SlapShot Sweetheart (Pucks and Promises #2)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

AIMEE

Traffic downtown was a nightmare. With all this stop-and-go traffic, she was the one who was going to be late this evening, and it was infuriating, making her break out in a sweat so much that even her palms were sticky. Her gut was rumbling, and the idea of missing the behind-the-scenes tour or Theo thinking that she wasn’t coming after all was on the verge of making her sick.

Pulling into the parking garage, she saw the attendant standing there in the little booth handing out tickets to put on the dash of each vehicle. Pulling up a few moments later, she rolled down her window as he casually handed the ticket to her – and she accepted, pausing.

“I’m Aimee Sanders,” she began, seeing him nod as he grabbed another envelope before handing it to her.

“Miss Sanders, Mr. Batiste has a spot held for you on the fourth level of the parking garage. There’s a private walkway over to the team entrance, and you’ll be able to get in with that gate card. It’s coded for this evening’s game, and you’ll need to turn it in when you leave.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied, stunned as he handed her a small bag. “This is from Mr. Batiste as well.”

“What’s this?”

“A little team spirit,” the man winked and lifted the arm so her vehicle could pass underneath, entering the garage. “Have a great time and goooo Coyotes !”

“Yay – go team,” she whispered, unsure what to think of all of this and realizing that ‘behind the scenes’ really meant behind the scenes. She was going to be entering by the private walkway where the team entered? How intimidating was that?

Parking her car, she saw the varying vehicles and started as she saw Theo’s green Jeep parked between the orange SUV and a flashy black Mercedes SUV with blacked-out windows and another custom vanity plate. On one side of Theo’s ‘Allons-y’ license plate was ‘ Sticks’ and on the other side was ‘ Puck it.’ As she looked around, she saw several vanity plates on expensive cars and chuckled. Apparently, the team’s ego was as big as their wallets because there were quite a few vanity plates on the plethora of flashy cars. This was not something she really noticed before until the orange behemoth was making its getaway… and paused for a moment before slapping her forehead.

“Ohhh,” she chuckled, marveling. “It’s S-T- one -C-K-S… not STICKS with the letter ‘I.’” Feeling like a dummy, she reached for the gift baggie that was currently sitting on the passenger seat and peered inside to see what ‘Team spirit’ was hidden inside. In the bag, there were all sorts of beads, a pom-pom that slipped over your wrist, a beanie with a Coyote stitched on the front, and a box – that she quickly dropped back in the bag as it hit her what that was.

A jewelry box.

Nervously, she picked back up the velvet box and held her breath as she opened it slowly… and let it snap shut audibly, laughing at her own foolishness.

“What were you hoping for, silly? An engagement ring? We barely tolerate each other, and I’m only here as a nice and friendly gesture. Hockey, or ‘ockey’ as he says it, is not my thing… not at all. No, sir-eeee…”

Aimee paused again, putting the tiny box on the dashboard of her car and staring at it before continuing on the very one-sided conversation that was bordering on a pep-talk.

“Why am I even here? Why am I even doing this? I mean, sure, he’s gorgeous, but he’s annoying because he thinks he’s so smooth and charming – which he isn’t – well, he isn’t smooth at all. Kinda charming, if you like dumb or corny, which I don’t… or do I,” she hesitated, angling her head and speaking to the box. “Do I like corny guys who do weirdly romantic things? Because I’m starting to think that Theo has definitely got his fingers in the pot of whoever is doing all the sweet stuff… because you definitely qualify as ‘sweet’ if there is something sparkly in there.”

She squinted and glared at the box.

“If there is something sparkly in there – Theo and I are going to have words,” she grumbled, trying to sound frustrated and angry… and failed. “What am I going to do if there actually is something sparkly in there? Is he expecting me to just fall right into his arms because that’s not happening! I’m not some silly girl who caves the first time some guy shows her a bit of sweetness… and not with him. Ugh. Not Theo and his lack of enunciation when he talks. And we’re not even dating!”

She pointed at the box.

“We’re not dating! This is not dating! ”

The box sat there silently as she crossed her arms over her chest before unfolding them a moment later to jerk the plastic beads over her head. The box seemed to loom in the silence of her car, and she expected to see someone walking past her vehicle at any moment. The game had to be starting soon, and she was going to be late if she didn’t get her butt inside.

“No comments!” she snapped at the box, snatching it and jerking it open, only to stare silently at the contents. Inside, on the black velvet background, were a pair of emerald earrings that shimmered silently. “Oh Theo… what have you done, you dork,” she breathed softly as she inspected them.

