SlapShot Sweetheart (Pucks and Promises #2)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

AIMEE

“I’ll be there…” Aimee mocked her own words as she sagged weakly against the doorway, closing it behind Theo. She somehow managed to remain standing despite the way her limbs were trembling. The man made her knees weak and scared the bejesus out of her. What would it be like to be in a relationship with a man who was constantly getting beat up, leaving her flustered, and pushing her buttons all the time?

He was weirdly annoying, always throwing her for a loop and devastatingly handsome in a way she never imagined. As she leaned toward him earlier, she realized just how close she was to throwing herself at him. His dark eyebrows, those long lashes, and the intensity of his expressions combined with that faint scar on his eyebrow and his upper lip, made her want to kiss away every line, every mark.

“This is crazy,” she breathed, looking out the window as he climbed into a dark green Jeep with massive black rims that screamed money. He was a professional hockey player who could have anything he wanted, anyone he wanted, so why was he showing up here, talking to her? “And what would it be like to be more than friends? What would it be like to actually date him? Can any of this be real? And what do I do about my Mystery Man guy?” she paused, letting the curtain drop as she backed away from the window not moments after his Jeep pulled out of her driveway. “This is crazy. All of this is sheer insanity.”

Moving around the living room, she plucked éclair off the plate where she was licking at the now-cooled and congealed gravy remnants of the poutine. Gathering the plates and the two empty beer cans, she moved to the kitchen, filling the sink. Theo left his pot here, she mused, realizing it would need to be cleaned and returned to him… only to hear the doorbell chime. Shutting off the water, she moved to the door and yanked it open, seeing Theo standing there.

“Hey…”

“’Allo…” he paused and looked extremely nervous.

“What’s wrong? Did you forget something?”

“No. I just wanted to tell you that I had a great time,” he admitted carefully and hesitated. “I really liked this evening, and maybe we could ‘ave dinner again, as friends, next week or something.”

Aimee realized at that moment that he was expecting her to shoot him down, to crush him beneath her foot, or worse… and felt awful. He was so handsome, so openly transparent about asking her out, combined with the sweetness of the unexpected invitation that she couldn’t help herself – she smiled.

“I suppose that could happen,” she agreed softly, casually tossing a thumb over her shoulder toward the kitchen in the distance. “That gives me a little time to clean up that pot and be ready to deal with handling your company again. I mean, with today, Friday’s game, and then seeing each other next week at some point – it’s a lot, and somebody might get the wrong idea.”

His smile was brilliant as he chuckled softly, putting his hands in his jeans pockets and looking at her with a warmth that was staggering.

“We wouldn’t want that, eh?”

“Of course not. Reputations and such.”

“It would be terrible.”

“Just awful.”

“See you Friday then?”

“At the game,” she smiled, nodding. “Backstage tour and all that jazz. I’ll be the redhead in the green jersey.”

“Make sure it’s the jersey with the number 11 on it.”

“Did you think I would wear a different one?”

“To pick on me or spite me – yes,” he grinned and winked at her. “Number eleven – don’t forget.”

“Number eleven,” she confirmed softly, matching his smile. “Batiste.”

“C’est moi.”

“Ugh, again with the French stuff?” she muttered and treasured the way he laughed in unfettered delight, looking so carefree and joyful in that moment. “Go on, ya big jackal… take your snickering laughter and get off my porch before you cross a line. I’ve got dishes to handle and work to get done.”

“Oui mademoiselle.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

“I think the bigger question is, ‘do you think I’m cute’?” he asked quickly, standing there with a massive smile on his face – and she shut the door. His laughter rang out on the other side of the wooden separation between them as she smiled.

“I think you are terribly cute, ya’ big twerp,” she whispered, shaking her head and returning to the kitchen. She shoved the faucet knob upward, allowing the basin to fill once more with scalding water as she cleaned up… and replayed their conversations between them, reliving every second of the past few hours.

Oh yes, she was definitely rethinking her ‘No dating Theo’ stance.

T he next evening, Aimee was sitting at the table, trying to finish the last touches on this website that was irritating the fire out of her. If she had to create a ‘dancing cursor’ once more with a ‘trail’ that bounced all over the screen – she was going to scream. When the client mentioned he wanted a ‘red bouncing ball,’ she immediately thought of sing-alongs where the ball bounced on the words… but no. He literally wanted a red bouncing ball as a cursor, and if you remained in one spot too long with your mouse, the ball would bounce and move across the screen.

It was migraine-inducing.

She glanced up to see éclair and Donut sitting on the windowsill, looking outside. Their little heads were moving two and fro in unison, in the strangest manner, revealing that they were watching something.

“éclair? Donut? Come here, sweeties…” and paused as one of them turned and meowed at her, unmoving. No, something in the front of the house had their attention. She slowly rose to her feet, looking at the doorknob to verify it was indeed locked as she saw headlights a moment later.

“What in the heck is going on…” she whispered, running to the door and yanking it open, only to hear tires squeal a moment later as some big orange older SUV that looked like a Suburban take off in the distance – and the license plate said ‘STICKS’.

