"I have cancer," I told him, my voice wobbly and foreign-sounding.
Then I collapsed into a puddle of snotty tears, right on the floor. Stevie immediately jumped into action, throwing the CLOSED sign on the door and locking it. He whipped his iPhone out and called Sutton. I could hear him murmuring urgently to her for a few minutes, and then he was sitting on the floor with me and hugging me tight while I cried.
Sutton arrived in thirty minutes flat, which meant she had to have been breaking the sound barrier on the highway. By then Stevie had me off the floor and had brought me back into his office and gently lowered me into his big, cushy chair behind his desk, then promptly plied me with hot herbal tea.
I recounted to them as best I could what I had been told so far, which was practically nothing. Stevie and Sutton were amazing...going above and beyond to bolster my confidence and reinvigorate my strength. Not a one of us knew what the future held for me, because we were sorely lacking in information at that point, but by the time they got done with me two hours later, I was convinced that I was going to whip this cancer's ass straight into the depths of hell.
And for the next few days, I tried to push this ominous news to the back of my mind and not obsess too much about it. Which was practically impossible. Sutton even invited me over to the Cold Fury party, and whereas I'm usually content to stay at home and immerse myself in a good book, for some reason I felt the urgent need to get out and do something. To prove to myself that I still had a whole lot of living to do.
So I met Sutton and Alex over at the coach's house in North Raleigh, and for the brief time I was there I had a lot of fun. Granted, my time was short, and granted, the fun that was had was in sparring verbally and flirting with Garrett Samuelson, but fun all the same.
Not just fun. Scintillating banter. Thrilling flirtation.
Damn, but Garrett is absolutely and devastatingly gorgeous. Of course, I'd heard enough about him from Sutton and Alex to know that he was not someone you gave your heart to, but I couldn't deny the animal magnetism that threatened to pull me in. Even though I repeatedly denied his advances, every time my mouth opened up to say "No," my body was screaming at me to say "Yes." My brain was also chiming in, telling me that I needed to live life to the fullest...while I still had time, and to take advantage of a supremely attractive man wanting to have some mind-blowing sex.
Still, my common sense prevailed, but I'm not sure how much longer it would have had the fortitude to hold out. Had Sutton not come up and practically chased Garrett away from me, I have a feeling I would have capitulated, because my mind was all kinds of fucked up and twisted over the terrible thoughts that kept circulating through me.
But then I got the phone call from the oncologist's office, offering me an early-morning appointment for the next day, and the reality of my world came crashing back down around me again. While I didn't necessarily have to leave because it was late, I suddenly didn't feel like being social anymore, and these bright, vibrant people surrounding me were a painful reminder of all I stood to lose.
"So, how was the party?" Stevie asks as he pulls out a large foam block circle mounted to a wire frame. He's obviously going to work on a funeral arrangement, and I'm glad he took that order. I'm not as good at them as he is, as they require precision and balance. I do much better with the free-flowing types of arrangements.
"It was good," I tell him, smiling internally over my conversation with Garrett.
"What?" Stevie exclaims. "What's that look on your face?"
I blink at him in surprise as I wipe down the table so I can prepare to work on the next arrangement. "What look?"
"That little secretive, maybe even a little bit sensual, look on your face."
"You're crazy. Batshit crazy, in fact," I scoff at him, even as my cheeks heat a little.
"Oh, hell, no," Stevie says as he pushes the foam block farther back on the table before lunging at me. Grabbing my hands in his, he pulls me back over to my stool and pushes me down onto it. He then hops on the other stool across from me, crosses one leg over the other, and clasps his hands together. Looking at me expectantly, he says, "Dish. You have something juicy to tell, and you better spill every bit of it to me."
I grin. His mood for some scintillating gossip excites me and expels all my troubles out of my head momentarily. I'll take the reprieve.
"Okay," I say conspiratorially. "So, I met one of the Cold Fury players and we ended up having quite the conversation."
"How so?" Stevie asks, his eyes twinkling.
