Chapter 8

Jennie

With wine in hand, Izzy and I planned Thanksgiving dinner, sitting at the island in my kitchen. I’d invited Mags to join us, since his parents traditionally spent the holiday with his mother’s tribe. I’d learned that she was Native American—Tlingit, to be exact. They didn’t have a traditional turkey dinner, but her family did get together for the holidays. Mags had told me their dinner consisted of a mixture of things. Traditionally, his mother’s family ate moose and venison as their meat and then added the sweet potatoes, cranberries, mashed potatoes, and even green bean casserole. Pumpkin pie was also a must at his mother’s family gatherings. He said he was sorry to be missing it, but the Breakers had a rare Thanksgiving game at noon, and too many of his other family members couldn’t swing their schedules to delay celebrating the holiday until Friday.

Izzy got up off her stool and rooted through my junk mail as usual. “So are you sure you’re okay with the new plans?” I’d broached the subject with Mags. I wanted him to join Izzy, her grandpa, and me for dinner, but he’d already committed to dinner at Riordan O’Dell’s, their captain. It wasn’t uncommon for a group of the guys to get together for holidays—especially since they had a game that day, preventing a lot of them from being able to join their families.

“Are you kidding? Join the Breakers for Thanksgiving dinner? Pop’s on cloud nine. Do you not remember how much he loves sports? He’s been buying hockey cards online and paying exorbitant shipping fees to have them in time so the guys can sign them for him.” A flash of grief marred her face. “I just hope he has a good day.”

I reached toward her and gripped her hand. “Oh, Iz. I hope so too, but don’t worry about that. We’ll deal with it if it happens.” Izzy didn’t take her grandfather out of the nursing home for long stints anymore, since the longer he was away from his normal routine, the more agitated he became. I fervently hoped Thanksgiving would be a great day for him, but if not, I’d be there to help them both through it.

“You’re right, of course.” She shook off the negative vibe and returned to her normal upbeat self. “So what’s the plan? And, oh my God! I can’t believe I’m having dinner with the freaking Atlantic City Breakers!”

I rolled my eyes at her. I knew this could backfire. Izzy could be a tad over-the-top in her enthusiasms—men being at the top of her list. “Just be your charming self.” That was one thing that drove me nutso about Izzy: she tried to be whatever she thought other people wanted her to be. I strongly believed that was why she was single. She didn’t see how incredible her simple old self was and tried too hard to be something she wasn’t.

Izzy didn’t want to be single. And, my God, she had everything to offer. She was cute as a button, had a heart of gold, a great job, and was loyal to a fault. I think I was the only person she ever disagreed with, and it drove me bonkers that she cowed to others. I prayed for the day she’d find someone who saw her for who she really was and not just the yes girl.

“Sure. My charming self. So, how many people are we talking about?”

When Mags had told me they were planning on having dinner delivered since they were playing that day, I convinced him to let Izzy and I cook for everyone instead. He readily agreed and thanked me vehemently, confirming my suspicion that he was not looking forward to a delivered Thanksgiving meal. He’d already given me a key to O’Dell’s swanky, three-story home on the bay in Sea Isle where the dinner would be hosted. Since Riordan’s kitchen was on the second floor, and due to the house sitting on pylons, making the second floor actually the third, I was stoked to find out he had an elevator.

“Mags said about ten.”

“Oh, all singles?” I saw what may have been drool in the corner of her mouth.

“No, but a couple.” I grabbed my list. “There’s us and Mags, of course. Your grandfather, O’Dell, his girlfriend Elise, Mitchell—their enforcer, the equipment manager Derrick and his wife, and Justin Calloway.”

Izzy’s lip pushed out in a pout. “No Cage?”

I laughed at her. She’d always had a thing for Cage Booker. It was hard not to. He was a beautiful man, and a bad boy to boot. At least he was before he met Karen. “No. He along with his wife and kids are hosting their own dinner right after the game. Karen’s brother Jody and his family are flying in from San Diego, plus Karen invited some of the other guys on the team who couldn’t make it home.”

