A Hockey Player's Proposal (Oh Captain, My Captain #2) (2 page)

Selene

Based on Brody’s reaction when I told him I was a fan, I will not be wearing my Ross jersey when he’s around. I’m positive he thinks I’m crazy, but whatever. I’ll stick to being a nonsocial neighbor, as long as Bonkers will cooperate. For some reason, he really likes Brody. Probably from where that’s his favorite player too.

Mick is making up for canceling last night by meeting me for lunch, though he never texted back to say he was canceling. I’m at a little diner nearby and I’ve beat him here. After debating for a second, I decide to go on in. It’s a bit busy, but there are three empty seats at the bar. I take the one in the middle, smiling when the guy on the left looks my way. But it’s not just any guy. It’s Brody.

Great.

He probably thinks I’m a stalker for sure now.

“Oh, hi,” I say softly.

“Hey.” He smiles.

C’mon, Mick. Please don’t be too late. He cannot think I’m a stalker. The door jingles and when I turn around to look, I almost sag with relief. Mick walks over to me, kisses me, and says, “Hey, baby. I’m running a little behind today.”

“It’s fine,” I reply. Mick sits between Brody and me. When they exchange glances, I take the opportunity to introduce them. “Mick, this is my new neighbor, Brody. Brody, this is my boyfriend, Mick.”

They shake hands, and Mick goes, “Oh, yeah, the baseball player, right?”

If I could slap my forehead, I would. Seriously? Does he ever get anything right?

“I don’t play with balls. I play hockey,” Brody answers.

I can’t help my laugh, but Mick doesn’t seem all that amused. The waitress comes and greets us. Brody says a goodbye as we order drinks. Once he walks away, I turn to Mick.

“How do you get hockey and baseball mixed up? I’m not even a baseball fan.” If he would take a minute to think about it, I wouldn’t have called him excited about a baseball player moving in next door.

“Hey, all I care about is football. All other sports are secondary to the greatest sport ever.”

“Football, really?”

“Football is a man’s sport. Hockey is more like, figure skating with sticks. All it is is a bunch of insecure men trying to feed their egos by fighting. I’m surprised he has all this teeth.” He chuckles like he’s funny. “Either way, it’s not a real sport.”

“Not a real sport? You’ve got to be kidding me.” I take a deep breath. Everyone has an opinion and although his opinion is inaccurate and stupid, I don’t want to get into an argument with him today. “Whatever. Let’s just get something to eat.”

“Are you upset because I’m right?”

I’m upset because he’s an idiot. “No, I’m not upset that you think you’re right, Mick. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

“Sure.”

The waitress interrupts us for our order. Mick goes on and on about work, not once asking anything about my day or anything else that pertains to my life. By the end of lunch, I’m ill all over again. But then Mick says something cheesy about how he’s sorry he never got up with me last night and how pretty I look. Next thing I know, he’s supposed to come over tonight. When I get back to work, I have a few minutes before my next appointment, so I find Allison.

“Let me guess. Mick proved to be the sleaze that he is,” she says when I walk into the room.

I plop down into a seat. “He thinks hockey is figure skating with sticks and not a man’s sport.”

Allison swivels to face me. “Break up with him, Selene. Right now.”

Laughing, I add, “Brody was at the diner, which he probably thinks I followed him to, and Mick thought I told him he was a baseball player. But get this. Brody told him that he didn’t play with balls.” Allison cracks up. “Then all he did was talk about himself. He’s coming over tonight though.”

“Why?” Allison asks incredulously.

Shamefully, I tell her, “He was a little sweet towards the end. He’s not a bad guy all the time.”

“One percent of the time doesn’t count for much.”

Allison’s words echo in my mind all day long. Even when I get home, I’m still thinking about it. Bonkers is in my lap while I wait for Mick to come over. There’s a game with the Portland Vikings and Alabama Blacksmiths that I want to watch as the season starts tonight. My team’s first game isn’t until tomorrow. I can’t wait to go either. Mick walks in and Bonkers starts growling.

“Hush, Bonkers. Hey, Mick.”

When he comes closer, Bonkers barks and he says, “I wish you would get rid of that damn dog. I can’t even give you a kiss because he’s about to bite my hand off.”

I hug Bonkers’ tense body closer to me. He thinks I should get rid of him? No way. Mick grabs the remote off the coffee table and sits in the recliner. “What are you doing?” I ask while Bonkers continues to growl.

“There’s a football game on tonight. We’re watching it.”

“Like hell we are. I’m not about to miss one of the first games of hockey season for a
football
game.” Bonkers is still making a fuss, so I get up to let him out and Mick follows me outside onto the porch.