Her fingertips were trembling as she removed them from the box. Putting them on her ears, she stared at her reflection, marveling at the incredible earrings, and she heard her phone beep. Yup, she needed to get inside and saw Theo’s two text messages on the screen.

We’re even, and I know how this feels now

Are you okay?

I’m walking in now

She quickly replied, grabbing her keys and getting out of the car. As she jogged up to the door, she was ready with the pass card – only to see a security officer standing there. Before she could open her mouth, the man nodded and waved her through.

“C’mon, Miss – they’re already lining up in the hallway. I’ll take you.”

Blinking, she followed the man blindly, realizing she probably should have introduced herself or said something. She could have been anyone, and he was walking her into the bowels of the arena that was echoing loudly in the distance with a dull roar of excitement that seemed to be growing and growing. As she walked behind him, the hallways were getting more and more crowded… and then she saw the players.

Massive, hulking uniforms full of padding, lining both sides of the hallway. They were talking rambunctiously, slapping each other on the helmets and shaking hockey sticks as they balanced on thin blades attached to the soles of their feet.

“Hey, Batiste! You said ‘hot redhead’ – eh?”

“No ‘H’ dummy…”

“My bad – ‘Ot redhead…”

“Tais-toi idiot,” Theo snapped, and she identified him by the number on his jersey combined with the quick movement as he jerked his helmet off his head. The security guard was walking her directly through the mass of uniforms as several of the guys whistled and teased Theo.

“She’s too pretty for you…”

“I bet she’s got a fiery temper…”

“I bet she keeps Batiste in line…”

“Someone has to…”

“You think she gets as angry as he does…”

“I dunno – Batiste has got a mouth on him…”

“Truth, brother, truth!”

“You’re ‘ere,” Theo began, his dark eyes searching hers. “Did you ‘ave any problems or ‘ave a ‘ard time finding the place?”

“I was nervous about coming in,” she began and hesitated, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously and feeling silly. “You got me earrings.”

“They reminded me of your eyes.”

“My eyes are blue,” she snapped, causing several of the guys to laugh wildly around them as she stood there in front of him, practically seething in anger that he never bothered to notice… only to see a soft smile curl on his lips as he nodded.

“I remembered – just like the ocean,” he admitted in a hushed voice. “My uniform is green. I like teasing you.”

“HEY! HERE WE GO!”

The music was roaring to a crescendo, and she could hear the announcements that seemed to reverberate through her physically, making it hard to hear. Theo met her gaze and nodded to the security guard before yelling in her direction.

“James will take you to your seat.”

And Aimee didn’t think – she just reacted. Stepping forward, she kissed Theo on the cheek and stepped back as his shocked, dark eyes held hers as someone slapped him on the shoulder and another guy mussed up his dark hair.

“Let’s goooooo!”

“I’ve got to go,” Theo yelled hoarsely.

“That was for luck,” she hollered back simply. “I’ll be watching you, Batiste. Go show me what you’ve got.”

And that was all he seemed to need to hear.

Theo yanked on his helmet, slapping his hockey stick against his chest like some Neanderthal, and she laughed openly as he screamed, “ALLONS-Y!” inciting the other players into a frenzy right there in the walkway to the rink. She had no clue what it meant, but they seemed to. The hockey sticks went up as they started hammering their steps forward to the rink, sounding like a bunch of elephants as the security guard pulled her to the side to safety.

“Your toes okay, Miss Aimee?”

“Yes,” she nodded, checking her feet at that moment before staring out at the chaos ahead of her as fireworks went off inside the arena like it was nothing. “Yes, James, I think I’m just fine.”

“I’ll take you to your seat.”

S he was grateful for the security guard leading her down into the mass of people because it was a little intimidating. The arena steps looked to be awfully steep behind her, but where they entered at was almost on the ground floor, or so it seemed. She could see the men on the ice, skating around to warm up and goofing off together, hamming it up for the cameras that seemed to adore them… and spotted Theo’s uniform.

He was taking photos with Giroux and Thierry. The three men were obviously close, and the media loved them, or so it seemed – and then Aimee did a doubletake, walking sideways blindly toward the seat as she spotted another player laying on the ice physically almost mimicking sex.

“OH MY GOSH!” she blurted out – only to hear another female laughing at her exclamation as Aimee did yet another double-take.

“I’m Becca Giroux – and that’s my husband. You must be Aimee,” the woman with golden brown hair smiled and held out her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you – and that’s Dustin. Ignore him. His agent told him to stretch like that because the women go wild over it, and he’s trying to get some lucrative sponsorship for a fancy underwear ad.”

“He’s whaaaat ?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off the ‘show’ and felt her face heat up as the man was lying on his stomach, shoving one knee up to the side in an arc, then the other, before jerking himself upward almost in a frog motion, pulling himself along the ice. If there had been a girl underneath him, they would have to censor the game!

