AllFreeNovel
Share Us
George
“You seethat play by O’Brian in the second?” says the guy who couldn’t wait for Movember to grow out his mustache. He’s talking to his buddy, who somehow knows Nat from a charity thing they worked together. “I’m telling you, that’s the guy to watch. Nat, your boys are ass-kickers, for sure, but you see how O’Brian kept setting shit up?”
She’s nodding, the hockey fan in her stepping ahead of whatever loyalty she feels toward the two most important men in her life. “It started coming together for him last season. But did you see Rux?”
Movember leans back and groans like he’s in ecstasy, and I start to feel a little dirty, like maybe I’m intruding on a private moment or something. I love hockey. But I’m not nearly as into the men’s national games as I am into playing myself or watching Nat’s 12U girls kick ass.
Part of it’s grudge-holding. From as far back as I can remember, the boys’ teams have been getting the lion’s share of the attention. Whether they deserve it or not. In high school, my girls’ team went to state three years in a row. But the boys who hadn’t made it even once always got the best ice time.
In college, Nat and I played on a championship team, but the arena never filled the way it did for the guys. The conversation at the bars was rarely about my shutout or Nat’s killer breakaway. It was usually about some dude on the guys’ team.
But the thing is, tonight, the only thing keeping me out of dominating this conversation is the fear that if I open my mouth even once to voice how amazing I think Quinn O’Brian played and how I think he’s gelling with the team and stepping into a leadership role… I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to stop.
And seriously, Ineedto stop.
I need to stop thinking about him. About the way he kissed me. About the feel of his strong arm around my back as he flipped us over in his bed and the way he sank into me when his weight settled between my thighs.
I need to do what I came here to do.
See him.See that even though every single minute he was inside me has been tattooed into my mind for time eternal, that once was enough. That I’m still in control.
And then I’m walking out of this bar alone and never coming back again.
Nat groans about a missed call from the first period and I’m really only half paying attention because the players have started showing up. I see Popov and Vsev in their sharp suits, surrounded by fans in jerseys. A minute later Diesel. They can’t go more than a foot or two without pausing for a backslap, fist bump or handshake. There are a few bunnies sort of trotting along beside them, tits pressed into the guys’ arms—except for Vsev, because everyone knows that guy is a family man who doesn’t mess around. So for him, the girls give him one of those sort of platonic hugs that I still wouldn’t love if I was his wife, but is definitely the lesser evil in the bunny brand of congratulations and team support.
Not for the first time I wonder what it must be like to be one of these guys. To have women throwing themselves at you just because of your job. And weirder still, that quasi-celebrity status probably started back in high school.
I wonder about Quinn and whether he’s been with either of the girls already latched onto the players they hope to take home.
Does it get lonely?
Does it get old or boring, or is the bunny buffet as exciting the last day as it was the first?
Natalie perks up looking at her phone and then cranes her neck watching the crowd until Vaughn appears.
She’s out of her seat and bouncing into his arms for an embrace that’s equal parts hug and kisses, and makes me ache just a little seeing the love between them. And then it’s not Vaughn and Nat I’m looking at, but the man stepping around them, a warm smile on his face and six bottles of beer caught between his fingers. Quinn’s eyes come up and a slow smile spreads across his lips. “George.”
Geez. Just my name on his lips is enough to make my stomach flutter and a warm heat starts to churn low in my belly. It’s strictly a physical thing. But still.
“O’Brian.” There, I said it. And yeah, it was a little softer and maybe kind of breathless sounding, but I didn’t stutter and with the crowd and the music it’s not like he’d be able to really hear anyway.
Except the way his eyes go dark makes me think that maybe he did. All the guys look good in their suits, but there’s something about the way Quinn wears his that has me struggling to look away.
Vaughn and Nat break away from their kissy, nuzzly, I-haven’t-seen-you-in-hours reunion, and Nat drops back into her seat as Quinn pulls up a couple stools for him and Vaughn to do the same. Movember scoots his stool closer to mine, making room for Quinn and Vaughn on his other side. Which makes me wish I could remember his actual name because the guy just did me a serious solid. And while he’s nowhere near as big as the players, he’s big enough to make a nice shield between me and Quinn.
At least I thought he did. But then the guy is scrambling off his stool, dragging it back with some muttered apology or excuse I don’t understand until he’s out of the way and I have a clear, unobstructed view of the epic death glare Quinn is giving him.
I’m too stunned to react. Too stunned to do anything more than watch as Movember drags his stool around to my other side. Looks back to Quinn and then keeps going until he reaches his buddy’s far side.
At which point Quinn scoots closer to me, summons one of those Mr. Congeniality smiles and sticks his hand toward Movember to shake. “Hey, man, Quinn O’Brian. Nice ’stache.”
It’s the kind of entitled caveman bullshit that makes me want to puke. Normally.
But tonight… ughh…
I’m seriously not proud of the state of my panties, because that fast, they’re soaked.
For what it’s worth, Quinn doesn’t do anything else. He asks me about the shop and whether I’ve got any games coming up myself.
