Smooth as Silk, page 19
He sat down again and picked up his phone. To hell with five o’clock closing times. She didn’t have to answer if she was busy.
But she did.
“Hello, lass.” He propped his feet in the chair that had been Melinda’s. “I’m just sitting here drinking eggnog coffee and thinking about you. Are you thinking about me?”
Chapter Nineteen
Thursday night. Eleven p.m. and it was pouring down rain.
Hyacinth wondered if the Yellowhammers’ plane had been able to land in the storm. Though he’d called twice and texted numerous times while in New York, she hadn’t heard from Robbie since the loss this afternoon—which she’d kept tabs on the best she could via Twitter, during a final fitting.
They had won the game Hyacinth had watched with Evans and Ava Grace. Thinking back, she smiled. It had been a good time, even with Ava Grace and Evans teasing her the one time Robbie had scored and both times he’d gone to the penalty box. To Hyacinth’s and Evans’s utter shock, Ava Grace had turned into a full-fledged, bloodthirsty hockey fan, screaming words that Hyacinth would have sworn she didn’t know. She’d also been able to explain icing and offside better than the hockey books Hyacinth had bought.
Too bad Ava Grace couldn’t help her with that other book.
Fresh from the shower, she pulled on her oldest, softest flannel nightgown. Memaw had made it right before Hyacinth left for design school. In the weeks that followed Memaw’s funeral, Hyacinth had wrapped it around herself like a security blanket, even on nights it was too hot for it. Now, it had been washed so many times, the nap was gone and it was worn so thin that it wouldn’t provide much warmth on this damp, cold night. But she’d reached for it anyway, as she was inclined to do when she was in a quandary.
Which she was.
She missed Robbie. She’d found herself incessantly checking her phone in case she’d missed a call or a text. He made her laugh, but so had her parents. No one could claim they hadn’t been fun; fun was a mark of a free spirit—but so was a haphazard lifestyle and the unpleasant surprises that came with it. And she couldn’t go back—not that Robbie was asking her to.
When it came down to it, they’d shared a couple of meals, looked at Christmas lights, and had some outstanding kisses. Not so much, in the scheme of things.
Of course, there were his hands. Mother of pearl, those hands...
Might as well face it. She wanted them on her.
The book basically said if you’re an adult, do what you want.
Hyacinth had read it cover to cover and some parts twice. There was some talk about losing virginity and not being pressured, which did not apply to her. She also didn’t need lessons on safe sex, birth control, or how to tell if someone was lying about being single.
So, yeah, that was it. Two hundred twenty-four pages and the upshot was, do what you want—be it a hookup, one night stand, fling, friends with benefits, road to commitment, or complete commitment. None of that was who she was, not with Robbie.
But then, she’d definitely been on the road to commitment with the Could’ve Been Maybes and look how that had turned out. The whole thing made her head hurt.
She should go to bed. She made her way to the living room to turn off the lights.
Luckily, she didn’t have to worry about any of this tonight. Robbie had once mentioned that he was inclined to sleep most of the day after a road trip. She might not even see him until Saturday night after the home game against Minnesota for the command attendance at Hammer Time.
If he still wanted her to go. He might be done with her. After all, she hadn’t heard from him since this morning.
The thunder boomed. She wondered if he was afraid. There was no severe weather predicted, but fear didn’t have much of a relationship with reason.
But the plane... Tornadic weather or not, it was storming. She would have heard if something bad had happened. Jake was on that plane, too. It wasn’t reasonable to think the team wasn’t entirely safe, but she reached for her iPad to check the news anyway.
That’s when the knock came at the door—pounding, really. Demanding, almost violent pounding. Dear God, help me.
The plane had crashed and Ava Grace had come to tell her.
Probably for the first time in her oh, so careful life, she threw open the door without checking to see who was there.
And there he stood—not dead in a plane crash, not done with her. He was wet and wearing only a ragged kilt, Yellowhammers T-shirt, and those flashing shoes, but he was no worse for wear.
He stepped inside and she threw herself into his arms.
His mouth captured hers and she grabbed handfuls of his T-shirt to pull him closer. Between her worn nightgown and his thin kilt, there wasn’t much between them. He lifted her just so, and there was no question of his desire.
Hers either. It had landed like an atomic bomb on the heels of the worst kind of terror and she never wanted to let him go.
“Ah, lass.” He ran his tongue along her cheekbone and bit her neck beneath her ear. “I missed you so.”
“Were you afraid?” She rolled her pelvis against his, just in case he didn’t know what was on her mind. “Of the storm?”
