Sticks and Stones (27 page)
Authors: Kerrie Dubrock
He stared at
the glossy magazine cover, wondering why only Chase Storm was in the photo. He
quickly leafed through the magazine, past the bullshit ads and food articles
until he found the piece on Grace.
Several photos
featured her in various scenes. One showed her holding a sketch book with Storm
looking over her shoulder. The next picture showed the two of them seated on a
claw-footed rose print couch. Her hair was pulled back, but wisps of bangs fell
gently on her forehead. She looked like she’d been laughing because her cheeks
were slightly red. Maybe she was blushing.
In any event,
she was beautiful.
He took a long
pull of the beer and read the article. The hockey game, no longer a thought to
him.
* * *
Rick stood in the
box, waiting for the penalty to expire. Kanga sped down the ice, anticipating
Rick’s release. The time keeper nodded his head at Rick and he exploded out of
the box, receiving the puck from Kanga.
Flying down the
ice on a breakaway, Rick sped towards the net, anticipating the goalie to shift
to the left of the net. Adjusting his strides, Rick swerved to the right and
brought his stick back to slap it towards the net. Marc Norris, defenseman for
the Coyotes, sped up, but knew he wouldn’t make it in time to block the shot.
Instead, he threw his stick at Rick’s skates, sending him sprawling into the
net.
The ref crossed
his arms over his chest, indicating interference.
The crowd cheered
in excitement as the captain from the Coyotes and Harpo, the assistant captain
for the Wind, spoke with the refs.
After
several minutes only two players remained on the ice for the penalty shot. The
ref dropped the puck on center ice. Rick circled twice before touching the puck
with his stick. He quickly built momentum, speeding down the ice.
The goalie, Max
Beland, was known to cover his net low. Rick faked going to the left, but then
quickly shot to the right and shot high. By the time Beland zipped to the
right, it was too late.
* * *
Zee and Grace
waited patiently for Dmitri and Rick in the upstairs bar.
Watching the
news coverage on the game they discovered that Brice had been taken to
Community Hospital and Gavlik was ejected from the game.
Grace snorted,
“That explains why he didn’t return.”
“I thought it
was because Rick kicked his ass,” Zee laughed. She took a swig of beer and
said, “So…how did your appointment go today with Becky?”
“Ugh!” Grace
growled, lifting her eyes. “She took me to this swanky shop that’s offered to
dress the bachelorettes. Anyway, I’m checking out the dresses, thinking it’s
ridiculous because I have things in my closet, when she comes up to me with
this super short black dress and tells me it’s the one I need to wear for the
auction!”
“How short are
you talking?” Zee grinned.
“I’ll have to
shave more than my legs to wear it!”
Zee giggled,
“Have you told Rick about the auction?”
Swallowing her
wine, Grace nodded, “Yeah. He didn’t seem happy about it.”
“Um, so has he
said anything to you that may have taken you off guard?”
“You mean the
fact that his ex-girlfriend is now the photographer for the Wind?”
Zee released a
breath, “Oh! Well, that’s not too bad, is it? I mean, he doesn’t have feelings
for her anymore, does he?”
Grace shrugged, “Not that I
can sense. She, however, still carries a torch for him.”
* * *
Flynn glanced
around his sparse apartment, his eyes landing on the moving boxes that littered
the floor. You’d think after being in Chicago for nearly a year he’d emptied
them by now.
He rubbed his
stubbled chin thoughtfully. Maybe there was a reason he hadn’t. And, maybe
Grace Ryan was that reason.
* * *
“Are you sure
you don’t want to go with the rest of the guys for a victory drink?” Grace
murmured in the car.
“Not in the
celebrating mood,” Rick replied, sullen. “My friend’s in the hospital, most
likely with a concussion because that dirty fuck Gavlik.” He took a deep
breath. “I hope they ban the fucker from playing this time.”
“They can do
that?”
Rick nodded.
“Hell yeah. If the guy’s a dirty player like that? It’s what he deserves.”
Grace nodded
and stared at his eye. It was swollen and when they passed a streetlight she
could see the purple and green hues surrounding it. “So, he used to date
Taylor, huh?”
“Yeah. How’d
you know?”