“Damn. He’s so very nice to look at.” She wasn’t wrong, even though my tastes ran in different circles these days. Magnus was as fair as Cage was dark. White blond and clean shaven versus dark brown with scruff. I had always thought I’d gravitated more toward the dark, mysterious guy. Turned out I was wrong. It was the fair Viking that got my panties in a bunch.

“Well, he’s taken, so suck it up. Jaromir’s sweet, but he’s probably too young for you.” There was no telling where Izzy’s feelings were on age. She wasn’t picky.

“How old is he?”

“I think he just turned twenty or twenty-one. I don’t know, Google him.”

She punched away on her phone before stating that he wouldn’t do. “He is a bit young for me and his English isn’t there yet. Maybe in a year or two.”

“Since when do you need to know what he’s saying?” I raised my brows. Not that Izzy was promiscuous—she was just not so much into the intellect of her dates.

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m not that bad, am I?”

“No, of course you’re not. What about Simard? He’s hot. And just your type. He’s physical, seems nice, and doesn’t ever put himself above anyone else on his team. Talk about being a protector.”

Mitchell Simard was the Breakers’ enforcer. His sole job was to protect those who shouldn’t have to protect themselves. At six foot four and two hundred forty pounds, there weren’t too many players who had the balls to challenge him. Being that his only role was to protect, if you saw him on the front line with the best players, you’d better believe he was there to send a message. He wasn’t a scoring player, but then he wasn’t meant to be.

“The enforcer? Come on. I have no interest in a man who makes his living by bashing people because they pissed him off. Neanderthal, anyone?”

“We are not having this discussion again. Good thing you’ve never met Lacey.”

“Lacey? Who’s that?”

“Lacey is Karen’s sister-in-law. She’s married to Karen’s brother—you know, the former enforcer for the Scorpions. She thought they were all muscled brainless men too, before meeting Jody. Just keep an open mind.”

“Okay. If you vouch for him, I’ll try not to judge him on sight. Anyway, we need to get back to planning dinner. Ten people. Should we do two turkeys or something else?”

“Well, I was thinking. How about we do a turkey and a ham? The fixings for both go together.”

We discussed all the possible dishes and got busy making a shopping list—that Magnus insisted on paying for, no matter what we decided on.

With our lists finalized, we made plans to finish the grocery shopping together. I’d already bought a turkey and most of the things I needed for the side dishes, but we needed to add more food now and buy a ham. Hitting the food store after work the day before Thanksgiving was going to be tough, but we’d handle it. We were already planning on cutting out of work early.

“Okay. I’m gonna get out of here.” Izzy’s place was within walking distance, so she bundled up in her winter coat and scarf and set off. “Oh, wait! Aren’t you going to be in the locker room after the game on Thursday?”

“Nope. I got the day off. Tony’s doing it and he’s not happy about it.” Tony was the newest reporter in our bunch, but because he was middle aged, he thought he should have seniority over us young’uns, as he called us.

Izzy’s smile was full of mischief. “Oh, I wish I was there when he found out he had to work the holiday.”

“Me too, but I heard he actually stomped his foot.”

“Poor guy. Well, I’m off. See you later, Jen” And then she was gone.

***

It was almost ten thirty at night when Magnus texted me.

Magnus: Hi, Jennie. I hope it’s not too late. I just got home from one of those team building things. We went to that indoor rock climbing park.

Me: Hey, you. That sounds like fun. A lot better than bag skating or something.

Magnus: Coach only makes us kill ourselves with that exercise when we’re being punished. Haven’t had to do that in a while, thank God. I don’t care how great a shape you’re in, bag skating sucks.

Me: I’m sure. Heck, I can’t even skate. Hey–I have an idea. Do you have Skype or something? That would be a lot easier than all this texting.

Magnus: I do have Skype. Great idea. Give me a couple of minutes to get my tablet plugged in. I know it’s dead.

Me: Sure thing. My name is HarleyGirl_53

Magnus: 53? Is that a coincidence?

It was not. I may have noticed Magnus Eriksson years ago. So I picked his number. No big deal.

Me: Must be.

I fired up my laptop and opened Skype. I didn’t have to wait long until I saw the alert on my screen. Blueliner53 had sent a request. Belatedly, I realized I hadn’t taken the time to do my girly things. I was sure my hair looked less than stunning, and I’d long since taken off my makeup. It was too late now.

