Something So Right (2 page)

Matthew spent a whole year not talking to his father, his betrayal hitting him hard. He didn’t understand how you fall out of love with someone.

***

I shake my head to clear my memories and the fact I agreed to have someone come in at three a.m. to train. I must have been out of my mind, or drunk. I’m not sure, and I’m pleading the fifth. I splash warm water on my face and grab my go-to Lululemon yoga pants and tank top.

The rink is my home away from home. My playground. Started by my great-grandfather who loved skating and hockey. He decided if he had to go to work every day he might as well enjoy it, so he opened Moore’s Arena. It was passed on to my dad, who started skating before he walked. It was his dream to pass it down to his son. Except his son was born with a vagina and not a penis.

I know he loves me to death, but I always felt I didn’t quite add up.

When I went to see Dad after James cheated with the fat ass, I had to hold him back and threaten to mess with the Zamboni for him to not go and crush him. While I was raging on about the dickhead, I told him I needed something to take my mind off the son of a bitch. His answer was to give me the rink. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. From the moment he laced up my skates as a child and brought me out on the ice it was my second home. Every day early morning practices before school would come in handy. I was the unstoppable girl. I could out skate some of the best boys, and those that I didn’t, I just pushed myself harder.

I came in with fresh new ideas, brought in specialists to help them with their skating, their stick handling, their muscle movements, and put in a top-of-the-line gym. I also brought in different programs, from power skating for young kids, to NHL stars rehabbing with us. Since I’ve started the program two years ago, we’ve just gotten bigger and busier. I’ve had many NHL players comes in on their hiatus to get stronger, making them ready for their upcoming season. Which is why I was going to the rink at the ass crack of night.

Cooper Stone was the best of the best. He was drafted into the pros when he was seventeen. Captain of his NHL team. Top leading scorer in the league. Winner of the Hart Memorial Art Ross trophy, Ted Lindsay Award, Mark Messier Leadership Award, and let’s not forget five Stanley Cups and two Olympic gold medals. Cooper Stone was the NHL. And he was going to be training at my rink.

He was almost thirty, and nothing was slowing him down. Well, nothing until he busted his knee and had to have surgery. I heard he was bitter and angry about it. When his agent reached out to us and asked for help, we had no choice but to say yes. This is what would get us on the map. Even if I had to put up with his diva demands, such as skating at three fucking a.m. Who the fuck can skate at that time, let alone practice and do drills? Apparently, Mr. Stone can.

I run out of the house and start up my Jeep. This was my divorce gift to myself. Well, that and a failed trip to Vegas. Meghan didn’t understand when I said I wasn’t in the mood. She thought it would be good to go out and get laid. I wanted to, even my vagina wanted to take part in it. My head, on the other hand, didn’t get the memo. Instead of going to have a weekend of sex and debauchery, I ended up sitting by the pool and having a relationship with my Kindle.

It takes me four minutes to get to the rink. When I arrive, I notice a black Range Rover already parked. Great, my first day and I’m late. I look at the clock and see it’s 2:57. I’m not late. He’s early.

I turn off my Jeep, fall out—yes, I fall. I’m five foot two, everything is taller than me—and turn around just in time to see him step out of his truck. And I’m taken aback by how hot he is.

His baby blue jeans are well-worn, fitting every part of him like a glove, and when I mean every part of him I’m talking about his package. His white T-shirt is pulled tight across his chest, and his shoulders are square. Then my eyes make their way up to his face. His hair is dark and long in the back, just enough for me to grab ahold of while his face is planted in my vagina.
Ummm, WTF
? Did I just picture his face between my legs? That is new.

His face has a day’s worth of stubble, which I know would give my thighs some razor burn.
Whoa, don’t go there.
Clearly I need to get laid. All thoughts of getting laid run screaming from my head when my gaze meets his and I’m met with ice cold blue eyes.

“You’re late,” he says with attitude.

Is he fucking kidding me? I’m three minutes early.

“I think your watch is wrong.” I pull out my iPhone and show him the time. It shows 2:59. In your face. “See, I have a minute to spare,” I say proudly.

