4. Sophie
Sophie
“You are allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress simultaneously.” — Sophia Bush
“ A rgh! Ti skata ?” I shriek, jumping off my couch, nearly tripping over my own two feet, just as someone bursts through the front door of my new apartment and yells, “Hands up, LCPD!”
Hands up? Police? What the?
My wide eyes land on a tall athletic man with dark blond hair that curls on top and light stubble on his face, standing in front of me, pointing his gun while his intense green eyes take me in.
If I wasn’t in a state of shock, I might’ve been self-conscious about my look this evening but seeing as I am in a state of shock, I don’t care less that the hottest police officer on the planet earth and far beyond its reach can probably see my butt cheeks and what looks like a fountain of hair up on my head.
Damn me and those kitchen scissors.
I am also in the middle of a very intense game of my favorite hockey team that he’s rudely interrupting.
I don’t care how hot you are, nothing comes before hockey. Not anymore.
For a second, though, both of us are standing frozen in place with me still staring wide at the barrel of the gun—or more accurately the tattooed biceps straining out of the short sleeved T-shirt he’s wearing underneath that vest—and him slowly lifting his gaze up from my colorful toes, over my bare legs and up to my oversized Outlaws jersey until he must catch himself ogling me openly and shifts, holstering his weapon.
Without the gun pointed my way, I snap out of it too. “ Ti skata ?” I repeat my previous outrage.
The guy frowns, but even his frown is hot. “Do you speak English?”
For a second I consider making his life considerably more inconvenient and only speak Greek since he did kind of barge into my place uninvited, but then I remember that apart from a few phrases and a million curses, I don’t remember my mother tongue all that well.
“What the fuck? That’s what that means—or at least a version of it.”
“Ah, that makes a lot more sense.” He clears his throat, looking away slightly. “Do you mind putting some clothes on so we can talk?”
I look down at myself. Just a few days ago, he wouldn’t even see me looking like this. I’d be in something practical like leggings or sweatpants. But this is a new me, or rather newly-found-old-me, and I hate wearing pants.
And also…I’m not the one feeling uncomfortable around him but I guess I should put…
The thought in my head gets cut off when I hear the cheering and the commentators on the TV behind me amp up their volume and excitement and I forget what I was thinking about in the first place or who’s even here.
I spin around just in time to see Anez Goram break away with the puck, skating at his top speed toward the Ice Devils net as that asshole Yanis Zima charges at him.
“NO! Stay the fuck away from Goram, you piece of crap in a human form.” Just then, none other than my hockey superhero, Exton Quinn, comes out of thin air and cuts Yanis off, sending him toppling down to the ice.
The other Ice Devils catch up to Anez and he has to make a pass, another pass, back to Goram…
“Hello, Miss? I’m talking to you.” I hear from behind, distracting me.
“Shh.” I lift up my finger. “Come on, come on, come on,” I chant as Anez take the shot, but the goalie makes the save, and I groan, throwing my hands up and sending a few more curses in Greek toward the TV.
“Did you just shush me?” A whistle blows, and I turn my head around toward the hot cop.
“Hey, I’m not the one who took out the front door and came into my apartment uninvited. Plus, I don’t have any time to talk right now anyway. We’re in the middle of the third period and it’s still 0-0.”
“Excuse me?”
I turn my head back toward the TV where the game is about to resume. “You are excused.” I wave him off without looking over at him. “Or else you’re welcome to wait until the end of the period.”
“Miss!”
“Mister!” I mimic his shock.
“We received a call from your neighbor about loud noises and death threats coming from this apartment, and when I came up the stairs I heard you scream, so I rushed in. Do you care to explain what’s going on?”
Zlatan wins the face-off, and the puck is in the Ice Devils zone. It’s moving too fast for me to track but I see Goram, Quinn and Zlatan all there. There is traffic in front of the net, Goram takes the shot, but the goalie deflects it. The puck comes straight to Quinn and …
“GOAL!!!” I screech, jumping off my couch, my hands in the air as I bounce up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs.
“Jesus Christ,” the officer yelps which sounds almost comical in his deep voice. I turn around and find him staring up at the ceiling, his hands planted on his sides and realize I must’ve totally flashed him when I was doing my victory dance.
Oops! I giggle to myself, the sounds catches his attention, and he brings those narrowed, hard green eyes to me.
