Page 9 of Body Checking
I set the card down and carefully pull open the tissue paper. I gasp when I see two tickets with amazing seats, right at center ice, sitting on top of a Havoc jersey. I take the jersey by the collar and lift it up until it unfolds. I spin it around and bite back my smile when I see Hamlin and the number seven on the back.
I walk over to my large mirror and hold up in front of me, admiring the way it looks. I pick up the tickets again and then read the letter a couple more times before deciding it’s not a prank. I set everything down and grab my phone.
The ring sounds three times before the voice on the other end says, “Hey hooker. Do you not have a job you should be doing?”
“I do, but there is somewhat of an urgent matter that has come up and I thought I should tell you.”
The clicking of keys stops and I hear her chair creak before the snick of a door closing. “So, have you already visited the doctor?”
I scrunch up my nose and ask, “Why would I need to go to the doctor?”
“I’m assuming the urgent matter is you found out that asshole ex of yours was cheating and passed you the clap and now you need medicine.”
“Your mind is a scary place, Sasha Caroll.”
“Valid guess,” she tells me. “So if it’s not that, then what is so urgent?”
“I’m going to send you a picture. Take a look and tell me what you think.”
I put her on speaker and click a photo of the jersey with the tickets and handwritten note lying on top, then send it to her. I wait for a moment before I finally hear, “Holy fuck, Mare.”
I take her off speaker and walk over to the couch and flop down with a giant smile on my face.
“So is that legit? Did he really send that to you?”
“I guess we’ll see when we go to the game tonight. It could be a prank, but we sure as hell aren’t about to pass up killer seats and a Hammer jersey. I’ll worry about freaking out later if this turns out to be true.”
I waver between wanting this to be real and hoping that it’s not. Either way, I know I’m going to lose my mind.
“Well then let’s do this bitch. I’m going to leave early so I can get ready. If you snag yourself a coach, you gotta hook me up with a player. You can’t leave me hanging. Oh! Joaquín Santos. Please say I can have him,” she shouts.
I pull the phone away for a second then shake my head. “Sorry, but he’s taken. And his girlfriend is hot as fuck.”
“That’s okay. I’ll be their third wheel.”
“I’m sure they’re good. Just get your ass over here as quickly as you can.”
I hang up and quickly stamp my feet, excitement setting in for only a moment before the nerves hit my gut like a pile of cement blocks sinking to the ocean floor.
“Why did you insist on leaving so damn early if we were going to arrive at the game after the puck drop?” Sasha whines as we shuffle past everyone already in their seats, trying to get to ours.
“Because I…I don’t know. Just ‘cause, okay. Now sit your ass down and be grateful for the seats.”
We scootch past one more couple, with an excuse us, and finally settle into our reserved seats. I struggle to get out of my leather jacket and realize I should have done this while still standing. It may have been a stupid idea to even wear a jacket over my jersey, but I had a whole look I was going for and the jacket was necessary.
Once I wriggle out of my confines without elbowing anyone in the face, I take a deep breath and search out the man of my dreams. Cade Hamlin is standing inside the players area, hands in his suit pants and looking cranky and oh so sexy. A hand flies out as he yells at someone on the ice, and I admire his long, thick fingers. Our seats are close and even with the roar of the crowd, I can hear his gruff voice.
“Mm mm mm. That man is damn fine. I don’t care how old he is. I’ll call him daddy any time.” I look over at Sasha who is so obviously eying Cade.
“Hands off, sister. I love you but I will not bat an eyelash at cutting out your eyes if you keep looking at him like that.” She smirks and I know it’s exactly the response she wanted from me.
I watch the action that is already going strong on the ice but no matter how hard I try to stay focused on the game, my eyes have a mind of their own and wander to where Cade stands, yelling at his players.
As usual, he looks amazing. His gray suit has a light gray plaid pattern, and his tie is a silvery purple. His muscles bulge when he crosses his arms over his chest, and the suit jacket stretches across his back. His head turns to the left as the players move towards the goal, and I admire his beautiful profile. His beard is rugged and dark red, and his hair shows a smattering of grays that I just love.
I have seen many men my age that I find plenty attractive. But there is just something about a man with a sprinkling of gray hair and fine lines around his eyes. It’s the mark of a man who’s lived a life with many adventures and experiences. That is the kind of man I want in my life.
I sigh thinking about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. He’s probably fierce and protective and all sorts of dominant. I can’t actually say whether I’d like that or not as I’ve never been with a dominant man. But I have a feeling I would like it. No. That’s not right. I have a feeling that I wouldloveit.
