Something So Right (3 page)

I walk in, taking in the regular people who hang out here. Larry, Curly, and Moe are all sitting at the bar. Okay, that really isn’t their names, but that is what everyone calls them.

Straining my neck left and right looking for Meghan, my eyes land on the blue ones from this morning. His baseball cap hides his hair. Honestly why, why the fuck is he here?

Now I’m stuck. Do I ignore him or be the bigger person? My grandmother and her manners are practically yelling at me in my head. I huff, head his way, hoping to finally spot Meghan, but all I see is him.

“I didn’t think you would socialize with the locals,” I say, trying to be funny and quirky.

“Funny how you made sure you’re on time for lunch.” His humor very dry.

I finally snap. “Oh, please, will you knock it off? I wasn’t late.” I don’t have to be nice to him when we are out of the rink. His lips curl up on one side like he’s going to smile, but he’s interrupted when Meghan literally throws herself in the empty chair in front of him.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were bringing a date.” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows.

I want to reach over and smack it off her fucking face. “I’m not here with him...Meghan, meet Cooper Stone. Cooper Stone, meet my pain in the ass cousin. Also soon to be replaced best friend,” I say with my teeth biting together.

She reaches out to shake his hand. I’m waiting for her to be denied, because this man has no common courtesy. Shockingly he puts his hand out, smiles, and has the audacity to say, “So nice to meet you.”

I whip my head around so fast I may have given myself whiplash. “What the fuck is your problem?” I stare at him.

Meghan’s mouth hangs open. “Okay, how many cups of coffee have you had?” She turns her head to look at Cooper. “She is usually the social butterfly. She is probably having a bad day, excuse her.” She gets up, ushering me away from him before I say something else, shoving me into the booth.

“What the fuck was that?” she whispers.

I shake my head, proceeding to tell her about my morning run-in with
jerk face
. Rolling my eyes, I know it’s childish, but I don’t care.

She smiles at me like she’s a cat that caught a canary. “You like him.”

My mouth quickly shuts. “What did you just say to me?” My brows draw together in shock that she would jump to that conclusion. I’ve just basically told him to go fuck himself. Surely she knows the difference between flirting and hatred!

“You like him. You haven’t been that into someone since douchebag fucked you over.”

I stare at her, thinking I’m in some parallel universe. I’m watching the world go crazy. “Are you out of your mind? That wasn’t like, it was loathing. It was
‘I would rather cut my arm off and eat it before sharing a meal with him’
.” Anger rises within me. I was supposed to be here with her drinking and making fun of him. Not discussing my lust for him! Wait a minute, I don’t lust for him.
Jesus, I need to get
laid.

I pull up in my driveway just in time for Allison to get home. I look up at my beautiful cottage I fell in love with. It was the first thing that was ever just mine. It was my reward, my sanity. It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s mine. Four little steps lead up to my wraparound porch where a hammock hangs. Around the corner leads into the back where I spend many nights falling into the love stories on my Kindle. I also have two white wooden Klondike chairs that I put for the kids to hang out in. I have beautiful tulip beds that are placed just under the railing. I know they don’t last long, but they are my favorite flowers, and I have always loved them.

When I look up, I see one of my reasons for living, my princess, running up the driveway with her lopsided pigtails.

“Moooommmmyyy! Moooooommmmmmyyy, I missed you, and Matthew didn’t make me pancakes. He said I wasn’t awolled to make my own, but then I told him he’s not the boss of me. Is he the boss of me, Mommy?” she asks all in one breath, cocking her head sideways.

I stick my nose in her neck and inhale my happiness. “Well, he isn’t the boss of you when I’m here, but since I have to work in the morning, he will be the one in charge. How about we make pancakes for supper? We can call it brupper.”

She smiles like I just gave her the keys to a magic kingdom. “We call it brupper. We have pancakes. Momma, can I pour it in the mixing bowl?”

