Nate, p.6
Nate, page 6
part #10 of Las Vegas Sidewinders Series
“She’s a journalist,” Tore responded, making a face.
“She’s nice,” Zaan interjected. “I mean, is it better for him to go out with one of the rink bunnies? I read her last couple of articles, and they were great. She’s not just pretty, she’s talented.”
“Too bad she works for a sleazy paper like that. I mean, it’s not completely terrible, but they mix a lot of crap in with the high school sports scores and legit stories like the ones Chelsea writes.” Tore still had a funny look on his face.
“That’s right,” Ian said thoughtfully. “I seem to remember them getting sued about something they wrote.”
“Exactly.” Tore was a little smug.
“Guys, we only had coffee, so relax.” Nate sank into his chair and drank from his water glass. Tore was worse than a parent sometimes, and though he appreciated having someone looking out for him, it got annoying. Especially this whole thing with Chelsea.
“Don’t listen to him,” Zaan said, waving a hand. “I mean, look at me—I was dating Coach Rousseau’s daughter.”
Nate gaped at him. “You were?”
“He’s not your coach, though,” Tore pointed out. Coach Rousseau was the goalie coach. “I mean, can you imagine dating Coach Barnett’s daughter?”
“He doesn’t have a daughter,” Zaan said, shaking his head. “But whatever. My point is, it’s not a big deal. You do you, Nate. Don’t let these guys talk you into or out of anything.”
“He’s just jealous,” Ian quipped. “Since he can’t decide if he likes ladies or blokes.”
Tore huffed out a sigh. “I said I was curious, that’s all. I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”
“I don’t even know what it means,” Ian admitted, scratching his head. “Are you straight? I don’t care one way or the other but—”
“It means I’m curious,” Tore said under his breath. “I’m straight, but the idea of experimenting with a guy, at the same time as a girl, sounds kind of hot.”
No one said anything for a minute but then Zaan nodded. “In theory, yeah. I don’t think it sounds hot enough to want to try it, but I get it, depending on who the guy was.”
Ian frowned. “When you put it like that, yeah, it’s hot. Not sure I’d be down with actually doing it, either, but I see what you mean.”
Nate tuned them out. Talk about sex always made him uncomfortable since he didn’t have a lot to offer. Sure, he’d dated a little and kissed his fair share of girls, but when they started talking about this kind of thing, he tended to put his head down and pretend he wasn’t interested. He was but there was no way to ask the things he wanted to ask without telling them his secret and admitting he was a twenty-three-year-old virgin wasn’t an option. Zaan would most likely be surprised but understanding, but Tore? No, Tore would laugh him right off the team.
“Let’s go to a strip club,” Zaan said, deflecting the conversation. “Nothing else to do tonight. Come on, we never do anything fun, we’re always on our best behavior. Let’s live it up tonight.”
“I don’t think—” Nate began.
“That sounds good to me,” Ian said, nodding. “I’m about due. Been a while.”
“But—” Nate tried again.
“You’re not a monk, are you?” Tore demanded. “Come on, you never party with us, and we’re more than a month into the season.”
“Fine,” Nate muttered. “We’ll go out. I’m definitely not a monk.” Well, not officially. He qualified, though.
The last time Nate had been at a strip club, he’d been with Whitney and her friends Hailey and Kane, whom she now nannied for. It had been a low-key evening and he hadn’t been interested in a lap dance or anything. Money had never been his issue, but he didn’t picture himself getting too wild tonight. Tore was wild enough for half the team, and Zaan seemed ready to sow some oats lately. Ian was fairly quiet and kept to himself a lot, but even he’d been chomping at the bit to let loose. Which left Nate the sole prude in the bunch. Well, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t a prude so much as inexperienced. It wasn’t the same, right?
