Across the Line (In The Zone) (3 page)

Chapter Four

Standing in the parking lot at the bottom of the trail, Becca glanced at her watch. Calder was due any minute now. She stretched her calves and hamstrings, more nervous than she should have been. He was just a man, she told herself. He had two arms, two legs just like everyone else, no different from any of the other men she’d gone out with.

Yet, he was completely different.

Calder was a public figure. She’d been shocked at the amount of personal information she could find out about him on the internet. She knew how much money he made a year. She knew he liked the Lakers and mocha lattes. She knew where his grandfather was buried and even what brand of toothpaste he preferred.

She couldn’t imagine living life under the microscope like that. She liked her privacy. But that’s what happened when you were a big-time NHL hockey player. You had to give interviews all the time, be photographed when you looked terrible and get hounded by fans. She had given an interview once for the local paper when her restaurant opened and had hated the entire experience.

Q:
Becca
,
what made you quit medical school to pursue a career in the restaurant business?

A:
In my third year
,
I
realized that the dream to be a doctor wasn’t my dream.
It was my parents’ dream.

Q:
And you wanted to feed the body
,
not heal it?

A:
Pretty much.
I’ve always loved cooking for people.
My family first
,
my friends.
And food
can
heal.
I’m a big believer in comfort food.

Q:
Six out of ten restaurants fail within the first year.
That’s a difficult statistic to prove wrong.

A:
For me
,
failure isn’t an option.
Opening a successful restaurant boils down to three basic things.
Good food
,
good service and a pleasant atmosphere.
Cups on the Commons has all three.

Q:
What’s been the hardest part so far of starting up your own café?

A:
The hours
,
hands down.
I
regularly work seventy to eighty hours a week.

That was only partly true. Actually, the hardest part was trying to live with her parents’ wordless disapproval. Never particularly affectionate or encouraging, their idea of raising a child was to decide the path for that child and make sure he or she stayed on that path. Forever.

The two eldest Chen offspring, Theresa and Abigail, had both become doctors, practicing in the city, but Becca hadn’t been able to stay the path. She’d hated disappointing her parents. Obedience was a trait they’d actively fostered in her, but in the end she just couldn’t see herself practicing medicine for the rest of her life when the place she really longed to be in was the kitchen.

A white Camry pulled into the spot next to hers and Calder got out. He looked damn good in shorts and a T-shirt.

She walked over to his car and he kissed her cheek. “Hi,” he said.

He smelled good. His thick dark hair was damp. Up close, she realized again how tall he was. With skates, he’d be a giant. He had muscular legs, which made sense considering what he did for a living, but he had a black neoprene thing around his right knee.

“What happened to your leg?”

“I tore a ligament.”

“MCL? ACL? I was in med school for a little while before I opened Cups,” she explained when he looked surprised.

“ACL. Tore it last November, right before Thanksgiving.”

“Are you okay to do this hike? It’s a pretty easy hike, but with a bum knee...”

“Yeah. I’m good. As long as we don’t run, I’ll be good.”

He pulled some water bottles out of the car and she put them in her backpack.

“I can get that,” he said, gesturing toward the backpack.

She shook her head and started out. “I can handle it.”

* * *

Calder followed her up the trail. It was a gorgeous day with perfect weather. He spent so much time inside arenas and ice rinks—buildings with no windows—that he really enjoyed the great outdoors. The air smelled wonderfully clean and the trail’s hard-packed dirt was easy to manage. Flanking the trail were numerous oak, beech, birch and maple trees and above them was a bright, cloudless sky.

“So, tell me about that knee,” she said.

“Not much to tell. Guy collided with me and it bent in a way it wasn’t designed to bend. I had surgery, was in rehab, and that’s about it.”

“And how many games did you miss?”

“Seventy-one.”

“Wow. That’s a lot. That must have been hard.”

“It sucked. I can’t even describe how frustrating it is to be part of the team but unable to contribute. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of things. Training camp’s in September, but that seems so far away. At the same time, I need to get back in shape. If I don’t lose some weight by the time camp starts, my name is mud. Or Lard Ass. Or something similar.”

Becca seemed shocked. “They’ll call you Lard Ass to your face? Your own teammates?”

Calder nodded.

During his rookie year in the NHL, Robin Draper had come back from the summer with some extra poundage. That would have been fine if it had been lean muscle, but it hadn’t. Because Draper was a six-year veteran with thirty-six goals and twenty-eight assists the previous season, Calder had basically been in awe of him. But the trainers and other players hadn’t been as understanding. In addition to being assigned a shitload of extra cardio, Draper had been the butt of numerous pranks that year, even
after
he’d dropped the weight. So there was no fucking way Calder was going to be this season’s Draper.

