Across the Line (In The Zone) (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Filled with excitement and trepidation, Becca opened the back door for the man delivering and installing the espresso machine. She was used to small risks. She tried new dishes every once in a while. If a soup tanked, she hadn’t lost much money and only a little face. But this coffee venture was different.

First, the machine cost three thousand dollars. That was a large expenditure for her. After that came the coffee beans. She’d found a local roaster who was happy to supply her with all the beans she could handle at a great price, provided she committed to a minimum monthly order for a year and put a Proudly Serving Fall Creek Coffee Beans sticker up in her window. She felt slightly ill every time she thought about that contract. She lived very frugally. Every spare cent she had went back into the café.

Second, anyone who was at all familiar with Cups would notice the machine and coffee additions to the menu. If this went south, it would be embarrassing. She’d have to weather questions like, “How’s the coffee selling?” Or worse, “What happened to that coffee machine?” and “Didn’t you used to have lattes here?”

She was inspecting the seating area to make sure her closers did a good job cleaning it when someone knocked on the window. It was Gerald Quincey, the owner of the donut place next door.

“You’re here early,” he said when she opened the door.

“Someone’s here installing my espresso machine. Come in.”

He shook his head. “Gotta keep an eye on things. Pauline’s in there by herself and if things get busy...”

“Understood,” Becca said, even though she didn’t think they’d get busy. She hadn’t seen it busy in there for months.

She joined him out front.

Donuts ‘N’ More was one of those established businesses that had been on the Commons forever. Other than the prices, everything stayed the same, like it was caught in a time warp—from the pink-and-teal color scheme, to the white-bread sandwiches they served for lunch. Sometimes Becca admired the comfort factor and the fact that people probably considered it an historic landmark. She herself had been a customer since she was a little kid. Her favorite was the apple fritter.

But she also thought they should repair and replace things, like the tables that rocked and the torn linoleum floor, while maintaining that hominess. The Quinceys reminded her of her parents in that they liked the status quo. Change was a four-letter word to her mom and dad, and “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it” was a law. Maybe because they took great pride in centuries of Chinese tradition.

“Don’t tell me you’re opening for breakfast now,” Gerald joked, his expression somewhat fixed.

A few people sat at the tables, enjoying their donuts. Technically, they were Becca’s tables, but she had never begrudged Gerald’s customers a place to sit, especially when Cups wasn’t even open that early.

“We’re adding lattes and espresso to the menu, but not brewed coffee. We’re leaving that to you guys.”

She truly had wanted to do brewed coffee as well, using the pour-over method that many froufrou independent coffee houses used, but decided against it. She didn’t want to make enemies of the Quinceys.

“How generous of you,” he said with that stiff smile.

Becca noticed Savannah hurrying toward them like a power walker. She hadn’t expected the girl this early but was extremely glad to see her.

“Come on now, Gerald. Competition is a healthy thing. Besides, I told you three months ago, if you didn’t start selling lattes, I would.”

“I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Serious about what?” Savannah asked as she joined them near the cluster of café tables.

“About serving lattes at Cups,” Becca said.

“Oh, we’re serious, all right,” Savannah said. “I’ve been checking out this thing called latte art. People make pictures with the foam, like leaves and kitten faces and stuff. I watched a ton of YouTube videos about how to do it and I can’t wait to try.”

Becca could have hugged Savannah for showing up at the perfect moment.

“Well,” Gerald said begrudgingly, “our busy period is hours before you even open. And no one is going to want to stand in line for a donut and then go next door to stand in another line for a latte.”

“Exactly.”

Gerald went back into his store as a woman and her two kids walked toward it.

“That was awkward,” Becca said.

“Oh, who cares? He’s such a crotchety pain in the ass. He’s always bad-mouthing our food.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was sitting out here taking my break once and he must not have noticed me, because he struck up a conversation with one of our customers, asking them how they liked the food. They said it was all right, and that was enough for him to launch into how lettuce cups were a fad and how he preferred a good old-fashioned egg-salad sandwich. But I’ve
had
their egg salad and it’s boring and it tastes like donuts. My dead hamster can make better egg salad.”

