SlapShot Sweetheart (Pucks and Promises #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

AIMEE

This had to be a mistake, right?

Aimee looked up to see her blind date enter the fancy restaurant in blue jeans, a T-shirt, and bandages on his brow. The man looked like he’d just been rolled in the alley by a gang of thieves. His eye was purplish and swollen, his lip split, and he was obviously fresh from a shower – or covered in sweat. She didn’t want to be that person who judged someone based on looks, but it was hard not to.

When her friend who ran a local bakery told her that some sweet guy was looking to meet someone special but had a hard time, she should have taken that as a warning. When she was younger, guys were always asking her out, but for one thing only. Everyone wanted to date the redheaded girl because of the assumptions that came with it. Did she have a temper? Was her hair real or from a box? Did redheads feel less pain? Even the devout sought her out, wanting to know if she was saved or had a soul…

Really?

Yes, yes, yes… and yes!

She was a normal person who wanted a normal house in a normal neighborhood with normal dreams, wishes, yearnings… just like every other normal woman in the world. Her hopeful heart believed in fate and destiny to the very bottom of her inspirational soul. Every cloud had a silver lining, and every sea was full of a variety of fish, you name it – Aimee believed it.

Until now.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

This guy wasn’t quite what she expected, and, obviously, they had differing thoughts of what a first date should be. To her, a first date was your one and only chance to knock someone’s socks off. You should put your best foot forward, which is why she’d mentioned this place.

It was quiet, intimate, and would give them a chance to talk in a cozy atmosphere that had subtle undertones of romance – and Theo hadn’t balked. He’d insisted on texting each other, which was weird already, but now, seeing him walk into the place, she wondered if he was going to stiff her with the bill. He looked nearly homeless and like he’d had the snot beat out of him.

“Allo?” the man began, smiling at her and she saw his lip split as he winced, with a French accent that was exceedingly thick. “Aimee?”

“I’m Aimee Sanders. Are you okay?”

“ Oui … why?”

“Are you Theo Batiste?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

Just the smart-alecky, lofty tone combined with his slovenly appearance, the fact that his lip was obviously bleeding, and his bruised eye socket as he glared at her defensively, putting her on edge as he leaned forward. She did the same, unwilling to back down or be bullied because he was the one wearing blue jeans in a five-star restaurant on a first date.

“No, but I was expecting you to be on time and dressed appropriately.”

“J’excusé,” he snapped, “I had to work.”

“Work that leaves you beat up and looking like a hobo?”

“’Obo? ‘Obo? I don’t look like an ‘obo – and who are you to be questioning moi ?”

“Your blind date, remember?”

Just then, the waiter arrived, handing Theo a napkin like it was nothing, and he nodded simply with this arrogant look on his face. As she studied the strange man, she saw that his nose had a bump on it and it had obviously been broken before. Maybe he was an MMA fighter or something?

Mental notes, Aimee… you should ask more questions before agreeing to blind dates with guys you don’t know. This is why you always take your own car and plan on going dutch .

People could be disappointing – or she was expecting too much out of a relationship. Maybe it was her, and she was high maintenance?

“Tonight, we are featuring a Prix Fixe menu, and La Poule au Pot soup will be our first dish of the evening. Would you like a red or white vin avec your meal?” the waiter began in broken French, making Aimee smile at the attempt… only to see Theo frowning.

“ Bonhomme , you cannot throw words en francaise and expect people to buy that you are French. You need to either speak the beautiful language or stick with English. Don’t mix the two, please.”

“He could be from Canada,” she hissed under her breath, mortified.

“Then ‘e would be speaking my language, Quebecoise , eh, bonhomme ?”

“My apologies, Monsieur Batiste.”

“ C’est vrai …” Theo said with an arrogant tone and waved his hand – and it went all over Aimee. Oh, she knew exactly why this stuck-up man was single. He was a jerk and a pig – a French pig – a cochon , if she remembered the right word from French class in the seventh grade. She grabbed her napkin, covering her mouth to keep her laughter at bay… only to look up and meet Theo’s dark gaze that seemed to be even more frustrated.

“Is something funny?”

“No.”

“Ave you had La Poule au Pot ?”

“I try to come here once a month as a treat to myself,” Aimee admitted, nodding as the waiter put the soup in front of her. “This is one of my favorite places, and I quite enjoy the atmosphere, which is why I suggested it.”

“Not because of the cost?”

Aimee paused, bringing her spoon to her lip to stare at Theo in horror. Did he actually just say that aloud? she thought wretchedly. Do I look like a money-hungry woman?

“What did you… Did you just imply that I picked this place because it was expensive?”

“Did you?”

“Oh my gosh, it is ridiculous that we are even discussing this – nor do I plan on sitting here for the next hour or two to argue with someone who doesn’t even have the courtesy to make an effort.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Goody for me.”

She saw him open his mouth, hesitate, and then shut it again as he struggled to hold back his temper. Who was this guy, and why was he in this sort of condition? It was obvious his lip was still bleeding as he dabbed it again, wincing. He remained silent, picking up his spoon, and she continued with her bite of the delicious broth that seemed almost buttery, flavored just right… only to hear a faint ‘plunk’ that struck her as strange, followed by Theo’s curse under his breath as he started digging frantically in his soup with the spoon.

