Roman (Cold Fury Hockey 7)

"Fuck," I mutter. "We've got a game that night. Assume you have to work Saturday?"

Lexi just stares at me contemplatively for a moment before she says, "You know what...I'm going to see if I can switch shifts with someone else on Wednesday if you want to go out then."

"Shifts?" I ask curiously. "You mean you have shifts of performers here that sing?"

Lexi laughs, deep and husky again.

My dick still likes it.

"No," she says while chuckling. "I'm just a barista here. I make coffee and bus tables. The singing is just on the side. Georgia, the woman who owns the place, pays me a little extra and I make good tips singing, but I really just make coffee for a living."

I grin at her. I mean, she's fucking cool. A ukulele-strumming, sexy-singing, bean-grinding barista. "Okay, Wednesday it is."

"Wednesday," she agrees, then reaches into her back pocket to pull out her phone. "What's your number?" she asks.

I give it to her and watch as she punches it in. My phone starts ringing and I pull it from my pocket.

Lexi holds her phone up to her ear, and I mimic her motion as I connect the call. "Hello?"

She grins at me. "Hi, Roman. It's Lexi. I was just calling to tell you that I have to get back to work, but I'm looking forward to Wednesday."

I can't help it. I laugh and grin back at her. Speaking into the phone, I say, "I'm looking forward to it too."

"Just so you know," she says playfully. "I don't have sex on the first date. Well, not always. Sometimes. It depends on how it goes."

Jesus, fuck...is she kidding me? Please tell me she's not kidding me.

I stare at her, my eyes boring into hers to try to glean the truth. She just stares back at me with sparkling eyes full of mischief, and I have no clue if I'll get a kiss from her on Wednesday or if we'll fuck like animals.

Strangely, I'm okay with not knowing. Makes the anticipation that much better.

"Well," I say into the phone as I lean in closer to her. "I guess we'll find out on Wednesday, won't we?"

"I guess we will," she whispers back into the phone, and I think I'm officially hooked on this girl.

Chapter 8

Lexi

I don't understand. I'm not usually afflicted with sweaty hands when meeting people because I'm not prone to suffer from nervousness. I've traveled the country, performed in front of probably thousands of people over my adult life. I've done bungee jumping and sky-diving, and once swam with sharks.

Well, granted, I don't know if my hands were sweating when I was swimming with the sharks, but I doubt it. I wasn't nervous.

Not like I am now.

Which is exactly how I felt after meeting Brian that first time earlier this week. Racing pulse and sweaty palms.

Before I ring the doorbell to Gray and Ryker's house, I tuck the bottle of wine under the arm that doesn't have my purse slung over the shoulder and briskly rub the bottoms of my hands on my wool skirt. It's one of the more sedate pieces of clothing I own: a dark brown and taupe plaid, which I paired with a brown turtleneck, because let's face it, working in a coffee shop and tending bar doesn't really require dressy outfits. Luckily I had a pair of camel-colored boots to pair with the outfit, and I think I look moderately respectable.

And I sure hope so, for tonight is the dinner that Gray had suggested we have at her house. It's an important night and I'm also a little blown away that Gray and Brian decided to forgo flying out to Boston today to watch the Cold Fury play on Sunday. It's why Roman and I couldn't go out tonight. Instead, Gray is going to fly out Monday and catch up with the team in New York for their game there on Tuesday. But basically, they put aside their duties as CEO and general manager of the Cold Fury to have a private, get-to-know-you dinner tonight.

With my palms dry--for the time being--I ring the bell and suck in a few deep breaths until the door opens and Gray is standing there with a welcoming smile.

"Hey, Lexi," she says softly as she takes a step back. "Come on in."

"Thanks," I murmur nervously as I enter the foyer, taking a brief look around. While their house is really big, it isn't ostentatious, but rather looks to be warm and inviting. The large living room just beyond where we stand has plush brown couches scattered with scarlet pillows. There's a fire going in the hearth and soft music is playing in the background.

"Ryker and Dad are in the kitchen, opening up some wine," she says.

"The girls aren't here?" I ask.

Gray shakes her head. "We thought it would be best not to tell them what was going on until we got the official results back."

"Oh," I say, slightly disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing the two girls who seemed to transform Gray in that photo I'd seen into a warm, open woman.

Gray turns fully to me, reaches an arm out, and touches me lightly on the shoulder. "Just on the off chance those results come back different from what we all expect, okay?"

I take heart in the fact that she said what we all expect, which means to me that she's accepted I am who I say I am. That means that she'll perhaps give me a real chance to be a part of her life.

"Oh, I brought this for you," I say as I clumsily hand the bottle of wine I'd picked up on the way over here.

"That's really sweet," Gray says with a gracious smile as she takes the bottle and looks at the label.

"I'm not sure if it's any good," I blurt out. "I don't know much about wine."

"I'm sure it will be great," she assures me. "Come on. I just took the beef tenderloin out of the oven and it needs to set for about twenty minutes. Let's go open this puppy up and you guys can see what it tastes like."

"Just as long as no one holds it against me if it's awful," I say teasingly, and Gray laughs.

Gray actually laughs at something I said, and it sounds warm and genuine. I have to wonder why she's all of a sudden so accepting of me.

She leads me into the kitchen and I see Brian leaning with his elbows on the large island in the center of the kitchen. His eyes light up wh

en he sees me, and within moments, his hands are on my shoulders and he's leaning down to kiss my cheek. My eyes cut to Gray to see her reaction, but her back is to me as she hands the wine I brought to her husband, Ryker.

When my dad--Brian--no, my dad pulls away, I turn to Ryker. "You don't need any introduction. I'm a huge fan of yours."

He steps past Gray and holds his empty hand out to me with a warm smile. "It's great to meet you, Lexi."

Brian immediately moves to the bottle of wine that's already open and pours a glass. As he hands it to me, Gray asks, "Dad said you'd just moved here about seven months ago. Were you always a Cold Fury fan?"

Her tone is inquisitive, but I also know she's measuring me up as well.

"No," I tell her honestly. "Wasn't a fan of hockey at all. But I started reading about it when I learned Da--I mean, Brian, owned the Cold Fury. And I started watching it, and of course, I watched all the playoffs and you win the Stanley Cup. It was really exciting."

"Have you been to any of the games this season?" Gray asks.

I shake my head. "I'm saving up some of my singing tips to get a ticket. Maybe around March."

Gray's face remains impassive, but Brian immediately says, "Well, that won't do. You can have a ticket to any game you want to go to. In fact, you can sit up in the owner's box with--"

"Dad," Gray interjects bluntly. "Not until the test comes back."

"And I don't need you to give me a ticket," I say firmly, my eyes cutting from Brian back to Gray. "I can buy my own."

Gray flinches slightly and lowers her gaze.

"Listen," Brian finally says, addressing the elephant in the room. "How about we all agree that we'll just take the next few weeks until the test comes back to get to know each other. And, Lexi, if the test concludes what I expect it will, you will most certainly not be buying tickets to the game. It the test reveals otherwise, then worst-case scenario is that we've become friends."

I hear Ryker snort, but I don't dare look at him. In fact, I don't dare look away from Brian, who seems to be pinning me in place with a "dad" look that I've never experienced before. It says there's to be no argument.