Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER ONE

IZZY

“M

y name is Isabelle Thorpe, and I’m going to bang a stranger tonight.” I murmur my mantra for the hundredth time.

“Uh, what did you say?”

Crap.

“Oh, sorry. Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

The Lyft driver catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “It sounded like you said…”

I cut him off. “No. Nope. You heard me wrong.” Before he can say anything to humiliate me further, I hold up my phone - “I’m gonna make a call.”

Pulling out my phone to call Meghan, I mentally slap myself in the face. Why did I let her talk me into this nonsense? I can’t do this. I don’t know why I thought I could. Sure, Meghan has become my best friend, and she means well. But she’s so much bolder than I am. And this is definitely a Meghan plan, when I’m just an Izzy.

She picks up after just one ring. “Listen bitch, you need to snap on that strap on and fuck this guy tonight. It’s the only way.”

I inhale so quickly I choke. “What? You never said anything about a… strap on!” I whisper those last few words while putting a hand over my mouth. I know this nosy driver is trying to listen.

“Ugh, Izz, don’t be so literal. I mean grow a pair. Nut up. Balls out.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“You can do this Izz. We talked about this. You said you want to start dating. You want to find Mr. Right, right?”

“Right,” I agree.

“And in order to do that we need to get you past your hang-ups about sex. It’s been like a hundred years since you’ve been laid.” It’s been nearly six years, not a hundred, but at this point it feels like the same thing. “You need this. You need to feel good about yourself. You need to realize how fucking sexy you are. And you need to have a manmade orgasm. And I don’t mean the vibe-ing type, I mean of the flesh-and-cum type.”

“Oh my god!” I cover my face.

Meghan ignores me. “Once you do that, you can go out into the dating pond and find yourself a fish to bag, and bang, forever and ever.”

“I know. I want to do this. I’m just freaking out right now.”

“I know you are babe, and that’s okay. But you’re going to walk into that bar, find your hot date, have a drink, go upstairs, fuck him, and not worry about seeing him ever again. It’s really the perfect situation. Seriously, we couldn’t have swiped a better candidate. Meeting in a hotel bar is perfection. He wouldn’t have picked that place if he wasn’t staying there, which means once you decide to hop on his cock, you won’t have to wait any time at all. And then you can go home, and he can go back home to wherever, and you’ll be ready to take the dating world by the testicles. Plus, he’s hot.”

I nod my head. “This is all true.”

“You got this. And if you meet him, and you’re not feeling it, then just leave. You don’t have to sleep with him if you’re not comfortable. It’s your choice.” Meghan’s voice loses it’s demanding edge, and I know she means what she’s saying.

“I know. Thank you, Meghan. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Which sounds weird, but you know what I mean.”

“You can thank me tomorrow by telling me all about it. And by it, I mean his dick.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes. “Deal.”

“Go fuck ‘em, Tiger!”

Hanging up, I lean back against the seat and try to relax. Meghan is right. I do need this. It’s been way too long since I’ve been pinned under a man. The last guy I slept with was my college boyfriend. We met in grad school. The sex was fine. And I thought we were happy. Until I found out he was using me to get to my dad, hoping it would somehow help his hockey career. The idiot needed a Freaky Friday body switch with a decent player, not an insider connection, to give him a chance at going pro. Long story short, he sucked. He sucked at hockey, and he sucked at being a boyfriend.

Strangely enough, my high school boyfriend - and winner of my V card - was also a hockey player. We slept together once, after senior prom, and the next morning he asked me if my dad could help him get into the NHL. When I told him that I didn’t think so, he dumped me. Nice, right?

Fast-forward several years. I’ve moved to Minnesota, where my dad is the head coach for the Minnesota Sleet NHL team. I’ve always been close with my dad, so I’ve spent a lot of time with him and the team since moving here. Which of course means I know all the players. Jackson Wilder, a right-winger and captain, was always so nice. And super attractive, so I tried my best to get him to ask me out. Then there was a turn of events, and he’s now engaged to my new friend Katelyn. The night I met Katelyn, she made me her friend, and - as a part of that deal - I also got Steph, Jackson’s sister. By the next day, Katelyn had introduced me to Meghan. So now, for the first time ever, I have actual girlfriends.

Honestly, I think Meghan is the first person I’ve ever considered a best friend. I know she’s been besties with Katelyn since forever, but according to Meghan a girl can have multiple best friends.