“Is something wrong?” she asked curiously, lifting her spoon pointedly to take a genteel bite, slurping delicately on the side of the utensil – only to see him literally stick his fingers into his soup bowl and to her dismay, he held up a tooth and smiled at her, revealing a gap in front.

His tooth fell into the bowl of soup.

She sprayed her bite of soup that she’d just taken everywhere. Soup was on him, his shirt, the tablecloth, and it snuffed out the taper that had been flickering prettily in the middle of the table. He looked utterly shocked at her reaction. She was frankly stunned that his tooth fell out, and he dug it out like a toddler shoving his hand into a block of Playdoh… and heard him mutter something under his breath, something that was obviously foul in another language.

“D-Did you just…” she stammered.

“You spit on me?”

“I didn’t… well, I did - but your… was that your tooth? ”

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“This is a problem now… or at least, it should be for you.”

“I just need to see the dentist again.”

“Again? Again ? Is this because you’ve been beat up multiple times?”

“We won.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. You realize this, right? Fighting is wrong, and you’ve obviously got something going on on in your life for you to get beat up to the point that your tooth just falls out. This is not normal. None of this first date is normal… in fact, I’m going to call it.”

“Call what?”

“Time of death,” she muttered, disgusted. “You’re… nice, but this is not going to work out. You’ve got something going on in your world that you obviously needs to be handled on your part – and I’m not looking to wait for someone to mature to a point that they are ready to look for a relationship.”

“What?”

He looked frankly shocked and slightly dismayed, making her feel guilty for being so blunt, and honestly – she felt a little cruel being so open. She reached across the table to pat his hand gingerly in a modicum of comfort.

“I’m lonely but not desperate,” she said softly. “I would like to find someone for me someday because I have so much to give – but if it’s not in the cards, then it’s just not. I don’t mean to be mean, but I think we are in different spots in our lives.”

“I’m lonely too,” Theo admitted, his words whistling slightly as he stared at her, obviously upset. “I ‘ad a game and needed to go to the ‘ospital for stitches. I’m sorry I skipped going to the ‘ouse to change.”

“You had a… a game?” she asked, confused, and then realized that it didn’t matter. If he chose Scrabble, Monopoly, flag football or whatever, it didn’t change things. She wanted a man who was ready for a relationship, wanted a family, or someone who she could depend on – none of that was happening right now. He was handsome but was certainly rough around the edges. If she gave him a chance, a second chance, a third chance, how many doctored injuries, how many teeth, how many late arrivals would she be dealing with?

“I’m so sorry you were hurt,” she began again, gentling her voice. “I appreciate you sharing, but maybe we should try this again… someday . Maybe. I hope you get healed, get some rest, and I would see a dentist about that tooth.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I think it’s best that we just call this a night. Goodbye, Theo,” she said kindly, rising to her feet. “I’ll handle the bill on my way out.”

“I’ll get it.”

“No,” she protested. “You assumed I picked this place because of the cost – and I’d like to reiterate how wrong you were about that assumption. See, Theo, the big difference between me and other women is that I don’t need a man – I’d like one. Which is why I refuse to settle.”

“Maybe you’re wrong about me, too?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, looking at his glittering dark gaze. “Take care of yourself – and have a good life.”

Aimee left.

H ours later, Aimee was sitting on the small black couch in her living room, staring at her computer. She was a very private person, kept to herself, and probably worked wayyy too much. She graduated high school with a certificate in internet security and delved into web page building. Her company, her LLC was doing well, and she had a financial cushion that gave her security. Her house was something small, that suited her perfectly, and she was careful.

Almost to a fault.

Sometimes, when people got too close, they criticized or made comments – and she fully admitted that she wasn’t the best person to receive them. It was hard not to take things personally, because her company was… her. If she said something about money, then she felt like a failure. If she was too busy, it was a lack of organizational skills. If her car needed work, then ‘if she had a real job, she could handle stuff like this better financially.’

Everyone was a critic.

In fact, she could hear the voices in her head commenting about her failed date.

If you were more understanding…

If you would let someone in…

If you gave someone a chance to be a friend…

“I can’t,” she breathed, feeling that protective pang in her chest. This fragile freedom she had working for herself was something she couldn’t risk or chance – and finding someone who could give you space, didn’t pry, or valued your privacy was so very hard.

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for a relationship,” she whispered painfully at the silence. “Maybe I’m not meant to love someone. Just look at this evening, it started off wrong, and he never bothered to explain much other than he had a ‘game’… so I’m less important than Jenga or whatever he was doing.”

Closing her laptop, Aimee hesitated before opening it again. She logged in, turned off the availability on the dating app that she’d put herself on, and sighed, utterly depressed. This thing was hopeless. Blind dates were hopeless. The entire human race was destined to fizzle out because everything seemed to be a complete bust anymore.

“Perhaps the man of my dreams is out there… but I think he’s lost,” she whispered softly, clicking submit and closing her account. “I’m done. I give up. This is me, swearing off romance and love, because I simply don’t think it’s in the cards for me anymore. And I hate that because I want the fairytale like everyone else. I want my prince, my happily ever after, but I feel more like a sidekick than ever before. I’m the donkey in Shrek… and it sucks.”

Sitting there, she stared out the window beside her couch, watching the world go by. There were children playing in the yard across the street, people walking their dogs, and families going on an evening stroll before the sun disappeared. Glancing at her watch, she noted that sunset was getting earlier and earlier.

“Maybe I’ll just get a cat or something.”