Out of the Game3 (3 page)

“I kind of agree,” she said. “I think there’s a law somewhere that cheesecake needs a thick crust. If there isn’t a law, there should be.”

“Yup. Like topless muffins. It’s unnatural.”

She gave a soft snort. “I would’ve thought you liked topless things.”

He turned that slow, sexy grin on and she fought its pull. “Good one,” he said, “but your alcohol chirp was better.”

“My what?”

“Your chirp about me not going to the museum because they don’t serve alcohol. Chirps are insults. Hockey insults. You know...’My eighty-year-old grandma plays better defense than you.’ That kind of thing.”

“You’re rating my insults?”

There came that grin again. “Sure. The sharper the better. I like a woman who can hold her own. I respect that.” He leaned back in his chair. “Just like I respect a woman who knows shit about hockey.”

“Is that a chirp? Did you just chirp me?”

He cocked a finger at her. “You’re catching on.”

“There’s more to life than hockey, you know.”

“Like sex and beer. And burgers, fries and vanilla shakes, of course.”

“Wow. That’s what you think of when you think about what life is about?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What about family and friends? What about—” She was about to say “love” but stopped short.

“I have friends,” Alex said. “Good friends. Tim. Jason. Most of the guys I’ve ever played with. But I counted that as hockey. All my friends are from hockey.”

“All of them?”

He thought for a moment then nodded. “Yup. Every single one.”

“You need to branch out.”

“You offering to be my friend? Not that we could never
be
friends. Because of the sex thing.” His voice dropped into a gravelly register that made her shiver. Plus, he was caressing the stem of his wine glass and Claire found that to be highly erotic. Just him saying the word “sex” got her—

“Wait a second.” She blinked. “Did you...did you just quote
When Harry Met Sally
?”

“You picked up on that?” He looked surprised.

Claire tried to reconcile the fact that this big tough hockey player just referenced a chick flick. “But you’re a man.”

He chuckled. “Glad you noticed.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Erin took Tim’s hand and rose to address the group.

“So, I wanted to take a moment to tell you Tim and I are very grateful that you’re all going to be part of the ceremony tomorrow. It means a lot that you share the day with us because we love all of you so much. To show our appreciation, we have a little something for you guys.”

Claire already knew what the gifts were, since she’d helped Erin pick them out weeks ago. The groomsmen were getting engraved flasks and bottles of 17-year-old single malt whisky, the bridesmaids, necklaces with a sapphire pendant and a gold charm stamped with their initial.

After the oohing and ahing was over, Tim and Erin went over a few more details regarding the ceremony and then they were dismissed.

Alex cupped Claire’s elbow as she stood. He leaned close and said, “Q Burger closes at ten. If we hurry, we can make it.”

She shook her head. “I need to get home.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not hungry.”

“I am hungry.”

“Then how about some big juicy cheeseburger goodness?” Alex asked. “A pile of French fries, crispy on the outside, soft and steamy hot on the inside, and all of it chased down with a thick, rich—”

“Oh my God, stop. I’ll go. I’ll go.”

Chapter Three

Alex checked his rearview mirror about eight zillion times on the way to Q Burger, worried Claire might change her mind as she went to tell Erin she was leaving. She was hard to read and full of surprises. One moment she was standoffish and haughty—talking about art museums and shit—the next she was agreeing to a late-night burger run after a fancy dinner party. He liked that. He liked surprises. They kept things from getting boring. Plus, she was off-the-charts sexy. The kiss they’d shared could have melted Antarctica. She was feisty—her lame chirps were fucking adorable. And her goddamned tits...For some reason, he just needed to experience those up close and personal. It felt as if his life wouldn’t be complete unless he’d buried his face deep inside her cleavage.

He pulled into the parking lot at 9:57 p.m. No way he was going to let them close before he got his hands on a burger. He clicked the button to lock his car and hustled to the entrance.

A young girl in an apron and paper hat met him at the door. “I’m sorry. We’re closed.”

Alex could see a two other employees inside. “Aw, come on. Please? We made a special trip.” He gestured toward Claire who had just gotten out of her car. “We were at a party and the food was shitty so we decided to come here. Please? I’ll make it worth your while, all you guys.”

