Tracey
Only two nights ago I vowed Dak Andersen didn’t need to concern himself with my morning routines, because he was never going to get the chance to witness them. Well…as they say, never say never.
The weather is clear and invigorating in the harbor today. The bright, sunny day makes the adventure last night and what happened between us seem even more weird than it already does. I’m not sure what the hell happened, other than wiggling my ass in what I thought was my sleep into Dak’s cock, and begging him to hand fuck me. At which, I might add, he has magical skills—and then freaking out when he complied. And after, even though I offered myself to him no strings attached, he wants to be friends. The story of my life.
It’s possible the surreal circumstances of being trapped in a storm and stranded alone on an island led to my uncharacteristic request. And apparently the calming effects of a mind-blowing orgasm are a fantastic sleep aid. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow for a second time. Too bad those effects can’t be bottled. It would be a zillion dollar industry.
Problem is, we haven’t spoken one word to each other all morning. We packed up our samples and headed back to the harbor in silence. Dak is not into my proposition, even though he had no problem letting me ride his hand. He has some weird idea he’s not good enough for me.
Or perhaps he only said that because he’s not into you.
My snarky mind is such a bitch!
I remind myself I’m not angry at Dak. After all, I was the one who initiated the whole thing, and he did what I’m sure any guy would do. I guess I’m more disappointed than angry. At least he was honest with me, saying everything I already know is true. But I don’t know what to say to him now. He assured me it doesn’t need to be weird, but in the morning light it is kind of awkward.
I’m not sure how to think about what happened last night and everything he said. It’s obvious he’s attracted to me. He couldn’t hide it in those sweatpants with everything he’s got going on down there. For the first time in a long time I’m attracted to someone, and not afraid to let him get close to me. He’s right, though, getting involved with him sexually is not a good idea. Hell. It’s the same thing I’ve recited to myself for over a year. Don’t trust anyone, don’t get involved, no more heartbreak. It’s the ironic reason I thought this plan was perfect—sex with a guy I like hanging out with, a guy I trust as a friend and am not afraid to let touch me, no strings.
I suppose Dak is trying to be the good guy and give me some time and space.
Or is he so freaked out by your past, he realizes he can’t handle it?
Is it wrong to tell your own conscience to shut the fuck up?
“I’ll jump out and you can throw me the ropes, okay?” Dak’s question as we pull into the dock jolts me out of the verbal circles my mind keeps making.
“Sure.” Those are the first words we’ve exchanged today.
“What should we do with the samples and slides?” he asks while tying off the Tern.
“My car is right there.” I point to the outrageous green vehicle parked in the lot right next to the dock only employees in the harbor use. “We can load them in there. I’ll bring them with me to class tomorrow and I’ll write up a data report tonight to submit with them.” As we discuss it, I’m handing him everything we need to take off the boat.
“You don’t need to do the data report all by yourself. I can help.”
“It’s cool. Only one person needs to type it up. No sense both of us tying up our evening. I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be.”
Someone to be with.
“No I don’t. There’s practice this afternoon, but I’ll be done at four thirty. The assignment is for both of us, Trace. I can read off the data to you while you enter it. It’ll save some time.” We’re being so courteous, so civil. Polite acquaintances. Like a few hours ago he wasn’t finger fucking me and I wasn’t screaming his name in ecstasy. Damn. I’m getting wet again merely thinking about it.
“My roommates and I always have dinner together at the house on Sundays. I don’t think you’ve met them all yet. Why don’t you come over for dinner and we can finish the assignment at my place?”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Come on, Bambi. It’s only dinner.” He shrugs.
That’s the problem. It’s only dinner. He doesn’t want to take it any further. I offered myself to him without any strings and he said no. Now my thoughts are tied up in knots wondering if he said no with the best intentions for me, or if there’s another reason he doesn’t want to have sex with me.
“We all pitch in and help. All except Wolfe. His cooking abilities are shit. We don’t allow him anywhere near the kitchen when we’re cooking.” He chuckles. And I’m gone. His smile gets me every time. “What do you say? I think it’s Mexican food night. You into it?”
“I hate to admit it, but you’d be hard pressed to find any kind of food I’m not into.” I exhale a big breath. “Food is my only addiction.”
“Fantastic! A fellow food lover. I knew it last night by the way you polished off your pasta and sund—” He stops midsentence. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up last night.”
