Page 53 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

Gabrielle

It was Saturday, and while I had a bit of work to do for my law firm back in Olympia, I had most of the day off to catch up on house cleaning.

I also made a big pot of beef and barley soup, some to freeze and the rest for dinner.

I slept in, since I didn’t get home from Maverick’s until late, only to find him on my doorstep at ten o’clock.

I was still in my pajamas and enjoying my coffee.

Something both my children mentioned since it was entirely out of character for me.

“Hey, Damon,” Maverick greeted, entering the house. He cast me a quick look with a big, knowing smile, his eyes appreciatively taking in my red, silky pajama pants and top. “Roman Woodman just messaged me and said he could do an interview in like an hour. You up for it?”

“Roman Woodman?” Damon exclaimed, sitting up from where he was lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone, in just his flannel pajama pants. “Like, from the Storm?”

“Yeah. I messaged him the other day when I decided to do the podcast and asked if he’d like to be on the show. He said yes, but didn’t know when. Then he messaged me this morning and said he could do it in like an hour. Can we do it? Here?”

“Yeah, totally.” From slug to panther, my son transformed in front of my eyes, leaping up from the couch and racing to his room. “I just need to get dressed. Oh man, I should probably shower first. I’ll be quick. Mom, can we do it in your office?” he called from his room.

“Yeah, sure.” I got up from my seat at the dining room table, a smirk tugging at my mouth. “Coffee?”

“Please. I was up rather late last night.” His eyes glittered as he followed me into the kitchen, pinning me against the counter, his cock against my ass. “I had fun.” He ran his hands up and down my sides, cupping my ass as his mouth pressed warm, wet kisses along my neck.

“Me too.” I closed my eyes, the coffee pot hanging mid air as I relished the attention and the feel of his hands on me.

No man had ever made me feel this desirable, this sexy, in my life.

And while it was a foreign feeling, and one I wasn’t necessarily comfortable with, I also craved it like a drug.

I welcomed that uncomfortable sensation and the way it spiked my adrenaline and just made me feel alive.

Cyrus was a monster of a man. A terrible husband, and did nothing but put me down and belittle me.

Nothing I did was ever right. He destroyed my self-esteem until I was a shell of a human being.

Ballard helped rebuild that woman over time, but there were no feelings in that relationship. It was a friendship with sex.

This thing I had with Maverick was so much more.

There were feelings. There was friendship, and the sex was soul-shattering.

I caught myself thinking about it all day long.

I would get wet and have to change my underwear, or flushed and need to step outside to cool off.

The man was insatiable, and he was insatiable for me.

Who wouldn’t become addicted to something like that?

I’d been a starved woman, wandering the desert in search of water, and food, and Maverick offered me up a fountain and buffet. Of course I was going to gorge myself.

“Uh …” came the soft, surprised voice of my daughter behind us, prompting Maverick to release me and step back, only he faced the wall because he didn’t want to traumatize my daughter with what was in his jeans.

I cleared my throat, splashed on a smile, and faced Laurel. “Morning, sweetie. You’re up late.”

“I stayed up reading. Fell asleep with only four more chapters to go. So I finished them when I woke up.” She eyed Maverick suspiciously as she made her way to the fridge and pulled out a yogurt cup. “Where were you last night?” she asked me.

“I had to go to the McEvoys to discuss something with Bennett, then I hung out with Maverick for a bit when he got home.”

She nodded and peeled the foil off her yogurt, still giving both of us a wary look. “Is Maverick going to start sleeping over?”

“Uh …” I glanced at him. He was still facing the wall. “How would you feel about that?”

She shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess. He’s not biting your neck anymore, is he?”

“I am not,” Maverick confirmed, accepting the coffee mug from me.

“I heard your warning, and I will refrain from biting your mother’s neck.

My apologies.” He turned around to face her, a genuine look of remorse on his face.

“I don’t have to stay over if you don’t want me to.

We don’t want to make either you or Damon uncomfortable. ”

She shrugged again and grabbed a spoon from the drawer, leaning against the counter. “It’s fine. If Mom’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

I smiled at my too-smart-for-her-own-good child. “I am happy, sweetie.”

