One-Timer (Carolina Comets)

I could stand here and watch this all day.

That’s what flits through my mind as I lean against the wall just inside Hollis’ apartment, watching her shake her ass from across the room. I remember the first time I watched her dance, and I remember thinking she was godawful at it then.

She still is. And yet, I still love watching her.

“Radio Ga Ga” by Queen is blasting out of a smart device on the counter, and she has no idea I’m even standing here. She’s using a wooden spoon as a microphone and singing horribly off-key.

It’s adorable. She’s adorable.

I don’t alert her to my presence until the song fades out.

“Very nice! Encore!” I clap my hands.

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to do.

“SON OF A…!” She whirls around, hand to her chest. “Lowell! I just pissed myself, you ass!”

She takes off running for the bathroom and slams the door, all while muttering to herself.

I won’t lie, I feel bad.

But only a little.

I help myself into the apartment and flop down on her couch. It’s not long before she’s marching back out of the bathroom with a scowl firmly on her face, still muttering.

Her scowl deepens the moment she spots me. “What the hell are you still doing here?”

“Uh, it’s game day.”

“And?”

“And I always come here on game day.”

“Well, I don’t want you here. Leave.” She points to the door.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, popping up off the couch. “I can’t just leave. I always come here on game day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Freaking hockey players and their stupid superstitions.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Fine. You can stay, but I am not sleeping with you—not after you just made me piss myself. You can’t just walk up and scare pregnant women, Lowell.”

“Don’t hate on our superstitions, okay? They’re a real thing, and there’s like lots of science to prove it. Second, I didn’t mean to scare you. You left your apartment unlocked, something we should probably really talk about because that is extremely dangerous. I could have been anybody.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I keep going anyway. “And third, do you think I just come here for sex?”

“W-Well… Well…” She throws her arms up. “Yes! Isn’t that why you come here?”

My mouth falls open in surprise. “Um, no. When have I ever come over here and thrown myself at you or begged for sex? You’re the pregnant and horny one, remember?”

“Oh, so you don’t want to have sex with me? You’re just obliging my request because I’m some sex-crazed maniac, huh?”

“Well, you have the maniac part right.”

“Lowell…” she growls.

“Hollis…” I growl back.

She literally huffs and puffs, and I can’t help but laugh. She tosses her arms up, trying to walk away from me, but I don’t let her. Instead, I pull her into my embrace, wrapping my arms around her.

“Stop, stop, stop,” I say, trapping her as I sigh. “I need you to listen to me and listen to me closely here, all right? I am not just here for sex. Do I like it? Yes. Nothing pleases me more than to walk out of this apartment with the smell of you still on my face and fingers.” Her eyes darken at my words. “But that’s not why I come here. I come here because you’re carrying my child and I like spending time with them and you. Okay? So don’t minimize my coming over here as being just for sex. Though again, I do really love that part.”

Like really, really love that part. I probably love that part way more than I’m supposed to. We’ve been sleeping together for a while now, and I almost can’t remember a time when we weren’t sleeping together.

I get it. It’s a release for her, and I’m happy to help her out, but I have no idea what that’s going to mean for us down the road.

I don’t want to think about that or any heavy bullshit right now. It’s game day, and I don’t come to her apartment on game day to get all up inside my head. I come here to relax.

Also, almost every time I’ve come here, we’ve won, but I’m not going to tell her that.

She sighs, then loops her arms around my neck, her fingers going into the edges of my hair, tugging lightly at the strands. “Okay, fine. You can stay.”

“I can?”

She nods. “Yes. But, Lowell?”

“Hmm?”

“I changed my mind. I’d really like to have sex now.”

“Do it again, but slower.”

“Slower?”

“Yeah.” She licks her lips as I follow her instructions. “Oh god. Yeah, just like that.”

“You like that?”

“I do. I like that a lot.”

“You want more?”

She traps her lip between her teeth, watching me intently. “Slower.”

“I can’t go any slower. My jaw is getting cramped already.” I wiggle it back and forth, then set my knife down, sitting back in my chair, patting my full stomach. “Plus, I’m stuffed.”

“It was one steak!”

“It was one steak two steaks ago, Hollis. I am full.”

We’ve been sitting here for the last two hours eating dinner, and since Hollis is not allowed to have rare meat, she’s been forcing me to eat the steaks for her.

And by forcing, I mean I definitely wanted to.

“Wimp.”

To be fair, the steaks are fairly small, and if I hadn’t eaten an entire basket of bread before they arrived, I probably could have finished this one too. What I don’t tell Hollis is that I’m trying not to make myself too full because I have a feeling with the way she’s been rubbing her thighs together all night, this evening is going to end with both of us naked in her bed.

“Excuse me, waiter, do you think I could get about, oh, twelve ounces of this ranch to go, please?”

Hollis immediately smacks her hand over her mouth, breathing in and out deeply through her nose. I know right away it was just the mention of ranch. I tried to put some on my salad last week and she ran to the bathroom faster than I’ve ever seen her run—and that includes when I accidentally made her pee her pants…for the second time.

The couple at the table who just asked for the ranch notices.

“Zachary!” the woman seethes. “Stop it!”

“What? This place has really good ranch, and we live like an hour away. There’s no way I’m leaving here without some to go.”

“Uh, let me go check with my manager.” The waiter scurries off, looking as concerned as I am because this guy just ordered an entire small bottle of ranch to go.

The woman jerks her head toward our table. “You just made that woman sick with your disgusting ranch habit.”

He gasps. “How dare you! Ranch is not disgusting—you think my ranch habit is cute!”

“Stop saying it!” She glances at Hollis, who is starting to look a little green. “I’m pretty sure she’s about a second away from blowing.”

