Chapter Ten
Chloe
Sitting in the owner’s box gave me a false idea of what it was like to go to a hockey game and get the full experience, but nonetheless I was impressed. There I was in a lovely setting, with a wet bar, a buffet of really nice nibbles, and comfortable seating. But the seats below, around the ice were packed with enthusiastic fans, many wearing Blizzard or Winnipeg team jerseys, eagerly waiting for the start of the game. Maybe I could get to have the enhanced experience of the game down there in the trenches with them at some point.
Everyone treated me well and was very polite and friendly. Of course, everyone there but Tom Lassiter, the owner, thought I was Blake’s fiancée. Tom knew the score, but I had to wonder what he might think if he knew how I was starting to feel about Blake. The game we were playing, creating the story about being engaged was taking me, at least, onto slippery ice. He gave me curious looks at times, almost as if he didn’t believe I could pull all of this off.
His daughter Daphne, who was eighteen, introduced herself and took a seat next to me. A waiter brought a mimosa and a plate of cheese and crackers. I looked down at the rink where the players were warming up, skating around, taking a few practice shots. We had a great view of it all from comfortable seats, plus there were large screens that showed close-ups of the action.
“Elegant,” I said. “I could get used to this.” I took a swig of the mimosa and let the alcohol sink into my veins.
Daphne chuckled. “The action is better down behind the boards.”
I looked at Daphne closely. She was a slender young blonde with unusual dark eyes and a marvelous face—the kind of girl that became more beautiful as she matured.
“Is this normal?” I asked her, referring to his adrenaline pumped fan club.
“It is when Blake’s playing,” she said and curled her lips up in a half smile as we watched a girl throw what I was certain was a pair of panties at Blake. He casually used his hockey stick to push them over to the side where a referee picked them up and stuffed them in his pocket, as if he was used to that type of thing happening all the time. I was perplexed.
Daphne leaned over. “I think Blake will be a great husband.”
“Really? With his reputation, most people have been telling me what a mistake I’m making.” Daphne gave me a funny look so I quickly added, “Of course, I try not to play into all that noise, and people don’t know what he’s really like behind closed doors and all…”
“It’s probably jealousy,” she said. “You know there have been a number of women who’ve tried to win his heart, but all they got was a wild ride.” She grinned and chuckled. “I’m not saying you won’t have a challenge, but you’re a stronger woman than he’s used to. All those groupies will pale when he accepts that a strong woman can like him, that he doesn’t have to settle for the easy ones, the ones who fall all over themselves to get him into bed.”
I laughed. “What makes you such an expert on guys like Blake?” I felt slightly uncomfortable having this type of conversation with the team owner’s eighteen-year-old daughter. I hoped I wasn’t being set up in a trap.
She tipped her head. “Do you really want to know?”
Suddenly, I did. “Yes.”
“I had a crush on a player a few years ago. When Daddy found out…well, let’s just say that he hated the idea and ultimately it didn’t work out.”
“You broke it off?”
She scowled. “He left. Moved on.”
“Sorry.” Clearly Daphne had her heart broken at a young age and I hurt for her.
“One good thing that came from it was that mom and I had a long talk about guys like that—like Blake Collins. She pointed out that it made sense to fall for them—the ones that are such hunks. I mean some of them are so hot; some are even charming off the ice. She said that the problem is that so often they get so much attention, get so full of themselves that they act out with women. They think you’ll love them no matter what sort of shit they pull.”
I thought her mom made a great point. “So, she warned you off them?”
Daphne grinned. “Actually, no. She said that those guys had a lot to recommend them. That for some women, a macho guy, a real alpha type made life good. But…”
“But what?”
“Well, she gave me this strange smile and told me that Blake Collins reminds her a lot of Daddy—how he was before they got married. He was a hot shot player too, and she said he was as wild as they came.”
“That’s hard to imagine. He’s so… I don’t know… dignified.”
“She said that’s the result of good training.” She winked. This conversation was getting stranger and stranger.
“Training.”
“She said you need to have the guts to stand toe-to-toe with a monster like that and set down the rules.”
“The rules?” I wanted to laugh. I was also a little shocked that Daphne’s mom used the word “monster” to refer to her own husband.
“Mom said if a guy like that turns you on, the last thing you want is to change him. The thing is to let them know what you expect and see if they’re willing to play by your rules, just like they have to on the ice. And when they don’t…” she grinned, “…you need to resort to the penalty box.”
“And that works?”
“According to Mom it does. Daddy remains a bad boy in the ways she likes.” I found that hard to believe, but only nodded along in agreement.
“I see. And do you have your eye on a hockey player now?”
She smiled wistfully. “Not now. I decided to play things slow.”
“You have time.” She was still a baby in my opinion. When I was eighteen, I hadn’t even been in a serious relationship yet.
“Speaking of time—it’s time to drop the puck.” She pointed to the screen. “The opening face-off. Blake will be lined up on the center’s left shoulder where he can get a good line on the puck.”
We watched the two teams line up behind their centers, each man tense, ready. The puck dropped, sticks clashed, the puck shot out toward Blake who flicked it to a teammate and the game was on.
“You can breathe again,” Daphne laughed. “Sit back and enjoy whatever happens.”