Playing for Keeps(24)

 

Elise compliments me on the salad while both Owen and I praise her on the lasagna. We polish off one bottle of wine, but no one’s in the mood to open the second.

 

“A night in to eat, relax,” Owens says, standing up from the table and wrapping one hefty arm over Elise’s slim shoulders. “You’re freaking awesome, sis.”

 

Her eyes dart to mine, and then stray over to this. “I am pretty amazing.”

 

I laugh at this and they both look at me. “I’ll, um, start the dishes.”

 

Heading toward the kitchen, I grab our empty plates on the way. Elise follows her brother into the living room. She somehow managed to clean up as she cooked so there’s not much to do besides put our dishes into the dishwasher, which only takes me a couple of minutes.

 

When I’m finished, I hear Elise telling Owen that she needs to go to the restroom before heading out.

 

It’s been maddening to be this close to her, yet still be so far away. Taking a chance, I follow her, opening the bathroom door and slipping in behind her.

 

Her eyes go wide and her cheeks flush pink. “What are you doing in here?” she whispers.

 

I don’t answer. Instead I take two steps, closing the distance between us, and pull her into my arms at the same time my mouth finds hers. Her lips part and a squeak of surprise rises in her throat. Her eager tongue strokes mine and I have to brace one hand against the bathroom sink to keep my knees from trembling. She tastes like wine and her fingers dig into my biceps as I push my hips up against hers.

 

Almost as fast as I dared come in here and kiss her, I leave, my heart beating fast and my cock swelling against my thigh.

 

Later when it’s time for Elise to go, it’s physically painful to pretend I’m so unaffected. But I have to. From my spot on the couch, I give a half-wave. “Dinner was fun. See ya.”

 

Elise smiles once and then follows Owen to the door where she puts on her boots one at a time, chuckling at something he’s said.

 

I want to hug her, and kiss her goodnight, or you know, drag her to my bedroom like a caveman and make love to her all night. But instead, I do what’s expected of me and ignore them as they part ways.

 

I have no idea what it is about this woman that gets me so worked up, but I intend to find out.

 

 

 

 

 

19

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Playtime

 

 

Elise

 

 

 

Where is he?

 

I glance at the clock again and silently curse Owen. Cursing silently is a necessity right now since I’m standing in the middle of my preschool classroom. Owen was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago for Career Day, but so far, he’s a no-show.

 

“Miss Parrish?” a little voice asks. It comes out sounding more like Paris, but hey when you’re four years old, it’s the best you can do.

 

“Yes, Britton?” I ask, looking down to ruffle the adorable little guy’s hair.

 

“Fireman?” he asks with hope-filled blue eyes gazing up at mine.

 

I shake my head. “We already had the fireman come this morning, and then the police officer, and then the dentist, remember?”

 

He waves his new red toothbrush at me. “I remember.”

 

“Good. Now please go sit back down for circle time. We have one more guest coming to talk about his job.”

 

I can only stall a classroom of antsy toddlers for so long, and we passed that threshold about twelve minutes ago. If Owen doesn’t show in the next few seconds, I guess we’ll have to cut Career Day short and move onto something easy, yet stimulating. I’m thinking my extra special gooey dough. Even if I’ll probably end up having to wash chunks of it from my hair tonight, the kids love that glittery, messy concoction. It might be my only option since I didn’t plan for this scenario.

 

Crossing the room toward my desk, I grab my phone from inside the top drawer and glance down at a text from Owen that was sent over an hour ago.

 

Not going to make it. Sorry, sis!

 

I groan. Shit. Now what?

 

I rarely get the chance to check my phone during the work day so I’m just now seeing his message. I have no idea what happened, but I intend to find out later.

 

Well onto plan B then I guess. I’m mentally tallying if I have all the ingredients I need to make the homemade play-dough when I realize I’m going to have a bunch of disappointed little kids because they’d been so excited when I told them a player from the Seattle Ice Hawks was going to be here today.

 

Ugh.

 

I turn to face my class, and take a deep breath. I’m just about to muster a false cheery tone to tell them Owen’s visit has been cancelled when my classroom door opens.

 

And in walks Justin, dressed in full game-day gear. Minus the skates, of course.