“You should be sorry,” I fake admonish him, because he’s right about not making what happened last night weird. I don’t want anything to be weird between us. I kind of like the jackass. “Don’t you know it’s extremely ungentlemanly to notice how much a lady eats, let alone comment on it?” I open the back of the Jeep and place our supplies into it.
“I’m so sorry, milady.” He puts the things he’s carrying in the car and turns toward me. Bending at the waist with one arm behind him and one in front, he bows like he did in the bathroom last night. The memory sends a bolt of longing between my legs.
“I’ll forgive you, sir, if you are able to satiate me tonight.” He snaps upright and gives me a wide-eyed look. “Uh, with food. If you can satisfy me…with…with food.”
So much for not being awkward.
This time when Dak bends over it’s because he’s doubled over in a roar of laughter. “I was totally thinking you meant food. You know, you’ve got a dirty little mind, Bambi.”
I shake my head at the way he’s having such a good time at my expense. “Ha ha. Sure you were, jackass.”
I guess we’re back to our teasing antics and it’s kind of okay with me. Even though he causes the hormone levels in my body to skyrocket, he also knows how to make me have fun and smile again. Being friends isn’t such a bad idea I suppose.
“I guess you’re coming over for dinner then, so I can satisfy you?”
“I guess so.” I shrug and hold my arms out, palms up, on either side of me in capitulation. There’s no denying it, he’s a good guy and not only do I lust him, I like him.
***
I find Nikki in the driveway of my house. She’s in the process of moving in, hauling the last of her bags out of her car, a VW Beetle. When I see the bags lined up on the front porch, I can’t help wondering how she crammed all that stuff into the tiny car.
“Hey, girl,” she calls to me when I pull in. Her eyes open to saucer-sized orbs when Dak pulls in next door at almost the exact same time. I’m in the same sweatpants and top from last night. I didn’t want to take time to shower at the house. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. And yup, when I follow Nikki’s gaze up and down my outfit and then over to Dak, who is in the exact same outfit, it definitely looks like I’m getting home from a long winter’s nap with my next-door neighbor. Except it’s not winter and I’m not ready to let anyone know what may or may not be going on between him and me.
“It’s not what it looks like. We’re doing research together,” I say flatly as I pull my backpack from the back seat.
Right on cue, Dak looks over and waves to Nikki as he steps out of his black vintage Defender. “Hey, Nik. Long time, no see. You movin in?”
“Hey, Dak. Yeah I am. Trace needed a roommate and I needed a place, so everything is copacetic.”
“Awesome. You need some help?”
“No thanks, I got it,” Nikki answers and slams her trunk closed.
“Trace is having dinner with us tonight. Why don’t you come with? There’s always plenty of food and the guys would love to see you.”
“Um, thanks, man, but maybe another time. Got to get unpacked and uh, I’ve…um, got a paper due tomorrow. I’ll take a raincheck.” Nikki is digging the toe of her Dr. Marten’s into the gravel of the driveway like she’s drilling for oil, or the more valuable excuse to keep her from having to see Dalton.
“Okay. But you’re right next-door now, Nik. Don’t be a stranger. It’s all cool.” Dak hikes his backpack up one shoulder.
“Right. Will do.” Nikki nods. “I mean, no I won’t.” She shakes her head and forces a smile. “It’s all cool,” she mumbles through her teeth.
Dak turns to me, and then gives me a wink along with his sexy grin. “See you at six.”
Oh for chrissakes. Was that necessary?
He’s cute, but he’s such a pain in the ass.
“Heard it called a lot of things, but never research.” Nikki tilts her head and arches a brow at me after he goes inside his house.
“Honest. It was only research, Nikki,” I insist. I pick up one of her bags to give her a hand. I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, her or me. “We were out on the Tern and we got caught in the storm, so we had to stay at the lightkeeper’s house on the Rock overnight until the storm blew over.”
Nikki stops so abruptly on our way up the front porch steps I almost plow into her back. She drops the bags she’s carrying and spins around, blinking her eyes a few times like it will help her hear what I said. “Are you trying to tell me you spent the night, alone, on the Rock, in the middle of a storm, with Dak Andersen, resident hockey sex god and manwhore?”
“I spent the night alone on the Rock with Dak. I don’t know anything about the sex god thing,” I answer nonchalantly, moving around her to the door, juggling the bags so I can slip the key in the latch.