Pulling out his wallet, he peeled off a hundred and showed it to her and her buddies behind her. “You guys can split this if you make us a couple of combos.”

The girl didn’t hesitate. She took the hundred and pulled the door open so Alex and Claire could go inside but locked it behind them.

“Thanks a lot, guys,” Alex said. “I really appreciate it. What do you want, Claire? Bacon cheeseburger, fries and a vanilla shake?”

“I want a bacon cheeseburger, but with the bacon on the side. I want my shake well blended and I’d like strawberry instead of vanilla. I’d like whipped cream on top if you have it, but only if it’s real. If it’s from a can, I don’t want it.”

As Alex laughed, the Q Burger girl, clearly confused, said, “Um, we don’t have whipped cream.”

Claire smiled. “I’m just kidding.
When Harry Met Sally?
The movie? No? Never mind. I’ll have the number three with a strawberry shake. Nothing special.”

Alex was still laughing when he laid a twenty on the counter to pay for the food. “I’ll have the same but make mine double meat, double cheese and my shake vanilla. Keep the change too.” He rubbed his hands together. “If I’m going to break a commandment, I may as well do it big.”

“I don’t remember a commandment about hamburgers,” Claire said.

“It wasn’t from God. It was from management. I’m supposed to be eating healthier. But I’ve been pretty good lately, so it’ll be okay.”

Less than ten minutes later, their food was ready, but the girl told them they’d have to take it to go because the owner would get mad if they let them stay past ten. It was too chilly to eat outside and because Claire’s car was a toy, they got into his.

“Are you sure it’s okay to eat in here?” she asked, moving her seat all the way back.

He scoffed. “Sure.”

“You’re not worried about it getting ruined?” She seemed overly concerned about the cleanliness of his vehicle.

“It gets dirty? I get it cleaned. Simple as that. Don’t worry about it.”

When they opened their respective bags, the aroma made his mouth water. Nothing like a hot, juicy burger on a grilled bun, oozing with cheese. And the French fries...just the right amount of salt, crisp and tender at the same time. Alex was first and foremost a hockey player, but junk food enthusiast came in a close second.

“Mmm. So good,” Claire said, licking some ketchup from the corner of her mouth with her sexy little pink tongue.

“Very good. Better than pork belly any day of the week.”

She nodded and swallowed. “Don’t tell Elliot, but I totally agree.”

“Why do weddings always have to be so fancy? Why doesn’t anyone ever serve burgers and fries? Or pizza? Everybody likes pizza and I’ll bet about two of the people tonight liked that fake bacon thing.”

“Alex, it’s a milestone in people’s lives, a once-in-a-lifetime event.” She sighed. “Hopefully.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“You didn’t. I’m the one who went there.”

He dipped a French fry into the ketchup. “Getting divorced really sucks. I’ve seen a couple of my friends go through that. But I gotta tell you, your ex was an asshole. A complete and utter fuckhead, pardon my French.”

She gave him a pained smile. “I should have seen it coming. Neither of us had been happy for a long time. We were just going through the motions.” She heaved a big sigh. “I don’t think he was ever happy with me, but I wasn’t really happy with him either, so I guess we’re even.”

Alex scowled. “No. That’s bullshit.
You
didn’t cheat on him. He
did
and that lands him squarely into fuckhead territory. A promise is a promise. A man should be man enough to confront his own wife if he wants to get out, not skulk around behind her back like a fucking weasel.”

She shook her head. “You know what? It’s over. The papers are signed. We didn’t have kids, so I don’t really have to see him again. Unless I want a limo. He owns Elegance on Wheels.”

“Fuck him. I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. I’ll fucking
buy
you a limo for your own personal use, just so you won’t have to deal with him.”

As he said it, he realized he was completely serious. What the fuck was that about? He’d been with wounded-bird women who wanted him to rescue and protect them and he’d never felt moved to do anything about it except move on to someone who wasn’t as needy. But for some reason, he wanted to help Claire.

Luckily, she turned down the offer of a limo.

“That’s sweet but unnecessary. I actually called his main competitor to get a limo for Tim and Erin for after the reception.”

