Sticks and Stones (14 page)

            “Very
true,” he crooned, spinning her around.

            “So,
if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” she asked.

            Dmitri
laughed, “I’m 36.”

            “That’s
hardly old enough to be considered a grandpa!” she scoffed.

            “In
hockey it is. Our best years are when we’re in our 20’s,” he shrugged.

*          *          *

            Rick’s
jaw clenched as he watched them dance. Just what he didn’t need! Dmitri was
smooth with the ladies and was about Grace’s age, too. “Fuck!” he muttered
aloud.

            Kop
eyed his friend. “Why did you introduce her as your friend?”

            Rick’s
eyes cut away from Grace and Dmitri. “What’re you talking about?”

            “It’s
obvious you like her,” Kop shrugged.

            “Yeah,
bro. It’s all over your face,” Harpo agreed.

            “And
what do you think?” Rick asked Kanga.

            “I
don’t think you have to worry about Gramps. Every chance she gets, she’s
looking over here at your ugly mug,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

*          *          *

            Grace
wondered if Rick was watching them and every time she looked his way, his head
would be turned.
Well, good. I’m too old for him, anyway. But how I wish I
wasn’t,
she frowned.

*          *          *

            “She’s
not like the puck bunnies you’re usually with,” remarked Kop.

            “She’s
not a puck bunny,” Rick growled.

            “She’s
curvy, in all the right places and seems intelligent, too.”

            Rick
glanced at Grace and grinned. Yeah, she was curvy. Not stick thin like the
other women he’d been with. His jaw clenched and he shot Kop a glare. “Quit
lookin’ at her curves!”

            Kanga
patted Kop on his bald head. “Yeah, quit eye-fucking his woman!”

*          *          *

            “Grace
is a fine dancer, my friend,” Dmitri murmured at Rick, as he kissed Grace’s
hand.

            Grace
blushed and took a long swig of beer.

            “Yeah.
I had the pleasure of dancing with her all day yesterday,” Rick boasted.

            She
noticed a shot of Jameson next to her beer. “Is that for me?”

            “If
ya want it,” Rick replied.

            She
held up the glass, tossed the contents down the back of her throat and slammed
the glass down onto the round tiled table. “So, teach me about hockey,” she
slurred.

            “Well,
Gramps and Kop are Forwards. It’s their job to score the goals,” Rick began.
“You know that I’m a Defenseman and so is Kanga. We stop the other team from
scoring.”

            Grace
pointed at Harpo. “Is he a Backward?” Hearty guffaws rounded the table in
response and Kanga ended up spitting beer all over the table. “What’s so
funny?” she frowned, wiping up the beer.

            “Sweetheart,
we don’t have a Backward position in hockey,” Rick laughed.

            She
waved a dismissive hand, “Forwards, backwards…sorry I asked.” Grace glanced
around and spotted the restroom sign. “I’ll be right back.”

*          *          *

            Grace
washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were a little
redder than normal. A sure sign she was on her way to being drunk.
Not good,
she thought.
I’ll end up doing something I’ll regret later.

            When
she returned to the table a group of women stood around giggling and jiggling.

            “Oh
my gosh! Your muscle is huge!” a petite redhead crooned at Kanga.

            Grace
rolled her eyes and walked towards her stool. A brunette sat on it, leering at
Rick. “Can I get your signature?”

            Rick
didn’t notice Grace’s return when the voluptuous brunette pulled her shirt down
and exposed most of her breast so he could sign. He shot the brunette a
lopsided grin and shook his head, taking the black marker from her hand.

            Gramps
walked up next to Grace with a fresh drink in his hand. Graces arm brushed
against Rick’s back when she tugged her tank top down, exposing not only her black
lace bra, but also much of her breast. “Can I get your signature, Dmitri?” she
slurred.

            Rick
turned and with a scowl, pulled Grace’s shirt up and folded her into his chest.
“We’re leaving. Now,” he ground out.

*          *          *

            Halfway
to Grace’s house Rick lit into her. “What the fuck were you thinking? Pulling
your shirt down like that?”

            When
she didn’t respond, he turned to look at her.

            Her
head rested against the inside of the door and she released a short snore.

*          *          *

            Grace
awoke the next morning with a raging headache, still dressed in the outfit from
the night before.

            She
crawled out of bed and walked slowly into the bathroom. There she grabbed a
towel from cabinet and stepped inside the shower. She didn’t remember the car
ride home, let alone going to bed. But she did remember showing half of her tit
to a table of hockey players and groaned.

*          *          *

            Janice
sat at the ceramic nook in the kitchen sipping coffee and perusing the
Talk
of Chicago
section in the newspaper. She choked on her coffee when she saw
a picture of a hot young guy with his arm wrapped firmly around Grace’s
shoulders. She quickly read the caption below the photo.
Hot shot Chicago
Wind Defenseman, Rick O’Shea, with Grace Ryan of Bewitching Designs.

           
She
tapped Rick’s name into Google and a half-hour later a smile slid across her
face.

            “Ratman?
If you can hear me, I need Rick O’Shea’s phone number, too.”

*          *          *

            “You
made the paper, bro,” Chase chirped into the phone.

            Rick
rubbed the sleep from his eyes and snorted. “Usually do.”

            “Yeah,
but not with a picture of Grace Ryan in your arms.”

            Rick
threw the sheets off and sat up, gripping the phone tightly. “Christ! Her tit’s
not showing is it?”

            Chase
chuckled. “Um, no. Should it be?”

            Blowing
out a hard breath, Rick explained what happened the night before. “Then, I saw
her pass her number to Dmitri! I’m so fucking pissed at both of them right now
that I can’t think straight.”

            “Dude,
you’re an idiot,” Chase muttered.