“Nothing happened,” Nikki says drily. I feign struggling with the key so I can think about my answer. I don’t want to start out our friendship lying to her. But I positively don’t want anyone to think there’s anything going on between Dak and me.
“Well…” I drawl.
“Ho-ly shit!” Nikki pushes past me into the house and pulls me in after her. “You only moved here a few weeks ago and you already hooked up with one of those hockey sluts. You’re a dark horse, Trace Hayward. I had you pegged for the sweet virginal type. Nothing wrong with that, but I had you figured all wrong.” She snorts and punches me in the shoulder.
Ow! For a little thing, she packs a wallop. And she should know how not virginal I am.
“You have to tell me every single detail. Those fuckers next door may be whores, but their abilities between the sheets are well known all over campus.” She walks through the arched doorway into the living room. “Holy shit!” she repeats, in more of a shriek this time. “What the hell happened in here?”
“What do you mean? What happened?” I rush into the living room thinking I might have been robbed. Everything is neat and tidy, exactly the way I left it.
“What the fuck? Did Little Red Riding Hood have a yard sale or something?”
“Oh. No.” I wave her off. “It’s the new furniture my mother sent me as a moving in gift. You want something to drink?”
Nikki blows out a long whistle, taking in what is now her new, totally ridiculous, home. “No shit? Wow your mom is the bomb. My mother didn’t give me a toothpick when I started school.”
“You like it?” I’m shocked. There is no way the girl standing there in a black tank top, black grunge cutoffs, and black Dr. Marten boots could like the flowered, checked, striped furniture.
“Are you kidding? I freaking love it. It’s lit! So unique! Who else can say they live in the seven dwarves’ cottage? I’ll take a beer, if you have it.”
“Hmm. I thought you said it looked like Red’s leftovers. Now it’s the dwarves’?” I laugh.
“Whatever.” Nikki shakes her head in disbelief and chuckles. “It looks like somebody’s idea of a cartoon character’s house.”
I’m so happy she decided to move in with me. I can tell she and Alex will be the kind of friends I haven’t had for a long time.
“Hey, don’t think you weaseled you’re way out of telling me every little thing about you and Da-ko-ta,” she sings out his name.
When I open the refrigerator, the inside light doesn’t come on. The electricity must be out.
“There’s nothing to tell, Nikki.” I come back in the room and hand her the beer. “The power seems to be off. I hope it’s cold enough.”
“Pretty much the whole area lost power because of the storm last night. They’re still working on getting it back up. And come on, there’s no way Andersen spent the night stranded with a hot chickie like you and didn’t make the moves.”
Um. Yes. There’s a way. Apparently, I’m not the kind of chickie Dakota is interested in.
“At least tell me if it’s as big as is rumored.” She spreads her hands apart in an impossible length, even for a sex god.
“Oh my freaking word, Nikki!” My face is flaming, probably matching the color of the hideous flowers spewed all over the furniture.
“What? The boy has a reputation. I’ve heard it’s magnificent. Sometimes a girl has to live vicariously through her friends.” She twists off the cap of her beer and takes a long drag.
“You’re ridiculous. I have absolutely no idea how magnificent Dak’s uh…his…uh…”
“Dick? Cock? Love hammer? Is that what you’re trying to say?” She wiggles her brows.
“Oh for God’s sake. I have no idea how huge Dak’s cock is.” I puff out a long exhale and stomp up the stairs.
“Ah hah. But you do know it’s huge. Just not sure of the actual dimensions. Gotcha,” she calls after me, laughing. “And you’ve got a dinner date with the cutie patootie. I’m impressed.”
“It is not a dinner date. All his roommates will be there. Remind me why I like you?” I yell back downstairs.
“It’s a dinner date,” Nikki sing-songs back to me.
I hear the front door open and close and the sound of her carrying boxes inside.
“Up the stairs, second door on the left,” I call out so she can find her bedroom. “And no it’s no-ot,” I sing right back.
She stops in my open bedroom door with a box in her hand. “You can deny it all you want, skater girl. Do you know how many girls those hotties invite over to eat with them?” She cocks her head and arches her brow like she’s daring me to answer.
“No. How many?” I tilt my head to match hers.