Becca laughed, but that bit of information bothered her, like a splinter. Not only did his customers poach her tables every single morning, he went around talking smack about her food. Did she give him crap about serving sandwiches? No. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. By the time the machine had been installed and the water lines hooked up right and tight, she had resolved to blow his coffee sales out of the water, not that she had any idea what his sales figures were. All she knew was the latte experiment had to be a success.

* * *

True to his word, Calder buckled down and got rid of all the flab inside of a month. The hardest part had been to give away all the cookies his mom sent him. He’d sworn off sugar for a while, so when those chocolate chip cookies arrived, it had taken Superman-like will to bring them to a pickup game at the Barracuda Ice Center, the team’s practice facility. Once his teammates saw them, they were gone in about ten seconds flat. Maybe nine.

At that game, he tested his knee even more than he had at The Rink with the Bombers, and he felt damn good. Not a twinge.

Afterward, walking to the locker room, Calder felt a stick tap on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Tim Hollander behind him.

“So,” Tim said, “not that it’s any of my business, but how are things going with your Ithaca girl? Is she coming to the wedding?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Did you ask her?”

Calder sat down in his stall. “Not yet. I’m still not sure if I’m going to.”

But that was a lie. He and some of the guys had gone to P.F. Chang’s the other night and someone ordered the lettuce cup appetizer. It was as if someone had turned the Becca knob in his brain all the way up. After a month away, he suddenly wanted to see her more than anything, so much so that he excused himself before the entrées arrived, went to the men’s room and booked a flight. He couldn’t stand the limbo anymore. He had to find out if he had any chance with her or if she still wanted him out of her life.

A couple of hours after he landed, Calder picked up the phone and dialed Becca’s number. He was nervous. His palms got sweaty and he got dry mouth waiting for her to answer. It was past normal dinner hours, so he hoped the café wasn’t too busy and she’d be able to get away, but he prepared himself for the possibility that she’d say no. He might have called in advance, but had liked the idea of surprising her, keeping things impromptu and casual. Like if she didn’t want to hook up, it was no big deal. In that case, he’d use his parents as an excuse as to why he was in town, that old “I was just in the neighborhood” line.

“Calder?” Becca exclaimed, sounding excited. “Oh my God. How are you?”

Still nervous as hell, he smiled at the sound of her voice. “I’m great. You?”

“Couldn’t be better,” she said. “I...wow. It’s so great to hear from you. How’s the training going? How’s your knee?”

“It’s going great. My knee is fine.”

“So you’re all lean and mean now? Back to fighting weight?”

Biting the bullet, he asked, “Why don’t you meet me at the Statler and see for yourself?”

She gasped. “You’re
here?
”

“In the flesh.” He hadn’t wanted to stay at some cheap motel and had been impressed by the place that day he’d eaten lunch there with his mom and brother.

“You’re not staying with your parents?”

“Nope.”

“Is that who I think it is?” He recognized Savannah’s voice.

“Shh. Yes. It’s Calder.”

Savannah again. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get the hell out of here. We’ll take care of the café.”

Chapter Sixteen

Becca could hardly believe it. Calder was here. In Ithaca. Before his phone call she’d been dragging. It had been an incredibly long and stressful Friday. The refrigerator had broken in the middle of the day. Becca had worried about food spoilage and the cost of a new appliance should it prove to be unfixable. Then Kassidy called in sick so they were down one person.

All this went on during the lunch rush, which started the moment they opened and lasted until five due to the fact that it was move-in day at Cornell. All the freshmen were settling into their dorms with the help of their families, and although Becca had been ready for the increase in business with staffing and food prep, she hadn’t anticipated a refrigerator malfunction or Kassidy’s illness. Luckily, the repairman quickly found the problem, replaced the faulty part, and had it up and running half an hour later. She’d been eagerly looking forward to a shower and then collapsing in bed, but when Calder called, suddenly her energy level shot up.

