Chapter 6 - Hockey Boys and Bets
Enjoying the sunshine on the nation’s birthday, Emma sat in a folding beach chair she’d scrounged from the local Salvation Army, a book in hand, and her tablet and cell phone resting beside her. Her peaceful silence was interrupted by the sounds of a luxury car squealing into the apartment complex, its driver either indifferent or ignorant to the fact that they were parking in a fire zone. Emma wasn’t the least bit surprised to see one Luke Perrault practically strutting out of the vehicle. She watched as he leaned into the driver’s side backseat and grabbed a bag, and then looked up – and noticed her gazing in his direction.
Smirking, he started closer to her, and when he was practically standing over her chair, Emma snarled at him in a menacing voice, “Enfant d'chienne. Just because I have curves does not mean I’m fat. Va te faire enculer.”
Luke cocked an eyebrow in her direction and seemed to contemplate a bit before he finally questioned in that almost perfect English, mimicking her question from the previous night, “Do you kiss your Papa with that mouth, Ms. Connelly?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She muttered almost under her breath before looking up at him and snarling once more. “Now move. You’re blocking my sun.”
“And we could not have that, now could we, mon cherie?” Still, Luke only barely backed away, and Emma finally slammed down the book and gave him an exasperated look. “What, is one not allowed to stand and enjoy the sun?”
Growling, and preparing to gather up her things, Emma didn’t even realize how loud her voice was raised as she grunted in his direction, “You so are an enfant d'chienne.” Pausing briefly as she sent his previous words through the translation program on her smart phone, she added, “And don’t call me ‘your dear’ because hell would freeze over before that would ever happen.”
Coming out of nowhere, but looming over Emma like her personal savior, Trent squared his shoulders, his voice low but with a protective edge to it, “Everything okay here? He bothering you, Emma?”
Before Emma could respond, Luke cackled soft, taking the opportunity to throw another jab out. “Ahhh, so it is Lover Boy in the flesh. Should you not be more worried about making the team than making eyes at the girl?”
Trent blinked, eyeing Emma for a split second before his attention returned to Luke, telling him in a voice with more of a snarl to it, “There’s nothing going on between us. Not that it’s any of your concern. And considering I was the first one to be signed and my contract is guaranteed, I’m not worried about making the team. Projecting your own fears?”
Sucking in a breath at Trent’s easy dismissal, Emma rose to her feet, practically shoving them both out of the way to get to her own door. Stopping at the door, head held high even though her eyes couldn’t hide the pain, she told them both, “I’m out of your leagues, anyways.” Slamming the door shut and yanking the curtains closed, Emma moved to settle into her Grandpa Connelly’s chair, closing her eyes to try and will the tears away.
It was just a little crush. So why did she feel like someone had just stabbed her through the heart?
~*~
Scowling a bit and rolling his eyes, Ryan gave his cousin a slight shove before eyeing his much taller teammate. “Now that you two are done insulting our reporter, what’s say we all go back to our own places and get settled, eh?”
Trent didn’t even answer, just turned on his foot and walked away, leaving the cousins Perrault eyeing each other before Luke shrugged and smirked. “Was just being friendly.”
“Daft, while an expression you’ve quite mastered, isn’t a good look on you, idiot. I heard damn near all of it, and I lay you dollars to donuts Gabi will be calling us at some point to ream us out. Did you not remember her telling us that the girl got moved here because she felt threatened at her old place? Do you not think your little attempts at mind games won’t have the same effect?”
And though Luke shrugged a bit, trying for an air of indifference, his eyes did reflect a bit of remorse, a bit of misgiving for the entire situation, and he finally mumbled under his breath, “She just rubs me the wrong way. She is supposed to be reporting on us, and yet seems more interested in getting into our pants.”
Hooking his hand onto Luke’s shoulder and directing them off towards the side entrance to their upstairs apartment, Ryan reminded him, “Bit hypocritical of you to be judging anyone for doing that, oui?”
“Ferme ta gueule.”
“Yes, I love you too, asshole. Now move your ass so we can dump this gear and sort out bedrooms and such.” Ryan retorted, using his larger equipment bag to whack his cousin in the ass, trying to harpoon him up the stairs at a faster rate than he was moving on his own. Soon they finally reached the apartment directly over Emma’s, and after a few more moments, were both inside, gazing around in wonderment.
It became clear that the Blizzard were doing their best to make their ‘new home’ as accommodating as possible. A decent sized flat screen TV hung from one of the walls, and they had new furniture as well – a couch and loveseat that both appeared to be leather. Ryan bet that if he checked the fridge it too would be well stocked.
While Ryan continued to gaze around, Luke called out, “Dibs on the master bedroom!”
Turning to track down the cousin who was already loping off in that direction, Ryan caught Luke just before he reached the prized door. Wrapping his arms around Luke’s waist, Ryan ended up yanking them both to the floor in the process. “No fucking way. I have more gear than you; I need a bigger room than you do!”
“Oooof.” Luke breathed as one of Ryan’s elbows nailed him in the ribs. “Mange de la marde! I will be getting laid far more often than you will, so I need the bigger room.”
Though he was smaller, Ryan also knew himself to be far more flexible and agile than his cousin. He used that to his advantage, rolling away from one attempted blow and instead left Luke with his arms pinned to the ground. “Has anyone ever told you how spoiled fucking rotten you are?”
Smirking, Luke retorted smoothly, “Jealous?” The cousins stared eyeball to eyeball for a moment before Luke added in the same smooth voice, “Because if you aren’t now, I’m sure you will be when I have little Ms. Connelly downstairs.”
Narrowing his eyes and hitting Luke a bit harder than he intended, Ryan growled, “Mange de la marde yourself! That woman has too much sense to get involved with a player like you.”
Still smirking, what Ryan could only describe as a devious expression flickered through his cousin’s eyes. “What say we bet on it then, eh? First to bed her cleans the others equipment for the rest of the season.”
Ryan shook his head and frowned immediately. “Grandpère,” he began before Luke interrupted him.
“Do not bring Grandpère into this!”
Ignoring his cousin for the moment, Ryan continued, “Grandpère would not approve of us objectifying a woman like this. We were raised better than this.” Pausing for a long moment, he added almost as an afterthought, “At least I was.”
Either Luke was stronger than Ryan remembered, or he’d loosened his grip just enough for Luke to break free, because in the next moment, it was Ryan rolling around on the floor, hand to his now bleeding nose, while Luke towered over him. “You are a chicken. You know I will bed her first, so you will not bet. Fine, chicken. Take your bigger bedroom, but I will get the girl.”
Staggering to his feet, Ryan glared at the man who in their youth had often been mistaken for his twin. Wiping his hand across his face then spitting in his palm, Ryan extended his hand towards Luke. “Bet’s on. Fucker.”
Luke smirked, spit in his own hand and shook his cousin’s hand firmly. “She will still be mine.”
“Over my dead body.”