They ordered beers and munchies and before Nate had a chance to acclimate, Tore had a busty blonde on his lap as he stuffed bills in her G-string. The no-touch rule didn’t seem to apply as long as he continued plying her with money, and Nate had to admit it looked erotic. His virginity had never been the elephant in the room because no one but Whitney and his therapist knew his secret, but he was distinctly uncomfortable being here with these guys. Though Ian, Zaan, and Dax, who’d decided to come along at the last minute, were all laid back and mellow, they appeared to be gearing up for lap dances of their own.
Ian motioned to a lanky brunette with big blue eyes and the sexiest tattoo Nate had ever seen. It wrapped around her torso, a plethora of roses and angel wings in teal blue, ending in a point halfway down the side of one thigh. As she gyrated in front of him, the tattoo seemed to take on a life of its own and Nate was somewhat mesmerized, wondering what it would be like to touch it. He wouldn’t, of course, but he suddenly wondered if Chelsea had any tattoos and if she liked them on a man. He had one just below his right hip, a private symbol of strength no one had ever seen. He didn’t hide it, but it was small and in a discreet location so the guys in the locker room didn’t look that closely, and he’d never been intimate enough with a woman for her to notice.
“I think we buy the rookie a lap dance,” Dax said, motioning with his arm. “Which one do you like, Nate?”
Nate swallowed. Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “I’m good,” he said as nonchalantly as he could.
“Either you choose your favorite, or I’ll pick for you,” Tore called out, though he was still mostly engrossed with the blond.
“Diamond’s new,” the blonde said, never losing her rhythm as she glanced across the room. “Redhead over there. She’s hot but hasn’t learned to work the room yet so she’s not getting the dances. You seem kind of shy, so she might be perfect for you.”
“Bring her ’round,” Ian cut in, his eyes never leaving the brunette in front of him.
Dax got up to get the redhead’s attention and Nate’s heart kicked up a notch. What the hell was he going to do now? He’d never had a lap dance before.
11
The dancer named Diamond seemed startled at first but then she smiled and followed Dax back to their table.
“Nate’s the new guy at work,” Dax told her. “So give him a night to remember.”
“I can do that.” She tossed her long hair back and locked eyes with Nate, running a long fingernail under his chin. “Ready for some fun, handsome?”
Nate watched as Diamond lifted one long leg up and over so she was standing but straddling him, her hands resting on his shoulders. She was sexy as hell, her body lean and tone, with breasts that looked far more natural than the dancers with Tore and Ian. As she gyrated in front of him, he fought the arousal straining behind his zipper. Damn, this hadn’t been part of the plan, but it was kind of nice too. He’d gone through a phase where he’d wondered if he was asexual or something because getting laid was so far down on his list of priorities. Meeting Chelsea and now this lap dance was proving that was no longer the case.
Someone put a shot of something—Fireball?—in his hand and he downed it without even realizing what it was. Oh, this wasn’t good. Things were going to go south tonight, but on the plus side, tomorrow was a travel day. Letting loose just this once wouldn’t hurt, right? His boner seemed to think so.
Diamond had turned and bent over so her crotch was in his face, and she reached back to bring his hands around, placing one on the side of each thigh.
Oh, lord. Now what?
She started to jiggle her ass, back and forth, getting faster and faster, until he had a crazy urge to laugh. Though her ability to move that fast was impressive, the sexuality was suddenly gone, and his thoughts drifted to Chelsea. Was she the one? He didn’t harbor illusions about falling in love this quickly, but she was different than anyone he’d ever met, and he wasn’t sure why. She soothed him in ways no one else had, which was both exciting and scary because his dick had kicked things up a notch once he’d pictured Chelsea instead of the redhead in front of him.
Diamond snapped her hips forward and sank down on his lap, running her hands over his chest.
“The back room is only a hundred bucks,” she whispered in his ear. “Twenty minutes, anything you want.”
“Not tonight, hon.” He ran a hand down her back, almost apologetically. “But this was great.” He dug in his pocket for some cash to tip her, but Dax waved him away.
