Off the Record (Off 3)

I stare at the attachment and my anger builds again.

Before I can think twice, I right click the file and delete it. I then go into my Deleted Items and permanently remove it from my computer.

It's time to move on from Ever Montgomery.

Tonight, the boys and I decide to forego a nightclub, instead opting for a popular bar with a band and outdoor seating. This is a good thing because I don't like to dance and Niko and Zane are pretty awful to watch. They have mad skills on the ice but they look like complete dorks on the dance floor. It's why I don't dance...because I suck at it.

We are watching the band play 70's cover music and drinking iced cold beers from The Phoenix Ale Brewery. It doesn't take long before we are recognized and the same thing pretty much happens each night. First, some guys will recognize us and come over and ask for autographs. Word will spread, and then the ladies come up. These are usually the ones that are genuinely interested in the sport, and a lot of them can spout more knowledge of hockey than some of our own players.

Then come those ladies that want to get in our pants. They are usually scantily dressed, overly forward and don't take offense if you say no. But if you show interest, then you can have one in your lap and offering a blow job within a matter of minutes.

I've watched this show play out each night I've come out with the boys. They've tried to get me to join in on the action. I always politely declined and tell them I'm just picky. There's no way I was going to tell them I'm still stuck on some woman back in New York.

But I think to myself that maybe I need to get unstuck. Tonight...maybe I should let loose. I'm young...I'm single...and hey, it's what I used to do before I met Ever. She's gone. Now there is nothing stopping me from jumping back into the game.

I pound beer after beer and after the sixth one, I'm feeling pretty good.

"Hey, Linc," Niko yells across the table at me. He's way drunker than I am and his Russian accent is getting thicker by the minute. "Plenty of hot women tonight, no?"

He says that as a petite redhead squirms on his lap.

Yup. He's getting lucky tonight. I glance over at Zane, who is standing beside our table talking to two women. They look really young and I hope he checks their ID's before he takes one--or both--home.

I pound another beer and decide to walk up to the bar rather than wait for our waitress. A fleeting image of Ever bursts into my head and I immediately banish it. I deleted the last thing connecting me to her today and I need to let it go.

Warm fingertips on my arm cause me to glance down. A well-manicured and tanned hand rests there. I follow the arm up and glance into the blue eyes of a knockout woman. And fuck if she doesn't look similar to Ever. Except...well, she's tanned where Ever is fair. And although she has dark hair, it's curly and she wears it off of her face. Her eyes are lovely, but they are not as big and round as Ever's. She's taller than Ever too and her tits are bigger no doubt. I can't help but notice because they're spilling out of the scrap of a dress she's wearing.

"You're Linc Caldwell," she says. I recognize her New York accent so it's no wonder why she recognizes me.

"Yup, that' me," I respond as I pay the bartender and grab my beer from him.

"I'm a huge fan." She removes her hand and I look at her skeptically. "I used to have season tickets to the Rangers until I moved here a few months ago. That shut out you got against Philadelphia in the first round of the playoffs this year was phenomenal."

Okay...the woman knew her hockey.

"Thanks. I just happened to have a really good game that night."

She cocks her eyebrow at me. "Good game? That was a fantastic game. You stopped forty-seven shots that night, but I would expect nothing less from the goalie with the best goals against average in the NHL this past year."

Holy shit! She really knew her hockey. I don't even remember how many shots I faced that game.

"That's impressive you know that," I compliment her.

She shrugs her shoulders. "What can I say...I love hockey."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure. I'll have whatever you're having."

I turn to the bartender and order another Camelback Pale Ale.

"What's your name?" I ask her, handing her the beer.

"Melissa." She sticks her hand out for me to shake, and her grip is firm but her skin is soft. I feel a stirring. Oh, not below the belt, but something inside of me says I should put my moves on her. Maybe the old Linc Caldwell is ready to come out and play.