“Wow.” She shook her head. “I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.
You
started name-calling when you were in the fifth grade.”

He chuckled. “Aw. Come on, it’s all in fun. It’s how we men show our love to each other.” He saw a stick on the ground and picked it up. It would help alleviate the pressure on his knee.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not a man.”

“I am too,” he muttered as he watched her pert little ass, again wishing he could get his hands on it. Just one squeeze. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

At last they were rewarded by the spectacular Green Veil Falls. Water fell down a mossy wall of stone on its way downstream. Although it was far from quiet, a sense of calm still permeated the air.

They uncapped water bottles and hydrated as they admired the view. The weather had warmed up and Calder had a good sweat going. The hair on the nape of Becca’s neck was damp. He wanted to lick her there.

He wanted to lick her in a lot of places.

He calculated the odds of that happening this trip and wasn’t too encouraged.

“I’m going to see how cold the water is,” Becca announced. She shed the pack and laid it on the ground.

“Wait a sec. Let me help you. The way down looks a little dicey.”

She gave him a look. “Calder, I’m not helpless. I can handle it.”

Chastised, he followed carefully, still alert to the danger of reinjuring his knee. The path she was taking didn’t look too dangerous. He had his stick, a bit more rustic and thick than his hockey stick, but it was helping. There were large boulders and numerous bushes and trees to navigate between. Becca seemed nimble enough, managing to choose her footing with alacrity. She’d worn hiking boots, which would help support her ankles.

They were almost to a flat place where she could crouch to feel the water, when she suddenly froze. Despite the number of hikers that tramped through on a regular basis, the wildlife still came to drink. He wondered if she’d spotted a deer or a rabbit maybe. But then, a split second later, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold.

Chapter Five

Becca rarely spotted animals when hiking. She wasn’t sure if it was because she wasn’t observant or if the critters hid because they heard her coming. Either way, if she’d been born in another time, she’d have had to be one of the gatherers because she’d have epically failed at hunting.

Which was why she was almost on top of the snake before it made its presence known.

A slight movement on the ground caught her eye and the dry, menacing rattle started out softly, sounding almost like dry leaves, but then it gained intensity and volume. Mostly brown with thick darker brown and thin black ragged stripes, it was a pretty big snake and looked like it was gathering itself for a strike. The triangular head and flickering tongue struck fear in her belly.

“
Fuck.
” Calder’s voice cut into her consciousness at about the same time she became aware of him crashing toward her.

She was about to stick her arm out to stop him from coming any closer when he went into hockey mode. After shouldering her aside like he might an opponent on the ice, he used the stick to slap the snake away as if clearing the puck out of his team’s zone. The viper flew about ten feet while Becca stumbled and ended up sitting in the stream, the water almost up to her neck.

His gaze still fixed on the snake, which was slithering away, he asked, “Fuck, are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine.” The knee-deep cold water shocked her but other than that, she was unharmed. “Thank you.”

“Stay there. I want to make sure there aren’t any more of those fuckers around.” He took a few steps, poking with his stick in between the rocks and sweeping it through the grass and leaves.

Becca stood. Now that the danger had passed, she felt shaky.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe that just happened. I was almost on top of it. And did you see how huge it was? Thing had to be three feet long.” She slogged through the water back to him, glad of the sunshine.

Calder didn’t say anything. He had a strange wide-eyed expression on his face. When she looked down at herself, she realized why. Her shirt was plastered to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Immediately, she pulled the shirt away, but when she let go, it just molded itself right back to her. Her bra didn’t help much in the way of modesty, not with her nipples wide awake and ready to party.

“Christ,” he said, turning around. “Put a sweater on or something.”

Seeing him so flustered made Becca smile. “I don’t have a sweater. Hold on, I’m going to wring out my shirt. Maybe that’ll help. Is your knee okay?”

Still facing away from her, he bent it a couple of times. “It’s fine.”

“Good.” As she put her wrinkled shirt back on, she replayed in her mind how Calder’s forearms flexed when he swung at the snake, and how he’d blocked her from harm with his big body, rescuing her from a terrifyingly venomous snake. Holy shit. That kind of stuff only happened in movies. But part of her was appalled at this reaction. She’d always thought of herself as above that kind of feminine swooning. Women had evolved past that, hadn’t they? Sure, she was grateful, but did her body have to get all hot and bothered over what he’d done? Most of her was covered in goose bumps from the cold, but one certain part of her was heated up and ready for plundering.

Shit. She may as well turn in her feminist card.

Annoyed with herself, she said, “It’s safe to turn around now. You’re crazy, you know. Who do you think you are? The Crocodile Hunter?”

