Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Bobby
I can’t wipe the grin off my face. Molly looks like a fish, opening and closing her pretty mouth like she has something to say but won’t say it now that her boss is here. Coco, the older woman of the two, has diamonds flashing from every surface. She’s beautiful and she knows it. She also has a co-conspirator glint in her eye that spells good things for my future working with Molly.
“Excellent.” I clap my hands. “Shall I sign something now, making you my personal agent?”
Molly’s cheeks flush a deeper red, but Coco doesn’t miss a beat. “I have the paperwork in the kitchen. My girl isn’t cheap, but I think you’ll find she’s worth the extra.”
I really thought finding a home was going to be a pain in the ass, along with everything else on Kaitlyn’s list. But watching Molly blush while spelling out all the qualities of this house in a nervous rant, followed by not allowing me to make an offer, has me intrigued. I also like the way she fills out that pencil skirt. What is it about a pencil skirt that drives me crazy? The flare of hips? The highlighted round ass? Pretty sure the matching sky-high heels have something to do with it too.
Coco lets go of Molly and grabs my arm, tugging me into the kitchen with a force I wouldn’t have guessed for a woman her age. Her cloud of Chanel perfume is like an extra person between us. “Don’t stare, darling. She’s skittish as a newborn colt,” she whispers in my ear. “You have to ease this one into the bedroom. Then release the stallion.”
My eyes widen at the mixed metaphor. Coco utters a twinkling laugh. She stops us at the oversized kitchen island.
“Sign here.” She taps her fingernail on a form. She’s back to all business in the blink of an eye.
I briefly look over the clauses of the contract, mostly just assuring I’ll pay Molly for her services, and sign my name at the bottom. Molly trails behind us, wringing her hands and looking even cuter than when I flirted with her at the rink, before she walked away without a word. Coco swipes up the signed paper and shakes my hand before gliding out of the room. Molly nervously licks her lips and something tightens in my gut.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
She doesn’t return my flirtatious grin. She stiffens her spine, drops her hands, and gives me a queenly nod. And then she twirls around and stalks out of the kitchen. My bark of laughter echoes off the tile and granite.
This is game three of a road trip through Canada. I got one on the scoreboard tonight, helping the Storm Chasers continue our winning streak. Coach even gave me a pat on the back when the final buzzer sounded and we headed for the locker room. He’s currently huddled in the back corner with Hugh “Cappy” Picard, our backup goalie. Based on the muscle twitching in Cappy’s jaw, I don’t think Coach is too happy he let one in the net tonight. Druggy, our veteran goalie, has been stepping back to let Cappy play more this season, saving his hips and knees for our most important matches. I’m just happy Coach’s perennial bad mood is focused elsewhere today.
It’s been a week away from home, and I’ve missed seeing Molly’s backside. Honestly, I’m starting to think I see more of her backside as she walks away from me than I see of those bewitching eyes. There’s just something about her that pulls me in. Maybe it’s her complete lack of ability to flirt. Or her wit when she does let herself speak what’s on her mind. And let's not forget those sexy pencil skirts.
My phone dings in my locker. I shove my gloves in there and open my phone to see a picture from Benny. He’s got a bundle of newborn baby in his arms, a goofy grin on both their faces. I went to see Benny and Kaitlyn before we left on this trip. Thankfully, Benny didn’t kick my ass for Kaitlyn’s water breaking on my watch, but he did make me hold Mei, their newborn daughter. She’s pretty damn cute for something that belches and poops all day long.
“Golden Girls sent you a naked selfie, Roadie?” Dan-O elbows me from his locker next to me. “You got that glazed look again.”
I frown at the captain of our team. The boys always give me shit for going for the older women. They nicknamed them collectively Golden Girls, a joke I find obnoxious. Okay, fine. It’s kind of funny. It’d be the type of shit I’d say if it was someone else dating the over-forty set.
“It’s a naked selfie all right.” I waggle my eyebrows and that fucker Dan-O leans over to catch a glimpse. “Hey!” I hold the phone to my chest. “Sara would not approve.”
Dan-O flips me off at the mention of his wife and removes his shirt. Dude needs to start manscaping again. He’s hairier than a wildebeest. “That looks like Mei.”
I shrug and get undressed, needing food after all the play time I’m getting with Benny being on paternity leave. “It is. I told Benny to send me daily pictures. These kiddos grow up so fast.” I say that last part with a falsetto voice. It’s true though. She already looks different from the day I saw her.
Dan-O slaps me on the back on his way to the showers. “Ah, Roadie’s getting soft in his old age.”
My gaze flicks to the corner where Coach is still letting Cappy have it. My voice increases in volume. “I guess so. I even went house shopping the other day.”
“Now you just need a wife and a baby in a baby carriage,” Forns sing-songs as he throws a towel at me.
I flip him off, then look over at Coach to make sure he didn’t see that. I’ve successfully gone two weeks without instigating even a verbal argument with anyone outside my purview as enforcer. Thankfully Cappy’s got his full attention.
I join the boys over in the shower area and scrub away the game. I redress in slacks, brown loafers, a button-down blue shirt, sport coat, and my favorite Panama hat. This one has a peacock feather tucked into the ribbon that matches my shirt. The feather is technically removable but who would want to take the feather off? It’s a goddamn work of art.
