“Girl, there’s a Hey Pesto getting a touch too crispy on the griddle. Might wanna take care of that,” Zac whisper-shouts at me from the serving hatch.
“Huh?” I ask, coming back from the sexy daydream I’m deeply embroiled in, the acrid burning smell suddenly filling my nostrils. “Oh, shit!” I manage to flip the sandwich off the griddle just in time to save me from having to make a replacement.
Damn it, that’s the second time today that I’ve slipped into a sex replay and lost track of what I’m doing. The blue caterer’s band aid on my finger is testament to that little lapse in concentration.
Quickly, I plate up the customer’s sandwich with a bag of organic chips and pickle, handing it off to Zac, who has the rest of their order. Thankfully, they’re the last people in line, so I can take a breath and get my head back in the game.
It’s been a few days since my amazing night with Alex. Well, the amazing night and most of the next day, too. We just couldn’t get enough of each other—all over his apartment in fact. In the shower, on the couch, on the kitchen counter where he smeared my breasts with whipped cream and ate hot fudge sauce off my stomach. In the shower again while we tried to clean up after the food sex. When he finally let me sleep for a few hours, he slipped his hard cock into me from behind while he spooned me.
By the time I crept back into Matt’s house, I’d been MIA for twenty-four hours. Of course, Mr. Overprotective was standing like a sentry in the living room, his thick tattooed arms crossed over his chest, a look of thunder on his face.
“What the fuck, Squirt?” he roared when I tried to creep past him, my strappy sandals in my hand. “I’ve been going out of my mind. If it weren’t for Mila assuring me you were safe at Thor’s, I’d have been checking all the ditches in Seattle for your dead body.”
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think, Dad?” I scoffed, trying to secretly check that my hair didn’t have that “I just had the best fuck of my life” look.
“Matt, she was fine,” Mila said in her best calming voice, placing a reassuring hand on Matt’s shoulder. “She was with Alex. He took care of her when she got sick, right, Lana?” I could tell by her wide-eyed expression that this is the story my brother has been told and that I should stick to it.
“Yeah, sure,” I agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “I got sick after eating a canape with prawns hidden inside. You know what prawns do to me.” I made a gagging gesture and watched my brother’s face scrunch up. If there’s one thing the big bad Matt Landon can’t stand, it’s vomit. Even the mere mention of it makes him want to hurl.
“Okay, enough with the deets.” He sighed, looking slightly nauseated, waving me past him towards the stairs. “Just check in next time.”
“Sure thing.” I mouthed a thank you to Mila before I disappeared upstairs to get some much needed sleep.
I haven’t managed to see Alex again since that night, but we’ve been texting constantly, and from the sly looks Zac gave me this morning, he definitely knows something’s up.
“So, what’s going on with you?” he asks, opening a bottle of water now that we have a break in customers. We’re at a music festival and the main act has just taken the stage, so hopefully we’ll have a little longer to stock check and clean down before the next rush.
“Nothing,” I reply, concentrating way too hard on counting bags of potato chips.
“I call bullshit, babe.” Zac laughs. “I know a sex haze when I see one. So, tell me, how was the Viking? Does he have a huge hammer?”
I spin around, my mouth hanging open in shock at Zac’s crude comment, to find him leaning smugly against the fridge with a smirk on his stupid, handsome face.
“What?” I ask, trying my best to keep my face indifferent so as not to give away what I’ve been up to.
“C’mon, you’ve been in a trance all day.” Zac points at my injured fingers. “You never cut yourself, so spill the beans.”
“You’re insane,” I scoff, wiping down the counters. “Alex and I are friends, and he helped me when I got sick at the benefit. That’s all there is. I’m a bit spaced out because we have the big trip to Tampa in a few days, and I’m a bit anxious about seeing my parents.”
Zac nods and seems to accept my explanation. I haven’t seen my parents since I returned from Paris, and I know my mom will have a lot of questions that I’ve so far been able to avoid. So going down to Tampa for my birthday, which happens to coincide with the Whalers game, could be more like a CIA interrogation if my mom has anything to do with it.
I feel a bit shitty hiding what happened between Alex and me from my best friend, but I know for a fact he’d not be able to keep it to himself. So, for the time being, I’m keeping it quiet. And even if I wanted to share this with Zac, I wouldn’t quite know what to say about what happened anyway. As amazing as that night was, Alex and I didn’t once discuss whether this was a one and done to scratch an itch or whether we want to keep seeing each other and perhaps date.
The Whalers left for an east coast road trip yesterday that will culminate in their game against the Tampa Tiger Sharks, so I haven’t had a chance to properly talk to Alex, other than exchanging flirty texts. I doubt there’ll be much opportunity in Tampa either, not with Matt, the team, and my parents around.