“No. I think I’m the guy who saved your ass from getting bitten by a rattlesnake.” He turned. His eyes flicked downward, then he sighed with such visible male regret it made her smile in spite of her self-indignation.

“You are that, and I thank you for it, but that doesn’t negate the fact that you’re crazy, charging a snake like that.”

He grinned. “You just don’t like that I helped you. You’re an independent woman who likes to ‘handle’ things on her own.” He made irritating air quotes as he hit the nail on the head.

“You have a problem with independent women?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Hell no. I love them. I just need some time to find out where your boundaries are. I’d already figured out you like to carry your own stuff and blaze your own trails, and now I know if we encounter any more snakes, I should stand down and maybe just hand you my stick.”

His smile was disarming. He was so easygoing, not a bit like the brat he’d been years ago. He was pretty good with that stick too.

* * *

When Calder got home, he found his mother had baked cookies again, this time snickerdoodles, still warm from the oven. Yet again he couldn’t resist eating a few. At this rate, he was going to weigh three hundred pounds when he got back to California.

“So,” Jenny said, pouring him some milk, “tell me about your date. How did it go?”

He bit into the cookie. It was soft and chewy. He pointed at it, smiling and nodding as he chewed. “So good, Mom. No one makes snickerdoodles like you do.”

She smiled. “The secret is a tiny bit of nutmeg.” She sipped her tea. “So? Your date?”

“The date was good,” he said. “Mostly.”

“What do you mean, mostly?”

“Well, we had a close encounter of the rattlesnake kind.”

His mom gasped. “Good Lord! Are you all right? Is she? Neither of you were bitten, were you?”

“No, we didn’t get bitten.” He told her the whole story and managed to devour four cookies in the process.

“I didn’t know we had rattlesnakes here,” his mom said.

“I didn’t either, but this was definitely a rattlesnake. It had a triangle head and a loud rattle.”

“I’m very proud of you, Calder. You saved her life.”

He colored at the praise. “Come on, Mom. You’re getting melodramatic.”

“No, I’m not. You were very brave. If you hadn’t taken action, who knows what might have happened? It sounds like she kept her head too. She sounds like a strong woman and you need a strong woman, someone who can hold her own, especially with those teammates of yours.”

His mom was familiar with how rough around the edges his teammates could be, and although Calder knew his friends could behave themselves if they knew a woman was important to a guy, in general, they wouldn’t respect someone who crumbled under the slightest pressure. Neither would he, for that matter.

No, Becca was not a fragile flower. She was capable and feisty. She had a good head on her shoulders, not to mention a set of tits that could win the Nobel Peace Prize because one look at them covered in wet cotton would stop armies in their tracks. No man could possibly think of anything but sex when faced with such an evocative image.

Back at the falls, he’d wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss the hell out of her. He’d wanted to peel away the shirt, the bra, every bit of clothing she wore so they could have wild sex out in the great outdoors, the sun on his back as he thrust himself into her. But he hadn’t. Instead, after checking the area for other unwelcome reptiles, he’d enjoyed a pleasant picnic with her under some trees.

“So are you going to see each other again?” his mom asked.

“Yes. I’m going to Cups tomorrow and she’s going to cook for me, but don’t read anything into it. It’s just lunch.”

“Lunch, then dinner, then another dinner, then who knows what?” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “Keep an open mind. Love finds you when you least expect it sometimes.”

He chuckled. “Okay, Mom. You go ahead and send that to Hallmark while I go get a shower.”

Smiling, she slapped him on the chest with the back of her hand. “Smart-ass.”

In his room, he stripped and got into the shower.

Becca had told him she lived in a studio apartment above the café. He pictured her in a small shower there. Naked and wet and sudsy.

He paused in the act of soaping up his armpit.

Fuck.

He’d had a mental hard-on for her ever since she’d sat next to him on the plane, and now it was a real hard-on. The image of her coming out of the water at Green Veil Falls returned, devastatingly clear. She’d been a woodland nymph or that chick surfing on the seashell in that famous painting. The sunlight had made the skin of her long, slender legs glisten as rivulets of water sluiced down her thighs and calves. All he could think about was what she might look like without the wet clothes, or perhaps just with
fewer
wet clothes. Becca in wet panties and nothing else would be a spectacular sight.

After putting the soap back on the shelf, he took hold of himself and stroked. With an image like that stuck in his head he was better off dealing with it directly than letting it ambush him later at an inopportune time.

Closing his eyes, he fantasized about the two of them at the falls, completely alone. When she emerged from the pool this time, she didn’t have a bra on under the shirt. The translucent cotton clung, exposing her breasts in a way that was somehow more erotic than if they’d been completely bared.

