Page 3

Chapter Three

Tanner

The Schaffer Salt Arena looked so damn good.

Like a lost lover that had been on holiday for years.

“You do realize you’ve only been away from the ice for perhaps ten days, right?” Rudy asked as he pulled up to the players’ entrance, parked, and turned on the flashers. “I mean, the way you’re gazing at this ice palace, you’d think it was your runaway dog come home.”

“It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” I asked, ignoring my brother’s silly comment. Of course, I missed the barn and the team. This game was pretty much all I had in my life that meant anything other than my brother.

“It’s gorgeous,” he replied as he exited the SUV to hustle around to my side.

“I can do it,” I said when he reached to unbuckle my seatbelt. “I’m not Mrs. Whipple from down the street.”

Rudy gave me that look but left me to unsnap, then ease my right leg up and out of the car. I pushed up to stand, balancing on my left leg, as he tugged the walker free. The sun was slanting westward but still had a few hours before it would set. Puck drop was at seven. It was now four. I was ready for hockey, even if I could only watch. Yes, it had been a rough day at therapy. My knee ached and my temper was touchy from the pain. I’d not said a word, though. I’d persevered. Quitters didn’t get back on the ice. I’d dealt with painful knees for years. A few aspirin, some ice, and mental fortitude were all that a man needed.

“I wish you would wait for me to get the walker set up before you get to your feet,” Rudy snapped, his patience obviously strained as well. I took the walker from him and placed it in front of me.

“Hey,” I said. He looked up with tired hazel eyes. “I know I’m a real pain in the ass at times. And that I dump on you when I’m sore. I don’t mean to, it’s just…”

“I’m the closest one,” he said as a weary smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I understand. When I had my wisdom teeth out, I was a living bitch to Wade for a week straight. We’ll be fine.” He patted my cheek, frowned at the dark rough whiskers, and eased around me to allow me to make my way to the locked door. He knocked. One of the security men opened the steel door, grinned, and extended his hand.

“Fossie man, it is good to see you,” Randall said, his smile wide, olive skin glowing in the bright June sun. “You look good. Come to cheer on our boys in red and gold?”

“You know it.” I shook his hand as Rudy pulled away to find a place to park. Once we stepped inside, the chill of the rink touched my skin. Oh yes, that was the smell. Crisp cold air mixed with sweat and determination. Hockey. Damn, I wished I was playing tonight instead of sitting in the owner’s suite with my foot on a fucking stool like some dowager duchess with a case of gout. “Them Cougars are tough. This series is going to be a dogfight.”

Randall nodded, and we jawed for a minute or two before Rudy arrived. My brother had dressed for a night at the rink in tight gold leggings, one of my ridiculously oversized jerseys over a black turtleneck, and red leather boots. His large tote hung off his shoulder, and he’d done something with his hair that included a curling iron and some sort of gel that set like wall spackle. His lips were painted gold and his eyes were lined in red. Randall gawked openly, his lips pressed flat, as Rudy fell in beside me like the mother hen that he was.

A soccer ball bounced down the cold corridor. Rudy threw up his tote to swat at the white and black ball. I grabbed it out of the air, smiled evilly at Greck jogging toward us, and then whipped it at him. Phil ducked the shot, hooting about hand passing, and kicked the ball to Liam before walking to us.

“Sorry, man, that kid has no control. You two are a sight for sore eyes. Not that my eyes are sore, they’re not. My eyes are fine. I just had them examined when Henri went to Corning for some sort of special exam for his Stargardts, which lasted forever. Not the exam, just the waiting. I got antsy. There was this coffee shop on the first floor of the hospital that I went to after Henri went in to see the specialist. They were selling a white chocolate muffin with a hot cup of vanilla coffee for like three bucks. I know! What a deal, right? I said to the girl, ‘Are you kidding me here with this price?’ and she was like, ‘No, it’s the daily special,’ and I was like, ‘Well then I’ll take two specials,’ and she boxed them up. I took them back to the waiting room, but the receptionist was looking at me funny as I sat down. I figured maybe she was upset that I didn’t get her a muffin and vanilla coffee, so I asked if she wanted me to dash down and get her one. She said no, then told me food wasn’t allowed in the waiting room. So I went out into the hall and sat on the floor to eat my muffin. Got to talking to the guy cleaning the bathrooms. Nice fella. Said he wasn’t much into hockey, but he wished us good luck against the Cougars. I gave him a five-dollar tip for keeping the bathrooms so clean. They’re really sparkling them crappers.”