After a month, she’d finally accepted the fact that what they’d had was a summer fling. The pragmatic side of her thought it was better that they cut it off before things got too serious. She had so little free time. He lived much too far away. If he’d played for a team here on the East Coast, they might have been able to continue seeing each other. But he didn’t. Nor had he been traded, because she’d gotten an app that kept her apprised of any trades. But subscribing to that app made her feel like a groupie. Every time she found herself daydreaming about him coming back or her opening a Cups in San Diego, she told herself she was being ridiculous. The hometown prodigal son only fell for the girl back home in TV movies, not for real.

But now he was here. He wanted to see her. All the daydreams she’d corked up came flying out like champagne after a Stanley Cup win. All she could think about was seeing him again, kissing him, stripping the clothes off his body and riding him until they both came.

After being shooed out of her own restaurant, she hurried home and showered. She didn’t want him to smell a day’s worth of restaurant odors on her skin or in her hair. She thought briefly about dressing in something sexy, but the truth was she didn’t really own any sexy clothes. She ended up putting on shorts and a tank top. She threw a toothbrush and some condoms into her purse and took off.

She wasn’t surprised to get a text from him on the way.
I’m in room 413.

She practically ran down the hall once she got to the fourth floor. He must have heard her thumping footsteps because the door opened. Her heart leaped at the sight of him. Before she could say a word, he’d pulled her inside, hooked the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle and shut the door behind her.

“God, I missed you,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her. Elation flooded her as they stood holding each other tightly.

“I missed you too.”

After a long moment, he pulled back and their eyes met. His expression softened and warmed. The emotions were sweet beyond belief.

He bent his head and kissed her and she forgot everything but him. His nearness, his powerful arms around her, even the clean mint of his breath. It wasn’t hard to do. In fact, it was so easy it scared her. In no time, their clothes were on the carpet. He had her on her back on the mattress. His mouth was on her neck, her shoulder, her breast. She gasped. So sweet and sharp was the pleasure. He slid a hand down her stomach, over her mound and groaned.

“God, Becks, you’re so wet.”

He got a condom from a box on the nightstand. As she watched him rip it open and toss the wrapper, she realized he was kneeling between her legs.
Kneeling.

* * *

Calder watched Becca’s expression shift from dazed pleasure to surprise. He followed her gaze to his knee.

“You’re not wearing your brace.”

He grinned as he rolled on the condom. “Nope. I’ve been working out like a son of a bitch to get my full range of motion back and strengthen my hamstrings.”

She raised herself up on her elbows. “You’ve been working on more than your hamstrings,” she said, reaching out to touch his six-pack. “You are looking superb.”

“Oh, you noticed,” he said with a boyish grin and not a small amount of pride. He slapped his flat abdomen. “I just got serious about my diet again. This was under there all along.”

“That’s terrific. I knew you’d do it.”

“I’m in the best shape of my life,” he declared.
And I’m about to prove it to you.

Calder gritted his teeth as he slid his cock into her. He’d fantasized about this moment more times than he liked to admit, but nothing he’d imagined compared to the reality of Becca under him, around him, rocking her hips up and pulling his head down so she could kiss him. His hips moved of their own accord as he thrust in and out slowly. Her neck was arched, her eyes closed. Her soft moans made him crazy. He stifled the urge to go at her hard and fast, instead choosing to draw out this sweet reunion as long as possible.

Her eyes were closed, but he could still read the pleasure on her face. He pressed his mouth to hers and she threaded her hands through his hair as her lips parted. He deepened the kiss. Her hips shifted under him, but he ignored it.
Not yet.
He still wanted to savor the sensations of being with her again, skin-to-skin, inside her and a part of her.

Eventually, as if by mutual agreement, he began moving in earnest. He felt a light sweat form on his back. Her breathing grew rapid, she clutched at his arms. He was aware of the tension in his body, building to climax, but he did his best to control it.

“Come on, Becca,” he gasped. “This is it, baby.”

If he could just hold it together until she went over...

Beneath him, she tensed and gasped. He didn’t stop. She tensed again. And again.
Fucking come
,
baby.
Come
.

As if on cue, she did. Crying out, she dug her fingers into his shoulders. Her back arched off the mattress and he pumped twice more and exploded. Closing his eyes, he emptied himself into her. He might be thousands of miles from his apartment, but here cradled between her thighs, he was home.