“Nice,” he said, after popping a couple of fries in his mouth. “So, it’s been how long since the ink was dry?”

“A month or so.”

“Because I’ve been wondering, are you done with your crazy phase?”

“Crazy phase?”

“Yeah. Guys I know who’ve gotten divorced...they go through a crazy phase after the papers are signed. They kind of throw themselves into being a bachelor again. I’ll spare you the gory details, but do girls do that too?” He licked some salt off his fingers. “Because I’d be happy to help you out with that.”

She drank some of her strawberry shake and he fixated on the sight of her lips wrapped around the straw, her cheeks working as she sucked the thick liquid up and into her mouth then swallowed.

He started getting hard.

Licking her lips, she cocked her head at him. “How long does your average crazy phase last?”

He forced himself to look away from her mouth. “Depends. Probably the messier the divorce, the longer the crazy phase.”

“Mine wasn’t that messy,” she said with false nonchalance. Her shoulders caved in a little and he could hear the pain in her voice. Fuck, it made him want to pull her into his arms and promise no one would ever hurt her again. He wanted to find her dick husband and make him pay. Just one solid punch to the gut. That and a few choice words.

“But I might still have a little crazy in me.”

“Fucking A you do. You changed your hair. That I can see. Is that your real color?” She nodded. “What else did you do?”

“I threw out all my clothes and most of my shoes.”

“Ah, wow. That does sound pretty crazy. For a girl.”

“It was all stuff I bought to please Vic. I didn’t really like any of it. And I didn’t actually throw it out. I donated it to the needy.”

A sputtering noise signaled her shake was gone, which meant no more suggestive straw action for the moment. He was finished with everything—damn good eating—and crumpled up his trash and stuffed it into the bag.

“So is there enough crazy to consider something
really
crazy?”

She slid her gaze to his. “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

He ran a hand over the steering wheel. “I’m not sure yet.” He snaked a couple of her fries since she seemed to be finished. “But I’m a creative guy. I’ll think of something.”

Chapter Four

As she walked to her car, Claire suppressed a shiver. Whatever idea he came up with would probably include hot sex. Maybe a
Fifty Shades
encounter of some kind. She got a little excited at the thought of Alex dominating her and giving orders like “bend over” or “suck harder.”

Yeah, right. Like he’d read
Fifty Shades
.

Or maybe he had. Maybe the Barracudas had read parts of it aloud to each other during one of their long plane trips as a joke. Erin had shared some pretty strange stories.

No, he probably just wanted to take her to some wild club.

It certainly wouldn’t hurt her self-esteem any to be seen with a hunk like Alex. Then again, she’d probably have to spend a lot of time watching women come on to him. The girls at Q Burger had given him a good once-over.

The reality was, she could roll this around in her mind about this all night long and probably never figure out what he was thinking.

Just as she was about to start the car and head home, she got a text from Erin.
Are you still with Alex? If you are, please tell me you’re not naked.

Give me a break,
she texted back.
I’m about to go home.

Good. You need to be careful around him. He’s a love ’em and leave ’em type guy. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Again.

Claire bit back a sharp retort. Sometimes Erin got in a holier-than-thou groove that Claire hated. When they were kids, Claire, as the oldest, was the leader. Erin had looked up to her and followed wherever Claire had led. Somewhere along the line, slowly but surely, the dynamic shifted. Erin had gone to nursing school and passed with flying colors. She had a successful career doing what she loved. Now she was marrying a good man. Whereas Claire had married then divorced a rich man and done...not too much, she’d come to realize.

Once she and Vic had said “I do,” her life had become a matter of trying to make him happy. That would have been fine if they’d been in love—spouses
should
strive to make each other happy, but Claire hadn’t loved Vic. Not really, though she’d tried to. After all he’d done to help Erin and her brothers, she owed it to him, but the love never materialized. And he finally figured out all he’d wanted was to come to her rescue and that wasn’t an ideal basis for a marriage either.

Don’t worry about me. He was a perfect gentleman,
Claire texted.
Now get some rest. Big day tomorrow. You’re marrying the love of your life.

You’re telling me! SQUEEEEEEEEE!