“Isn’t he embarrassed doing that ?”

“I am for him, but if you get a paycheck with that many commas in it – I guess you’ll do anything,” Becca chuckled. “The man’s a sweetie, though, taking care of his mama and his sisters – but don’t tell Travis I said that.”

“Which one is your husband again?”

“Number eighty,” Becca smiled. “You get used to it. First names, last names, numbers, they all start to blur together, but somehow you figure it out.”

“I guess,” Aimee began and hesitated as Theo skated past, holding up his hockey stick almost like he was holding up a trophy, and met her eyes. She and Becca cheered immediately as Becca elbowed her slightly, catching her attention.

“First rule of the ‘Wives Box’ – and I dubbed it that, by the way – is that we cheer for each other’s guys,” Becca ordered. “If number eighty or number eleven skate past – we both scream, okay?”

“I’m not a wife,” Aimee jerked back, blinking. “I’m not… we’re not… um, we need to call it something else!”

“Partners Pavilion? No Pucks Given? Bunny nest?”

“I’m not his partner – and we’re not pucking either!”

“Okaaaaay…” Becca drawled, putting up her hands defensively. “Maybe I misunderstood what the term ‘his girl’ means?”

“Theo told you we were sleeping together?”

“No. Travis told me that Theo was bringing a girl this evening and that he told my husband that ‘she’s special’ – which is why I came to the game. I wanted to meet the woman who charmed our friend. Theo’s a great guy.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Perfect.”

“Why are you making it sound funny?”

“I’m not. I think it’s perfectly wonderful that you are friends – so maybe we should just call this section the ‘Victory box’ or ‘Cheer Zone’?”

“What about ‘Allons-y Alley’ or something like that?” Aimee volunteered, remembering Theo had yelled it in the hallway, and the players seemed to rush forward in excitement. Maybe it was code for something or a hockey term… only to hesitate as Becca looked at her in admiration.

“That’s perfect!”

“It is?”

“Yes – Theo and Travis say it all the time. It means ‘Let’s go!’ in French.”

“Your husband speaks French?”

“Mostly just the bad words that Theo or Gerry taught him,” Becca muttered, frowning deeply as she rubbed her forehead, looking perturbed… and Aimee couldn’t help it – she laughed. The thought of Theo teaching his friends a bunch of bad words in French just seemed to tickle her funny bone. What a wild and crazy man, she marveled silently, seeing him line up with the others as a hush descended in the arena.

“Ohhh here we go,” Becca said in excitement, grabbing her arm, and even Aimee felt tense. There was just something in the air, like something was about to happen or explode wildly… and she saw Theo stand up, flinging off his gloves, pointing at one of the other players.

“Awwww come on!” Becca groaned before screaming. “KEEP YOUR HELMETS ON!”

“What’s happening?”

“Your man is starting something on the ice, and the puck isn’t even down yet.”

Aimee felt something akin to pride as she watched Theo bucking up to the other player, hearing his voice, but the words were indistinguishable. The air was alive, crackling with tension, and it was like the entire arena was taking a deep breath as the other player in white flung off his gloves, too. They were about to fight, just like the hockey game they’d watched. She knew it was something he did, something he was quite proud of, and remembered his agent had urged him to keep it up for the lucrative contracts that came his way.

“KNOCK HIS BLOCK OFF, THEOOOO!” Aimee screamed sportingly as Theo darted forward into the fray, hearing Becca’s laughter beside her before yelling at her husband, too.

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna fit right in, Aimee. GO GET ‘EM, GIROUX! WATCH THE FACE! WATCH THE FACE, FELLAS!” The two women shared a glance – and began screaming again emphatically, in solidarity.

A s the game came to a close, Aimee was surprised to see that she and Becca were whisked back by security once more. It was surprising, but then again, as they walked back, she happened to glance up and saw several faces glaring in their direction – female faces. It wasn’t hard to gather why they were being escorted out safely. Not everyone was happy-go-lucky that they won by one point, only to feel Becca grab her by the wrist, looking at her.

“Don’t dawdle,” she whispered. “I had popcorn thrown at me, which is why we are escorted out now. Not everyone is happy that the players have families or relationships.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I thought my brother was going to come unglued. He was with me and caught the tail end of someone’s soda being dumped toward me.”

“That’s terrible…”

“Which is why John’s our bestest-buddy, right John?”

“Yes, Mrs. Giroux,” the security guard chimed in, waving them through the doorway just as Aimee saw some of the players exiting the ice and headed their way. “You ladies follow me while things calm down.”