“Well, you’ve got better self-control than I have.” Zac laughs, bringing me back to the moment. “I couldn’t spend the night under the same roof as that hunk of man meat and not tap that.”
I laugh at how ridiculous my best friend can be sometimes. “I still don’t think you’re his type, babe.”
Thankfully, we begin to get busy again, and the steady stream of customers doesn’t let up enough for Zac to interrogate me further. However, I have a feeling this trip home will be filled with questions and not just about Paris. If Alex and I are as hot as we were the other night, I think it’ll be plain for anyone with eyes to see that we’re into each other.
This trip could be very awkward, and suddenly I feel very nervous about the whole thing.
Two days later, Zac, Beth, and I catch our flight to Tampa for some blessed sunshine and relaxation after a week of non-stop rain in Seattle. Even though I tell them not to, my mom and dad are waiting to pick us up at the airport. My mom has made an embarrassingly large cardboard sign with my name on it, and I can tell from a hundred feet away that she’s raided her arts and crafts room to adorn the sign with glitter, ribbons, and all sorts of other shit I don’t even know the name of.
“Your mom is the best,” Zac sniggers, elbowing me in the ribs as we reach them, my cheeks burning.
“Here’s my favorite daughter!” Janice cries, shoving the banner at my dad and pulling me into a huge hug, which I have to admit feels amazing. She’s ever so slightly shorter than I am, which means she’s tiny, her salt and pepper hair pulled into its usual ponytail.
“She’s your only daughter, Jan.” Zac laughs, joining in the hug completely uninvited. “But I’m definitely your favorite adopted gay son.”
My mom just laughs and squeezes Zac extra tight. “Of course, you are, honey. You’ll always be my favorite.”
I roll my eyes at Zac’s smug grin as we untangle ourselves, and I’m pulled into yet another fierce hug, almost disappearing into the huge arms of my dad. Matt definitely got my dad’s build, all thick muscular arms and broad chest. His kind, weather-worn face is one of my favorite sights, and I realize as I take in his scent of wood and sand that I’ve missed him so much I feel tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
“Missed you, Squirt,” he says in his gruff voice that rumbles through his chest as I press myself against it.
“Missed you too, Daddy.” I pull away for fear of bawling like a little kid and introduce Beth to my parents before we head out to the parking lot. We only brought carry-on luggage, so we make a quick exit and drive through Tampa to the Whalers hotel.
We drop Beth off so she can settle into Nate’s room and then we drive out to my parent’s beachfront house in Siesta Key. We lived in Detroit for most of my life, but when Matt made it to the show, he made sure to retire my parents out here. And I can tell you one thing: I don’t miss those freezing Detroit winters. Coming to Florida is amazing and I love this house. It’s right on the beach with its powdered sugar sand and turquoise water and has a definite beach shack feel. However, inside, it’s decorated tastefully in grey, soft blue, and white with hints of my dad’s carpentry in everything from the shoe rack to the hand-built kitchen.
After Zac and I have settled in our rooms, mom has put on a huge spread of cold cuts, pickles, homemade bread, and salads.
“You know the Whalers eat at the arena before they play, right?” I tease as we fill up our plates from the vast array of food.
“Very funny, smart ass.” My mom chuckles, giving my butt a good-natured smack. “I can’t help it if I overprepared. I figured everyone will be ravenous when they come back here for the party after the games.”
“I think the whole of Tampa could come back here after the game, and you’d still have left-overs,” Zac sniggers, biting the end off his pickle spear and grinning broadly at my mom.
“That’s enough from you, mister.” She laughs, trying her best to scowl at him while adding extra corned beef to my dad’s plate.
We continue to talk light-heartedly over lunch, eating out on the terrace that overlooks the beach. I can already feel the sea breeze blowing away the dreary feeling I sometimes get living in Seattle with all that rain. It even blows away the knot in my stomach put there by the four Unknown Caller calls I’ve received on my cell since the charity benefit. I’m still putting it down to a business call, but part of me also thinks it could be Etienne. He’s been ridiculously quiet and must know by now that I sent my cell phone on a solo journey across France to put him off my scent. He’s also smart enough to know that I’d either go to Seattle to be with my brother or Tampa. And with all the social media attention my food truck is getting, it would only take a few clicks on Matt’s Instagram to find out about my business. I probably should have thought a bit more carefully about that, but then again, fuck him! Why should I be afraid of him seeing my success? He’s all the way in Paris, and if making some creepy ass phone calls makes him feel like a big man, then he can carry on.
I’m done being afraid of him. I’ve moved on. Maybe in more ways than one.
End of story.