I’m just about to answer her when my phone signals a text message. I shift her to my hip, kissing her nose while I look down and see an unknown number. It doesn’t take me long to know who it’s from.

What time is your highness arriving tomorrow?

I’m sorry. You have the wrong number! Are you typing from your throne? And who gave you my number? It’s unlisted.

Calm down. I’m not stalking you, and your phone number is at the bottom of the emails you sent me. So are you still showing up at 2:59?

Okay, I’ll make an exception for you since you’re a princess and all. I’ll be there at 2:55. That is the earliest I will get there. If that isn’t good enough, dress at home!

Princess, trust me, there is nothing female about me.

What the fucking fuck is happening here? Is he fucking flirting with me after basically being the biggest asshole of all time?

Okay, so 2:55 it is. See you then, Stone.

I put away my phone, turning my focus back to one of the most important things. My girl.

“So did you want chocolate chips on those pancakes or are we doing Mickey Mouse ones?”

She giggles and squeals, and in that moment no matter how much I want James to suffer for breaking my heart, he gave me the best thing ever.

The rest of the week goes by without incident. Well, if you count me ignoring him when he talks and him still being condescending, then it’s just like before.

I really can’t wait for this weekend to come. The kids are leaving tonight for their week with their father and his concubine. I don’t think the bitterness will leave, ever. I also don’t think I will ever get used to sharing the kids. The house just dies when they aren’t here.

I skate off the ice and head to take off my skates, slipping my feet into flip flops. When I’m finally finished, I check my messages. One is from James. Gross. I wonder if he ever washes his hands after sex. One is from Meghan. Hmmm, which one to click first? Meghan it is!

Hey, we are getting together here tonight. I can’t find a sitter, so it’s better for everyone to come over. Starts at around 7-ish. I’ll be making my famous martinis. Should I make up the guest room?

YES YES AND FUCK YES. Double that recipe. I need to clear my head.

Hmmm. You need to have sex with a certain hockey player, just don’t pull the goalie.

How the hell did you even land yourself a hockey husband?

Meghan and her husband, Tom, have been married for two years. He was my first NHL star client recovering from a broken leg. He came in there falling in love with the town, the people, and most of all Meghan. It also helped that she got pregnant right away. Not that it was a mistake by any means. It just upped their plans. She then surprised him even more by giving him twin girls named Greysen and Harper. So he hung up his professional skates and decided to stick around. He now helps me train the high school kids and brings in most of the big names. I wonder if he knows Cooper. Ugh, dude, get a hobby. Forget him.

My next text is James.

I will be picking the kids up at the regular time, if that is okay? I also don’t know if I can make it to Matthew’s hockey game on Sunday since Tiffany’s family will be down visiting. Do you think you can take both Allison and Matthew till Monday?

You fucking piece of shit sorry excuse for a fucking male.

You know that you have been missing quite a few games lately, and I’m just going to point out that Matthew is not really back to the kid he was before the divorce. I thought you would make more of an effort.

My blood is boiling. I can’t believe him. Matthew barely acknowledges his dad. Why he doesn’t want to mend that relationship is beyond me.

Parker, I really don’t have the energy to argue with you. I had no idea about these plans, and they can’t be changed. I have been trying to deal with Matthew, it’s just a rough patch.

He doesn’t have energy. Maybe the energizer bunny is finally slowing down. Hmm, maybe someone is listening to my prayers.

A rough patch. It’s been two years. The longer you continue this, the harder it will take to get it back. Don’t you see that he’s 15? He needs his father. Just have the kids ready by 10:00.

I don’t even bother waiting for a response because Cooper sits on the stool in front of the counter and clears his throat. I can’t deal with this bullshit right now.

“I thought you would have had my stuff done already?”

“You mean your shake that takes a whole three seconds to make? What I find funny is that you take longer to undress than to dress.”

“You thinking about me undressing, baby?”

I slam his glass on the counter.

