Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IZZY
“J
esus flipping Christ, what’s wrong with you!” I whisper-shout at Zach, as I frantically look for my dad.
Zach managed to sit down at the table without me even knowing it and caught me staring at his face on the television screen. Great. Thankfully, I had nothing in my hands this time, so there was nothing to toss across the room.
Of course Zach chose the seat next to me, not across from me, and his big long legs take up so much space that the knee closest to me is pressed against the side of my thigh.
“I wasn’t trying to be sneaky, Sugar. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me, but I kind of take up a lot of space. Doesn’t make me very stealthy.”
To add to his statement, he applies a little bit of delicious pressure to my thigh. No. Not delicious. Imposing.
“Stop that!” I snap, and squeeze my legs together so I’m not touching him anymore. “And you can not call me Sugar. Seriously - my dad can never know about us.” I give him my best glare.
“Don’t worry, Baby.” His smirk tells me that he’s using that endearment just to rile me up. “I have no intention of telling my coach just how fucking tasty and dirty his pretty daughter is. I know full well that that wouldn’t be good for my health.”
Is there something that’s like PTSD but for good things? Is that possible? Because hearing the word “fuck” come out of his mouth has thrown me right back to our night together. I’m remembering his reaction from when I said I want you to fuck me. The way he stalked to me, and claimed me, and pushed me down into the chair...
Zach’s big palm gently squeezes my knee under the table. “Snap out of it, Sweets. Your dad is on his way over.”
Looking up I see Dad approaching from the back corner of the bar. He must have stopped at the restroom when they got here, and that’s why Zach was alone.
As much as I want to snark at him for touching me, I’m glad for the heads up. And also mortified. This man knows exactly what he does to me. I know he finds me attractive. The kiss we just shared in the tiny dark office confirmed that. It's clear I don’t affect him on the same level, because he’s able to act normal. But me… Every time I see him, or hear him, or touch him... my brain has a little sex aneurysm and goes offline. Maybe it’s a brain orgasm. A braingasm.
Dad dropping into the chair on my other side snaps me out of yet another wandering-mind moment.
“Sorry we’re late. Everyone wanted to talk to the new boy here.” Dad is all smiles as he gestures to Zach.
With my dad on my left, and Zach on my right, I’m going to have to keep turning my head to look at whoever is talking. I suppose I could just look straight forward at the empty chair and pretend I was literally anywhere but here.
“The excitement will die off soon, I’m sure,” Zach says with a shrug. “But I will say, I’ve gotten a very warm welcome to your beautiful state.”
My cheeks heat.
“So… Zachary Hunt. I don’t recognize that name,” I say, tilting my head while I look at him. “You look a bit old to be graduating from college.”
Zach’s grin is instantaneous, and I hear my dad chuckle.
“You’d be correct, Isabelle. I’ll be 30 next month. I finished college a while ago.”
“He played at Notre Dame. He was damn good back then, and he’s damn good now." Dad says with pride. He always acts like his players are his children to brag over.
“Impressive,” I say. “So, where have you been since then? I imagine you’ve been playing somewhere, but I don’t even recognize your face. How is that possible?”
“Watch a lot of hockey, do you?” Zach teases.
My dad answers for me. “I think I broke the poor girl when she was growing up. She’s almost more obsessed with the game than I am. Watches every game I’ve ever coached, watches other teams' games when she can, and the highlights when she can’t. She even keeps an eye on college players. I’ve taken her advice for drafts on more than one occasion. You’d be wise to get on her good side.”
Zach and I exchange glances, and I want to kick him under the table.
Mercifully, the waiter comes over to give me a reprieve from this madness. Following the rule of Ladies First, all eyes are on me. I debate ordering something “girly”, or at the very least low-calorie, but realize I’d be doing this in some misguided attempt to impress Zach. I suddenly feel the urge to kick myself under the table.
“I’ll have the French Dip and an iced tea.” I say with confidence, handing over my menu.
“Same," says my dad.
“If they’re both having it, it must be good. Same for me,” Zach states. Looking at my dad, he shrugs. “I’ll call this a celebration meal. I can be strict with dinner.”
Oh, right. Professional athlete. And now it dawns on me. That’s why his body is so amazing. Duh. I even thought to myself that he had the build of an athlete. I just never guessed it was from playing hockey.
Which reminds me - “Where did you go after Notre Dame?”
Zach smiles at me. “I hate to give you more homework, but you might want to add the international circuit to your viewing schedule. I played for a few teams, all in Scandinavia, most recently in Finland.”
“No shit?” My hand flies up to cover my mouth. I didn’t mean to say that.
“Delicate flower she is not," Dad says dryly.
The waiter drops off our iced teas, and I start tearing open sugar packets and pouring them into my glass. I like my tea like I like my coffee. Sweet. I’ve already added two, debating on a third, when movement on the table catches my attention. Zach has pulled a packet over in front of him and is casually using one long finger to tap on the word Sugar. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Cheeky Finnish hockey player.
“Delicate isn’t fun anyways,” Zach says, looking at my dad. “Who has time for that?”
“Ha! Spoken like a true Enforcer!” Dad replies.
“Enforcer?” I look at Zach.
Then I really look at him. The scar through his eyebrow, the signs of a broken nose, the scar on his lip. How did I not see it earlier? He’s a fighter. The bad boy vibe I got from him was correct. As an Enforcer, Zach will find himself in more fist fights than anyone else on the team. It’s an unofficial role of course, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Or dangerous.
