Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER TEN
IZZY
It was no small feat to convince Dad that I needed to drive myself to lunch. I plan to escape as soon as socially acceptable, and I need my vehicle for a speedy getaway.
Also, being stuck in a car with my dad and the man I had sex with this weekend, yeah - no. Hard pass.
I briefly toyed with the idea of ditching this lunch entirely, but I have no good excuses. If I pretend to suddenly become violently ill, then Dad would just insist on driving me home. And since he knows pretty much everything I do for work, and all of my clients, I can’t really claim a work emergency. And yes, I did consider using one of my new girlfriends as cannon fodder, but I don’t want to get anyone else wrapped up in my lies.
I’m not exactly lying about anything, I’m just omitting the tiny fact that Zach and I already know each other. Biblically. And really, sharing that information with my dad, Zach’s new coach, would not benefit anyone. Quite the opposite, to all parties involved. So, I’ll keep my mouth shut and donate some extra money to charity this year to even out my karmic score.
As for my more immediate situation - I’ll play nice over lunch, keep my distance from Zach while I’m at the offices, and then find a boyfriend who isn’t Zach. As quickly as possible, to remove any and all temptation.
I make it to the restaurant first, no surprise there. Being that Dad is the head coach, he can never walk out of the building without being stopped by a half dozen people who have questions or just want to chat. Add to that - he has a new player at his side, and they’ll for sure get held up.
The benefit to being early is that I get to choose our table. We always go to lunch a little early, so we can beat the mad rush that happens every day in this part of downtown. This means I have the choice of a booth, a low table, or a high top table in the bar. The bar choice is instantly out. I know for a fact that I will not be able to remain composed if I’m sitting with Zach in another bar. The booth is a good idea in theory; I could tuck myself into the corner and hide, but I have no control over who would sit next to me. And I have a sneaking suspicion that Zach would claim that spot, if only for the goal of making me uncomfortable. So, regular old table it is.
I take the spot that leaves me facing the front door. Normally I’d choose a seat that faces a window, but I don’t want to be caught unawares when they arrive. The window does provide some entertaining people watching, but this restaurant has plenty to look at inside.
This is our go-to lunch establishment, and I’m pretty sure if we did show up when it was packed, Dad would still get a table. Partially because he’s here all the time, but more-so because he coaches the Sleet. This is a hockey restaurant, with bits of memorabilia and paraphernalia littering every surface. Somewhere in here there’s even a framed photo of my dad from his first NHL coaching job, with a pre-teen me standing at his side.
The items mostly center around Minnesota hockey, including high school and college teams, but it has bits and pieces from all of the pro teams. There’s even a little gift shop, if you can call one counter a gift shop, that sells branded shirts and mugs and other random crap. With a catchy name like Puck Off, the restaurant has some pretty fun merchandise.
The TVs throughout the space all have a game or SportsCenter playing. I’m scanning the different screens to see what’s on, when Zach’s face catches my attention. The interview he did with my dad this morning must be re-airing. The volume is off, and they don’t have the closed captions on, so I don’t know what he’s saying. But I don’t need to hear him to enjoy the show. His face is so ruggedly handsome; I could stare at it all day.
Honestly, it’s probably good that I can’t hear his voice. That stupid, arrogant, sexy-to-a-fault, voice. When he opens his mouth, it’s all I can do to resist rubbing myself all over him. I try to read his lips, but end up just staring. Those lips that were on mine just moments ago.
“This seat taken?”
It’s like thinking about his voice materializes it in my mind. I should really find a way to record him talking so I can replay it for myself, at home, in the dark.
Ugh, I’m losing my mind. I really need to find something to dislike about him before I become truly infatuated.
“Hmmm, handsome face like that, I can understand why you’d be stuck in a daydream.” Zach’s voice brushes against my ear.
For the second time today, I let out a scream.