“I don’t want to watch a hockey game. I told you it’s nothing more than figure skating with sticks. Why would you want to watch ice skating over football? Does this have to do with your new hockey player next door?”

“Seriously, Mick. I’m a hockey fan and I want to watch the game.”

“And I’m a football fan. I want to watch the game,” he retorts. “It’s not even your team playing, is it?”

“No-”

“Then why the hell do you want to watch it?” Mick raises his voice at me.

“That doesn’t matter! I love hockey. I want to see it.”

“I love football, but I don’t want to watch every damn team play. I came over to see you and watch football on your big screen, not some shit sport you like. I don’t get why you love it so much anyway.”

Calmly, I answer, “If you can’t even see that hockey is important to me, then this is pointless. Go home, Mick. You give me a headache.”

“I don’t have time for your shit anyway. Have fun with your new friend next door.”

He walks back through the house, and I hear the door slam a moment later. Bonkers runs up to me, his tail just a-waggin’. I sit down in one of the angled chairs that sort of faces Brody’s backyard. And there’s Brody, standing on his back porch facing my direction, cooking something on his grill.

When he looks up, I call out, “I guess you heard all that?”

“Yeah, most of it.”

“Sorry. I never realized how bad of a neighbor I am.”

Brody laughs. “It’s okay.” After a moment, he says, “Did you really break up with him over sports?”

I chuckle when I realize that he’s partly right. There was more to it than that when you look at the big picture though. “I guess I did.”

“I know why hockey is so important to me. I mean, I play it for a living. Why does it mean so much to you?”

Standing, I question, “You’re asking because you’re curious, right?” He nods. “Sorry, Brody. I can’t tell you something like that to satisfy your curiosity. Good luck tomorrow.” With that, I walk inside with Bonkers on my heels and make it to the couch as the puck drops to kick off the season.

He may be Brody Ross, captain of the Indiana Mustangs, my favorite team, but I can’t casually share that with him over a fence between our yards. Bonkers jumps on the couch, momentarily distracting me.

“Let hockey season begin,” I tell him as he lays down with his face towards the TV. I swear, he actually watches. Mick always thought I was crazy for leaving the TV on for him when I leave, but I think he watches, so I do. Especially when I’m gone at the hockey games, I’ll leave it on that channel so he can see it too.

During a commercial, I text Allison. “Sleaze is gone forever. Come over during the intermission to watch the game with me.”

A moment later, she replies.

Allison: Hell yeah! Be over soon.

This is what I need. No Mick. Just hockey and my best friend.

Brody

I double check myself in the mirror. The suit is too tight in the arms. I need to take it back to the tailors. All my equipment is at the arena, and all I have to do is walk in. I check my watch and realize I need to hurry up. Coach told us to be early because we have to walk the Mustang red carpet event. I hate these things, but it’s for the fans. I shouldn’t complain if it’s for them. It’s just walking a few extra yards.

I walk out my front door and see Selene getting in her car. She's decked out in Mustang apparel. There is even a ribbon in her dark hair. Maybe she isn’t a stalker. She isn’t even wearing my jersey. I will say that she looks amazing. Her jeans fit her tightly, but not in a slutty way. The jersey is big, but you can still see her curves. I stand there for a second and think about last night.

I heard her argument with the jerk who thought I was a baseball player. I’ve got to give her credit for standing up to him, especially over something like hockey. I love hockey, but she
loves
it. Definitely a crazy fan.

Although, I’m surprised that she didn’t tell me why she loves hockey so much. Maybe an old boyfriend introduced her to the sport. I push all the thoughts out of my head about it and jump in my car. I head out of the driveway and to the arena.

Traffic is crazy on the road towards the rink. The carpet is full of fans. I park in the back and jump into the limo that will drive me around the front. Of course, Kris jumps in too.

“One player per limo. Didn’t you hear coach?”

“Aw, come on captain Rossy, can’t I ride wit you?” he asks in a childish voice.

“I really dislike you sometimes.” I shake my head at him.

“You know, I’ve known you for a long time, and you never say the word ‘hate’. Why is that?”

I shrug. “Hate is a very stern and harsh word. People overuse it. It’s like the word ‘love’. It should be saved for special occasions.”

“So, I guess you don’t hate me then?” He bumps my shoulder.

“I plead the fifth amendment on that,” I joke back.

“I don’t think that works if you’re Swedish.”

I put my hand up to him. “Stop talking because your IQ is dropping every time you say something.”

Kris busts up laughing like it’s the funniest thing he has ever heard. Why is this guy my friend again?

