I certainly didn't need her here, because I wasn't going to be talking to any reporters. It was an absolute lie for me to tell her that I needed her to come for Ben's sake. I could handle Ben well enough on my own. I guess I just didn't want her thinking that there was anything personal about my invite. I justify to myself that it was just a nice thing to do for my employee.
My apparently hot-and-sexy employee that
I had no fucking clue was hiding underneath those baggy clothes and thick-framed glasses.
Fuck, when I was standing in the kitchen last night, casually flipping through the mail I had pulled out of the mailbox, and she came trotting into the kitchen? I thought for a brief moment that someone had broken into the house, she was so unrecognizable to me.
Of course, I first noticed her body. How could I not with that white tank top pulled tight across a pair of the most fantastic breasts I'd ever seen on a woman? Or those tiny little shorts that did nothing to hide her curvy hips and tight ass?
And that hair? Jesus Christ...why she kept all that hidden is beyond me. It was long, wavy, and had that windblown look. Long bangs hung over her forehead, stopping just over her eyebrows but in no way hiding those amazing blue eyes that popped brilliantly against that dark hair. She wasn't wearing her glasses, not that I ever found them especially unattractive, but what they did hide was the rest of her facial features. I just simply hadn't paid attention before, but in a quick glance I took in her narrow nose, high cheekbones, and full-as-fuck lips.
How in the hell had I missed all that?
I watched spellbound as she did a little dance right in place and then opened the freezer, where she offered up a hilarious prayer of thanks for the ice cream. And when she swayed her hips and bumped the freezer door closed, that's when it happened.
For the first fucking time since Gina died, I felt a stirring deep in my groin. My eyes hungrily ran up and down her body, letting every bit of the wonder of it soak into me, and my dick started getting hard.
I was actually having an honest-to-God reaction. And it wasn't just below the waist. My heart started beating fast and I was so stunned by her appearance that I actually felt light-headed. I was practically joyous to be feeling something...anything...even if it was from my son's dorky little nanny.
When Kate turned and saw me, I quickly snapped my gaze to her face and schooled my features to bland disinterest. It was torture not to let my eyes drop to her breasts or her shapely legs, but I held still and managed to calmly walk forward to pick up the ice cream. I used that opportunity to get myself under control, but then made the mistake of looking up at her. Up close, she was even prettier than I realized, and to add more torture on top, I could clearly see the swell of her breasts peeking over the low scoop of the tank top. Then it was the weirdest thing that really had my cock starting to jump to attention--she put those fucking glasses back on and was now rocking the sexy-schoolgirl look, and there was no stopping my boner then.
There was nothing I could do but turn my back to her and walk up to the counter so she wouldn't see the erection starting to strain at my jeans. I didn't want ice cream, but I went through the motions, trying to get my emotions back under control.
Sure, she was sexy as sin, but I practically screamed at my conscience that there was nothing to be done about it. She was Ben's nanny and, more important...she wasn't Gina. I may have been out searching the Candi Apples of the world to provoke a physical reaction, but it wasn't something I did because I intended to act on it. No, I just wanted to fucking feel something because I was terrified I was so far gone, I couldn't make my way back, and if that happened, Ben would be the one to ultimately suffer.
I ended up being cruel to Kate that night. I could tell by the look on her face that I'd hurt her feelings by showing absolute indifference to her state of undress. My words may not have been directly aimed at her personally, but I made it clear that I didn't find anything special about her standing in my kitchen in her pajamas.
Fat fucking lie.
She was beyond extraordinary, but there was no way I could ever let her know that. So maybe I invited her to the game tonight as a means of atoning for my cruelty. Certainly not because she now has me intrigued and I want to know more about her.
I cut a glance to my left and see that Kate is in deep discussion with Sutton. I wonder what they're talking about. Once again, Kate is back to her attempt at the plain Jane look. Her hair is pulled back from her face and she's in faded jeans two sizes too big. I was surprised to find her wearing a black Cold Fury hoodie sweatshirt when she came downstairs tonight. It was faded and clearly well worn, but it told me that she was indeed a hockey fan, which I very much liked. And her biggest coat of armor: those thick-framed glasses that are so obvious and bulky on her face that they tend to obscure the rest of her image.
Not from me, though. I got a good look at what was underneath and now all I see are delicate facial features, creamy skin, and sexy-as-hell lips.
Fuck me standing, she's an enigma, and it makes my head hurt thinking about it.
Turning to my right, I reach over and grab Ben out of his seat, stand up, and turn to plop him down where I had been sitting. "Here...you sit next to Kate for the game," I tell him.
