Page 3 of Whirlwind
“Dude porcupines pee on their women to get them in the mood,” Damian counters.
“Hey, don’t knock it ’til you try it,” I say.
They all laugh. Zan and Damian don’t know the details of my sex life; they just know it’s non-existent. And, hell, I sure hope they know me well enough to know golden showers would be a hard limit.
The bar is lit with soft amber lighting, decorated in plush velvet jewel tones, and the music is bluesy. It’s a much cozier vibe than I’d expected. Minus the raucous hockey team laughing it up. That’s par for the course with this bunch, though.
I say hello to a few of the people I know well enough, and grab myself an Old Fashioned before finding a place to be comfortable. The venue is booked for a private event; everyone here is related to the team in some way. I recognize a few people from my day at the office; we exchange friendly waves.
“Hey, Kit Kat,” Hugo Blom says, falling into the seat next to me. “What are you doing over here by yourself?”
He’s a big guy. Yet, not as big as many of the other players. That surprised me when I first met him. I had this notion that all goalies must be these giants standing between the net and a team full of guys line-driving hard-as-hell pucks at it. Truth is, they need to be more agile than large.
Hugo is also handsome, clean cut with freckles and dimples. More than all that, he’s a big cinnamon roll of a man. The first to offer a hug, the one who is always looking to make sure everyone is included, well fed, and happy in their situation. I’m not surprised that he found me sitting here by myself.
“Just unwinding the day’s tension,” I tell him. “Happy birthday, buddy.”
“Thanks,” he says with a grin the size you’d see on a kid at Christmas. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
“They are! I got myself a new fancy gig with a big-time NHL team.”
“Yes, you did, and I know you deserved it. But I meant, I heard you bought a house.”
“Oh, I did do that. Which means, this will probably be the last time you see me for a while, since all my money is going to my tiny little shoebox of a house. I move in this weekend.”
My expectation when I signed the closing documents to purchase my house was that I would be anxious about committing to a thirty-year mortgage payment. Instead, I loved that it cemented me into a life here in the city I’ve come to call home.
“Ah, you’re not supposed to break a guy’s heart on his birthday, Kit Kat. We hardly see you as it is.”
“What heart are we talking about here?” I tease.
“Ouch!” He laughs. “Seriously, though, congratulations. Tiny or not, it’s a big deal.”
“I agree. Plus, it has a peekaboo view of Lake Union, which makes the price tag slightly easier to swallow.”
“It’s an adorable house,” Willa says, sliding into the booth with us. “So much natural light and in a great neighborhood.”
“That’s good,” Hugo says. “Seasonal Affective Disorder is rampant around these parts, so natural light helps.”
“I always forget you’re just one of the girls, Blom,” Cillian says, walking up behind the goalie and slapping him on the shoulder. Cillian is Willa’s brother-in-law. Until Willa hooked up with Zander and Damian, Cill was the closest thing to a brother I’d ever known. Now, I have three sort of brothers.
For a girl with no real blood family, it can be overwhelming. It’s also damn nice when I sit back and enjoy it.
“I’ve been taking advice from Letty. You know he says you get more women when you’re in touch with your feminine side,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck, almost as if he’s embarrassed to be admitting such a thing.
“He’s not wrong,” I agree. “This whole male loneliness epidemic nonsense is just assholes who can’t learn to be nice to women, if you ask me.”
“Then what’s it going to take to get you to agree to a date with a nice guy like me? Want me to come decorate your new house with you?”
“Oh, hell no.” I laugh. “I plan on being extremely particular about my décor.”
“When you say particular, do you mean girly?”
“That question only proves how little you know about Kit,” Willa tells him.
“What, no pink sofa and macrame plant hangers?”
“No, she’s more likely to have a gaming chair than a sofa,” Willa answers him. “Though, I can see you hanging a plant or two in macrame.”