"He just approached me and told me some crap about how beautiful I was, and that it wasn't a cheesy pickup line, but oh, God...it was so cheesy and completely a pickup line."
"Is he hot?"
"Beyond hot," I tell him while nodding. "He's got dark brown hair that's pretty long...about near his chin, but it's cut in like these choppy layers."
Stevie closes his eyes and sighs at the fantasy I'm painting.
"And the most amazing green eyes. Really light and reflective. Oh, and he's tall, and you can tell he's really muscular. He's just a really beautiful man."
"I'm dying just imagining," Stevie practically squeals. "So...when are you going out?"
The grin I had been sporting as I described Garrett melts off my face. "We're not. I turned him down."
"You what?" Stevie practically shrieks. "Are you crazy? You haven't had a date since before Moses was born and now you're being chased after by a freakin' hot hockey player. Please tell me you're joking."
I sniff with offense. "He's just wanting to get into my panties. He doesn't want anything serious."
"And?" Stevie drawls. "What's wrong with that?"
I open my mouth to tell him exactly what's wrong with that, but nothing comes out. My mind whirls and I try to think back to what I was feeling when he asked me out. Warmth, excitement, maybe even a little desire. All good feelings, no doubt. So why in the hell did I say no?
"And don't give me that shit about being morally opposed to casual sex," Stevie says before I can even think of that excuse.
"I'm not morally opposed to it," I mutter. "I'm just not that type of person."
I absolutely am not. Never have been. All my sexual experiences have been the products of long-term and trusting relationships.
Stevie rolls his eyes at me. "Why typecast yourself, Olivia? There's nothing wrong with giving in to your desires. As long as you are both consenting adults, you're safe, and you have realistic expectations, tell me where is the downside?"
Snorting, I cock an eyebrow at him. "You make it all sound so simple, especially when nothing in my life is simple anymore."
"It is simple," he asserts. "Maybe something simple was put before you because you need simple. Damn if you don't have a hell of a lot of complicated right now. So, the way I see it...simple is good. Not to mention...he sounds like the perfect diversion."
I've never been one for thrills or excitement. Adrenaline rushes make me nauseated and the unknown makes me break out in hives. I've always loved the quiet and surety.
But now that I'm facing a potentially limited lifespan, I have to wonder if I'm missing out on something. If this disease kills me, will I have any regrets about turning my nose up at opportunity? Even if the opportunity is scary and daunting but potentially thrilling to the bone?
"So, what you're saying is I should just go out and have some wild monkey sex with a complete stranger?"
Stevie rolls his eyes at me and swats my leg. "That's a good place to start, but I think you know what I'm saying. Seize your life by the horns. What better time to do it than now? And not just with wild monkey sex. You're getting ready to go into battle, honey, and you need to suit up with armor and get ready to kick some ass."
I chew my bottom lip, considering what he's saying.
"But," Stevie adds on with seriousness, "I do believe a sweaty, naked night with a hot hockey player is the perfect place to start."
Maybe he's right. Maybe I need to break out of my
comfort zone and really start living my life as if every day is my last. Because frankly...that could be a true statement.
Unfortunately, I think the opportunity with Garrett has passed. I turned him down flatly, and I'll never see him again. And there's no way I'm going to Sutton and asking her to hook me up with Alex's bestie. She'd never understand me turning into a wanton hussy.
No, that ship has sailed, but I do think I'll take Stevie's advice and start opening myself up to further opportunities that will be coming my way. Because I'm not going down without a fight, and if I do go down, I don't want there to be any regrets.
Chapter 3
Garrett
Coach blows the whistle and we take off. Alex has the puck at center ice as I streak down the left side, and our other first line forward, Kel Borden, mirrors me on the right. Alex gently taps the puck back and forth with his stick while his eyes stay pinned on the goalie, Thomas Erickson. He closes in...straight down the center, but Thomas spreads his body wide, his hulking frame taking up too damn much of the net. Alex winds back for a quick slap shot, but at the last minute shoots a quick-but-subtle pass my way. Even as his blade just kisses the puck goodbye, I'm winding my stick back, intent on taking my own blistering shot at the goal. At the last second, I see Kel close in from the right as Thomas turns his full attention to me. Rather than let my cannon blast go, I give a soft flick against the puck and shoot it center-ice to Kel.