Aimee followed Becca as she entered a small room with a couch, a coffee pot, a platter of finger foods, and a dozen pink roses. Becca gave her a smile, looking around, and peeling back the Saran Wrap easily as she chatted.

“They really take care of us,” the woman began as Aimee breathed in the scent of the roses, smiling. They smelled just like the ones she had at home on her kitchen table. “Those are new. I’ve never seen roses in here before after a game.” And Aimee hesitated, swallowing and backing away slightly as she saw a small card tucked in the flowers. Picking it up, she opened it before handing it to Becca.

“They’re for you.”

“Seriously?” Becca preened happily. “Travis is the sweetest sometimes. Dustin is the one who insisted that there be something back here for us to munch on because his sisters come to the games occasionally. The couch used to be my old one, and we put it here when Travis and I moved in together. It’s a lot cozier than some plastic seats— that much is for sure.”

“So we just wait now?”

“Yup,” Becca agreed. “The coach is talking to them, then they’ll probably get showers or something. Sometimes, if Travis is hurting after a game, he’ll pop in and tell me if he’s going to soak or get someone to work on his knees. Does Theo have knee problems or anything? I know Dustin, the goalie, tore something a few years ago, which is why he stretches all the time. Coeur, well, is Coeur,” she muttered, shrugging her shoulders as if that explained everything.

Both women jumped as the door flew open, catching them off guard as Theo entered the room, looking directly at Aimee.

“I’ll just be back here, doing my own thing,” Becca whispered in a high-pitched voice as Aimee stared at Theo’s intense gaze.

“Hey…”

“Did you like the game?”

“Yes. So much better in person than on the television.”

“Oh?” he grinned, looking particularly pleased. “Will you stay and ‘ang around for a bit? I need to get a shower.”

“I should probably be getting home soon.”

“I could drive you.”

“But I have my car here, and you would need to take your car or…” her breath caught in her chest as she hesitated. Surely, he wasn’t implying what she thought he might be – that he could stay the night at her place. No way…

“I could follow you.”

“Why?”

“So we can talk.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Est-ce que tu dois être aussi têtu parfois…”

“In English, buster,” she retorted in frustration because he would say stuff and she didn’t understand it – and it was annoying.

“I said ‘do you ‘ave to be so stubborn’ sometimes,” he replied openly, taking a step toward her. She could see his brow was covered in sweat, making his hair spiky. His face was still flushed from the game, and there was something about seeing him like this that unexpectedly spoke to her.

“You’re going to have to speak English…”

“Or you could learn French…”

“I refuse.”

“Why?” he said in a clipped voice. “Because it’s me?”

“Because it’s the language of…” and her voice faded away as she saw the triumphant look in his eyes. “It’s… I, uh, um… I don’t love you, so don’t even think it.”

“You don’t love me yet ,” he said softly, taking another step toward her as Aimee put her hand on his chest, feeling the protective gear beneath it. “Stay… please .”

“Why?”

“I’ve seen your place, and I’m learning about you – aren’t you curious about me?” he whispered gently, putting his gloved hand on hers, and she stared at the strange contact, seeing the massive protective mitt practically swallow her hand almost whole. “Let me take you ‘ome, and I’ll make you dinner.”

“Poutine?”

“Mais oui, mon ame s?ur…” he breathed, and she was melting, not even balking at the foreign language as she stared into his eyes, feeling the pull between them. “If that is what you want, then yes. You’ll wait for me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be back,” he said softly, backing away and letting her hand drop. “I stink,” he chuckled nervously, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her.

“I know,” she breathed as they shared a smile. “Go – and I’ll wait.”

“Merci beaucoup, mon ame s?ur.”

“In English?” she called out behind him only to see his head pop back around the doorframe in a playful manner.

“You wouldn’t like it en anglais.”

“Then don’t say it.”

“‘Ow can I not? Eh?”

“Would you just go?” Aimee smiled as Theo winked at her – and then disappeared. As she turned back to Becca, the woman was staring at her in disbelief. Her eyes were huge in her face, almost matching the smile that was spreading across her in a sublime and satisfied manner putting Aimee on edge. “What?”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“What? No! Not at all. He’s just a friend. Why would you even think that?”

“You two have a spark.”

“Are you drunk?” Aimee asked callously and instead of Becca being insulted – she just laughed.

“Nope – but there was something definitely there between the two of you that’s easy to see.”

“There’s nothing there.”

“If you say so…”

“I do – and there’s not,” Aimee said firmly and saw the woman roll her eyes as she picked up a little triangle finger sandwich, taking a bite. “There’s nothing there,” she repeated once more, almost like she was trying to convince herself of that fact.

… And was failing.