Even so, I’m still slightly unsettled and wonder if I should mention it to someone, possibly Mila. I’d feel weird mentioning it to Matt because of course he’d fly off the handle. But Mila has always been good at giving me advice, so I might consider it if the calls continue.
After we help Mom pack away the mountains of food, we get washed up and change into our Landon Whalers jerseys, ready for the afternoon game. Matt kindly arranged for us to have a suite, and Zac is so excited he’s bouncing up and down in the back seat like a toddler on the way to the circus.
This is going to be a hard-fought game because Tampa is set to win the Eastern Conference and losing this game will mean that the New York Bull Dogs take it from them. So, I expect there to be plenty of blood and sweat on the ice at the end.
The arena is buzzing, and after sitting in traffic for half an hour, we eventually make it to the VIP parking lot. From there we’re taken in a private elevator to the Executive Level and shown to our suite. It’s so fancy. As a family, we always sit with the fans when we watch Matt play, but he wanted it to be a special occasion because of my birthday. So, when we enter the suite, it’s decorated in Whalers colors with streamers and balloons everywhere, a huge Happy Birthday banner draped above the glass doors leading out onto our private seating area.
Zac and I let out squeals of delight and race around the suite like little kids, exploring the table laden with booze, sodas of every type, and even more delicious canapes. On a separate table is an enormous three-tiered birthday cake covered in white chocolate curls and thick dark chocolate ganache. I can tell immediately it’s from my favorite patisserie in Paris, and I turn aghast to everyone, pointing at it, completely dumbfounded.
“How?” I splutter, flicking my eyes between Zac and my parents.
“Zac arranged it after your brother asked him what your favorite type of cake was,” my mom explains, clasping my dad’s hand, her eyes full of tears.
“Oh my god, you guys!” I exclaim, flinging my arms around my best friend and then hugging my parents as well.
“It’s your brother and Mila you should be thanking. They arranged all of this,” my dad replies, kissing the top of my head.
I know he won’t be looking at his phone with puck drop a short time away, but I fire off a thank you message to our Whatsapp chat and join Zac at the bar table where he’s fixing me a gin and tonic.
Shortly before the players take to the ice for their warm-up skate, Beth and Cam enter the suite, along with a sleepy baby SJ in her car seat. Hugs and introductions are exchanged, my mom manages to get her hands on the baby and starts up her speech about how she’ll be too old to enjoy her own grandbabies if we don’t hurry up and give her some soon. My dad rolls his eyes, but I also catch him looking longingly at baby Sawyer as she sucks contentedly on her chubby fist.
Just as the players take to the ice for warm-ups, Mila pays a quick visit to the suite. I pull her into a hug and thank her profusely for all her hard work arranging the suite and everything.
“My pleasure,” she replies shyly, blushing a deep red that matches her hair. “It meant a lot to Matt and me that you’d have a good birthday. I just dropped in to check everything was okay, but I have to go back. We’ll all come up after the game and have a drink and some cake before we go back to the house.”
“Sounds perfect,” I gush, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
It’s then I notice a Whalers merchandise bag in Mila’s hand. She catches me looking and her blush deepens.
“What is it?” I ask, hoping it’s not some horrible gag gift from my brother.
Mila gently takes my arm and leads me over to a quieter part of the suite and hands me the bag. “Thor asked me to give this to you. He said he understands if you don’t want to wear it, but he wanted you to have it anyway.”
Slightly confused, I open the bag to see the navy and gold of a Whalers jersey inside and understanding dawns on me. Alex has sent me a jersey with his name on it, and he wants me to wear it for the game. It’s incredibly sweet and sexy, and I know exactly what it means to wear a jersey bearing the name of the man you’re sleeping with. Unfortunately, everyone else in this room knows the significance of the gesture as well. So, unless I want to out what Alex and I are to each other before I even know it myself, it’s probably safer if I stick to my Landon jersey. Even though … maybe I can tell what we are from his gesture alone.
I quickly grab a napkin from the bar and a pen from my purse and scribble a note to Alex, which I fold up and press into Mila’s hand.
“Can you make sure Alex gets this? But don’t let Matt see it,” I whisper, giving Mila a kiss on the cheek when I see the knowing look she gives me.
“Sure thing, honey.”
With that, she flits around giving everyone hugs and kisses goodbye before heading back down to the locker room in time for Coach Casey’s pre-game talk. I hold the bag containing Alex’s jersey tightly in my hands, pressing it to my chest and feeling an ache there because I can’t wear it.
“C’mon, Lana. It’s almost time for puck drop,” Zac calls from the seating area where he sits with his ridiculously large foam finger and a huge cup of foamy beer.
I laugh, loving my best friend more than life itself. I quickly stash the bag under my jacket and join my family and friends for the hockey game.