 

My eyes widen at the sight of him. His hockey bag is slung over one shoulder and he’s holding his stick in his left hand. His eyes lock with mine and I’m sure a look of confusion is painted across my features, because what in the heck is he doing here? He gives me a lopsided smile and my insides tighten.

 

Applause and cheers break out among the kids as he heads straight for the front of the class.

 

He gives me a wink as he passes by, and then stops directly in front of the circle time rug.

 

“Hi, guys. I heard you were talking about careers today. Is it okay if I join you?”

 

Little Elsa raises her hand and Justin nods for her to go ahead.

 

“What is your job?” she asks, eyes wide as she takes in the sight of him.

 

He chuckles, the sound immediately releasing the knot of nerves I felt when Owen cancelled. My shoulders drop a few inches and I take a deep breath, hoping Justin has this covered. Just please don’t drop any F-bombs, I silently pray.

 

“I play hockey,” Justin says, giving her a wink.

 

I clear my throat and go to stand next to him. “Class, this is Justin Brady, number thirty-six, and the star forward of the Seattle Ice Hawks. Can everyone say hi?”

 

“Hiii, Mista Bwady,” rings a chorus of little voices.

 

I look to see Justin’s reaction, but he’s focused on me. His head is tilted and he’s staring down at me with a look of adoration. “Hi,” he says softly.

 

I blush, heat creeping up my neck and over my cheeks. “Hello,” I manage. “Thanks for coming.”

 

He nods once, mouth quirking up in a smirk. I can tell he wants to kiss me. But I hope that he can tell I’ll knee him in the nuts if he does that in front of my class.

 

Justin and I are just standing here staring at each other, obviously flirting and the sound of giggles around us pull me back to reality. Okay then. Right. Career Day. Not the day to hump the sexy-ass hockey player in front of my class.

 

Recovering, I draw another breath. “Today Justin is going to tell us what it’s like to have a job as a hockey player.”

 

I motion for him to go ahead and begin when Elsa raises her hand again.

 

“Yes, Elsa?”

 

“Don’t you mean Mister Bwady?”

 

I swallow a lump the size of the state of Washington and nod. “Yes. I’m sorry, Mr. Brady.”

 

Justin smiles again and then drops his hockey bag to his feet with a loud thump. “Show of hands ... who here has ever watched a hockey game?”

 

All of the little hands dart up and wave around excitedly.

 

“That’s awesome.” Justin nods. Then he holds up his hockey stick. “And who knows what this is?”

 

“A hockey stick!” Britton calls out.

 

“That’s right. Wow. Very good.”

 

I grin, watching them, so thankful that Justin stepped in and saved the day. And so far, so good.

 

“And what about this?” Justin toes the huge black bag at his feet. “What do you think this bag contains?”

 

One of my most quiet and shy little boys, Jacob raises his hand to answer. “Your hockey equipment.”

 

Justin nods. “You’re right. Very smart. What a great class. I see Miss Parrish has taught you all well.”

 

Jacob beams under the praise, lowering his head as a big, proud smile overtakes his face. It’s adorable. Even if Justin doesn’t know it, I think he just made Jacob’s entire day. Maybe his whole week.

 

And I shake my head, smiling at the compliment he paid me. Despite what Justin might think, I don’t teach them about hockey. I’m sure they learn it from their parents and TV and well, everywhere considering the Ice Hawks are worshiped like gods in this city.

 

Justin fills them in on his practice and training schedule, the away games they attend and all the hard work needed to succeed as a hockey player. The kids are mesmerized by him. They hang on his every word, and nod along with his explanations. I never knew he could be so good with kids. Then again, as a pro athlete, I’m sure he’s done these kinds of things before. Only I’m guessing they were official visits to children’s hospitals and things like that, arranged by the team publicist. Either way, he’s doing great.

 

Then he kneels down to the floor, joining them at their level as he unzips his hockey bag. I expect to see his helmet, hockey pucks, rolls of tape, and his pads. Instead, it’s been filled to the brim with promotional items from the team. Hats, buttons, plastic cups, stickers, foam hockey pucks, t-shirts, and Justin tosses item after item to the excited little grabby hands reaching out toward him. Delighted squeals and giggles erupt through my classroom as all the goodies are handed out.