He gives me a toothy grin as I take the seat next to Olivia. Kate briefly turns, shoots both of us a smile, and ruffles Ben's hair in acknowledgment.
Turning to Olivia, I ask her, "So how are you feeling? Garrett said you had your last treatment not long ago."
She nods and smiles. "Last week, actually, and I'm feeling great. I'll have another bone-marrow biopsy next month to see if I've gone into remission."
Olivia has cancer--follicular B-cell lymphoma--and she's been getting chemotherapy for the past six months. I understand from Garrett that her prognosis is good, yet it's a disease that can't readily be cured...just sort of battled back into remission. As I start to come out of my cocoon of grief, I consider things such as this that have been going on without me really knowing about them. I have guilty feelings about not being available to Garrett as he's been going through this with her, and I resolve to myself to try to be more present in my friends' lives. God knows they stood by me the last four months.
I nod at her. "You've been through a lot, but Garrett's been keeping me in the loop. I'm sorry I haven't been around that much to offer support."
Olivia gives me a knowing smile and pats me on the arm. "You've had your own worries. So Garrett said the wrist is doing great and you'll be back in the lineup on Saturday. How psyched are you for that?"
I can't help the truly lighthearted smile I return to her. I could kiss Olivia for glossing over my personal tragedy, because I'm not up to talking to anyone about it. She didn't mention the accident or Gina, which helps to keep the feelings of pain and guilt at bay. I've been managing to push all those feelings down and away, not fully ready to deal with them just yet. I've tried to scrub the memories of that night from my brain, choosing instead to focus on getting on with my life and trying to be a good parent to Ben.
And because Olivia brought up my return to hockey, a subject that causes me true happiness, I launch into telling her all about how practice has gone this week. We chat about the season and how well it's going for the Cold Fury. We're currently first in our division and second in the Eastern Conference. The playoffs are a done deal and we have a decent shot at a run at the Cup this year, a goal that I thirst for with a vengeance. It's every hockey player's dream to hoist the Cup over his head and take that lap around the ice with it. It's nice to be back in a place again where I can actually have hopes and dreams to aspire to.
--
The game is over and Ben is conked out. He made it halfway through the third period before crawling onto my lap and going to sleep. Even when the Cold Fury won and the arena erupted in cheers as the players left the ice, Ben didn't stir at all. Poor little guy. He had so much fun for the actual part of the game he did watch, he just wore himself out.
I enjoyed watching him and Kate together without an ounce of jealousy creeping in for once. They had apparently worked on a little victory hand-slap type of cheer today to perform when the Cold Fury scored. When they did it the first time, I just stared in amazement as they slapped hands back and forth, bumped elbows, and then did some funky dance that had everyone laughing. The entire game, the two of them were practically out of their seats the entire time, cheering for the Co
ld Fury and yelling at the other players.
It's a pain in the ass to come to a game as a fan. The hat didn't do much to disguise me, and I think the only thing that stopped people from asking me for autographs as we made our way through the arena was that I was holding a sleeping child in my arms. I walked quickly through the crowd with Kate trotting behind and we weren't accosted once.
It takes forever to make our way through the parking lot and find my car. Carrying a sleeping toddler the entire way isn't all that fun either, but we finally make it to the Range Rover, and within fifteen minutes we're out of the parking lot and headed to my house.
Kate chatters the entire way, talking about the game.
"I can't believe how much easier it is to follow the puck when you're watching it live versus on TV," she muses, and she's not wrong there. "And the sounds you just don't get...the swish of the skates on the ice, the rattling of the boards when the players hit them. Man, it was so exciting."
I smile and nod in understanding. She should see what it feels like to actually be on the ice during a game. No better feeling in the world.
"So I take it you've been a hockey fan a long time," I observe. I was impressed she knew all the Cold Fury players and seemed to know every penalty and rule about the game.
"It's something me and my daddy did when I was growing up. Watched all the games together."
"Mom not a hockey fan?" I ask, curious about her personal life. She doesn't talk about it much, but I've seen enough to know she struggles with money and I'm guessing that's rooted in her home life somehow.
"Mama died giving birth to me," she says matter-of-factly, then ends with a chuckle. "It's why I ended up with a name like Roberta. Daddy named me with no womanly guidance."
"That's tough," I tell her. "About your mom, I mean. So your dad raised you by himself?"
"I guess you could call it that," she says vaguely, and turns to look out the side window.
"What does that mean?" I press, suddenly even more curious about this woman.
She turns to face me in her seat and I cut a quick glance at her. Her face is illuminated by the dashboard electronics and it looks sadly reminiscent.