She lifted a
shoulder. “Read it on the internet.” Glancing out the window she sighed gently.
“Is that why you beat him up?”
Rick blinked
his eyes and tilted his head to the right with a shrug. “At first, yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I still loved
her,” he replied honestly.
* * *
On Monday
morning, before leaving for the office, Grace performed a protection spell for
herself. Afterwards, she chose a rune stone from her bag and gasped when she
opened her eyes to view it.
“What the fuck?
The Perthro stone again?” she whined in disbelief.
Chewy pawed her
knee and mewed.
“You’re right
Chewy. I should banish these damn stones! They never tell me anything good
anyway,” she muttered, tossing the velvet bag into a deep desk drawer.
The only thing
going right for her was the fact that she hadn’t dreamt about Flynn or any damn
Irish man for the past two nights.
* * *
“Ya doona want
ta do this,” Flynn said softly to the woman on the ledge of a ten story brick
apartment building.
“Yes, I do! No
one cares about me,” the Hispanic women sniffled.
“You’re wrong,
gel, I care.” When she gaped at him in disbelief he continued, “What’s your
name?”
She bit her
lip, unsure. “Maria.”
“Ah, ‘tis a
beautiful name, for a beautiful gel.”
“You’re just
saying that so I don’t jump,” she accused.
“Are ya callin’
me a liar then?” he asked with a smirk.
Maria couldn’t
help herself when she grinned back.
“C’mon, lass,
take me hand. We’ll share a cup of coffee, aye?”
“I’m scared,”
she cried.
“Doncha worry,
I willna let you fall.” He stretched out the window as far as could without
risking his safety.
She slowly held
her hand out to him, losing her balance.
When she began
to fall, Flynn gripped her right wrist tighter and struggled to get his arm
under her armpit.
“Don’t let me
go!” she shrieked.
Sweat hampered
his vision, but he kept a death grip on her. “A little help here!” he yelled to
the uniformed policemen behind him.
A young cop
grabbed her left arm while another wrapped his arms around her, pulling her
into the room safely.
Black mascara
ran down her cheeks as she sobbed.
Flynn removed
his blue denim shirt and threw it over her shoulders when she began to shake
from shock. He barked to the young officer, “Tissue!”
The cop
returned with a long piece of toilet paper and shrugged.
Wrapping his
arm around Maria, Flynn gently dabbed her tears away. “I believe I promised you
a coffee, aye?”
Maria looked up
at him, tears brimming her eyes. “I’d rather have a shot of tequila.”
Flynn shot her a grin.
“Aye, me too, gel.”
* * *
“So, when ya
getting’ out?” Rick mumbled.
Seth Brice
pointed towards the window. “Can you close those shades? The sun’s bothering my
eyes.”
Nodding, Rick
crossed the room.
“Ah, you know,
the standard three days, then who knows how long before I can play again,”
Brice grumbled. “I hear you made Pavlik look like a pumpkin.”
Rick shrugged,
“I’ve heard he’s missing two teeth.”
“Really? I
heard four.”
“Dirty fucker.
I should’ve kicked his ass enough to send him to the ER.”
“You’re better
than that, Ricochet.” Brice sighed, thoughtfully. “He has to appear in-person
for a hearing today.”
“Pfft. They’ll
probably only suspend him for two games.”
Brice adjusted
his bed to sit up straighter. “Rick, do me a favor.”
Rick moved
closer. “Sure, anything bro.”
“I’m not saying
this to be a dick, but please, keep your head in the game. Don’t worry about
Pavlik, treat your lady right so you don’t argue and lead the team for me.”
Rick’s eyebrows
knitted together. “Whaddya sayin?”
“I talked to
Coach Banks this morning. I want you to wear an A on your sweater. You deserve
it. The guys look up to you and man, they need to be led. We need to bring the
cup to the city.”
* * *
Flynn
disconnected the call with a smile. He thought she’d be too busy to see him
today, but as luck would have it, she was available. ‘Twas to be a good day,
indeed.
* * *
Grace felt
dizzy. “Rick, can you stop twirling me please?”
He laughed and
gently placed her feet back onto the floor. “Sorry, I tend to get carried
away,” he murmured.