“My treat,” he said, pulling some bills out of his wallet and sliding them into her hand.
“Thanks, boys!” She flashed a smile and picked up the drink Dax had apparently ordered for her.
Nate reached for his beer and drank deeply, gathering his thoughts, before turning to Dax. “Thanks. That wasn’t necessary, but definitely appreciated.”
“Glad you enjoyed it—welcome to the team!” Dax clapped him on the back as he reached for Diamond’s hand and tugged her forward. “We can keep you busy all night, doll.”
“Works for me.” She tossed her hair back and straddled his lap.
Chelsea was disappointed that Nate hadn’t texted her the night before, but she figured something had come up and had fallen asleep reading anyway. She’d just gotten to the office when her phone rang and she saw his name on the screen.
“Hey, I missed you last night,” she said as she answered.
“Me too,” he groaned. “The guys talked me into going out and I’m paying for it today. I haven’t drank more than a beer or two since the beginning of September and even though I only had a few drinks last night, I’ve got the headache from hell.”
“Lots of water,” she said firmly.
“Yeah, like ten gallons. And that might not be enough.”
“Did you have fun at least?”
“Yeah, it was okay. They’re good guys. Ian’s funny as shit when he gets drunk, and his Scottish accent gets really thick. We were dying laughing.”
“I didn’t think his accent was that strong…”
“It’s usually not, but boy, after a few scotches? He had us rolling.”
“I’m glad you had fun.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for blowing off our text date and see if you want to do it tonight? We’re an hour ahead of you, so we’ll probably get back to the hotel around eleven your time. Is that too late?”
“Not at all. I’m usually up late writing.”
“I could keep you up doing more than writing.”
Chelsea’s heart skipped a beat, a warm flush spreading over her skin. She wasn’t as embarrassed as she was excited. His voice alone made her stomach do little flips. “Like what?” she asked in a voice she barely recognized, more a throaty whisper than the casual way she usually responded.
“We could start by talking about what you’re wearing…then I’d tell you what I was wearing…”
“And then?” Her breath hitched slightly. No one had ever talked to her like this, and it was sexy as hell.
“The truth? I’d probably fall asleep.”
She giggled. “That’s so romantic…we’ve been dating fourteen minutes, and we’re already falling asleep on each other.”
“Oh, trust me—that’s on the phone. If we were together, it would be a whole different story.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“I have to get going, Sunshine, but I’ll talk to you tonight.”
Chelsea hung up with a grin.
They talked every night for the next three nights until the wee hours when Nate had to beg off to get some sleep. He was funny and smart, but sweet and a lot quieter than she imagined he’d be. He liked hearing about different stories she’d written, especially the ones she’d done in college. She’d covered a lot of performers, authors, and entertainers, and she’d regaled him with stories about quirky musicians and artists she’d interviewed in college. He asked a ton of questions about her career and seemed to enjoy listening to her more than talking about himself. The more they talked, the more she looked forward to seeing him again, and he expressed the same anticipation.
They hadn’t done much sexting, and she wasn’t sure if she was bummed or relieved since she’d never done anything like that with any of her other boyfriends. Nate had asked her what she was wearing every night, though, and the attraction between them got stronger each time they spoke. By the time he picked her up for their dinner date, she was so excited it had turned into a case of nerves, thinking about how much they wanted to see each other again and where it might lead. She’d been single for over two years now, and it was a little lonely, but she’d never expected to go out with someone like Nate.
“Hi.” Chelsea came down the front steps of her parents’ modest home. She wore jeans and the yellow top he liked and left her hair down so it cascaded over her shoulders. It had gotten chilly while the team had been away, so she had her denim jacket over her arm, prepared for the inevitable chill later in the evening.
“Hey.” He got out of his car and walked around to open the door for her, pausing to brush his lips across hers.
“Thank you.” She smiled and got into the car.
He started the engine and put the car in gear, heading out of her neighborhood.