“You’re welcome to take off your pants to even out the play field,” I say casually and jokingly, of course, but he looks at me totally unamused. Actually, that look right there, kind of reminds me of Vas. He’d always look at me like that when I did something stupid.
“Can we talk now?” the guy asks, ignoring my comment and I glance back at the TV.
“Um, in seven minutes or so,” I tell him, looking at the time remaining in this period.
“Actually, make that ten, because I’m sure Zima will facilitate a fight with the Outlaws after that goal.
Do you want a beer while you wait?” I ask, moving toward my galle-style kitchen while we are on commercial break.
“What the fuck is going on?” I hear the hot cop murmur quietly to himself and when I steal a glance over my shoulder, I see him rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index fingers.
“So, is that a yes to a beer? You only have another thirty seconds to decide.” I prop my hip against the white cabinet and the butcher-style countertop.
Freaking white…at least they won’t stay like that for a long time because I was given permission to change out anything I want in here.
I moved in three days ago and have been quickly spending all the savings I have on renovations and a new wardrobe.
What? They have the coolest thrift shops here! I couldn't say no to all those dresses.
The new paint color and the sanding machine are patiently waiting in the corner until tomorrow morning.
Grace is coming over so we can tackle the kitchen first. I also already ordered a new colorful couch from the lovely Fifi at Fifi’s Good downstairs that Grace promised her husband, Luke, will deliver it with his friends this week as well.
There is no way I’m going to keep the plain gray one the renter before me left here. Which, funnily enough, was one of Luke’s friends as well.
“Do you realize you are talking to the sheriff?” he says.
“Ooo, I get the VIP treatment.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“Fucking hell,” he groans, slapping his face. “What is your name?”
I’m about to give it to him when the game comes back on and I run back to the couch. “Okay, boys, let’s keep up the good work,” I say to the TV.
Behind me, I hear him murmur, “Crazy. That’s her name.”
I stifle a laugh at his comment. “You’re not the first to call me that in the last week, so I guess I’ll take it.”
“So, you can hear me.”
“Never said I couldn’t… Yes, yes! Just like that! Good boy, Exton! Wipe the ice with that asshole,” I scream, but just a second later Zima breaks away so fast no one is able to catch the wind of him, and my heart stops as I watch him take the shot.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the hulking form in white T-shirt approach, but I don’t realize what he’s about to do until it’s too late because all of the sudden, my TV goes black, the apartment deadly quiet, and my mouth falls open.
“There.” He claps his hands. “Now you can really hear me.”
I point. “Wh-what did you just do?” I stutter, blinking widely as my gaze moves from the dark TV to the guy-who-no-longer-wishes-to-live. Did he…did he seriously just turn it off?
“Now about that talk we were going to have. So…your name is?”
“Plug that cord back in right this second!” I fly off the couch, trying to get to it myself but Sheriff Hot Asshole snatches it before me and dangles it out of my reach.
How did I not notice he was a giant? I am tiny compared to him.
“Is that your first and last name?”
“Mm-hmm.” My voice sounds strained as I try to jump up and grab the cord out of his meaty hand. “With a glowing ‘go to hell’ for the middle one. ”
I swear I see a tiny, well-hidden smirk on that handsome face as I go for the cord again and he simply puts it in his other hand.
“Give that back! Do you have any idea how important this is?”
“Not more than getting arrested by police.”
“Psh, been there, done that.” I wipe the sweat beading at my forehead.
“You what?” he asks but at this point I’m tired of jumping around like a circus monkey and really needing a win for once in my life. So, I take a few steps back, cracking my neck as I shake out my limbs. “What are you—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as I leap, climbing him like a tree.
My legs wrapping around his slim but hard waist in a death grip. One hand going around his thick with muscle neck as the other reaches for the cord.
For a second, I catch him off-guard and manage to wrap my fingers around it, but the next, he tries to wrench it away from me but I’m not going down without a fight.
“It’s my cord!” I grit out.
“Let go of it! I’ll give it to you when you deserve it.”
“When I deserve it? Who are you? My daddy ?” I have no idea who reacts to my question first, but the next thing I know we are falling to the ground as he loses the footing from underneath him. “Argh.” I let out a small shriek before he drops to the ground, taking me with him.
“Fuck,” I hear him hiss.