“Zippo. Nada.” She makes a circle with her thumb and forefinger and peeks through it, while balancing a box on one hip with her other hand. “That’s how many. It’s against their rules of whoredom. No chicks allowed to spend personal time outside the bedroom.” She purses her lips and tips her head toward me while making an “mmph” noise through her nose. “And I like you too.” She grins and walks down the hall to her room.
“That’s ridiculous. There are girls there all the time hanging out in their living room. And I didn’t say I liked you. It’s still open for debate.”
“For parties. That’s a whole different thing. It’s their foreplay. Trust me, I know. And you love me, admit it.”
“You’re pretty knowledgeable about these hockey boys. Is this coming from experience and does it have anything to do with a certain blazing hot hockey player whose name will remain unspoken?” I ask while walking down the hall to her bedroom.
Something for sure went down between her and Dalt, and I would say it has definitely affected her opinion of the boys next door.
“By the way, as I recall, Dak invited you to dinner too.” Standing outside her door with one hip placed defiantly on my hip I purse my lips and arch a questioning brow right back at her. Two can play at this game. “What’s up with you and Dalt? The tension between you two is palpable.” I walk in and flop down on her bed.
I moved the plain, normal bedroom furniture I brought with me from Delaware into this room when I received all the other outrageous stuff from my mom. I’m sure Nikki is happy she won’t be sleeping in fairytale central.
“Nothing’s up.” She shrugs and keeps folding clothes or hanging them on hangers. “We hooked up a few times and he turned out to be a dickhead. That’s it. No surprises.” She walks into her closet to hang some things, but not before I catch a glimpse of the dampness filling her eyes. She’s trying to pretend she’s all tough and doesn’t care about Dalt, but I can see it’s not the case.
“So that’s it? End of story?” I ask when she comes out to get more clothes.
“That’s it,” she answers in her attempt at a cheerful voice. “I, on the other hand, will admit that his love hammer is as gigantic as his reputation indicates.” She hurries back into the closet with a pile of folded clothes.
“Ugh. TMI. You’re so gross.” I laugh and throw a pillow at her when she steps out of the closet again.
She grabs the pillow midair—girl has some serious reflexes. “It wasn’t gross, it was spectacular,” she says wistfully while clutching the pillow against her chest. She’s staring across the room with a dreamlike glimmer in her eyes. “It was the super douche himself that was gross.” She snaps out of her reverie and resumes her attempt at brushing off her obvious feelings for Dalt.
“Whatever you say. You sure you don’t want to join me over there for dinner? I could use the support of a girlfriend around all that raging testosterone.”
“No can do, skater girl. But no worries. You’ll be fine. Except for the douche, those boys are pretty cool. Dak is a good guy, even if he is a manwhore.”
She smiles and throws the pillow back at me. My reflexes aren’t quite as sharp as Nikki’s and it hits me square in the face. We both start laughing and I’m glad Nikki doesn’t seem to be sad anymore. I’m even managing to feel a little better about what went on between Dak and me. “Okay, girl. That’s a pillow fight challenge that’ll have to wait because I need to shower before heading over to sin city. There’s all kinds of food in the fridge if it’s not ruined because of the power outage. Help yourself.”
“A pillow fight challenge. Ha ha. If we do it in our underwear and leave our curtains open the boys next door will probably get their ridiculous fantasies fulfilled,” she jokes. “I’ll take you up on the food. I’m starving. We’ll need to work out splitting the food tab.”
I stand up and head for the door. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”
“Trace,” she says before I walk out. “Thanks for all this.” She makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
“No thanks necessary, Nik. I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too. And good luck with Dak. You two would be great together,” she says in a sincere voice and smiles.
I open my mouth to disagree, but decide better of it, because I can’t deny I think so too.
***
I wait until six fifteen to head over to Dak’s house, figuring it would give him enough time to shower and get home from practice. Since the power is still down, I wonder if they even had practice, or how they’re going to make dinner without electricity. I swing the backpack over my shoulder and hesitantly knock on the front door.
It’s crazy I’m feeling nervous. You’d think I was about to meet my boyfriend’s parents or something. Even though Dak’s not my boyfriend and these are not his parents, I want to make a good impression on his friends. I don’t know why it matters to me so much, but it does. I’m going to be spending a lot of time with Dak this semester, which means I’ll be seeing a lot of these guys. If I’m going to be breaking the ‘rules of whoredom’ Nikki referred to on a regular basis, it would be better if they like me.