“You look pretty,” he commented. “That’s the top that gave me your nickname.”
She smiled. “Where are we going?”
“You said you like Italian, so I figured I’d take you to my favorite restaurant on the Strip. It’s called Rao’s and the meatballs are amaze-balls.”
She laughed. “I love Rao’s. Sounds awesome.”
“I forget you’re a native—do you want to go somewhere else?”
“Hell no. I’ll fight you for the meatballs.”
“Easy, Sunshine, we can get two orders.”
Sunshine. For some reason, the endearment made her smile. No one had ever called her something like that, and it felt nice, intimate as if they’d seen each other more than just a couple of times. Every time they talked or got together, she liked him more and more.
They laughed and joked the rest of the way and she forgot why she’d been nervous. Once he’d turned his car over to the valet, he put a hand at the small of her back as they walked into Caesar’s Palace.
Normally, Nate was enthralled with the sights and sounds of the big casinos since he’d never been to any until he’d moved here over the summer, but tonight he barely noticed. He was far more engrossed in the beautiful woman who’d slid her arm through his and was talking about the last time she’d come here. She was much more outgoing tonight, nowhere near as quiet and reserved as she’d been the other times they’d been together.
They walked into the restaurant and the hostess greeted them, taking them to a table in the back. It was busy like it always was when he came, but he was confident the service would be impeccable and the food even better. It was a bonus that Chelsea said she liked it here too. He didn’t eat many carbs during hockey season, but the meatballs would make up for not getting any pasta and he’d splurge on wine if she drank it.
“Do you drink wine?” he asked.
“A little.” She met his gaze. “I don’t know much about it because alcohol isn’t in my budget too often, but I’m game to try something you like.”
“We’ll get a bottle and you can tell me what you think.”
“Okay.”
He placed the order and they were quiet for the first time since he’d picked her up.
“Whatcha thinkin’?” he asked.
“I keep expecting you to be a certain way and you always surprise me.”
“I’m not sure what that means.” He laughed.
“Well, don’t laugh, but I honestly thought hockey players would be super hairy and not have teeth. It’s a terrible stereotype but if you don’t follow the sport, that’s the impression you get.”
“I’ve been lucky with the teeth, but it happens. I could lose them any time.”
“But you’d get implants or something, right?”
“Most guys wear a bridge, kind of like dentures, while they’re still playing because you’ll most likely damage them again. But once you retire, yeah, implants are a thing.”
“I also figured pro athletes would be…jerks. You know, kind of arrogant and stuff. But so far no one I’ve met is like that.”
“Well, to be fair, they exist. I could tell you about a few guys I went to college with who are genuine assholes, and one is in the NHL now too, but overall, that’s not the case. Everyone I spend time with is really great, down-to-earth, fun to hang out with. My friend Whitney is the nanny for a player on the Alaska Blizzard, so I know a few of those guys too, and there’s not an asshole among the ones I’ve met.”
“Toli’s brother plays for the Blizzard, right?”
“Yeah. Sergei’s a great guy. He’s married to Zakk Cloutier’s sister.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“Lots of that goes on. My head spins when I try to remember how everyone is related or knows each other. I’m finally starting to feel like I belong, but it takes a while, especially with a tight-knit group like these guys.”
“Has your family been up to see you play?” she asked.
He made a face. “Uh, no. My dad and I don’t get along that well, and I barely know my stepmom. This is wife number four.”
“What about your mother?”
“She died when I was six.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t really remember her, but I have lots of pictures and videos and stuff, so I occasionally watch those. It reminds me that I had a mom who loved me.”
“That must be so hard.”
“It’s okay. I mean, my dad and I had a falling out my freshman year of high school so he sent me away to a prep school in New England with one of the best hockey programs in the country. That’s the reason I’m where I am today, so I’m okay with it. I see him a few times a year and that’s plenty. My mother’s father, my granddad, came and saw me play in Boston a bunch, so that was nice.”