Meghan runs her own event planning business, so she helped me set up my new company. In the hours we spent together I’ve gotten to understand who she was on the inside. Under the long curly red hair and feather earrings, she has a spirit of gold. On one side she’s got a no-bullshit business persona, and then outside of work she’s a free-loving potty-mouth. In the short time I’ve known her, she’s already done a lot to break me out of my shell. I don’t want to be shy, but I’ve just never known how to shake it.

I’m sure a therapist would tell me it’s all about how I grew up. It was just my dad and me, and we’d move every couple of years for his job. I was also what some might call “an early bloomer”. By freshman year of high school, I was already to my full height of five foot five and wearing a C-cup bra. Being the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, big-boobed new girl was not an easy title to carry. Sure, I attracted the attention of the boys, but the girls didn’t like that. And being shy meant that I just kept my mouth shut and my head down.

It also meant that I spent a lot of time with my dad. So, I became an expert in all things hockey. I really do love the sport, which is probably why my only two boyfriends have been hockey players.

But all of that’s behind me, because now - I have girlfriends!

I didn’t know how freeing it would be to have friends my age, and gender, to talk to. And we talk about everything. With men and sex as popular topics, it didn’t take long for the girls to convince me that I needed to steer away from hockey players. And not because they’re bad guys; Katelyn is engaged to one! But because of my connections. With my dad as the coach, it’s been made clear to me why dating one of my dad’s players would be a bad idea. And dating a player from another team would just be hard to do, logistically speaking. And to top it off, I started my own Financial Advisor company early this year where all my clients are NHL players. I may branch out to other professional athletes, but - needless to say - I can’t date a client. So, I want to find a man, but he can’t be a hockey player.

This brings me to my most recent dilemma. See - having friends, hanging out, doing dinner and drinks and girls' nights are great. They are. They’re filled with laughter and stories and hugs and fun. But they're also filled with carbs and alcohol and cheese and chocolate. And nine months of friendship has given me nine extra pounds of me. Okay, ten. Maybe eleven. But who’s counting? So on top of being a “born again virgin” (Meghan’s words not mine), I’m also heavier than I used to be. Meghan says I’m lucky, since my weight is evenly distributed, putting “more time in my hourglass”. But it also means my jeans are all too tight, I’m more self-conscious than ever, and my chest is barely contained... to the point where I should probably go get sized for a new bra. But I’m just not ready to admit defeat yet.

Katelyn, while telling me I still look delicious, says it’s my "relationship ten." Apparently, when you’re in a new relationship that makes you happy, you get caught up in the good vibes, and the going on dates, and the feeding each other, and you put on weight. She said that our girl relationship must be amazing to cause such results. She’s not wrong.

The only silver lining that I can see is that the majority of my wardrobe is made up of wrap dresses. Being that I was a curvy girl to begin with, wrap dresses have always been an easy and flattering go-to for me. Now, I just don’t tie them as tight. Which is better than jean shopping any freaking day. So - of course - that’s what I’m wearing for this date. A wrap dress. It’s one of my favorites, so even though I’m still not completely comfortable in my new skin, I’m comfortable in this dress. It’s raspberry pink, stops just above the knee, and has fluttery cap sleeves. The neckline is fairly low, and with the newly added cleavage it’s a bit scandalous. But I am going on a date, with the goal of having a one-night stand, so a little extra boob on display is acceptable.

It’s the first week of September; still plenty warm out, so I didn’t bring a sweater with me. I went minimal on the accessories, mostly because I didn’t know what the sex etiquette is for jewelry. If I’m wearing a big statement necklace, do I take the time to remove it before we have sex? Do you leave it on? What if it got all tangled in my hair? And would a stack of bracelets clang around and make too much noise? Seriously, I panicked. So, all I'm wearing with my trusty wrap dress is a pair of turquoise stud earrings, navy heels, and my navy clutch purse. Simple, pretty, and easy to grab quickly as I rush out the door after we’re done with the sex.

“You gonna get out? Miss?”

The driver's voice snaps me back to attention, and I see that we’ve reached my destination. My heart rate spikes, and I force myself to take a few deep breaths.

“Lady, if you go in there and he isn’t interested in sleeping with you, send me a note. I’d gladly show you a good time.”

I blink at my driver for a few moments, trying to decide if I’m flattered, appalled, or just annoyed that he apparently could hear my whole conversation with Meghan.

Deciding to take the ego boost, I nod and smile. “Thank you.”