The door swings open and the Titan I saw sucking face with a girl outside my kitchen window is standing there shirtless. No shirt and low hanging sweats appear to be his favorite attire.
“Hey, I know you.” He gives me a sultry grin. Christ. Are all these guys blessed with a panty-dissolving grin as their trademark tool of seduction? His long black hair is wet and disheveled like he just stepped out of the shower or off the set of a porno movie. These guys should publish their own calendar. It could fund their college educations.
“Hi. I’m Trace.” I hold out a hand in greeting, because an adult woman should be able to calmly shake a man’s hand instead of standing here drooling over the incredible tattoos decorating his incredible muscles.
“I know who you are, sweetheart,” he drawls. I recognize his voice from my first day at the rink. It’s the same voice as the hockey player who pushed past me coming off the ice.
He takes my hand and pulls me against his chest. I stiffen in response to his touch and too close proximity. “Dak has done nothing but talk about you for weeks. I’m Wolfe.” He’s still holding me when he introduces himself.
My eyes glance toward the door. My immediate thought is escape, then my mind drifts for a moment. Did he say Dak talked about me? What did he tell him? And wait. Did he say his name is Wolfe?
“Are you kidding? Is your name really Wolfe?” I let out a loud snort-like giggle—the result of my usual anxious reaction to a guy touching me too intimately.
I know he’s Dak’s roommate and he’s only being friendly, but I can’t keep my skin from doing its usual crawl at the intimate touch of a guy. I feel the signs of dread creeping up my spine: paranoia, fear, panic. I should have stayed home. I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but this dude is strong and he’s not letting go.
“I wouldn’t kid you, sweetheart. You can call me Damon.” He winks.
For real?
He even has a porno actor’s name. Does this shit actually work on the ladies? I guess it does, because Dak had no problem using some of these same tactics to throw open the doors to my heart…and other areas. But Dak’s are the first male hands that haven’t caused a panicked reaction in over a year. At the moment, an imminent scream is working its way up my throat.
“Okay, asshole. Unhand the girl and let her come in.” Wolfe immediately steps back away from me.
Speak of the devil with a voice like an orgasm. Dak’s deep, sexy voice sends sparks through my body.
“Hey,” he whispers in my ear and gives me a brief kiss on the cheek. His scent of mint and man fills my head and all sense of anxiety melts away. Without thinking, I reach up and place a hand over the spot he kissed, like I’m trying to hold it there.
When I realize what I’m doing, I drop my hand like I just touched a hot iron. Dak didn’t miss the brief gesture and he gives me a confident smile as he leads me into the living room.
He’s wearing a black t-shirt, the fabric straining across his broad shoulders and pecs. His jeans are hugging him in all the right places. Can we skip dinner? Because he definitely looks scrumptious enough to eat.
There’s a battery-operated camping lantern lighting the room. The light is so bright I’d almost forgotten about the power outage while I took in Dak’s smoking appearance.
“What? Just being polite, trying to make Trace feel right at home.” Wolfe protests as he walks behind us. With all my carnal contemplations of Dak, I forgot Wolfe was there.
“Have a seat while we finish making dinner.” Dak gestures to the sofa and takes the backpack off my shoulder.
Delectable smells coming from the kitchen are causing my stomach to do its usual doglike rollovers to beg for food. “Smells delish. How are you cooking without electricity?”
“It’s nothing fancy, just bean and cheese enchiladas. We have a gas stove and oven. We used a match to light the burners since the electronic ignition isn’t working. You into a margarita to go with the theme?”
“Uh, no. I don’ think—”
“They’re virgin.” Dak interrupts with a grin. He must read the puzzled look on my face because he adds, “No alcohol. No tequila.”
“Oh. Right.” I smile. “In that case, sounds good.”
“I’ll sit here and keep Trace company. Wouldn’t want her to get lonely.” Wolfe sticks out his bottom lip in a pout.
“Forget it, dickhead.” Dak gives him a playful smack on the back.
“Ow. What the fuck, dude? Only tryin’ to be friendly to your lady friend here.”