Half of the post-game press conference is focused on Benny being out, Cappy taking over as goalie, and my outfit. I don’t mind fielding questions about my attire, unlike some of the other guys who think the questions should be focused on our game play.
On the bus back to our hotel, Dan-O leans across the aisle. “What’s up with the hat? Planning on going on a safari?”
I shake my head at his lack of fashion knowledge. “This is a Panama hat. Natural fibers sourced from Ecuador and woven by hand. Every gentleman should own at least one Panama hat.”
Dan-O busts up laughing. “Okay, Roadie. I’ll add that to my Christmas list this year.”
“You do that. Sara would appreciate a gentleman.”
He smirks. “Nah. She likes me un gentlemanly, if you know what I mean.”
Druggy turns around in his seat in front of me. I brace for a scathing remark. “Chloe tells me it is called ‘a gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets.’”
The bus erupts with everyone congratulating Druggy on finally getting an American phrase correct and giving their opinion on what the ladies actually want from their men. As for me, I tune them all out and text Molly with yet another listing I want to go see with her. I’ve pretty much sent her five houses a day since I’ve been gone. She told me to be selective, so that’s what I’m doing. And if it means I get to spend hours with her, touring all the houses, so be it. She texts back right away, asking if we can start our tours two days from now.
Me: I’ll be flying home tomorrow morning so if we can do a few tomorrow night, that would be great too.
Molly: Let me see if that’ll work.
Me: Do you have another client tomorrow night?
Molly: No.
Me: Then . . . why won’t that work?
I’m not trying to be a dick, but I’ve been wanting to see Molly all week and I don’t want to wait.
Molly: If you must know, I have to see if I can use Coco’s car.
I frown, wondering why we can’t use Molly’s car. Then again, maybe she doesn’t have a car. Even though my brain hasn’t left her side all week, I don’t actually know much about her.
Me: Problem solved. We’ll use mine. Send me your address and I’ll pick you up at six.
Molly: In the Cybertruck?
Me: The one and only! You’ll love Wolverine.
Think it would be tacky to ask her to wear another one of her pencil skirts?
The bus comes to a stop outside our hotel and all the guys start getting up, saving me from texting back. Asking about her clothing might be a little skeevy, even for me. I get off the bus and head up to my room, ignoring the younger guys talking about which bar they intend to hit up tonight. No game tomorrow, so in the past, I’d be one of them, staying out all night and experiencing the nightlife in whatever town we were in.
Big Boy Bobby goes to his hotel room and orders room service. I also ignore Mac, my roommate on this trip, as he calls his girlfriend back home. He starts talking in low tones and suddenly gets off his bed to head for the bathroom. I shove earbuds in my ears and play some music, not wanting to know what he’s doing in there. I’m already annoyed Coach set me up with a roommate. It’s a not-so-subtle slap on the wrist.
I pull up my favorite dating app to pass the time until my food arrives, scrolling through the women I’ve connected with in the past. I have a new notification, so I go to my inbox to see I’ve been matched with someone. Unfortunately, her username is @SparkleIsMyStripperName. Not that my username is much better, being a stupid phrase from my favorite show.
Kaitlyn told me to get a steady girlfriend to help clean up my image, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean someone like that. Personally, I have nothing against strippers. I think they’re amazing people and I’d be proud to date one. Hell, I’ve dated several in the past, but Kaitlyn drummed on about cleaning up my image right before she peed herself in public. I snicker, thinking about her expression when her water broke. Wish I could have taken a picture.
I message Sparkle back, letting her down easy.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Hey, sorry for the confusion. I’m actually looking for a serious girlfriend these days.
A knock sounds on the door. I let the room service attendant in to set up our dinner on the table, tipping him extra when he doesn’t ask for an autograph and leaves quickly. I dig into my burger, not waiting for Mac. I’m not interrupting whatever’s going on in that bathroom. I’m working on the fries when my phone dings that Sparkle has written me back.
@SparkleIsMyStripperName: Oh, um, sure. I’m not even sure how this thing connected with you. Sorry.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: No worries. New to Catnip?
@SparkleIsMyStripperName: That obvious? Don’t answer that. Hey, do you know how to change a username?
That has me grinning and abandoning the rest of my fries.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Are stripper names supposed to be top secret?
@SparkleIsMyStripperName: I have no idea. I’ll have to ask a stripper.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: You’re not one?
@SparkleIsMyStripperName: Gosh no! My boss signed me up for this app. She thinks I need to get laid.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Do you?
@SparkleIsMyStripperName: Honestly? Probably.
I head back to my bed, flopping back on the mattress and settling into this conversation with a stripper/not a stripper.
@PitterPatterLetsGetAtHer: Head to the three lines at the top right. Usernames are under Activity instead of Settings for some reason. Not gonna lie though, I kind of like the name. It’s straightforward. No surprises.
@Singlemomcatlady: So’s this one.
I laugh out loud, right as Mac exits the bathroom, face lighting up when he sees the food.
“Wash those hands first!” I holler.