Afterward, they ordered a huge meal from room service and she told him about her day from hell. As she talked, she visibly tensed up.

“It was horrible. I was so stressed out. I’d just gotten a delivery that morning of meat and seafood. I had some soups in there I really didn’t want to have to throw out or replace, for that matter.”

“Hey, you dealt with it. Everything worked out fine. Relax. You’re here with me now. You’re in the Calder Bubble of Zen.” He spread his arms, indicating the hotel room. “Once you crossed that threshold, you entered the Bubble. There is no shit allowed in the Bubble. It’s a shit-free zone. You have to leave all of it outside.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “The Bubble of Zen.”

“The
Calder
Bubble of Zen. There are three states of being inside the Bubble. Zen peace, sexual excitement and sexual satisfaction. Nothing else is tolerated.”

“And you’re what, the Bubble Buddha?”

He grinned. “That’s me. If a member of my flock is upset—” he arched an eyebrow at her as she stifled a laugh into her hand, “—I call upon my mighty staff.” He tossed the sheet aside and wrapped a hand around his cock, which was already hard.

“Mighty staff,” she repeated with a laugh and an eye roll. That earned her a pin to the mattress. He grabbed her wrists and trapped them above her head.

“Very mighty,” he said. Her nipples hardened and he gave one of them a hard suck. She gasped. He continued that way until she was panting and squirming under him.

Round two? Hell, yeah.

Thankful he’d picked up the jumbo box at the pharmacy, he got another condom and put it on. She opened her legs for him, and he entered her again. It was playful at first. She kept calling him “Your holiness,” and he kept saying, “Don’t call me that. You’re killing the mood.”

Of course, that made her do it more. She eventually goaded him enough so that he pulled out, flipped her over on her stomach and gave her a sharp spank on the ass. She squealed. He pulled her hips up so she was on her knees but still resting on her elbows. A moment later, he was back inside her, thrusting again. The playful mood had disappeared. He fucked her hard. With purpose. At the right moment, he reached around to press on her clit and sent her into a climax. Every time he tuned in to her body a little bit more. Practice made perfect was what he’d learned as a boy and he had no problem with practicing on Becca as much as she’d let him.

* * *

Later that night Becca had a nightmare. It was a dream she’d had before where customers lined up outside of Cups, inexplicably armed with knives and forks, not spoons. She was inside, alone, with no food in the building except lettuce and paper packets of salt and pepper. People complained their lettuce cups sucked then dumped the food on the ground in front of her until she was knee-deep in it. Her parents wore dour expressions as they talked to a restaurant critic in Chinese off to the side.

“Becca, honey, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

She gasped and tried to get her bearings. Calder’s hand cupped her bare shoulder.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She was in the Statler Hotel. A glance at the clock on the nightstand told her it was just past three in the morning. She took a deep breath.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked after going to the bathroom to get her a glass of water.

She took a sip, still shaken but determined not to let him know it. He’d left the bathroom door ajar so some light spilled out.

“It was nothing. It’s a dream I get sometimes when I have a particularly bad day.”

He gave her a squeeze. “I have a recurring nightmare too. In mine I’m at the draft and I look up at the board and the number one pick is my brother, but they’re long past that by now. They get to something like pick number ten thousand and I don’t get called. I end up sitting there in that huge stadium with the janitors sweeping shit up and everyone gone.”

“That’s horrible,” she said. Then she sighed. “Sometimes a nightmare is worth it just for that moment when you realize it wasn’t real.”

“Sometimes.”

Cuddling up, she closed her eyes and listened to his heart beating, slow and steady.

“Speaking of your brother, I’ve been wondering...are you really arch rivals like Savannah said?”

He rubbed a thumb back and forth over her shoulder. She liked that.

“Not at all,” he answered. “We’re brothers.”

“So were Cain and Abel.”

He chuckled. “No, Hart and I get along fine. We fight, like all brothers, but...you know.”

“Then you must be happy about the trade.”

He tensed. “What trade?”

“You guys are playing for the same team now.”

He slid away slowly. “We’re
what?
”