“Well my lady friend doesn’t need any friends like you. On second thought, Trace, why don’t you sit in the kitchen? We can talk while you drink your drink and the rest of us finish making dinner.” Dak hangs his arm around Wolfe’s shoulder. “Why don’t you set the table, Romeo?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I don’t know why I’m the only one who’s never allowed to help with the cooking. Come on, Trace. You can give me a hand with the table.” Wolfe pushes Dak’s arm off his shoulder and takes my hand to lead me into the kitchen. Dak chuckles and shakes his head.
“Lead the way, Damon. I’m all yours.” I’m not feeling the trepidation I was a few minutes ago. Wolfe is definitely into using his skills to woo the ladies, and his playful antics are making me feel welcome.
“See? I told you, Andersen, all the ladies love me best,” Wolfe teases.
“Sure they do, Romeo,” Dak chuckles. I follow Wolfe into the kitchen, with Dak only one step behind us.
There’s another lantern on the counter and several candles on the table. Dalt and another guy I haven’t met yet are standing in front of the counter assembling the enchiladas. Dalt is wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. The other guy has gray sweatpants on too, a black apron, and no shirt. The straps of the apron crisscross over his wall of a back and the obligatory muscles of this sin on legs houseful of hockey players are on glorious display
“Hey, Batt, this is Trace,” Dak says to the only guy in the room whose name I haven’t heard until now.
Bat? Huh. Another porno actor name. Or it could be my dirty mind giving their names a sexual connotation. Who could blame me with all this muscled male flesh staring me in the face?
“Hey.” Bat wipes his hands on a dishtowel and holds out his hand in greeting. The front of his apron has I Like Big Buns printed across it. “It’s great to finally meet you, Trace. I’m Dante.”
“Hi. Dante?” I shake his hand and ask in a bewildered tone, because how is Bat a nickname for Dante? And what does he mean it’s great to finally meet me? Crap. Dak must have talked to him about me too. They probably got a good chortle over the crazy bitch who begged to be fucked and then ravaged him in his sleep.
“Dante Battaglia. Everyone calls me Batt. And it’s a tradition around here to kiss the chef.” He grins and bends down, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. Yup. I’m definitely wading through a swamp of raging testosterone.
“No shit. It’s a tradition?” Dak asks. “Well then. I better kiss the chef, because I never honored the tradition.” Dak grabs Batt around the neck, pretending he’s going to kiss him on the lips.
“Get the fuck away from me, asshole.” Batt laughs and pushes out of his hold. “A tradition only for hot chicks.”
“This hot chick is off limits to all you sluts,” Dak says, and he’s not laughing now.
I am?
“Oh come on, dude. Bros always share a good thing. House rules,” Batt says in a joking tone, and resumes making enchiladas.
“Not this time, asshole.” Dak hip checks him into the counter in a not so playful gesture.
“What the fuck, asshat? I was only kidding.” Batt turns toward Dak with fire in his eyes, like he’s getting ready to punch him in the face.
I cough to clear my throat. “Excuse me, but you little boys do realize I’m standing right here. Right?”
“Sorry, Tracey,” they both mutter.
“We’re only messin’ around,” Batt says, gives Dak a sideways glance and shakes his head.
“Sorry, man,” Dak apologizes. “Just looking out for Trace. She’s not a…she’s a friend.”
“It’s cool, man. Only fucking with you.” Batt holds out his hand and they do some kind of macho boyfriend handshake thing. “You know no bro would ever touch another bro’s babe, it’s—”
“I’m no one’s babe,” I interrupt. “I’m here to do a bio project and I can look out for myself, Dakota. Thank you very much.” Better to announce my presence with authority first thing with these guys.
I’m not one of their starry-eyed fangirls, and it’s best to set the record straight if I’m going to be coming here to do projects.
“Yeah, Dakota. Trace can take care of herself,” Wolfe says in a high-pitched feminine voice, then adds in his own deep voice, “so back the fuck off.” He snickers, while placing forks and napkins around the table.
Dak mouths the word sorry to me. “Have a seat, Trace.” He pulls out a chair for me. “I’ll get you that margarita.”
“Got some enchiladas coming out of the oven right now. I’ll make you a plate,” Dalt, who hadn’t said a word through the whole exchange, announces. “Glad you’re here, Trace. It’s good you’re friends with Dak.” He places a steaming dish of food in front of me and puts one down for himself to the left of me.
“I’m glad I am too.”