Claire was putting her phone away when someone tapped the driver’s side window, scaring her so badly she gave a little scream. It was Alex, looking sheepish and a little worried.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked through the glass.

She lowered the window. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry. I was just afraid your battery was dead or something.”

“No, I was texting Erin. She was wondering where we went.”

He squatted. “Does Tim know we left together?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

Alex shrugged. “He warned me off you.”

“He what?”

“Told me I should stay away from you. That was right after we did that really hot thing that never happened.”

The man was funny. She had to give him that.

Claire couldn’t figure out how she felt about Tim acting as gatekeeper for her, even though she’d been married at that time. Part of her thought it was big-brotherly of him, but part of her thought he had no right to step in unless she asked him to.

“Does he do that often?” she asked. “Tell you who you should see and not see?”

Alex bristled. “No. I told him to fuck off and mind his own business.”

“How did he know we...? Did you tell him?”

“No. He heard from one of the rookies.”

Oh God. This was her worst nightmare coming true.
Had
she been the topic of locker room discussion? An object of male ridicule?

Her heart pounding, she asked, “And how did that rookie know?”

“Hell, I don’t know. People in the bar saw us go in back, Claire.”

“So you didn’t say anything to anyone...”

“No. I did not.” He scowled at her. “I don’t go around bragging to people, if that’s what you’re implying.” He spoke slowly and deliberately. “And besides, nothing happened. You think I’m going to go around telling people we
didn’t
do anything? What’s the point of that?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t that kind of thing go on in the locker room all the time? Maybe you lied to add to your street cred with the guys.”

He stood up, blew out a breath, then leaned down and looked her in the eye. The arctic expression on his face made Claire realize she’d crossed the line and his voice was low and intense. “For the record, I didn’t talk to anyone about what went on in that back room. If anyone says otherwise, they’re the ones who are lying. I don’t go around shitting on people’s reputations just to make myself look good and pardon me, but fuck you for suggesting it.”

Claire watched him stalk away, get into his car and peel out of the parking lot. She felt shaky. He was furious.

No one had ever said “fuck you” to her before, not even Vic.

In retrospect, she might have deserved it. Unfortunately, the wedding was tomorrow. She and Alex were supposed to pose for pictures, walk down the aisle together as best man and matron of honor, and probably sit together at the head table, like they had tonight. As she started the car and left Q Burger, she decided needed to apologize to him as soon as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was mess up Erin’s wedding.

* * *

Alex got home from Q Burger still fuming. He was the undisputed player on the team, but he wasn’t an asshole. Did she really think he’d make things up to boost his reputation? Did she have that low an opinion of him? Usually shit like that rolled off his back, but this bothered him and he didn’t know why.

Once upon a time he’d been proud of his playboy designation. He’d even made conscious decisions back in the day to add to his reputation, like getting a hickey on his inner thigh and then going to practice and “getting caught” with it, or bringing three women to the team’s Halloween party. But the satisfaction that came with antics like that just wasn’t there anymore and it was all Tim’s fault.

Alex loved Tim like a brother and was happy he’d found a terrific woman to share his life with, but Tim’s constant and obvious joy had made Alex start to question his own life. He was beginning to realize he wasn’t young anymore, especially after his crap-poor exit meeting. When the hell that that happened? Seemed like all of a sudden, he wasn’t particularly interested in the club scene. He used to be flattered when the kids up from the farm team asked where they could score. Now, he felt slightly annoyed.

Annoyed. That pretty much summed up his mood lately. That and boredom. He needed something to spice up his life, which sounded pretty douche-y, considering the life of privilege he led. Money, something which he had plenty of, did not buy happiness.

And that’s where Claire was going to come in,
was
being the operative word. She had a magnificent set of tits, and that night at Moe’s, her kiss had gotten him so hot, it had been several minutes before he could walk around comfortably. For ten months that kiss had haunted him, and now that they’d been thrown together by the wedding, the memory of it returned to the front of his thoughts. Fast forward to tonight. Sober, she was funny and adventurous, once she got a little encouragement. And she quoted movies back at him. Major points for that.

But then she’d basically called him a liar to his face.