“Is Maverick staying over tonight?”

“He’s staying for dinner. And he’s going to work on another podcast with Damon today. So we’ll see.” I glanced at my sexy hockey player. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Maz’s eggs, my own homemade cheese, and some delicious toast from Let it Rise.” He patted his stomach. “Breakfast of champions.”

The shower shut off. That was probably the shortest shower in the history of Damon’s showers. Another indication that he was really enjoying working with Maverick. “Just bring a chair from the dining room into my office and you guys can do your show in there. It’s nice and quiet.”

He sipped his coffee and leaned against the counter. “Thank you.”

Laurel glanced between us a few times, then grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. “Do all people in love look at each other like you two look at each other?”

I’d just taken a sip of my coffee and nearly choked on it. “I-in … in love? We’re not … we’re not—”

“People who care deeply for each other, particularly in newer relationships, tend to have stars in their eyes,” Maverick said, completely unfazed, whereas I was struggling to breathe.

“When you have your first boyfriend—or girlfriend—I’m sure you’ll look at them the same way.

It’s like you can’t believe this amazing person likes you back and wants to be with you.

You’re kind of just looking at them with this level of surprise, or disbelief.

” He lifted one shoulder casually and sipped his coffee.

“We might be a little too soon to use the ‘L’ word, but I care about your mom—and you guys—an awful lot.”

That answer seemed to satisfy my curious child, and she bobbed her head, then headed to the living room, turning on the television.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to him, my heart still raging from that near miss of a coronary.

His sexy half-crooked mouth did all kinds of things to my belly. “No problem. Though, can we make one thing clear?”

I swallowed. “Um … okay.”

“You’re my girlfriend. I’m your boyfriend.

We are dating. This is serious, and even though we said it was going to be temporary, I don’t want us to act like it is.

People do long distance all the time. Players do long distance all the time and make it work.

Let’s not dismiss what this has the potential of being, okay? ”

My jaw went slack, and I nearly dropped my coffee mug.

He snorted as he walked past me into the dining room. “Just food for thought.” Then he pecked me on the cheek and went to join Laurel on the couch where she was watching Stranger Things .

Curiosity became an annoying, niggling beast when Maverick and Damon closed the door to my office and I could hear the murmurs of them, with Roman Woodman echoing through the door.

Laurel was in her room reading, and I decided today was the perfect day to wash the walls and baseboards—starting with the wall and baseboards right outside my office.

“Men who are obsessed with a woman’s body count just need to grow up,” came the voice of a man who was definitely not Maverick or my son.

“I know right?” Maverick agreed.

“Just grow up,” the guy replied. This was obviously Roman Woodman. “They’re worried about how many people she’s been with, like some kind of emotional TSA agent checking her passport at the gate of her self-worth.”

Wow, this Roman guy was not only well-spoken, but bang-on.

“Totally.”

“Body count is not a character flaw. It’s not a criminal record, it’s not a scarlet letter. It’s proof she lived a life before you. And you want to criminalize, you want to penalize and dehumanize her for it? Get your head out of your ass, Chad .”

Maverick and Damon both snickered.

“Exactly. Men say they want an experienced woman. Someone fun, confident, sexy, knows what she likes, but where do these men want her to get all that wisdom from? They even shame women for reading romance,” Maverick said.

I could just picture him shaking his head in total disapproval, and it made me smile.

“I love that my girlfriend reads romance,” Roman added. “Gets her totally in the mood.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, kid.”

“All good,” Damon murmured.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Damon being around such adult topics of conversation, and yet, it was also healthy adult conversation. So, maybe it wasn’t too bad.

“These guys want Michelin Star skills with zero restaurant history. How does that make sense?”

More laughter.

“The same guys saying body count matters are the ones who probably couldn’t find the clit with Google Maps, or a rally co-driver literally telling them to go left, left, right, left, right.

” Maverick burst out laughing, which prompted Roman to laugh too.

“Guys are mad when she has experience. Why? It means that when she chooses you , it’s not because she doesn’t know better, it’s because she does know better and still picked you.

Take her choosing you over all the other men she’s been with as the mother of all compliments.

Because statistically, she has had better than you. ”