Chapter 10
Island hopping in Indonesia. Visiting a few of the islands that aren’t at the top of the travel guides. All the stunning views and culture, minus the crowds. Learning to surf in Lombok.
~ Adventurous Amanda, December 2012
Amanda glanced at her clock—again, wishing five o’clock would hurry the hell up, yet not. The day was dragging, but she also wasn’t ready for it to end. She was nervous. She was never nervous. Not that she had any reason to be nervous.
Well, except for the fact that she was going to see Ben tonight for the first time since he claimed he was done with the games, and then kissed the hell out of her at the park. She fought back the shudder that rocked through her. The man would wreck her, and she’d gladly give herself over in sacrifice.
There was something in the way he kissed her, gentle, yet all-consuming. And then not gentle. This time she let the shudder roll through her. She’d never felt this way before, and that should send her into a full-fledged panic, but she couldn’t drum up the fear.
Yes, she was so glad the hot and cold nonsense was over. At least she hoped it was over. Mixed signals always threw her off, but she wanted to believe that he was interested in actually pursuing something with her.
And that made her nervous. She’d never cared before. Never wanted to care before. And what if she got hurt?
She never thought of what-ifs. Ugh. He was making her crazy, and she was questioning her gut. She never questioned her gut. It’d gotten her through a lot over the years, and she wanted to trust it, but what if he bolted again?
Fuck. When did she become this woman?
She shook her head and focused on her email. Her final article had come out this morning. She was officially done with the four-week series. And they’d had great traffic to the site every time she posted another article. She was feeling Betsy out on another round of articles, and wasn’t ready to pitch anything yet, but she didn’t want to lose momentum. An article about stay-cations in the Bay Area would probably be a good fit. Get her out of the city. Not far enough, but at least put a few miles between her and the Golden Gate.
Their head travel writer was on location for the next week. So now was the perfect time to pitch. He was in Cancun of all places. Sure, there were parts of Cancun that were lovely, when the place wasn’t overrun by spring breakers doing body shots. But why there? Why couldn’t they promote travel to other destinations, not such cliché places?
She’d bet good money that he wouldn’t explore Cancun’s underwater museum, with its massive and unique sculptures. That’s what they should review. Unique places, or sites in familiar vacation spots, that people didn’t know about, coupled with practical travel tips.
That’s what she wanted to write. Where she wanted to go. She’d been home for a while now, and that itch was starting to creep in, but she had no solution and it freaking sucked. But a part of her resisted telling Betsy about the unique locations the magazine should visit because she wanted to go there when she was a travel writer, not just hand it over to Don, their current head travel writer. He should do his own damn homework.
She wanted to go there, experience every location, not just break out her red pen and proofread articles at her desk, written by someone else.
And then there was Ben. How did he fit into this? She shook her head. She was jumping way ahead. They had three—maybe four—kisses. It’s not like they were dating. But she wanted to. Hell, she wanted to.
And what happens with Ben when she finally gets the job she wants?
Whoa. What was up with her? She never thought that far ahead. Never planned for the future. She was Amanda, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants.
Fuck. She was a mess.
She focused back on her computer. She was tweaking a blog post that she’d scheduled for tomorrow morning. Best brunch places outside of the city for people who wanted to try something new with fresh and organic ingredients, not a pancake in sight. She didn’t usually write about food, but she wanted to try a few of the places out.
Maybe Ben would be up to try one.
Again, ahead of herself.
“I need that article on the art opening from Wednesday night, on my desk before the end of the day. Ann was finishing it for Denise. Find out where she is with it,” Betsy called out, pulling Amanda from thoughts she didn’t have time for.
“Amanda, did you hear me?” Betsy called out again.
Good god, could the woman give her ten freaking seconds to respond?
“Yes, I’m messaging Ann now,” she said, pulling open a text box on the internal messaging system.
Amanda: Hi Ann. Betsy’s looking for Denise’s article. She needs it before end of day.
Ann: Sure. I’m almost done. I’ll email it to both of you in fifteen minutes.
Amanda: Thanks!
Ann: Glad this day is almost over. Any plans this weekend?
She still hadn’t taken Ann up on her offer to grab lunch or a drink.
Amanda: Not really. Going to the Strikers game tonight with a friend.
Ann: Sounds fun. I really need to get to a game.
Amanda: Maybe we could go one night. I’m sure I could get tickets.
Ann: Sounds fun. And we still need to get that drink. Maybe next week.
Amanda: Sure. Maybe.
Ann: Great. Let me get this article finished so we can both escape on time.
Amanda: Thanks.
Why had she just offered to go to a game with Ann? The woman was nice enough. But there was just something…
“Well?” Betsy called out again.