I open the door to my house and walk in. Melissa follows behind me, looking around at the mess. "Sorry it's so disorganized. I haven't unpacked everything yet."

"Not a problem. I understand."

Dropping my keys on the kitchen counter, I turn to look at her. It wasn't hard getting her to come home with me. In fact, had I not suggested it, I'm sure she would have. We spent about an hour at the bar, talking and drinking. I had finished off a few more beers and I was nice and drunk. I liked this feeling. It numbed the pain and I hadn't thought about Ever in the last hour.

Well, shit...I thought about her just now, but I'm not going there.

Melissa watches me, promise in her eyes.

Come on, Linc. Make a move. She's yours for the taking.

When I don't move toward her, she takes the lead, peeling the front of her dress off of her shoulders and shoving it to her waist. Her breasts bounce free and I can't help but roam my eyes over them.

"What are you waiting for?" she asks in a husky voice.

What am I waiting for?

I take two steps and then I'm kissing her. My hands go to her breasts and I knead them, eliciting several breathy moans from her. She fumbles at my pants and it doesn't take long for her to unzip them and push them to my knees. She then drops to hers, intent on sucking me down.

I grasp her head and look down at the ebony curls framing her face. Her blue eyes are staring up at me, almost waiting for permission. My hand runs through her hair and it's stiff from an overload of hairspray. It's not soft, like Ever's.

Her eyes aren't as wide or sparkling.

Her skin looks over baked by the sun.

When she wraps her hand around me, I feel...nothing.

Because she's not Ever.

Stepping back quickly, I pull my pants up. "I'm sorry," I grind out. "I can't. This isn't going to work."

I expect her to pout, to beg or even to whine. Instead, she stands up and pulls her dress back over her breasts. "You're in love with someone, aren't you?"

I give her a hard smile. "Am I that obvious?"

She gives a light laugh. "Any man that steps away from that is either gay or his heart completely belongs to someone else. And Linc Caldwell...I can tell...you're not gay."

"I'm really sorry," I tell her again. "I didn't think that would happen. I was trying to move on."

Her look is wise and sympathetic. "Maybe that's your cue that you shouldn't be moving on."

I call Melissa a cab and walk her to it. She gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek. "It was nice meeting you, Linc. Good luck to you."

"Thank you," I tell her. But what I need luck for I don't know. Just because I couldn't let her blow me didn't change anything between me and Ever.

That was still over. I just apparently needed a bit more time for the old Linc Caldwell to get his game back.

I'm standing outside of Linc's house, petrified to move toward the front porch. I had felt so empowered to come here, and beg his forgiveness. Now...I am full of doubt and fear. This is probably a dumb idea. He'll probably throw me off his property and I'll go back to New York with my tail between my legs.

But then movement catches my eye. I can see Linc walking through what appears to be the living room. I can't see him clearly but my heart rate escalates. A yearning courses through me that is almost painful. And my feet start moving toward his front door.

I ring the doorbell once, and he opens it almost immediately.

I don't know what I expec

ted, but it wasn't the bland, impassive look on his face. I think I had been hoping for joyous, and this wasn't it.

"Hi, Linc."

"What are you doing here?"

Okay, so that's not very welcoming but I can't turn around and leave yet. "Can I come in...to talk?"

He stares at me for a few seconds, and I think he may refuse. Then he steps aside and motions for me to enter.

His house is a mess. There are packing boxes all over the place, even though he's been here for almost a month. Empty takeout containers and water bottles litter the living room. This hits me hard, because Linc is a freakishly clean person. He couldn't stand anything to be out of place at his condo in New York.

"I like your house." I'm making up lame conversation because I don't know how to go about groveling to him. I'm hoping inspiration will strike me at some point.

"Thanks." And that's all he says. He looks at me expectantly but he's wary. It hurts that he looks almost afraid of what I might say.

I walk over to the French doors that lead out into his backyard. "I didn't take you for one that would want to maintain a yard."