He met her halfway. Her breasts were chilled and wet until he closed his mouth over one of the tips, over the cotton, and warmed it with his tongue. The imaginary Becca arched toward him and clutched his head as she moaned. The sun shone on them in the forest as the water cascaded down the rocks in the background and Calder sucked on her, his hands on her small waist.

She pulled away. Gave him a smile.

Got down on her knees.

Fuck yeah.

His pants had somehow disappeared and she was gazing at his dick and licking her lips, then angling him toward her open mouth.

As she closed her lips around him, he lost it.

With his left forearm resting on the tile above his head, he came. He imagined Becca, taking him deeply as he emptied himself down her throat. As the shock waves of pleasure coursed through him, he kept quiet and continued to stroke until the last ripples faded away. It was intense and pretty physically satisfying, considering she wasn’t actually blowing him. He couldn’t help but wonder what the real thing would feel like.

* * *

The next day, he had breakfast with his mom, got on her treadmill and put in a few miles, then talked to his dad on the phone and heard all about his adventures at the hockey camp. Calder laughed inwardly at the role reversal. Once upon a time, it was Calder calling home to talk about how exciting it was and all the things he was learning at camp, and here he was today in his dad’s shoes. He’d actually never heard his dad so excited. On the team-sponsored father-son road trips, his dad was always calm and collected, maybe because the guys Calder played with weren’t national icons like the Miracle on Ice team.

“I have about ten million stories to tell you, son—stuff they didn’t show in that movie. But I gotta get back. It’s time for the photo shoot and I want to stand next to Eruzione.”

“Make sure your eyes aren’t closed,” Calder said.

After hanging up with his dad, he got ready for his lunch date, but when he came down the stairs in shorts and a polo shirt, the keys to the Camry in his hand, his mom stopped him.

“Wait a sec. Hart called while you were in the shower. He’s coming in day after tomorrow.”

“What?” Suddenly the spring in his step disappeared. He paused on the bottom stair.

“He said he has a last-minute thing in New York he has to go to, but after he was done, he wanted to swing by and catch up.”

“Did you tell him I was here?”

She smiled. “Yes. He’s excited to see you.”

“I’ll bet,” Calder muttered. He and Hart weren’t close. At least, not anymore. Calder had hated being the little brother, always trying to play catch-up. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Hart hadn’t been like the King Midas of the family, excelling at everything he tried, especially hockey.

“Don’t be like that,” Jenny said. “You’re brothers. I want you to try to get along while you’re both here.”

His mom’s wistful expression cut through the animosity he was feeling and he let it go. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” She looked down at his feet and clucked her tongue. “Calder. Flip-flops? Really?”

“Mom. We’re not going to Ma Maison. It’s lunch at her lettuce cup and soup place.”

She sighed as he closed the front door.

Uncertain now, Calder paused on the porch to reassess, then shook his head. He looked fine. These were his
good
flip-flops, the leather ones he’d gotten at the neighborhood surf shop back home, not the ratty rubber ones that were falling apart. Shit, if his mom had her way, he’d be spiffed up in slacks, shirt and tie.

He found the café easily enough. It was a cute place with a lime-green and black awning and some wrought-iron tables and chairs out front. The easel-style menu board near the door advertised the specials for the day. One of the two soups du jour was the Chicken Curry Chowder, “a hearty, spicy nontraditional chowder.” The second was the Pork Meatball Soup, “tasty meatballs in a shiitake mushroom broth with Napa cabbage and a dash of cilantro.” The featured lettuce cup was the BLT.

Calder fucking loved bacon. Hell, all three of those specials sounded great.

Since he was fifteen minutes early, he strolled a little farther. The Commons looked different but the same. A few places had opened that he’d never seen before, but a lot were old favorites. He stepped into a men’s clothing store that had probably been there since the sixties and found, of all things, an orange necktie with old-fashioned goalie masks all over it. It was the ugliest fucking tie he’d ever seen.

He bought it.

He had no idea what he was going to do with it—wear it to a classy affair just for fun, give it to a buddy for his birthday—but he’d think of something. By the time he was done with the purchase, he had to get back over to Cups.

Wearing khaki shorts and a loose-fitting white blouse, Becca stood out front. Her hair was up in a ponytail and he wondered if she ever wore it down. As usual, her face was bare of makeup, except some pale lip gloss.

He leaned forward to kiss her cheek in greeting and the scent of her overpowered his senses. She smelled amazing, sort of peachy this time but mostly womanly. He remembered her being citrusy on the plane and wondered if he saw her tomorrow she’d smell different. He lingered a little longer than was polite, but he couldn’t help it. She pulled away with a giggle and he wondered if she was ticklish.