Nice to see you, Harley Girl 53. You look cute. He squinted, making his eyebrows point inward. What is that on your pajamas?

Oh, Lord. I hadn’t given a passing thought to my PJs.

Oh. Well, I was cold so I pulled out my fleece onesie. I know it’s not Christmas yet, but really, when are Rudolph and the abominable snowman not appropriate? Ah, it was nice to see his smile again. I’d missed him over the past couple of days. More than I would have liked to at such an early stage of our relationship.

He sat back, grinning. You’re right, of course. I can’t argue with that. I guess it’s safe to assume you also like Harleys?

I do. I actually just got mine out of the shop. In hindsight, I wish I’d waited until spring, but I had some mini ape hangers put on her. The ones she came with were uncomfortable. Too straight. The new ones are awesome, but it was a damn cold ride home.

Magnus jerked his head back and barked out a laugh. I wasn’t sure if I should be annoyed or amused. I chose amused and let a smile play around my lips. You find that comical? I’m an excellent rider.

His lips pursed and he shook his head. I find it sexy as hell. You have a Harley. Jennie, that’s just hot.

I stretched back on my bed a bit and crossed my arms. If you play your cards right, I’ll give you a ride someday. By the smirk that appeared on his face, I knew he’d moved on from thinking about my bike, but he kept that thought to himself.

Can’t do it. It’s in my contract. No motorcycle riding for me.

Are you serious? That stinks.

I’m very serious. Can’t take chances with the moneymaker, right? I’d love to see you riding, though. Did I mention that’s hot?

I wiggled my eyebrows at him. I think you may have. Okay, back to Thursday’s dinner.

Do you wear leather chaps and one of those skimpy biker shirts that leave little to the imagination? Maybe with a studded leather jacket and don’t-fuck-with-me boots?

I should have expected that. Men sure did love the idea of a biker chick. Worked for me. I leaned forward and placed my hands on my knees. Some of that yes, some no. And back to dinner? I couldn’t hold my amused smile in.

Right. Dinner. So, did you and Izzy get everything you needed?

We’re close. Our lists are in order. We’ll finish our grocery shopping on the way home from work tomorrow night. Just a couple of stops to make.

Mags’ brows shot up. You’re going to shop tomorrow night? That’s the night before Thanksgiving. Are you crazy? Why don’t you let me go for you? It’s the least I can do. We have practice at nine, then I have to hit the gym for a few hours, but I could go after lunch sometime.

He had to go to the gym after practice and workout for a few hours? Yuck. I didn’t address that comment, but I did decline his offer to shop for us. Trust a man who doesn’t cook to get key ingredients for a holiday dinner? I didn’t think so. No, thank you. I can’t take the chance.

You know, Jennie, if I knew how to cook or what all those fancy things were in the grocery store, I might be offended. But I don’t, so I can’t be. How about if I come over to your place when you get home? I could help you out for a while if you want.

I really didn’t need any assistance, but I did want to see him. Great. You can help me make the pumpkin pies. I saw it in my mind’s eye. A one-of-a-kind picture of big, alpha male Magnus in an apron, his hands coated with flour and holding a rolling pin.

You’re on, but don’t say I didn’t warn you about my lack of kitchen skills. See you tomorrow, Harley Girl. He kissed his fingers and tapped the screen. I returned the gesture.

Sweet dreams, Magnus.

***

My workday crawled. Izzy had asked me twice if I was ready to go yet, but I had to finish my current article. There were a few big trade rumors going around the league, and I needed to get my thoughts down in an articulate, non-biased manner. I genuinely didn’t believe any of them would come to fruition, but an article outlining each trade needed to be put up on our daily blog.

For the third time, my door opened just wide enough for Izzy to stick her head through. “Are you done now?”

“My God, you’re a pain in the ass. You know that, right?” She was lucky. I had just sent my completed piece to the blog editing department. “If you had offered to edit it for me as I wrote it, I could have gotten done earlier.”