“Damn, Greck, you could talk the hair off a bull’s ball sack.” I chuckled as he gave me a fast sideways hug. Liam jogged up, green eyes sparkling, cheeks pink from their soccer game in the hall. “You look like you could take on the world, Sunny. Must be either the rush of starting game one or being engaged.”

“Both,” the young goalie replied while offering me a fist to bump. I touched knuckles with Liam. The hall soon filled with my teammates, all of them slapping my shoulder as they welcomed me back to the barn.

“You sure you should be standing so long?” Bean asked. Always the captain, that man.

“To be honest, he should find somewhere to sit. The therapist said short walks of thirty minutes two to three times a day and you’ve already gone way over that,” Rudy chimed in, Greck hanging off his neck like a monkey. Phil liked my brother. All the guys on the team did, even the straight ones. It just took the straight fellows a little longer to adjust to a man who presented as femme while still using he/him pronouns. We’d had a few flubs at first, but after Rudy explained that he used he/him but other enbee folk might use they/them and it was always totally cool to ask first, things ran smoothly. Yes, a few of the guys seemed standoffish. That was not just Rudy, though. A couple of our teammates were cool to all the queer players on the team. Not rude, never that, just a little distant. Which was fine. I didn’t expect every soul on this planet to like me. Straight or gay, there would be some people who did not jibe with me on a personal level. Even if we weren’t bosom buddies, the chilly guys were polite off the ice and demonstrative to a point on the ice. They would knuckle bump but not hug on a celly. Again, totally cool. You do you and all that. As long as they were respectful to me and mine, I had no beef. “If we could get him to a chair and find some ice.”

“If there’s one thing we got plenty of in a hockey rink, it’s ice,” DJ said, slapping my shoulder once more just because. “We’ll get you settled comfy, Fossie.”

I missed DJ. He was more than just my defensive partner; he was a good friend. His boyfriend was a minister, a very cool minister, and had already been secured to marry Liam and Tarcy in August. Now that the goalie and the race car driver had gotten rings on each other they had wasted no time in setting the date. I’d never been married, obviously, or even lived with another guy, so my knowledge of what led a man to propose and then rush into tying the knot was limited. How could they be sure? I mean 100 percent sure that this man was the man? Was there a questionnaire for a potential spouse to fill out? If so, where was this form found?

“Just get me an ice bag and a beer. I’ll be good,” I replied. The guys laughed. They led me to the dressing room, where I sat in front of my cubicle, walker off to the side, and shot the shit for the longest time. Rudy sat beside me, feeding me tiny penguin cheese crackers while I sipped on a Mountain Dew. An ice bag rested on my knee. I’d never been happier. This team was something special. The men were open, accepting, warm, and loving. A true band of brothers.

I got to enjoy the pregame pep talk from Coach Sanford. I felt like I was a part of the Gladiators, even if I was in loose lounge pants, a Gladiators hoodie, and my old Vans, while the rest of the guys were gearing up. Rudy insisted we head to the owner’s box instead of lingering with the team. Finally, I relented, although I’d much rather be with the men than with the movers and shakers of Watkins Glen. Not that the village was overflowing with millionaires or anything, but I wasn’t much into politicians. I didn’t own a business. I wouldn’t know most of the people gathered to watch the game and would feel like the odd man out. The brace on my knee was a stark reminder that I was doing nothing for this team. Would Fred Gallo, the owner, see that as a reminder not to renew my contract? It was up this year, and at thirty-eight with bad knees, my future was anything but secure. I prayed he would see some good in me and give me a couple more years. I was not ready to quit this game. I knew I had a lot to offer if my knees would stop letting me down.