            “Hey,
Emily told me to treat her as a friend. I thought reverse psychology was
working, but it backfired on me!”

            “And
that’s
why you’re an idiot. It
is
working! She was jealous of you
signing that other broad’s tit! Why the fuck do all the chicks want you to sign
their tits anyway?”

            “Really?
You think she was jealous?” Rick asked, hopefully.

*          *          *

            When
Grace stepped off the elevator and walked towards Bewitching Designs office she
stopped momentarily in front of the glass doors and cocked her head.

            She
expected to be the only one in the office since Blake and Max were on a weekend
getaway in Lake Geneva. She didn’t expect Zee to be there.

            She
pulled the door open and Zee greeted her with a wary smile. “Good morning,
Grace.”

            “I
thought I fired you,” Grace replied coldly.

            Zee
shifted in her seat. “Actually you said you didn’t know if you wanted to be my
friend. I still owe you for my new bedroom and I always repay my debts.”

            It
was a statement that Grace couldn’t argue with so she shrugged and walked into
her office. Once settled, she began looking over the tasks for the day. A smile
lit her face. She’d be leaving early to fetch her parents from the airport.

            “It’s
nice to see you smiling,” Zee remarked, stepping into her office.

            Grace
flinched. “Do you need something?”

            “Chip
Sanders from The Daily Paper is here to see you,” Zee said excitedly.

            Grace’s
face scrunched. “For?”

            “Well,
duh. An interview!”

            Remembering
her blood shot eyes Grace groaned, “I hope he doesn’t want pictures!”

*          *          *

            Ratman
recited the phone numbers while Janice jotted them down. A smile crept across
her lips. “Now, the question is who do I call? The hockey player or the
ex-boyfriend?”

            “Make
it interesting. Call them both,” Ratman suggested.

*          *          *

            “So
Miss Ryan, what’s your relationship with Ricochet?” Chip asked, with steno pad
in his hand.

            Grace’s
eyebrows lifted at the short, bald, pudgy man. “That’s your first question? My
relationship to Rick?”

            Chip
nodded his head eagerly. “Yes, yes it is.”

            “We’re
friends,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

            Chip
lifted his pen to his bottom lip. “Now, by friends, do you mean you’re friends
with benefits or…”

            She
cut him off mid-sentence. “Get out!”

*          *          *

            Unsure
if Grace was jealous, Rick vowed to not call her. Nope. Give her a few days to
think about things. Maybe even miss him a little.

            Besides,
he had shit to do. It was the last week of the hockey clinic and he had a party
to plan. It was something he always did on the last day. Lots of pizza, pop,
cake and a few members of the Chicago Wind to top it off. The kids always got a
kick out of meeting the guys and taking pictures with them.

            A
thought skittered across his mind then he quickly dismissed it. It’d be great
to have Grace there, but he’d rather keep her away from Dmitri, in case Chase
was wrong.

*          *          *

            Aunt
Tilda was practically bouncing when she spotted her sister, Kim and her
brother-in-law, Patrick. Grace wore a goofy smile as she watched the sisters
embrace and bounce together. Her dad folded her into his arms. “I’ve missed my
best girl.”

            “I’ve
missed you, too, dad,” she murmured into his ear.

*          *          *

            Rick
rolled into his house after six with a steaming hot container of the best
spaghetti this side of Italy. He placed the package onto the kitchen nook and
grabbed silverware along with a bottle of Shiraz from the wine cooler. He
absently forgot a glass since he was checking his cell phone for messages.

            Dejected,
he plucked a wine glass from the cabinet and threw his phone on the nook.

            Not
bothering to fetch a plate, Rick ate from the container, twirling the angel
hair pasta onto the fork. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor of the red
sauce. When he opened his eyes he noticed the
Fifty Shades
book sitting
at the far corner of the nook.

            He
reached for it and opened it to the spot where he left off. He began to read
and snorted, “At least this Christian guy is getting some action.” He placed
the book down and filled the glass with the Shiraz.

            “Good
food, good drink, good read. Good Lord lets eat,” he murmured to himself.

*          *          *

            “Enough
about our trip to Ireland,” Kim replied, wiping the corners of her mouth with
the fabric napkin. “What’s been going on here?”

            “Nothing
much,” Grace murmured. “I’ve been super busy with work and now we’re working
with Storm Design Group.”

            “That’s
impressive!” Patrick grinned.

            “Tilda
e-mailed us about Ben, honey. We’re so sorry,” her mom said softly.

            Grace
shrugged, “So’kay. Each day it gets easier.”

            “Well
yeah! Gracie’s met the most wonderful man!” Tilda cooed, between mouthfuls of
beef fajitas.

            Patrick’s
gray eyebrows lifted, “Is that so?”

            Grace
had a mouth full of rice and shot Tilda an annoyed glance. After she swallowed
she muttered, “No! I mean, yes, he’s a wonderful person, but we’re just
friends.”

            “Oh
pooh! Quit being so stubborn and accept it, Poppet!” Aunt Tilda scolded.

            Kim
laughed and nudged Grace’s elbow. “What’s wrong with him?”

            Grace
closed her eyes. “He’s 26.”

            Kim
purred, “You cougar!”

*          *          *

            Ben
reached for his cell phone, his eyebrows furrowed at the number displayed.
“Hello?”

            “Ben.”

            “How’d
you get my number, Janice?” he hissed.

            “A
stupid question from a smart guy. Look, here’s the deal: you want Grace back
and I can help you with that.”

            “No
thanks. Not interested in the kind of help you’re offering.”

            “Are
you sure? You and Grace would simply pick up where you left off. I’d be a
memory and the two of you could live happily-ever-after.”

            Ben
pondered for a moment as Janice went in for the kill.