Finally, we make it to the front of the building and fans are screaming when Kris gets out. He throws his arms up like he is the king that just arrived. I step out and everyone screams louder. I will give the fans one thing, they’re always supporting me. Of course, I pose for a few pictures, sign some autographs, and slap some high fives. I get through the fifteen yards of red carpet and into the tunnel to the locker rooms.

Everyone is quiet in here. They’re focusing on the game ahead and winning. I will not have a repeat of last season. The Cup will not slip through my fingers again. I get my pads on and begin to tape up my shins and skates. Coach comes in, gives a quick pep talk, and we are off to warm up.

The lights are bright, making the ice shine brighter than usual. I love the feel of skating around the rink. It’s like a feeling no one can explain until they do it. I shoot a couple of pucks before I go to the center of the ice and stretch out my legs. I not only take this time to loosen up my muscles, but to check out the other team. Sometimes, it helps me during the game to see how the opposing players warm up.

After about ten minutes, we are back in the locker room. Coach announces the lines and tells us what to remember most about the game. Then we are out, walking onto the ice. I’m a little superstitious. I have to fist bump every player as they walk out of the room, and I have to be the last one out as well. I always walk behind my team. I’ve done that since my junior hockey days.

I skate around a couple of times, then it’s time to get down to business. I stare into the face of the other team’s captain, and it begins.

Sixty minutes of playing, forty minutes of resting, and a lot of yelling got us a win. My legs are burning when I get back to the locker room. I change out of my pads and do some interviews. When the media begins to clear out, I hit the shower and let the hot water soothe my tight muscles. I think I could stand here forever. Unfortunately, I have to go home. We have another game the day after tomorrow, and then the road trips begin.

Traffic isn’t as bad going home. I pull into my driveway, and I can’t wait to crawl into my bed. I’m about to unlock my door when I hear a rustling in my bush.

“Bonkers, if you don’t come here right now, I’m turning you into a purse.” I hear a harsh whisper around the corner of my porch. I roll my eyes. I walk down the stairs over to where Selene’s butt is in the air as she's searching through my bushes. I have to say for a stalker, she has a nice ass.

“Having issues again?” I ask.

She screams and turns to me, clenching her chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she semi-yells at me.

“You’re in my bushes,” I remind her.

She puts her hands on her hips. “My dog got loose again. I’ll have to get that gate fixed, so he’ll quit running from me. Plus, he doesn’t listen.”

“Bonkers? Bonkers got loose again?” Is she using that dog as an excuse? I shake my head.

“I swear. I’m truly not stalking you.”

“I can tell because you’re not wearing my jersey.” I point at her.

“What? You think you’re the only player on the Mustangs that I like? For your information, I like
all
the players on the team.”

I nod at her. Maybe she’s a loyal fan. “Bonkers! Come!” I yell. Instantly, the dog appears at my feet, waggin’ his tail and trying to climb up my leg. I bend down, pick him up, and he licks my face.

“Damn dog,” she mutters.

“It’s all in the way you call him.” I hand him to her.

She nods. “Yeah, I’ll have to remember that. Have a good night, Brody. Oh, and good game. That was an awesome block shot in the second.”

“You go to all the games?”

“Yep, I’ve been a season ticket holder for as long as I could work and afford the tickets.”

“Glass seats?”

She busts out laughing. It’s a sexy girly laugh. “Please, who could afford them but millionaires? Plus, those aren’t where the real fans are.” Then she stops instantly. “I meant, they’re just really expensive. Um, I’m in the three hundred stands.”

“Is that where the real fans sit?” I wonder why she would say something like that.

“Just how I see it. The people around me have been my hockey family for years.” She shrugs. “It’s where I feel most at home.”

The streetlight shines on her face, and I can see the sadness in her eyes. There is something that she's hiding.

“So, you go to the games alone?”

“Well, I buy two sets of season tickets, but the seat next to me is always empty.” She looks down at the ground.

“Why? Do you not want anyone next to you?” I slightly chuckle.

She doesn’t say anything. For a moment, I think I’ve hurt her feelings.

“Have a good night, Brody. Thanks for getting Bonkers for me.” She turns and heads across the yard.

I stand there for a moment, looking at her house. Everything about our conversations is strange. I don’t think about it again as I walk inside. I’m tired, and I’m still feeling the block shot that I took in my chest. I take my jacket off and go to check my cell and see what I missed while I was playing. I had a text from Jessica, asking if I’m coming over later.

Me: I’m tired from the game. Maybe another night.

Jessica: If I told you I was naked, would that help?

As much as I want to have sex, sleep sounds a lot better at this moment.

Me: I’ll take a raincheck.

Jessica: *pouts* Fine. Call me soon.

She knows very well that I’ll call her when I’m ready.