She had a clue!

Aimee actually had a clue of who her mysterious man was that kept showing up at her house doing random things. As she stepped out onto the porch, she paused in disbelief as her foot bumped into something, causing her to look down and gape in surprise.

Her front porch was full of bouquets. There had to be at least ten of them, with varying flowers, different shades, and heights. She picked up the first vase, chuckling as she realized it was a summer-themed beach ball with yellow Gerbera daisies in it. There was a massive crystal vase that had a slew of pale pink roses in it – and that had to be her favorite. She set the beach ball down on the coffee table next to the door and moved to scoop up this one, burying her face in the roses and inhaling the sweet scents.

“Oh, you are going on the table,” she whispered to the inanimate object, smiling softly, before returning to the porch to gather up the others. There was a bouquet of tulips in a purple vase, a bunch of lilies tied with a bright blue ribbon, another cluster of deep red roses, and several others that were a variety of blooms. Her whole house smelled like a florist’s shop – that heady peat and flowery scent that was unmistakable.

“What am I going to do with all of these vases?” she chuckled, completely flattered. “This is the most extravagant and ridiculous thing… and I love it. Now, to find out who ‘Sticks’ is on that license plate.”

Twenty minutes later, Aimee was frowning.

“Nothing? I know it said ‘STICKS,’” she muttered at her computer screen only to hear her phone beep nearby. Reaching over to grab it, she saw Theo’s text and hesitated.

I can’t wait for Friday…

Did you come by my house?

Today?

Yes, today.

Did you want me to?

Answer the question

Did something happen?

Sighing in frustration, she took a photo of the pink roses and texted it to him as if to say, ‘See! This!’ and saw the three dots appear, realizing he was typing. It sure was taking him a while to respond, which made her wonder if it was him or if he was typing a long response.

Pretty

That’s it? Pretty?

Do you like them?

Are they from you?

Would you like them if they were?

Why do you have to answer a question with another question?

Why is the sky blue?

??

She saw the little winking emoji – and despite how infuriating it was for him to be so evasive, she was starting to wonder if Theo was her mysterious person… and what that would change between them. Was the weird man even capable of doing something so romantic and sweet? He sure didn’t seem like a poet-sort-of-person, but even a blind squirrel could find a nut if he looked hard enough and kept trying.

What do you want?

I was just going to tell you that when you park on Friday, pull into the garage and tell the attendant your name. I’ll have a parking pass waiting for you that gets you onto a private level.

Clicking his profile, she dialed his number.

“’Allo?”

“Don’t ‘Allo’ me, you Frenchman. What kind of nickname is ‘Sticks’?

“Sticks? Like Hockey sticks?”

“I knew it!” she harrumphed. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the guy in the orange SUV that did all the romantic cutesy stuff – aren’t you?”

“Aimee, I drive a green Jeep. You saw it the other day.”

And she blinked, confused. She did see the green Jeep and remembered thinking about those big ol’ elaborate rims were almost too ostentatious for the vehicle. He wore a lot of green, black, and gray… drove a green Jeep, and the team’s colors were the same - definitely not orange.

“Aimee?”

“So that wasn’t you driving an older orange SUV leaving my house? You didn’t leave the flowers?” she whispered weakly, feeling keenly disappointed deep down within her soul, realizing that she desperately wanted Theo to be her mysteriously romantic man. “I don’t understand what is going on...”

“Did you want me to bring you flowers?”

“We’re… friends.”

“Do you want us to be more than friends?”

His voice was so quiet, so softly spoken, that she immediately felt tears sting her eyes. All of this was so confusing, so frustrating, and disappointing that she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

“Aimee?”

“I’ve gotta go,” she mumbled. “I need to think.”

“Fair enough. Will you still be at the game Friday?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you then, mon ame s?ur.”

“Ugh, again with the French. I swear I’m going to start googling this stuff.”

“Please don’t,” he chuckled softly. “You’ll be mad.”

“If you are calling me mean things – then, yes I am.”

“Do you really think I could say something mean about my friend?”

And she paused once more, growing silent. No, she was pretty sure whatever Theo said wasn’t something mean or cruel but rather an endearment. The idea that it might be one made her want to look it up even more.

“Say it again,” she ordered thickly.

“Non,” he replied, infuriating her. “See you Friday.”

“Maybe,” she snapped, realizing he wasn’t going to give an inch – and heard his soft laugh. “You’re annoying.”

“Friday,” he chuckled. “Don’t forget the parking pass.”

Aimee hung up the phone and googled ‘ Monamsure ’ – and collapsed on her keyboard in complete frustration. Bath products pulled up under that listing, along with various other versions of the word – which meant ‘mister’ or some German beachwear, or possibly a British illustrator.

None of it was an endearment in French, which meant she was completely spelling it wrong. His accent was so thick, and he spoke so freely that it could be anything all jumbled together.

“Dang it… I’m gonna need to learn French.”