That phrase, “you can’t live with ’em and you can’t live without ‘em” was so true. It was one of the reasons he didn’t have a date for the wedding tomorrow, even though he’d told Tim he was bringing someone. He’d gone through his various contact lists. He’d even looked in the kitchen drawer where he kept the cocktail napkins, business cards and scraps of paper women wrote their phone numbers on. The drawer was usually a last resort, a sort of booty-call roulette. He never remembered the woman who went with the phone number, so calling one of the numbers was a crap shoot. Frustrated with indecision, he ended up emptying the entire drawer into the trash a couple months ago and putting protein bars into it instead.

He was in bed checking his social media one last time when he saw a tweet from Claire. He knew it was her because her tiny little face was there on the phone screen. Her handle was @Eclaire. That gave him a chuckle, even though he was mad at her.

@ASullivan11 Follow me so I can DM you.

He did and immediately got a direct message from her:
I’m sorry for being a jerk. Can we let bygones be bygones? Tim & Erin’s wedding should be perfect. #ThanksForTheBurger

There she went again, surprising him. The last thing he would have expected was a middle-of-the-night apology. But he appreciated the gesture, especially when it was based on a desire to make sure the wedding wasn’t marred by animosity between the best man and the matron of honor.

Alex sent her a reply.
Apology accepted. It’s not like I never said anything stupid before. #yourewelcome #cleanslate #stillwanttokissyou #dontdenythespark

Then he added the picture of a stick of dynamite with the fuse lit and, smiling, waited for her reply.

I’m NOT sleeping with you!

Sleeping’s not what I want to do with you anyway. I love eclairs BTW. #creamycentersaremyfavorite

She tweeted back an emoticon that expressed shock and dismay. He laughed. A moment later:
My creamy center is off-limits.

His reply:
Famous last words. Slow and steady wins the race. And are you twirting with me, by the way?

A question mark indicated confusion on her end. He wondered if she was in bed, like him. If so, he wondered what she was wearing.

Twitter flirting. It’s a term I just made up. Because I’m clever that way.

No flirting. I’m just telling you not to expect me to fall into your bed.

Ah, the chase. He grinned.
Falling implies a lack of intent. Not the way it’s gonna go down. And it WILL go down. I’m as persistent as I am clever.

Then I have absolutely nothing to worry about.

Ouch! Good chirp. #dontdenythespark

Thanks. Getting the hang of it. G’night. #SilencingMyPhone #SeeYouAtTheWedding

As he put his phone away and turned out the light, he thought again about what Claire wore to bed. Could be anything. A prim-and-proper nightgown with bows and shit. Nightgowns were cool. Easy access. All he had to do was slide it up past the hips and they were good to go. Had to love that. Or maybe she wore a T-shirt and shorts. Yeah. Those didn’t pose much of a barrier either. Or maybe, just maybe, she slept in the buff.

Taking hold of his dick, he decided to go with the fantasy. He imagined her between the sheets, relaxed, with a half smile on her face. Her generous breasts would be bared to his view. He would take a fat nipple into his mouth and suck until it was wet and swollen and hard against his tongue. He imagined her moans. In his mind, she shifted restlessly beneath him and he loved that.

He’d talk dirty to her. He sensed she might get into that. Sometimes “good girls” got off on being bad and being told they were bad. It was a nice little escape from real life that he didn’t mind providing. Frank language would make her wet and slick so he could slide right in.

Fuck. He was getting close. He thought about how tight and hot she’d be. How her tits would shake as he fucked her. How her breath would catch, and catch again, and how she’d grip his shoulders tightly and strain to meet his thrusts.

He was pumping hard when the fantasy Claire met his gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise just before she arched her back and cried out as she came. Fuck. That’s when he lost it. Wave upon wave of pleasure radiated out from his groin as he came into the wad of tissues he’d grabbed at the last second.

Holy shit. That had felt good. As he tossed the wad in the direction of the bathroom, he promised himself he’d make that fantasy a reality. Sure, she was on the rebound, but his code of honor didn’t care about that. Single was single, and it was just sex. No one was ever emotionally crippled from really good consensual sex. To his way of thinking, a great fuck was the best way to re-enter the dating world after a bad marriage.

Like christening a ship after it had been in dry dock for repairs.