“Don’t fucking call me baby.” I turn around to storm upstairs, muttering asshole under my breath.

The rest of the week goes by much the same, except with the little dabs from Cooper here and there. Little dabs toward me. The workouts kicked his ass, pushed him, but instead of giving me lip like he normally did, he would smirk at me or wink at me. At times it made my stomach flutter. But, then at times, I wanted to take his hockey stick and jab his eyes out. It was always a fifty-fifty by how things were going to happen.

Saturday is finally here, and what a week it’s been. I’m bone dead tired. I’m also pissed at James, and I plan to sleep in till nine a.m. tomorrow. After taking a long hot shower and blow drying my hair, I think about the clusterfuck this week has been. I’m really looking forward to a couple of cocktails to cloud my thoughts, which have been of a certain blue-eyed devil in no clothing.

I pull out my tan skirt, which should be called mini because it’s small, but my legs are the bomb, so why not show them off, even if it’s to the people who see them all the time. I pair it with a nice white spaghetti strap ruffled A-line tank that offers just enough cleavage and my brown wedges. I apply just a touch of mascara because I’m planning to drink, and taking off makeup while semi drunk is like a group of toddlers trying to color in the lines.

Let the games begin...

***

Looking at myself in the mirror, I notice my cheeks are all red. I’m also not sure if I’m going to be speaking to Meghan after tonight.

When I showed up at her house for a nice evening of BBQ, I was under the impression it would be just the regular gang we hang with. I was not ready for the blue eyes that met me when I walked into the yard.

As soon as I walked in, Meghan was there with a martini and the famous ‘I’m sorry’ eyes. Seems that Tom does know Cooper. He also thought it was a great idea to invite him over to hang out with us. Great. It was just fan-fucking-tastic, to say the very least.

I hurriedly drank my first martini, which then fell into a second, third, followed by my fourth. I sat at the table with everyone, conversation flowing, talking to the girls with not a care in the world, but I knew, I felt that his eyes were on me the entire time. Making me tingle in places that have been out of commission for a while.

The seating arrangements were almost already done with all the couples sitting together, leaving two seats open. Adam quickly took a seat, leaving one spot right next to Cooper. I almost kicked myself in the ass for taking so long to grab a chair. Sitting down right next to Cooper, he turned his head my way, giving me a sly smile. “You clean up good.” He leaned in, then tipped his beer back.

“I guess this is another cheat day, Stone?” I tried to get under his skin the same way he was getting under mine. My martini was quickly replaced and replenished by Meghan with the ‘I’m so sorry’ look again.

The chatter around the table had me sitting back and just listening to everything, the tension in my body slowly releasing itself. I’m sure it was the alcohol that was now flowing in my veins. The meal, however, made the tension start again. The way Cooper’s fingers grazed mine softly when reaching for his fork, almost like he did it on purpose, shot goose bumps all through my body. When we finished eating and were just lounging around still sitting, his hand made its way to the back of my chair. The heat from his hand straightened up my spine, making me aware of his every move. His hand hooked on the back of my chair, his thumb rubbing up and down my arm. My side looks found him chatting with Tom, like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was too much. His touch, my alcohol induced senses on overload. I just needed to get away from him. I pushed myself off the table, throwing my chair back. “I have to use the ladies’ room.” I tried to focus on the task of not swaying on my feet. Word to the wise. Never get up after drinking about ten martinis and expect to not sway. It took one second for me to feel his hands on my hips, making me right myself. “No more booze for me!”

“Do you want me to help you inside to the bathroom?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” I smoothed down my skirt, trying to keep a little bit of independence.

“I can do this.” Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I gave myself approval. It took some concentration to make it from the table all the way inside to the bathroom. I stood up, spine straight. “I’ve got this shit.” I smiled at my reflection.
Okay, no more vodka cranberry martinis for me.

Turning to head out of the bathroom, I almost had one step out of the door before I was shoved back inside, pushed up against the door.