He turns around to go to the trunk to get his equipment bag. “Your boss said I start at three, which means I’m on the ice at three, not walking in the door at three. I’ve been here since two-fifteen.”

“It does not take forty-five minutes to get you suited up. I know people who can do it in ten.” Ha, take that Mr. super-fucking-star attitude!

“I don’t know how your boss gave you this responsibility, but I plan to inform him of what happened this morning,” he says, swinging the bag over his shoulder, making his shirt even more taut across his chest.

Did he condescendingly tell me that he would tell my boss about my behavior?

I spin around before saying something I would regret. Like go fuck yourself.

Heading to the door, I unlock it and switch on a few lights.

“Locker rooms are that way.” I point. “You can use whatever room you want. We have no one else in the rink till seven, so it gives you four hours. From the email I received you are to do ice for three hours and the gym for three. I have you scheduled in the gym starting at seven, so I guess you can get off the ice at six. You can eat and then work out in the gym,” I say to his retreating back. Would it be too much to ask to have a conversation with his face instead of his tight ass? Damn, I can’t believe I missed how nice his ass is. That is perfection all wrapped up.

“You think the gym trainer will be late like you?” he snarls. Just like that, the bubble I’m in is snapped. It’s fucking three a.m., and I have to skate for the next three hours with this guy.

“Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot. It was a little misunderstanding about the time. Can we confirm the time for tomorrow to make sure it doesn’t happen again?” I want to kill him with fucking kindness.

He turns around, and his cold gaze meets mine. “You won’t be here tomorrow, so that won’t be a problem. When I’m done talking with your boss, let’s hope you still have a job.” He turns on his heels and walks out.

Motherfucker.

Ten minutes later, I’m on the ice in my gear. It isn’t much. I just need skates, a helmet, and a stick. He comes out in full gear, making him even bigger than I thought he was before.

“You really don’t need to be here. I’m sure I can do this myself.”

Why does he feel the need to shit out of his mouth? I smile sweetly at him. “It’s okay. You paid for the service.”

I work him hard. I have him skating up and down that rink, going in circles, zigzagging through cones, puck handling...it’s his first day, I should be going easy, but he brought this onto himself. When I think he is going to cave, he fucking smirks. I want to take his stick and knock his fucking helmet off. I blow the whistle at five fifty-nine.

“Okay, Stone, time’s up. Get your gear off and meet Adam in the gym at seven.”

“Will he be on time? And who takes care of the health section?” he asks with the cockiness of a bull. Right then in that moment, I think he has a big chip on his shoulder because he has a small penis. I mean, why else would you be a dick to people? You are making up for something.

“I have your menu, and it’s already prepared. The only thing I have to do is make your pre workout shake. It’ll be ready when you come out of the shower.”

“So let me get this straight. You train and do my shakes? Maybe you can keep the concession stand job.” He skates off, and I’m left staring at his back again. It makes me think how much laxative one person can ingest without making him go to the hospital. I’m going to Google that shit.

One hour later he swaggers out, and I say swagger because that is what he does. It’s the girl’s version of swinging our hips. He is walking trying to swing his dick, if he’s found it.

His protein shake is on the counter, minus the laxative, only because I didn’t have any on hand.

“Okay, Mr. Stone, Adam is in there waiting for you. I have a class on the ice from seven to eight, and then it slows down till ten.” I don’t even know why I’m telling him this. I’m rambling. What the fuck am I rambling about?

“What time does Parker get here?” he asks while downing his drink. Oh my God, this is going to be so good. Since he has no idea that I’m Parker!

“At ten. The office is upstairs to the right, first door.”

He puts the glass back and smiles, a full white grin. How does he still have all of his teeth? They must be fake. “It’s been fun, take care,” he says, jogging to the gym.

I’m sitting in my office looking over the ice and class schedules for the week. I see that Cooper has six days scheduled, all at three a.m. His agent told us that he wants to make sure he’s in and out before people know he’s here. So far the only people who know he’s rehabbing here is my staff of six and, of course, my kids.