“Hell, no. I’m not taking responsibility for the blog editors. You know I’d just show them up anyway, right?” There was friendly—and sometimes not-so-friendly—competition between the blog editors and the newspaper editors. I didn’t quite understand the why of it. An article was an article to me, whether it was on a blog or part of the actual newspaper; but that was her issue, not mine.

“Whatever you say, Iz.” I looked at the clock. It was only three, so I hoped that would leave plenty of time to get the little bit of shopping we had out of the way before the after-work crowds got too big. “Let’s go.”

We drove back toward Ocean City and stopped at a large liquor store at the base of the Ninth Street bridge. O.C. was a dry island, but there were plenty of places to get your alcohol right outside of the city borders.

“I want to make margaritas.” They were one of Izzy’s favorite drinks. “What else are we getting?”

“I didn’t ask and Magnus didn’t say, so I’m getting a couple of different beers and some wine. Maybe some Jack and Coke?”

“Yeah. That’s always a safe bet. I’ll get a cart.” Our cart filled quickly, and we made our way toward the cash registers. As we were passing the bouquets of fresh-cut flowers by the wine section, I saw Magnus, colorful arrangement in his hand.

Izzy pointed him out first. “Busted!”

I grabbed her finger and lowered her arm. “Behave.” I almost tried to sneak out of the store without him seeing us, but he turned around too soon. The joyful smile that broke over his face made his sculpted cheekbones even more pronounced. He was swoon-worthy.

Without missing a beat, Magnus walked over to us and kissed me. And then he kissed me again, snaking his free hand around my waist. Before we got carried away, as we were given to do, I pulled back and waved a hand to a grinning Izzy.

“Magnus, this is my friend, Izzy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Izzy. Thanks for helping put our Thanksgiving dinner together. That’s very nice of you.”

When she remained silent with a simple look on her face, I elbowed her in the ribs.

“Oof.” She continued to stare at him with the same goofy smile, but extended her hand all the same. “Nice to meet you too.” She turned to me and whispered, “He’s even hotter in real life.”

I signed for Magnus as I talked to Izzy. “Don’t whisper, it’s rude.”

“That’s okay,” Magnus said. “You can have a pass this time. Don’t forget though, I read lips. You have to turn fully away from me if you don’t want me to know what you’re saying. And thank you. You’re pretty cute yourself.” He charmed her just like he did me.

“Oh. Geez. Sorry about that. I think I forgot you can’t hear for a minute there.” She shrugged. “I’m going to go take this stuff to the counter. I’ll meet you up there.” She gave us both a wave and strolled off with the cart.

What did she say? I missed that last part.

She just said she’d meet me up there at the counter. I looked pointedly at the flowers he held and clasped my hands behind my back. So, who are the pretty flowers for?

They’re for a very special lady I’m going to see later. He held them toward me for my inspection. Do you think she’ll like them?

I think she’ll love them. I reached for them only to have Magnus snatched them away.

Thanks for your vote of confidence. Now tell me, is all the stuff in that shopping cart for tomorrow?

All but a six-pack and bottle of Grey Goose. They’re for me.

His arm reached out and curled around my waist again as he led me over to Izzy and the cashier. Before I could stop him, he handed her the flowers and then swiped his own credit card for payment. “I told you I’d pay for the dinner stuff.”

I decided not to argue over it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He retrieved his card and then tapped Izzy on the shoulder, who had been busily looking through a gossip rag. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Izzy. Thanks again.”

She sighed. “See you, Eriksson.”

Poor hockey guys. They were always more known by their last name. Magnus just let out a chuckle and walked out the door.

“My God, Jennie. His voice. That deep, raspy timbre.” She exaggerated a shiver. “Mmm.”

“I know. Feel it all the way to your toes, don’t you? And he doesn’t even know how sexy he sounds.”

She gave her head a shake. “That sucks. Him being deaf, I mean.”

“It does, but don’t waste time on pitying him. He gets along just fine. Just like my grandmother did.”

“I know. I just can’t help feeling bad for him. I don’t know what would be worse—never having heard anything or knowing what it’s like to be able to hear and then to lose it.”

I slipped my arm through hers as we pushed the cart out to the car. “I don’t have an answer to that. Now enough. Let’s go hit the Shop Rite and tackle the rest of our shopping.”

“Done deal.”