Dak puts a gigantic bowl filled with a mixed green salad in the middle of the table, then takes the seat to the right of me. A girl could get used to being waited on by all these Magic Mike potentials.
“I thought you might be interested in knowing Nikki moved in with me.” I toss the tidbit of info out to Dalt, because I’m certain he would want to know. Since he stops mid-bite, his mouth gaped open, I think I’m right.
“She’s…Nikki…she’s right next door?”
“Yup. Right there,” I reiterate with a slight smile. This boy has it bad.
“I invited her to come for dinner too,” Dak says. “But she said she has too much school stuff to get done.” He doesn’t take his eyes off his plate, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Maybe you guys can all come over to our place next weekend. I can return the favor and you can see Nik then,” I offer nonchalantly. Dak bumps my leg with his under the table and smiles down at his plate. I guess it’s his version of applauding the suggestion with a high-thigh.
“You’ll need to run that by Nikki,” Dalt mumbles and shoves a forkful of enchilada into his mouth.
“I’ll do that. So what’s up with your names?” I ask, changing the subject for Dalt’s sake. All the guys are seated around the table now and they’ve all got dishes in front of them stacked a mile high with cheesy enchiladas and a beer in hand.
“Our names?” Dante asks.
“Mm hmm,” I say through the gooey deliciousness I scrape off my fork. “All your names start with the letter D, right? Is it some kind of house rule?”
“No,” Dak answers. “Just a coincidence. But it is kind of cool because when we play they call us the D-structors, because of our names and the way we work together to crush the opposing teams.” Wolfe gives Dak a high five and the rest of the guys all make some kind of affirming grunt through their mouthfuls of food.
“No way. They do not call you the D-structors. You guys are totally fucking with me, right?”
“We would never fuck with you, sweetheart,” Wolfe grins. As if on cue they chant in unison, all except Dak, “At least not with your mind.” They glance over at Dak to see what his reaction will be to their unexpected coordinated response.
“Aww how cute,” I say, not giving him the chance to jump to my aid again. I need to stand up for myself when it comes to this crew of arrogant hotties. “You’re like a boy band, all synchronized and shit. Are you going to start singing in harmony now?” I tease. Everyone at the table is laughing. “Oh I know! You’re like the Hanson brothers plus one, right?”
“Holy shit, Andersen! She’s seen Slap Shot!” Wolfe’s full mouth gapes open in obvious surprise.
“Are you kidding? A chick who’s seen the movie Slap Shot?” Dalt adds in equaled astonishment.
“Seen it? It was like the national anthem in our house. At the beginning of every hockey season my mom would make popcorn and my dad would make us all sit in the home theater to watch it,” I explain through forkfuls of food. “You know, like other people watch A Christmas Carol every holiday season, we had to watch Slap Shot every hockey season. I can practically recite the whole dialogue.”
“Man, a chick who can recite lines from Slap Shot and has a home theater. I think I’m in love,” Wolfe coos, and the rest of the guys mumble their agreement through full mouths, all except Dak.
He finally enters the conversation. “Her dad is Duke Andersen.”
“No shit?” Batt asks.
“No shit.” I smile at how awestruck these guys are by the life I take for granted.
“Wow, Andersen. You better hold on to this one or I may say screw the bro-code and sweep her off her feet for myself,” Wolfe taunts.
The muscle in Dak’s jaw twitches. “Enough, asshole.”
“What’s with you, Andersen? You on the rag or something?” Wolfe heckles.
“Shut up, man. You’re disgusting.” Dak throws his napkin at Wolfe. It’s obvious he’s holding back a smile and not really mad at him.
“Trace, you want a beer with your food?” Dak asks, getting up to head to the fridge.
“No thanks. I’ll stick with the margarita. We’ve got the report to do.”
“Yeah, Dakota. You’ve got the report to do.” Wolfe purses his lips and blinks his lashes at us.
“Shut up, Wolfe,” Dak and I say at the exact same time. For a second everyone stops eating and the room is silent. Then everyone breaks out into laughter again.
“What? What’s the problem? Just happy to see my man Andersen with another fine lady. He’s been a mess ever since Abbey.”
“Abbey? Who’s Abbey?” I ask over the top of my margarita glass. The room goes so quiet I can hear my enchiladas being digested. I look over at Dak for an explanation, and he’s glaring at Wolfe like he’s either swallowed his fork or decided to strangle his roommate, after all.