Hollis shakes her head up and down, eyes wide, and I laugh, which earns me a glare.

The woman leans over. “I am so sorry about him. Sometimes he leaves his manners at home.” She glances down at Hollis’ round belly. “Oh, you’re pregnant! That actually explains so much. You know when my best friend, Zoe, was pregnant, she was the exact same way. Even the mere mention of”—she glances at her husband—“well, the stuff that shall not be named and she was ready to just lose it.”

Hollis takes another couple of deep breaths and removes her hand from her mouth. She musters up a small smile. “It’s fine. I’m the one who is sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal with my problem.”

The woman waves her off. “It’s no big deal at all.” She turns her eyes on me, squinting. “You look really familiar.”

“Delia!” her husband admonishes.

“What?” she asks. “Doesn’t he look familiar?”

The guy puts his head in his hands. “That’s because you watch him all the time. He’s the captain for the Carolina Comets, who we’re season ticket holders for!”

“Oh!” For a moment she looks embarrassed, then she waves her hand with a shrug. “You know I just go for the snacks and hockey butts. I couldn’t tell a first trick from a downtouch or whatever they’re called.” She sticks her hand out. “Hi, I’m Delia. This is my husband, Zach.”

“Hollis.” She introduces herself, shaking the woman’s hand, then points to me. “And Cam—well, you know him as Lowell.”

Zach clears his throat. “Despite my wife not knowing you, I’m a huge fan. I know it’s a small world, but you might be a little familiar with my brother. He’s an agent for a couple guys on your team. Shep Clark?”

“Ah, yeah. I’ve met Shep a few times. He reps Rhodes and Wright.” Honestly, the dude is a gifted agent and got both of them some pretty sweet deals recently. “Definitely a small world. You said you live an hour away, yeah?”

“Yeah, depending on traffic.”

“Have you ever been out to the brewery in Caseyville?”

“We haven’t. Driven by lots of times on our way out to Slice.” Zach pats his stomach. “That pizza there is killer.”

“So good. Awful for my waistline in the off-season though. I actually co-own the brewery with my sister.”

“No shit? Well, we’re definitely stopping in now.”

“You should meet up there with Sully and Porter the next time you guys get together to talk apps and security or whatnot,” Delia says.

“Apps?”

“Yep,” Zach answers. “My company builds them.”

“Yeah? My sister mentioned something about wanting to maybe get an app for the brewery. We should get together sometime and talk about that.”

Zach’s eyes widen. “Dude. I would love that. And I won’t even ask you to sign my jersey at the meeting.”

“You’ll just wait until after, right?” Delia asks.

“Obviously.”

I laugh. “Deal.”

“I hate to cut this short,” his wife says, looking at her phone, “but we should head out. Don’t want to miss putting the kids to bed.”

“You two have kids?” Hollis asks, perking up. “How many?”

She’s been doing that often lately. Anytime there’s a baby or children around, she pays closer attention to them like she’s trying to glean some insight into mothering.

“Eight.”

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “Eight?”

She laughs. “Sorry, I should have clarified—our kids are goats.”

“Pygmy goats to be exact,” Zach says, pulling his phone out. “Here, look.”

“Are those Harry Potter sweaters?”

“Kick-ass, right?”

“Fantastic. The Comets jersey is a nice touch too, but I’m probably a little biased.”

Zach laughs, then adds my number to his phone and pockets it. “We’ll let you get back to your meal and talk later about the app for the brewery.”

“Sounds good.”

We shake hands just as the waiter comes back out with a tub of ranch for him. I’ve never seen someone’s face light up so bright before. He cradles it to his chest, and I swear I hear him call it his precious.

“Maybe we’ll see you at a game?” Delia says as she stands.

Zach slips her jacket around her. “Yeah, you can teach this one that there are no touchdowns in hockey.”

Hollis laughs. “Don’t worry, I am all up to date on the lingo. We’ll make you a pro in no time.”

She was resistant about learning the game at first, but over the last several months she’s really taken a liking to it, and it’s something that really turns me on. I like seeing her excited about the game I love so much, and I like seeing her in the stands cheering me on while I play.

Collin and Rhodes have said before that they swear their feet move faster and their sticks hit the puck better when they know Harper and Ryan are in the crowd. I always thought they were full of shit, but I get it now. It’s comforting to know there’s someone in the stands who doesn’t just care about your game, but about you.

It’s also great motivation to work hard, because if I play my cards right and we win, I’ll score twice that night.

They both wave and turn to leave, but they don’t make it far before I hear Zach say to Delia, “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him.”

“What? He was sitting down. I couldn’t see his ass.”

Hollis snickers. “They were fun, but when she said eight kids, I about peed myself. I couldn’t imagine. I don’t even have room for one kid in my apartment, let alone eight.” She shakes her head, sipping on her water. “Speaking of…I, uh, found a place that’s between the rink and your house.”

I sit up taller in my chair, trying not to let my breath sound as shaky as it feels in my chest. “Oh?”

“I—I figured it would be nice to be closer to you for when the baby comes.”

“Yeah, uh, I’d, uh, like that.”

We sound like scratched-up records, skipping around our words. I especially feel uncomfortable because I have no idea what I’m supposed to say here.

Should I offer to let her move in? Is that what she’s hinting at? If not, am I supposed to offer to pay for her apartment? I can afford it, so it’s not a big deal, but what’s the etiquette here? What is even here?

What are we doing? What are—

“Oh, no!” The waiter comes rushing by our table in a panic. “I gave that man blue cheese instead of ranch!”

This time, Hollis does vomit.

Whatever here is, we’ll have to figure it out later.