One of these days Amanda was going to be able to breathe again.
“She said she’s sending it in the next twenty minutes.” Amanda had learned the hard way to under promise and over deliver with Betsy. Better to look like an overachiever than a slacker.
“She better have that to me in twenty. Not sure why she’s taking so long. Denise said she sent it to her hours ago,” Betsy said.
Amanda didn’t reply that Denise wasn’t known for sending her work in on time, but she held back. Getting into an argument with Betsy never worked out in her favor, or the fact that Betsy was crazy. Probably all those green smoothies. Kale was nobody’s friend.
Amanda polished up her post for tomorrow while she waited for Ann’s email. She’d started her post for her own blog that would come out on Sunday, but hadn’t gotten too far when her phone dinged.
Penny: You’re coming to the game, right?
And just like that, Ben was back in the forefront of her mind. She snorted. Like he ever left.
She was pretty sure he’d gotten back Wednesday night and it was Friday. She’d been tempted to text him, but she’d held back.
Amanda: Yep. I’m coming.
Penny: Great. Should we get there early and grab you a Cheesy shirt or jersey?
It was followed by a winky face. She never should’ve told Penny and Lexi about the kiss.
Amanda: And why would I need that?
Penny: Because he’s your favorite make-out buddy, so you need his shirt.
Another winky face. Yep, she definitely should’ve kept her mouth shut until she knew what the hell was actually going on with Ben.
Amanda: Very funny. It was one kiss. I’m not getting a shirt tonight.
Mostly because she already had one. Ordered it online a few days ago and it’d just arrived last night. Two-day shipping for the win. But now she was questioning if she should wear it. Penny would totally give her grief.
Penny: Because you already have one?
Amanda leaned back from her computer. Sometimes she hated how well Penny knew her.
Amanda: Why would you think that?
Penny: Nice evading. So, will you make it for warm-ups?
Amanda: Not sure. Might be here late.
Penny: Boo. You have your ticket, so I’ll see you when you get here. You and your Cheesy shirt.
Another damn winky face.
Maybe she shouldn’t wear the shirt tonight. Penny was going to give her grief and Amanda wasn’t in the mood for her too observant friend to question why she was all of a sudden investing in a guy.
Yes, it was totally out of character. But she just hadn’t stuck around the same place for a long time in years. And after a disastrous relationship her freshmen year of college, and her mother’s track record, she was a little gun-shy.
Her reasons were valid, dammit.
And yet they disappeared whenever her thoughts turned to Ben. She couldn’t wait to see him tonight. She gave herself a little shake and settled back into waiting for Ann’s email, and sending up wishes to whoever that Betsy wouldn’t need anything else from her tonight.
“Fuck yes,” Finn shouted as the guys barreled into Ben that night, the crowd still roaring after that last goal.
“You’re on fire tonight, Cheesy,” Harty exclaimed, his arms wrapped around Ben’s shoulders as the guys piled into the hug.
Ben was still grinning when they released him and they all skated back to the bench for glove taps down the line with his other teammates. Two goals. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had two goals in a game. It’d been a while. He was usually feeding the pucks to his wingers, which was fine with him. Whoever sailed the pucks into the net didn’t matter, as long as they made it to the back of the opponent’s net.
“I see a hattie in your near future,” Sully said, scratching his ginger beard, and smiling.
Man, he hadn’t had one of those in ages. Probably two seasons ago. Maybe three. He shrugged his shoulders. “As awesome as that would be, don’t start feeding me pucks when you can take your own shot,” he said to the guys around him. Not that he wouldn’t mind racking a hat trick tonight, but winning the game was more important than his stats. One of the top guys in the league had once said in this jersey, I play for the logo on the front, not the name on the back, and Ben couldn’t agree more with that statement.
“Great goal,” Bugsy said, thumping Ben on the back before he continued down the line, yelling out orders to the guys.
Ben snagged the towel one of the trainers held out to him, and wiped his visor. That last goal had been a battle that he’d almost lost against the corner boards to Dallas’ captain. He’d taken a sharp elbow to the ribs as they’d gotten into a scuffle over the puck. He’d be bruised. But when wasn’t he? It was part of the game, and in the end, the puck had landed in Dallas’ net and that’s all that mattered. His heart still raced with adrenaline and he slid further down the bench during another change, itching to get back on the ice he loved more than anything.
He scanned the crowd for a brief second, his eyes landing where they had all night, just left of the penalty box.
Amanda.
Another shot of adrenaline coursed through him of a very different variety. They hadn’t spoken since the park, and seeing her in the stands tonight had given him an extra jump in his step. Maybe she was good luck, like Penny was for Harty?
Just what he needed. Another superstition.