“Assistant
Captain, huh?” Grace adjusted her skirt and patted his chest lightly.
“Congratulations!”
Rick eyed her
outfit and frowned. “Those clothes should only be seen by me.”
She glanced
down at herself. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this outfit.”
“Your skirt
just skims the tops of your knees and damn, Gracie! Your shirt doesn’t even
come down to your waist! I can see skin here,” he grumbled, running a finger
along the skin of her stomach.
Grace rolled
her eyes. “Don’t you have practice to get to?”
“Yeah. So
tonight? After you get off work, you’re going to meet us at Gatsby’s, right?”
“Yes, but I
may be a little late. I need to stop somewhere first.” She took his hand and
led him towards the reception area.
He took her
into his arms and kissed her, leaning her backwards in the process. Afterwards,
he stood her upright and shot her a smirk. “I love you, Gracie.”
“Love you,
too,” she replied, breathlessly.
“Later Zee!” he
replied, striding casually towards the elevator.
“See ya baby!”
Zee sighed.
Together, Zee
and Grace watched Rick step onto the elevator and both sighed.
“I think
my
panties are wet after that kiss,” Zee cackled.
Grace shook her
head, moving towards her office. “I’m going back to work on my sketches, ya
perv.”
“Oh! I forgot
to tell you! You have an appointment in a few minutes.”
“Really? A new
person?”
“Um hm! Said he
saw your spread in Chicago magazine,” Zee smiled.
“I sure thought
I’d drum up more business with that article. So far I’ve only gotten three
bites!”
“Four! Dmitri
has an appointment with you later today. He wants a bedroom similar to mine.”
“At least I have that to
look forward to,” Grace replied dryly.
* * *
While Rick was stepping off
the elevator, Flynn was half-way to Bewitching Designs floor. He rubbed his
sweaty palms on his jeans. Why the feck was he so nervous?
When Grace drew,
she was lost in her own little world and times like these, she enjoyed because
it was a great escape from other thoughts. Thoughts she didn’t want to dwell
on. So deep into her work, she didn’t notice Zee in the doorway.
Zee cleared her
throat again. “Grace? Your appointment is here.”
“’kay,” she
murmured. “Send him in.”
She heard the
rustle of pants as the man walked into her office, but kept her eyes glued on
her sketch pad. “I’ll be with you in a moment, please have a seat.”
In a middle of
a great idea, she hated to put her pencil down, so she took a few minutes to
draw out her plan and finally put her pencil down.
The warm smile
planted on her face faded when she looked up at the person sitting across from
her.
* * *
Before heading
out to the ice, Coach Banks gathered the players together in the locker room.
“I just got word that Pavlik’s been suspended for five games.”
Whoops of joy
and fist bumps traveled quickly around the room.
“Fucker
should’ve been banned from the game, period!” Rick complained.
Banks scratched
his bald head. “I agree. The guy’s a repeat offender and I’m highly pissed that
the commissioner didn’t take that into consideration. On the bright side, we
only have to play against the Coyotes two more times, unless they make it to
the playoffs.”
Sarge laughed,
“You make it sound like we’re a shoe-in for the playoffs, Coach.”
Rick shot a
look at Banks, who nodded to him. “We
are
going to the playoffs.
Together, Kop, Harpo and I are going to get us there.”
* * *
A lump formed
in Grace’s throat. She quickly grabbed for her water bottle and took a long
drink. Somewhat sated, she shakily placed the bottle back onto the desk.
Flynn’s face
showed no emotion. He was very good at hiding how he felt. ‘Twas most likely
why he and his wife divorced.
“Um, hi?” she
squeaked.
“Is that a
question?” Flynn murmured, with a grin.
Grace sat
straighter in her chair. “No. Welcome to Bewitching Designs.”
He eyed her
thoughtfully then glanced around the room. He was surprised that she didn’t
have pictures of her and Ricochet lining the walls. Not even a photo adorned
her desk. However, the shelf along the wall drew his interest. He stood and
crossed the room to it.
Butterflies
fluttered chaotically in her stomach. What the hell is he doing in my office?
In
my life
?
“You’re Wiccan,
aye?”