Thomas dives back center, but Kel is already tapping the puck in through the five hole for the score. There aren't any rousing cheers and no one throws their hands up in victory over the goal. That's because this isn't a game, but rather our first practice session of the season, and we're just doing drills. Basic stuff to get warmed up and acclimated to the ice.
Hitting his goalie stick to the ice in frustration, Thomas mutters, "Great job." Kel taps his stick lightly against Thomas's calf in acknowledgment and we all skate back to the other end of the ice while the next set of three gets ready to go.
I come to a halt next to Alex, resting my hands at the top of my stick as I let the blade rest on the ice. "Want to go grab some lunch when we're done?"
"Sure," Alex says as he watches the next drill. "Sutton's meeting Olivia for lunch, so I'm free."
Olivia.
Damn, that woman is hot. And funny. And bright. And did I mention hot?
I was seriously bummed she wouldn't go out with me, and even more bummed when Sutton pretty much nixed any further attempts on my part to seduce her. While I really had no more intentions other than seeing if I could fuck her, I had to admit to myself that the chase itself was more fun than any I've ever had. There was something about her smile and her flirty voice, and the challenge she presented.
"So, why don't we hook up with both of them for lunch?" I ask benignly.
Alex shoots me an eye roll. "There will be no 'hooking up' to be had between you and Olivia. I thought Sutton made that clear."
I snort in amusement. "Your woman has no say-so in what I do."
Shrugging, Alex merely says, "It's your scalp she'll have. I'm just trying to protect you, man."
Coach gives three sharp blows on his whistle after the last drill and yells out, "Okay. Great work today, guys, but time's up on this session. You knuckleheads clear out for group B."
Damn...practice is over already? I was so juiced to get back on the ice, and the time just seemed to fly by. Pushing off on my skates, I start heading toward the door that leads under the arena seating and toward the locker room.
As I step onto the concrete flooring, I glance back over my shoulder at Alex. "Seriously...why doesn't Sutton want me to go out with Olivia? Am I not good enough for her?"
Alex pokes me hard in the back with his stick, causing me to stumble forward a foot. "You know Sutton adores you. She's just protective of her cousin, that's all."
"It's not like I'm going to corrupt her innocence," I grumble as I reach the locker room. "It's just a date, for fuck's sake."
Alex snorts as he follows me in. "Seriously? A date? Is that what you're calling it these days?"
"Yes, a date, douchebag. It's not like I haven't ever gone on a date before."
"Yeah, but your idea of the perfect date ends up with you in the sack, busting a nut."
"So what?" I mutter. "Who wouldn't want to end a date like that? In fact, tell me you didn't want your first date with Sutton to end that way."
Alex's face flushes guilty red and I smirk knowingly at him. I don't give him a chance to deny it and hit him hard. "Besides...I've gone out on plenty of dates that don't end up with the chick in my bed, and if Olivia just wants to go out for a nice time, then I'm all for that. I don't have any expectations one way or the other."
I have hopes, but no expectations.
Hanging his head in resignation, Alex grumbles, "All right, I get it."
I grin over my victory and sit down on one of the benches to remove my skates. But the victory is short-lived when Alex brings me back down to earth. "But she already turned you down, dude. So it's kind of moot, right?"
My eyebrows furrow in consternation, because, yeah...Olivia was pretty adamant that she didn't want to go out with me. But I'm also not one to give up so easily. If I was that type of person, I would never have made it as a professional hockey player.
"Do you have Olivia's phone number?" I ask Alex.
"Nope," he says, looking a little relieved not to be tangled up in this.
"Call Sutton...get it for me."
"No fucking way," Alex says forcefully. "Sutton would wring my neck for even asking. You're on your own, man."
Asshole, I think to myself, but then a devious smile comes to my face. No matter. I know where she works. I think I might be in need of a fresh floral arrangement. My brain immediately starts thinking of how I can approach Olivia and get her to reverse her decision not to go out with me.