After I got off the ice, I made my way upstairs, changing into my jeans. I’m telling you not only did I lose one hundred ninety pounds of dead husband weight, I also lost the extra twenty pounds I had floating around my body. It does help that I’m now skating and can say hello abs. Okay, it’s only two, but it’s better than none. I’m now wearing a black T-shirt that molds to my chest. Luckily for me, my boobs remained big no matter how much weight I lost.

Standing up from my desk, I walk over to the window that faces the inside of the arena. My view from the office is of the ice rink below, which is now filled with three and four-year-olds learning to skate. Another thing I added to the program list once I took over.

To the right I see the gym area, and my gaze lands on Cooper’s as he reaches up while he does chin ups. His shirt lifts a bit, showing me his bottom stomach.
Holy fuck, is that a V?
Holy shit, he does have a fucking V that women lust over. Of course he does, he has to. It makes up for the fact that his penis is small. At least that is how it is in my mind.

The good thing about these windows is that no one can see I’m standing here gawking at them. So he has no idea I’m standing here watching him.

I’m waiting for him. I know he’s coming. It’s going to be my absolute pleasure to let him know that he can take his shitty attitude and find somewhere else to train. It’s going to fuck up my budget, ruining my plans to add another rink, but I won’t let him get away with treating me or my staff members like shit.

A knock has me turning around just as Cooper walks in the door. He didn’t even wait for an answer. Figures. I can tell he is surprised to see me.

“I guess Parker isn’t in?” he asks with a snarl. Oh. This. Is. Going. To. Be. Fun.

“Actually, I am in, as you can see. I’m sorry we weren’t properly introduced before. I’m Parker Moore, and you must be Cooper Stone.” I go to him with my hand extended to shake his. He doesn’t answer or even try. He puts his hands on his hips.
Okay, this conversation is going to go more quickly than I thought.

“So, Mr. Stone, as we discussed earlier, I have an email conversation between your agent and myself. I went back just to make sure I didn’t misunderstand the time we were scheduled to meet. I’ve taken the liberty of forwarding it to you again, just to make sure you get it.
A second time.
In this email you will notice that I said I would be here to open the door at three a.m.. I’m very sorry if you were under the impression that I would get here forty-five minutes before that time to open the door so your highness can get dressed. I’m also sorry that you see my establishment as ‘unprofessional.’ I will be more than happy to assist you in finding other alternatives to help you in your recovery.” I don’t even give him a chance to speak “I have also emailed you my recommendations. If you want to finish out the week, that is fine, but I believe you won’t be happy either way. So, for that, I apologize yet again for making you waste your time.” I stand up straight, waiting for him to shoot me back with something, but he does the complete opposite.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at three. See you then,” he practically yells, then storms out of my office, slamming my door on his way out.

My fucking door
. I want to kick my desk. If I wasn’t afraid of hurting myself, I would have, but instead I go to my phone and call my person.

“Lunch?” I don’t even think it came out as a question but more so an order.

“Sure thing. Meet you at Overtime at noon?”

“Yeah, perfect. See you there. It’ll be five o’clock somewhere, so prepare for booze.”

For as long as I could remember, every single one of my memories have Meghan in it. She is my go-to, my person. It also helps that she is related to me. She has no choice but to accept me for who I am. She has been there through everything. She helped me sew a voodoo doll when I arrived home from surprising James. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it didn’t work because James still has his penis intact.

I pull into the parking lot of Overtime. I am over tired, grumpy, and fucking aggravated. After placing the phone call to Meghan, I had to sit down with my dad, informing him of the morning’s scene. I also went down to speak to Adam, making sure everything was okay. I was shocked to find out Cooper was so polite with him. Of course he was. He must be a chauvinist pig.
Scared of my vagina?

I also spent a good amount of time stalking him on Google. I was looking for anything they had on him, which wasn’t much. He was completely off social media. He usually didn’t give interviews unless it was about the game. Not one picture of a girlfriend.
Gasp, maybe he’s gay
? What a fucking loss for the vagina team.