good fortune.
His parents and sister made sure he never forgot where he came from, not that he ever would.
Damon did his share giving back. He’d already paid off all his family’s debts, ignoring their protests.
And he spent a lot of time looking over charities who needed help—anonymously of course, because he didn’t want accolades for being a decent human being.
He didn’t like how money made it seem like he wasn’t a normal guy anymore, because he was.
In Hope’s Turn, people didn’t treat him that differently. In Portland, they often did.
“Marlie, ah, sometimes fans here get strange. Just remember, I’m still me.”
“Still you? Instead of who? The pope?” She snorted. “Look, Damon, if you could dunk, maybe I’d be more impressed. But it’s just hockey.” She shrugged.
Annoyed, he crossed to her and lifted her off her feet, dangling her in front of him. Despite being tall and toned, she didn’t seem to weigh much. Well, not to a guy who made a habit of consistently benching three hundred pounds. “I’ll make you pay for that, woman.”
She yawned. “Whatever.”
He placed her on her feet and gave her an angry kiss. “Just you wait.”
“Promises, promises.” She moved around him back into the main area and studied his kitchen. “Now what do you have to eat?”