--
I push open the glass door to Fleurish, immediately hit with wonderful scents. Some floral, but some spicy. My eyes are then treated to a barrage of colors as I'm overwhelmed by the sheer volume of plants and flower arrangements that are perched on tables and various stands. Subtle mood lighting is reflected with small, decorative lamps strategically placed around the store. I've never been in a flower shop before, but it's...nice. Definitely calming.
"Can I help you find something?" I hear a somewhat effeminate voice that I don't recognize as Olivia's.
As I look up, my eyes round with surprise, taking in the man standing before me. He's short, at least a foot shorter than me, and very thin. He's wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans, Doc Martens, and a bright pink wife-beater with the armholes cut down almost to his waist. His hair is almost a white-blond, with a long, pink-tipped Mohawk sticking up at least a good five inches. A floral design of pink crystals starts at his right eye and extends over his cheekbone.
"Um...yeah...I'm looking for Olivia. Is she here?"
The outlandishly flamboyant man's eyes flare wide and his mouth forms in a perfect o. "You're Garrett Samuelson."
I flash him my trademark grin, popping the killer dimples, which I don't mind sharing with him. "Are you a Cold Fury fan?"
Stepping forward, the guy gives me a wicked smile and says, "Not at all. The sport is too violent for my tastes, but Olivia is. I'm her boss, Stevie Magliano."
I reach out to give him a shake, but he stuns the fuck out of me when he grabs my hand and lifts it to his lips. Before I can pull away, he smacks a kiss on my knuckles and says, "Oh, you are a handsome devil. Just like she said."
He releases my hand and it falls limply to my side, so shocked I am that he just kissed me on the hand, but strangely pleased to hear that Olivia clearly told him about me. I'd sacrifice my knuckles just to hear that piece of information any day of the week.
"Yeah...nice to meet you," I say quickly, and resist the urge to start snickering over what just happened. Alex is going to die when I tell him this dude kissed my knuckles. "So...uh...is she here?"
/>
"Olivia," Stevie practically screams over his shoulder, but without removing his eyes from mine. "Get out here."
I hear shuffling in the back and I briefly catch a glimpse of Olivia as she walks by a glass window that separates the front of the store from the back. My heart starts thrumming erratically, just in the brief moment I saw her.
When she walks through the door, her eyebrows raise in surprise to see me standing there, but I'm relieved to see a quick grin on her face. She looks even better in the daylight with her multi-streaked hair lying in two loose, pigtail braids over each shoulder, with little wisps that have come free to frame her face. She's wearing a pair of really faded jeans with a hole in one knee, flip-flops, and a tight white T-shirt that showcases a fantastic set of tits that I didn't really get to appreciate last night because the blouse she had on was a little baggy.
"What are you doing here?" she asks with pleasant surprise.
"I came by to get you to change your mind about going out with me," I say confidently, and she gives me a little smirk.
"Her answer is 'Yes,' " Stevie says quickly, and both my head and Olivia's snap his way.
His gaze flicks back and forth between us, his face all innocent-looking. "What? You want her to say 'yes' and trust me, she wants to say 'yes,' so I'm just speeding the process up a bit."
"Get out of my process," Olivia says with mock offense. "I'm a big girl and I can answer for myself. Now...don't you have some flowers that need your attention or something?"
Stevie snorts and says to me, "It was nice meeting you, Garrett."
Spinning on his heel, he starts to flounce toward the back of the shop, but not before stopping beside Olivia and saying, "And I'm going to fire you if you don't say 'yes.' So take your process and stuff it."
I can't help but laugh and Olivia darts me a glare, and then levels another harsher one at Stevie, so I figure I'd better cut my laugh short.
Still, can't hide the smirk--at least someone wants us to go out with each other.
After Stevie disappears from sight, Olivia looks back at me, her eyes chastising me over our humor at her expense.
"So, I guess it's a 'yes,' " I murmur as I step a foot closer to her.