“Ah, Tanner, how marvelous to see you up and about. Please, come in and have a seat.” Henri’s lovely French-accented voice floated to us as we entered the suite. Greck’s man was smiling widely, blond hair neatly combed, sleek summer suit pressed, and shoes shining like a gold bar. The man’s butler must spend hours buffing his dress shoes. “Rudolph, you look quite into the spirit of the evening. I saved you two seats by me and a few other local business owners. I hope that is acceptable?”

“Yeah, looks great,” I said as I wheeled my walker over to the tall island. The owner was at the bar talking with the mayor. Servers moved through the crowd of about twenty, refreshing drinks as needed. Along the back wall sat several serving dishes with various finger foods and snacks, like mozzarella sticks, chicken tenders, and sweet Italian sausages from a local meat processor. With my eyes on the legs of my walker, I didn’t see one very special business owner until I’d reached the island.

Keyshaun Williams smiled brightly at me when our eyes met. If not for the fact that I was gripping my walker so tightly, I would have teetered over. Rudy, always ready to engage anyone when I floundered, slid in front of me to offer his hand to Key.

“Mr. Williams! What a joy it is to see you again,” Rudy said as they shook hands.

Key’s dark brown eyes moved over me. I felt a flush of warmth rush through me. Damn it, I should have put more effort into my appearance.

“No one was more shocked than me to get a call from Henri asking if I were available to do some socializing tonight as his guest.” Key released Rudy’s hand and then held his out to me. Leaning on my left arm, I grabbed his hand with my right. Tingles raced through my arm right down to my balls. His long fingers gently tightened around mine as our gazes locked. I wanted to say something witty or classy. Something refined like Henri would toss out or funny like Greck would come up with. My brain was nonfunctioning, it seemed. Made sense since most of my blood was pooling in my groin.

“You look nice,” I coughed out and moaned internally. It was the truth. The man looked amazing. Long legs in fitted dark jeans, a soft yellow shirt that made his dark skin glow, and a blazer sans tie. Even his shoes were stylish black Rockport slip-ons. “I mean, your shoes are nice.”

Oh my God. How many attempts would it take to throw yourself through the safety glass overlooking the ice? Can we use the walker to shatter it? Holy hell, Tanner.

Rudy made a noise like he had swallowed a live goldfish. “Tanner enjoys nice shoes,” he scrambled to say, pulling me off the ledge, but just.

“I do too. You want to sit next to me?” Key asked. Henri and Rudy hung on our every word, both men displaying far too much interest in our interaction.

“We’d love to,” Rudy leaped in, nudging me toward a stool and reaching for my walker. “I was just saying he needed to rest that knee a bit. And here you are, being so gallant. Such a gentleman. Sit, Tanner.”

I sat. What else could I do? Key wiggled into his stool, easing his leg past my left one, the rub of his thigh on mine setting off an uncomfortable reaction in my briefs. I hurried to pull my right leg in, mumbling something about not wanting anyone to bang into it when in reality I was trying to pinch my semi-hard dick into compliance. It sort of worked.

“They have ice at the bar,” Rudy said and skipped off.

“Let me get you something to eat and drink,” Henri said, and then, he, too, skipped off. And there I sat, a bearded bump on a log, sitting beside the best-looking man in Watkins Glen.

“So, how was your therapy session?” Key asked, lifting his glass of pink fizzy liquid to take a sip. My sight lingered on his long neck and how it worked when he swallowed. I wanted to lick a wide stripe from his collarbone to his ear to taste him. I was sure he was delicious. He smelled of green tea and mint, which would now be my favorite tea blend. Bet he tasted just as good as he smelled. Someone slid in beside me, a round man with no hair but sporting a walrus mustache who was vaguely familiar. He grabbed my hand, pumped it, and thanked me for helping to sell so many raffle tickets for the children’s ward at the Corning Hospital. Ah right, that was where I had seen him before.

