Page 21 of Body Checking
I don’t correct her because it’s true and I don’t want to lie to her.
“Two. I despise escargot and caviar. I’d rather tie a bib on and crack into some crab legs than eat fish eggs with tiny spoons. So if you feel the same, then those reservations are canceled. You pick the place. And last, what do you mean by ‘it’s obvious I like real food’?”
I knew what she was about to say and I hated that she even thought that way. But I needed her to say so I could correct her and talk that shit straight out of her head.
“I know I’m not a size two, Cade. Hell. I’m not even a size eight. I have hips. I have an ass, and my waist is not small enough for you to fit your hands around. Let’s not pretend that you don’t see that.”
My anger was boiling because I wanted to find the fucktard that made her feel like she wasn’t good enough as she is, and break his scrawny neck.
“Maren, sweetheart. I’m only going to say this once and I hope you listen real good. I love your hips. They’re perfect for me to hold on to for when I finally get to fuck you. Your ass is delicious. I can just imagine what it will look like from behind and when I sink my teeth into it. Your body is a gift from God. Remember that. And as far as whatever number you define yourself as, don't forget…Marilyn Monroe. Raquel Welch. Sophia Loren. Those women are sex symbols to this day and none of them were size two. Thankfully. You are my dream girl, Maren Thompson, and I can’t imagine wanting you any other way than how you are.”
After our conversation, she chilled out and agreed to some good ole Texas bbq.
I showered in my private bathroom at the arena and took a little extra time trying to look casual, which takes much longer than it should. I fixed my hair, brushed out my beard, brushed my teeth, swished with mouthwash, then brushed my teeth again. Just to be sure.
I step out of my office, flipping off the switch as I go, and close the door behind me. With my jacket –that I probably won’t need– draped over my arm, I spin around and run straight into Joaquín and Goldie.
“Santos. Goldie,” I say, then pass right by them.
“Where are ya headed, Coach? Or should I sayHammer?” Goldie’s smirk is a little toowide for me.
“Taking your little Swiss Miss out on a fancy date?” Joaquín’s use of her nickname irritates me, but not enough to sour my mood.
I feel a lightness in my chest and if I can remember correctly, that feeling is happiness.
“I do indeed have a date. Now, if you call her Swiss Miss again, I’ll be forced to hammer your sorry ass and sit you on the bench for a week.” They both freeze, their steps coming to a dead stop, and look at me with a stiff smile. “You boys have a good night.”
As I walk away, I hear Goldie ask Santos, “Did he seem…happy?”
Nothing can bring me down tonight. Not even my players that normally bring me nothing but headaches.
My truck pulls to a stop in front of Maren’s house and I take a deep breath. Sweat builds on my hairline, as I’m nervous about this being the actual first date I’ve had in fifteen years. After the divorce, I had plenty of “dates” that consisted of a drink and a hard fuck without breakfast or small talk the morning after. I want this time to be the exception.
Having brought flowers just a few days ago, I decided to try something different. My fingers and toes are crossed that she sees it as a silly joke but also serious enough to not think I’m totally joking.
My finger presses the doorbell and I hear it sound throughout her house. The click of multiple locks is followed by the creaking of the door as it opens. A smiling Maren, looking more beautiful each time I see her, stands there to greet me.
“Hi,” she says, her voice breathy and sexy.
“Hello gorgeous.” I step in and kiss her lips chastely, then admire her full body.
I love all sides of Maren. Sporty when she’s at the games, comfy when she’s home, but this look might be my favorite. Kissing her delectable curves is a pair of high waisted jeans that split at the ankle, showing off her black heels and red painted toenails. Her top is black with sleeves that poof out just slightly and gather around her arm. But the sexiest part of her outfit is the very deep V of her top that gives the best peak of her supple breasts and is cut down to just above the waistline of her jeans.
“Fuck, you look amazing.” I kiss her once more, desperately needing to feel her lipson mine.
Her cheeks tinge pink when I pull back and I cup her face, running my thumb over her soft skin. She inhales as do I, and her sweet scent fills my lungs.
“What’s in the bag?”
I look down at my hand, having forgotten that I was holding it, and hold it out to her. “A little gift for you.”
She purses her lips like she’s upset but she is absolutely hiding a small smirk behind it. Taking the bag from me, she walks over to her small kitchen table and begins pulling out the tissue paper that I have overstuffed it with. Her eyes are aglow as she pulls out what I’ve given her.
“Mugs?” A sweet dimple appears with her tight smile.
Nodding I say, “Yup. For morning coffee. Thought it’d be easier to leave mine here so I don’t have to constantly bring it over.”
Her head whips up to meet mine, the Havoc mugs she was admiring forgotten. “Um, morning coffee? For you and I?”