“No need to look worried, Doll. I’m a professional,” Zach tells me, with a soft smile.
“What? No. I’m… I’m not worried.” If Dad found Zach calling me Doll - or my stuttering - suspicious, he doesn’t say so. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about the teams over there. What was the last team you played for?”
“My last team was out of Helsinki. I played with them for a couple of years. We were the Dragons,” Zach replies.
“Dragons… ?” I drag the word out while I try to think of why that sounds familiar. “Oh! Like your…” Zach’s knee bumps into my leg. Hard.
Ohmygod, I’m such an idiot! I was half a second away from saying like your tattoo. And seeing how he’s managed to keep his shirt on during lunch, that would’ve been a tricky fact for me to explain.
I whip my gaze over to my dad, but his attention is on one of the TVs playing a college game. He’s a kind man, but he’s crap at listening. Dad turns his head towards me, mouth open, like he’s about to ask me to repeat myself. The waiter appears at that exact moment to deliver our food and I nearly weep from relief. I’m going to leave this guy the biggest tip ever. It’s like he has a sixth sense about when I’m about to say something stupid and he swoops in to rescue me.
As we start to dig in, Dad tells me that Zach will be playing a Defense position. The conversation quickly moves to team stuff that I already know, so I tune them out. I’m glad I didn’t change up my food order. This is one of my favorite meals. The thinly sliced beef is juicy, and perfectly seasoned, and dunking into the au jus gives it that extra drippy burst of flavor. There’s no clean way to eat this, and I’m embracing the mess. The guys are engrossed in their conversation anyways, so any last shreds of self-consciousness vanishes.
I can’t stop the moan, as I pop the last bite into my mouth. Seeing a drip of the yummy goodness trying to flee down the side of my hand, I quickly lick it off.
“Fuck.” Zach’s voice is quiet enough that I barely hear it.
Looking up, I see that he’s staring at me with his jaw clenched. Oops. With a quick glance I see that my dad’s back to being engrossed in something on TV. Turning back to Zach, I straighten my shoulders and give him a wink. His eyes alight with mischief as he shakes his head at me.
I pick up my drink to try and cover the smile I feel forming. This shouldn’t feel so easy with Zach. We had a one-night stand. A single evening together. I planned on never seeing him again before he walked back into my life in the most inconvenient way possible. And yet here we are, sitting next to each other, and it feels like the easiest thing in the world.
Dad lays his card to signal we’re ready for the bill.
“Isabelle - I’m sorry, I feel so rude. We spent this whole time talking about me. I haven’t been able to learn much about you. Do you work for the team? Is that why you were at the facility this morning?” Zach’s smile is innocent. And full of shit.
This is a topic we both agreed to avoid when we met, and I can’t decide if that was the best idea or the worst idea ever. Had we discussed our jobs, we would’ve realized who each other was, and avoided this whole entanglement. But had we done that, and walked away, I never would’ve gotten to experience the night of bliss that I had with Zach. As messy as this all is, I still don’t regret it.
“I don’t work for the team, but I do work with some of the players. I’m a Financial Advisor. I just started my own business last year, so it’s still new. But it’s going well. And I’m starting to branch out to athletes from other sports,” I tell him with pride.
“Oh, that’s right!” Dad exclaims. “How was your call today?” he asks me before turning to Zach to explain. “She had a call with some people from our local baseball team, The Minnesota Kids.”
I smile. “It went really great. I signed an NDA this morning so we could have some more in-depth conversations, but I think I’ll have a few new clients by the time next year’s season starts.”
Dad beams at me. “My brilliant girl. I’m so proud of you.”
I blush. Not over my dad’s compliment - he says stuff like that all the time, but because Zach is sitting here witnessing it.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I reply quietly.
Zach looks a little uncomfortable. Even though he’s basically been tormenting me, I still feel bad about making him feel awkward.
“Anyways, that will be a slow moving project.” I shrug. “Speaking of moving, Zachary, have you ever been to Minnesota before now?”
Zach shakes his head. “Never. I knew I wanted to move back to the states, and when this opportunity came up, I decided to take it. I like the cold weather, so I think I’ll get along with the climate here. I’ve only been here a few days.” He smiles. “So I haven’t had time yet to start looking for a house to buy.”
I watch in horror as the lightbulb goes off over my dad’s head. “Oh, well Isabelle here has helped other players find good homes. She knows a lot of realtors, and - being the financial master that she is - she knows how to spot a good investment. Peanut, you should work with Zachary here. Help him out as a welcome to our great state.”
Time has stopped. No, Dad, that’s a terrible idea. Like the worst idea that’s ever been had.
“What a great idea!” Zach turns to me and gives me the most absurd smile.
I mouth I hate you. And his smile just grows.
“Perfect!” Dad claps his hands together. “Isabelle, give your card to Zachary. We need to get heading back; you two can coordinate your schedules later.”
“Great,” I mumble, while digging through my giant purse, looking for my business cards.
Finding one, I quickly stand. For once, I want to have a height advantage over Zach. With him sitting and me standing, I have a few inches on him. Belatedly, I realize this puts his eyes at the perfect height to look straight into my cleavage. And he is. And he’s still smiling.
I use my thumb to bend my business card back and then I flick it against Zach’s forehead.
My dad’s busy signing the bill, so I step away from a chucking Zach giving him my best glare.