Walrus Man moved on. Key gave me a puckish sort of smile. “You’re in demand.”

“Nah, not really.”

He leaned in, just close enough that his forearm rested beside mine on the island top. Sparks danced over my skin. The boner that I’d been strangling into submission decided it wasn’t giving up the ghost quite yet.

“So humble. That’s one thing about hockey players. They seem to lack the egos of other professional athletes. It’s refreshing.”

“Thanks.” I wanted to move my arm so I could focus, but his skin was so warm that I left my arm resting next to his. “So, you’re here.”

“That I am,” he replied with a wink. “And so are you. What are the odds we’d end up running into each other again so soon? You believe in kismet?”

My tongue was unable to form words, so I just bobbed my head. My gaze, however, was on my brother and a certain vineyard owner as they whispered to each other at the bar. It was then that I suspected that kismet might be getting helped along by Rudy and Henri. I’d have to keep an eye on those two. Did they even know each other well enough to plot out matchmaking? Was there some sort of club I didn’t know about where people who were…

Wait. The WAGS, or as they were now known, the SIG OTHERS. They had a small group that did things like visiting local charities, planning parties, and rumor has it, liked to ensure no Gladiator was living a lonely life. They’d tried a few times to set me up with one or two guys. The dating pool for queer men was small in this charming little village, so the attempts didn’t go well. But how did my brother figure into the SIG OTHERS? He wasn’t my fiancé, boyfriend, or even a steady dating dude. Not that I would object to steady dating Key because hello the man is gorgeous.

“…you’d fit the clothing well. Would you be interested in speaking to him?”

My wandering eye flew from Henri and Rudy at the bar to Keyshaun. “Sure, yes, absolutely.”

His smile was so bright it required sunglasses. His one canine was a little crooked, but it added to his beauty instead of detracting from it.

“Great. He’s really got a good eye for men’s athletic wear. His shop is just outside of Elmira, and while it’s still on the small side, it’s going to explode soon. Also, Clay is looking for diverse models and spokesmen for his athletic wear, so you should be a perfect rep. I’ll text him your contact info now if you want?”

I blinked dully. “Oh sure, yeah, that would be great.” What the fuck had I just agreed to? Modeling? “You said modeling?”

Key glanced up from tapping on his phone, dark eyes curious. “I did, yeah, well, not so much modeling per se, but…well, I guess sort of modeling. Mostly just wearing his stuff around and then shooting a small testimonial about how much you like it. That’s only if you truly do like his clothing, but I’m sure you will.”

“Modeling? Like…modeling?” My brain was stuck on that image. Me, a big doofus hockey player in a knee brace strutting my gimpy stuff on a catwalk. FFS.

“I can see you’re freaking out a bit.” He laid his phone on the counter and touched my hand, gently, reassuringly. “I misspoke I think. Not modeling like Paris Fashion Week or anything like that. Just some shots of you being Tanner out and about in his athletic wear.”

“Oh, so like me skating and fishing and shit?”

“Yes, exactly. You know, you looking all rugged and outdoorsy.”

“Okay, yeah, I guess I can do some fishing shots and shit. I’d have to talk to this guy first and then let my agent deal with the contracts and all that legal stuff. What’s this dude’s name?”

“Clay Pendergast. If you give me your number, I can send it to him?”

“Sure, yeah, sorry. I’ll need yours.”

And just like that, we had exchanged numbers. Stupid of me to feel so giddy about something so mundane. It wasn’t like the man had said he wanted to call me and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. It was a business contact. That was all.

“Nice. I’m sure he’ll be in contact soon.” Key sent me a text with a waving hand. I replied with a meme of Forrest Gump waving. “Ah man, what a great movie. What’s your favorite Tom Hanks movie?”

“Shit, that’s like asking me to choose my favorite dog.”

“Oh, you have dogs?”

“Four. Want to see some pics?”

“Hell yeah.”

Ten minutes, and about two hundred dog images later, Henri and Rudy finally returned with drinks. Both of them looked a little suspect as they placed a fresh pink drink in front of Key. Rudy handed me something that smelled and looked like ginger ale.