His question
pulled her from her thoughts.
When she was
sure she could stand without her knees betraying her, she nodded and slowly
stood. “Yes. Does that offend you?”
Please, let it offend him!
“No. It’s quite common where I come
from.” He grinned and tapped his head. “The name
Bewitching Designs
makes sense to me now.”
Grace crossed
the room and stood a safe distance from him. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to
admire my shelf. What can I do for you?”
He turned
slightly and tucked a sweaty hand into his jean pocket. “Your aunt carried on
aboot your article in Chicago magazine. I must say, I was impressed.”
She licked her
lips nervously.
Why the hell does he have to be so yummy? And talk all
Irishy and stuff? I’m so fucked!
“Gel? Are you no’ feelin’ well? Your
face is flushed.”
Grace pursed
her lips and all but ran to her desk drawer to fetch a chocolate bar.
* * *
Rick slapped
the puck to Kanga and shook his head angrily when it flew past him. He skated
across the blue line towards him. “Kanga! Keep your eye on the puck!”
Kanga rolled
his blue eyes and shrugged. “Sorry. I was watching Taylor.”
A low growl
emanated from Rick’s throat when he turned. Taylor was on the ice, taking
photos of the players. He buzzed past and shot her a dirty look.
“Coach? Does
she
have
to be on the ice? She’s distracting the guys!” Rick complained.
Coach Banks
nodded. “That’s what I thought, too, but the higher ups want her to get candid
photos.”
Rick spat on
the ice. “Ask them what they’d rather have: a Stanley Cup or a bunch of guys
with hard-ons.”
* * *
Flynn watched
her eat the candy bar in morbid fascination.
Grace caught
him staring and quickly swallowed. “I, um, didn’t get lunch,” she mumbled.
“Ah, well then,
let’s get lunch, aye? We can discuss the designing of my apartment then.”
“Oh, no, I
can’t do that. I mean, I have another appointment after you,” Grace stammered.
Zee poked her
head into her office. “Excuse me, Grace, but Dmitri won’t be in today. Said
that since Rick’s become assistant captain he’s become a real prick, excuse my
language Mr. Flynn, and is keeping them at the arena all day for practice.”
Flynn’s blue eyes twinkled.
“Right then. Problem solved. Miss Ryan, may I take you to lunch?”
* * *
Grace was on
her second glass of Merlot and they’d only been seated for twenty minutes. She
glanced at the menu, not hungry since she ate a candy bar, plus her stomach
flipped from nerves.
Flynn looked
over the menu, every once-in-a-while his gaze traveled up to Grace’s wan face.
Bloody
hell! The gel’s nervous!
His cheek lifted.
“What’re
smilin’ at Flynn?” she snapped.
“Please, call
me Justice. Flynn is me surname,” he murmured.
Grace pursed
her lips. “I’d rather call you Mr. Flynn and you still haven’t answered my
question.”
He chuckled.
“Mr. Flynn, aye? Fair eno’. And can’t a man grin?”
Grace sighed,
exasperated and pulled a notebook from her purse. “Okay, what size are we
talking?”
Flynn’s eyes
crinkled in the corners. “Well, if ya must know…”
“I meant your
apartment,” Grace clarified, holding up a hand.
Dear Goddess, if my dreams
are real, I already know!
“I’ve not measured it,” he frowned,
rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I didna think to do so before visiting you.”
“Ah, so then,
basically you’re wasting both of our time.” She rummaged through her purse and
threw a ten dollar bill on the table, then stood to leave. “The truth is, Mr.
Flynn, I’m very busy and don’t think I’ll have time to design a living room for
you.” She nodded curtly and scampered away.
Yes, it was a
lie, but it wasn’t good for her psyche to be in close proximity to Flynn.
The waitress
walked by with order pad in hand. “Are you ready to place your order?”
Flynn shook his
head at the brunette. “I’m sorry, lass, not today.” He palmed a twenty in her
hand and scooped up Grace’s ten and tucked it in his pocket.
He walked hurriedly out the
exit and spotted her waiting for a walking signal at the corner.
* * *
Damn Perthro
stone! Chaos! Absolute fucking chaos! My insides are a jumbled, gooey mess! How
in the hell can I be attracted to two men at once? I’ve never been like this!