She’d missed warm-ups. He’d looked toward her seat more times than he was comfortable admitting during those first fifteen minutes. Was she going to bail? Not that they’d made specific plans or she’d mentioned coming, but it was their first home game since their make-out in the park, so he’d been hopeful.
She’d finally showed up at the end of warm-ups. He’d felt like an idiot raising his hand to wave at her, but couldn’t stop his grin when she waved right back, Penny nudging her side. Yep, tonight they would finish what they’d started in the park. Hell, what they’d started against her door months ago.
He’d skated away, confident in finally getting what he wanted, what she’d wanted ages ago, but he’d been too wrapped up in his head to go for. And if that was what had given him the boost he’d needed tonight, he’d take it.
And that familiar warmth was back in his chest. The warmth that he’d felt when she’d cheered for his first goal, clapping and screaming her head off. While he’d hugged his teammates during that goal, he’d spotted her, jumping up and down in front of her seat. He’d wanted to score again, just to see her reaction.
After that second goal, she hadn’t disappointed. And he could’ve sworn he heard her yelling Let’s go Cheese, but there was no way he could really hear that over the crowd.
“Ready, Cheesy,” Harty said, nudging Ben in the shoulder. “Let’s get that hattie.”
Ben shook his head, smiling at his friend as they jumped over the boards and hit the ice. Thoughts of Amanda and what he wanted to do to her later tonight were pushed aside. They had a game to win, and Dallas was only down by a goal, and those fuckers were fast. But after that, he was going to find Amanda at Crash and Byrne and drag her home with him.
And that thought zinged through his body as he skated the puck up the ice and passed it to Harty, who passed it right back. He had the shot, and he took it, the puck sailing over the right shoulder of the goalie.
Looked like he was getting that hat trick after all.
As snapbacks, toques, and baseball caps rained down on the ice, Ben looked at Amanda, her grin splitting her face as she launched her own hat into the air.
Yes, he couldn’t wait to tackle their unfinished business. Preferably on every surface of his house. Or hers. He wasn’t picky.
***
“Damn straight, boys,” Baz called out in the locker room an hour later. “A fucking hattie from Captain Cheesy,” he said, shuffling over and slapping the Viking helmet on Ben’s head. Every game it was awarded to the best player on the ice for the night. They’d given it to Baz after the last game, after he’d blocked a shot with his ankle and finished his shift before limping off the ice.
They’d won tonight’s two points soundly, with a six-three victory. Baz sealed the deal with an empty net goal in the last minute of play. And with Anaheim’s loss tonight, they were one point away from second place, with a game against Arizona in two days.
Arizona was at the bottom of the Pacific Division, but they couldn’t get cocky. He remembered Colorado. Regardless of the standings, there were no easy teams. Every team won at some point, and the top teams remembered that.
Ben scanned the room, his teammates cheering for him as they stripped off their gear, throwing jerseys into the bin in the middle of the room, with grins on their faces and back slaps for their friends. They were a family. And that meant everything to him.
He grabbed his water bottle. The middle in the three lined up in his stall, and took a healthy swig.
“Great game tonight, boys,” he started.
“Yeah, it was,” Baz said, tugging Ben into a hug as hell yeahs and fucking right echoed through the room.
“We played strong tonight, and we need to keep that up, going into the last three weeks of the season. We’ve got some tough teams coming up, and we need all the points we can get heading into the post season. I know we have Arizona coming up, but let’s not repeat Colorado. Every team wins sometimes. Let’s make sure Sunday night isn’t Arizona’s time.”
His teammates cheered their agreement.
“Now let’s get out of here. No morning skate, just a quick practice tomorrow afternoon. I think we deserve the morning off, and Bugsy agreed,” he said. “But don’t party too hard. If you’re sluggish on Sunday, I will personally request suicide drills for all of us Monday morning,” he warned, and the guys groaned.
“Harsh, Cheesy. Harsh,” Baz said, shaking his head.
“We are so close to the post season, I can taste it. You can party during the off-season, and let’s hope that doesn’t start until mid-June,” Ben said.
“And we will,” Harty said. “Now I’m grabbing a quick shower, and then we’ll meet at Crash and Byrne?”
“Sure. I’ll go for a drink.”
“And to see Amanda,” Harty said. “Don’t think we missed that wave right before the game.”
“Yes. It was adorable,” Baz said with a smirk.
“Shut it. Don’t you have a frat party to get to?” Ben teased back.
“That hurts, Cheesy,” Baz said, his hand to his chest. “I think he’s been working on his chirps,” he said to Harty.
“I can chirp,” he fired back.
Baz laughed. “Oh, Cheesy. You try.”
He ignored their chuckles and headed to the showers. He had plans tonight. Of the petite, feisty, brunette variety.