“They out of beer?” I enquired, pocketing my phone as Rudy wiggled himself up onto a stool and goofily stared at me. “What?”

“Nothing. Nice to see you making friends. So, Keyshaun, do you like dogs, the woods, hiking, fishing, canoeing, and talking to moose?”

“Uhm, sure?” Key answered as he finished off his cocktail and took a sip of his new drink. “I enjoy being outside. Dogs are cool. Never spoke to a moose.”

“I never did either. My brother has been in the sun too long,” I snapped, wishing I could kick Rudy in the shin but unable to. Why were little brothers so damn bratty?

“So tell us about the moose,” Henri said, sliding in smooth as silk. “They are at your cabin in Canada, yes?”

I filled them in about my log cabin. I’d just sold my smaller one and moved to a new place, further into the boreal woods with a bigger dock on a private bass lake outside the remote town of Makwa.

“The town and lake are Cree words for loon,” I informed the threesome at our little island. Rudy knew all of this, but the other two gents seemed to be quite enthralled. “You should come visit over the summer. Bring Greck,” I said to Henri before looking over at Key. “You’re invited too. You can bring your…whoever you’re dating.”

Smooth. Real smooth. Dimwit.

“I’m unattached at the moment,” Key replied, which made my heart skip a beat. Rudy beamed at me over his glass of wine.

“I think we just might do that. It would be worth it just to see my city boy in the wilds of Canada,” Henri snickered. “Perhaps we could all come up for a fishing weekend. Do you fish, Keyshaun?”

“Yes, do you fish? Tanner loves to fish. He’s quite the angler. You should see the walls in his new cabin. Covered with stuffed fish that he’s caught and other outdoorsy things like old poles and those little wicker baskets they wear around their waists.”

“They’re called creel baskets and they’re worn over the shoulder,” I hurried to correct.

“Oh yes, fishing purses,” Rudy slid in right before the lights went down and everyone shot to their feet. Even me, I just had to balance on my left leg and use the island for support. I wobbled a little to adjust my weight and pressed slightly into Key’s side. He smiled at me, the flashing red and gold lights in the suite rolling over his face to make his skin glow ruby and then gold.

“Sorry,” I said as his hand came to rest on my lower back.

He leaned close to be heard over the thumping sound of “Gladiator” filling the arena. “You’re welcome to lean into my side anytime. I enjoy a big man tight to me.”

While the team hit the ice, I stared into the prettiest brown eyes I’d ever stared into. Blood rushed through me at the sound of over ten thousand rabid fans chanting for the home team and his touch warmed me through the back of my hoodie, so I opted to remain where I was. Purely for recovering knee reasons. Not because he smelled so damn good and felt even better with his hip snug to mine. Somehow, and I don’t know how, I managed to keep my cool throughout the anthem. Kind of sucked to have to sit down afterward and lose that hot man at my side.

The suite grew louder when the very first puck drop brought about the very first check. A rocking shoulder-to-chest explosion from my partner Deandre to one of the Cougars, which made the boards rattle. Nice.

“Damn,” Key shouted over the noise in the suite. “That was lethal.”

“That’s my partner,” I announced proudly and got the funniest look from Key.

“Like your partner in life or…”

Took me a second. “Oh no, no, defensive partner. What do you know about hockey?”

“They play it on ice, hit each other with sticks, and generally are missing teeth,” he confessed sheepishly before giving me a sly little smile. It was a good look on him. “I mostly came to hang out with you.”

A roar went up in the suite. My wide eyes stayed locked on Key until someone behind us pounded on my shoulder with a rubber finger. I looked down at the ice to see a scrum breaking out in the corner to Liam’s right as the goalie, always cool as a summer squash, tossed the puck he had obviously just caught into the air. The zebras were too busy trying to separate Gladiators and Cougars to take the frozen rubber biscuit from our tendie.

Amazing. I’d finally found someone who could pull my attention from a playoff hockey game with only a flirty comment and a twitch of the corner of his mouth.