For fuck’s sake! I feel like I’m cheating on Rick and I’ve not done anything
with Justice!
Grace’s
head jerked up. She’d called him Justice! She groaned so loud, the business man
standing next to her, sidled closer with a grin. She shot him a scowl.
“Gel,
are ya growlin’ because of me?” Justice murmured into her ear.
His warm
breath fanned against her ear and she felt the closeness of his body behind
her.
She
needed to get away from him! Unable to turn around, she shot forward, into the
busy street.
Tires
squealed, swearing in several different languages as well as horns rang loudly
on the corner of Michigan Avenue.
Justice
grabbed her hand shortly before she got nicked by a white taxi. “Are ya barmy,
gel?” he hissed, pulling her against his chest.
Grace
breathed in his cologne and sighed, dejected.
“Grace?”
he said softly, tugging on her chin.
She lifted her eyes,
meeting his tender gaze. “Crap!” she moaned. This was exactly how her dreams
started.
* * *
Playing a mock
game, Rick sped down the ice, hot on Kop’s heels.
Kop tried,
unsuccessfully, to shoot the puck, but Rick blocked it with his stick.
“Dammit
Ricochet!” Kop panted. “Why the fuck are you working us to death?”
Rick removed
his helmet and regarded the players on the ice and off. He skated towards
center line. “Look, I’ve never won a cup and last year we were so fuckin’ close
we could taste it. Don’t you guys want to hoist that cup over your head this
year? Drink champagne from it?”
A round of
grunts filled the arena. Rick shot Dmitri an exasperated glance.
Dmitri came off
the bench and skated towards Rick. Harpo also joined them.
“I’ve decided
that this is my last season,” Dmitri began. He moved around the ice, slowly,
staring each team mate in the eye. “I’ve never had the pleasure of being on a
winning team, which is why I took a pay cut and signed with the Wind. I know
this team has what it takes to win. I’m not asking you to bust your asses for
me. I’m asking you to bust your asses for yourselves. Don’t wait until you’re
my age to win the Stanley fucking cup!”
* * *
Flynn tried to
coax her back to the restaurant, but she was so damn stubborn! Instead, he
walked her back to her office building and left her at the elevator.
Not only did he
not
get an appointment to have her view his apartment, he also didn’t
get a chance to dazzle her with his charms. Damn his feckin’ luck!
* * *
Grace shakily
unlocked the office doors. She glanced at her watch and realized the doors were
locked because Zee was on her lunch break. Just as well. She sure the hell
didn’t need the third degree from her.
On wobbly legs
she trekked into the kitchen. She grabbed a large glass from the cabinet and
filled it with refreshing water from the cooler. After taking a healthy swig,
she pressed the cold glass against her cheeks, then her throat.
She shook her
head and walked to her office. “Damn my luck!” she moaned.
In a huff she
plopped down into her chair and rested her head on her hands and blew out a
hard breath.
“Clearly I
won’t be able to concentrate so I may as well end my afternoon with a bang and
see Janice.”
* * *
Rick was worn
out after the rigorous practice so after showering he crawled into bed to take
a quick nap.
He quickly fell
into a deep, satisfying sleep and dreamt of Grace.
* * *
Taking a deep
breath, Grace shifted the plant arrangement in her arms and entered Charming by
Design. She was greeted by a perky dark haired girl. “Welcome! How may I help
you?”
“I’ve come to
see Janice, if she’s available,” she croaked.
“Certainly!”
the girl nodded. “Your name?”
“Grace Ryan,”
she mumbled, glancing around the posh office. A painting over the grey leather
couch caught her eye. She walked towards it and smiled wistfully. She
remembered attending an art show with Janice and both of them gravitated to the
piece. The splash of colors was magnificent, uplifting. Purple, orange, pink,
blue and yellow hues filled the canvas in no particular order and oddly enough,
the painting was titled Chaos.
“It’s a
striking piece, huh?” Janice said shakily.
Grace turned
and nodded. “Yeah. Still kicking myself for letting you buy it.” She approached
Janice and held out the arrangement. “For good luck,” she shrugged.