He groaned and answered her pelvis with his. “Only afraid you wouldn’t be here—or that you wouldn’t let me in.”
This was the moment. He pulled back and his green eyes danced their way into hers, questioning, hoping.
“I am here,” she said. “And I am letting you in.”
“Aye, you are.” He buried his face in her neck and whispered something in what she assumed was Scots Gaelic.
“What?” Even in this state it wasn’t like her to not have to know.
“I want you here and now.” And he ran those hands down her sides, cupped her bottom, and molded her to him.
She shivered. “Not here, but definitely now.”
“Why not here?” He moved her against the wall. “You’re ready; I’m ready. Past ready.”
“Because I’m not an up-against-the-wall kind of girl.”
He laughed into her neck, pulled up his kilt so she could feel him better, and notched his arousal between her thighs. “Sure about that?” He pressed her closer against the wall and suckled her neck. “Are you a couch kind of girl, then? It’s close by.”
“I’m a bed kind of girl. And it’s not that far.”
“Then take me there.”
Though there hadn’t been much between them before, soon there was nothing—except their differences.
Her nipples pebbled against his palms. “Your hands are cold,” she said.
“Will you warm me?”
“If you’ll warm—me.” Her words came out in gasps because he was doing magical things with those wonderful hands.
“Aye, lass, I will—inside and out.”
Inside was a miraculous thing. Her orgasm was immediate and violently strong. It had to be. The pressure was too great for anything else. Seconds later he cried out and collapsed against her.
They both fought to catch their breath.
Finally, he spoke. “Well, lass, some men might apologize for it being over too fast, but I’d say we lasted a long time. We’ve had the most enduring foreplay in the history of time.”
He was so right about that. “Who says it’s over?” she teased.
“Ah, woman, you read my mind.” He shifted, rolled her to face him, and gently began to kiss her breasts.
She stroked him up one thigh, then the other, and settled her hand in the softness in between.
“You did read my mind,” he said with a moan.
The softness didn’t last long.
And so it went.
Before the night was over, Hyacinth learned she was an up-against-the wall kind of girl, after all.
With his hands on her, his sweet voice in her ear whispering, sometimes in that hypnotic lyrical language, and bringing her to heights she’d never known, their differences didn’t seem to matter so much.
But she was a realist. She knew they were still there.
The next morning, after quietly readying herself for work, Hyacinth pulled the blanket tighter over Robbie’s sleeping form.
He stirred and reached for her. “Come back to bed, lass,” he said without opening his eyes.
“I can’t.” She dropped a brief kiss on his mouth. “I have work. But you sleep as long as you want. I know you’re tired.” And not just from hockey and travel. It had been a night to remember.
He opened one eye. “Will you come back? After work?”
“Of course. It’s my house.”
“Can I be here?”
“Yes, Robbie. You can be here.” Hopefully, still in bed.
He nodded and yawned, asleep again before she walked away.
She thought about the book and laughed a little to herself. If he wanted to be here when she came home, this wasn’t a one night stand or a hookup.
That’s when she realized she’d unwittingly landed right in the middle of a fling.
Ah, well. She didn’t know how long it would last, but she was an adult and she wanted to be here—just like the book said.
The book hadn’t said how long a fling could last. Could it be months? Years, even?
Did it ever turn into...more? Not that this could. Nothing could change how different they were.
But she liked the sound of months—and months could turn into a year.
Chapter Twenty
When Robbie skated out with the rest of the starting line, he raised his stick in Hyacinth’s direction.
“He’s waving at you,” Ava Grace said.
“Or you. He’s your garland and Christmas light buddy.”
“You should wave back,” Ava Grace said, but she didn’t. He might be waving at some kid behind her.
Despite the development between them, Hyacinth was a little iffy on how to act in public. In the four days since he’d returned from New York, they had spent most of their time together, but none of it in public. After the weekend games, he’d wanted to opt out of the Hammer Time gatherings, preferring to pick up burgers and go back to his place or hers.
Tonight, with the taping tomorrow, it would be his condo. That had been her choice because it would be easier to manage Robbie for the morning from his own house. She’d have to leave extra early and go home before going to Trousseau, but she’d worked it all out. She could iron and lay out his new clothes tonight, raising the odds that he would be on time.
The second period ended with the Yellowhammers ahead 1-0.
Hyacinth still didn’t know much about what was going on, but she was beginning to get the hang of it—especially when Robbie was on the ice.
Claire slipped into the seat beside Ava Grace that would have been Evans’s, had she not graduated to the wives and girlfriends’ suite.
Hyacinth wondered if there was a players’ flings’ suite and how many it would need to seat. Probably not as many as the one-night-stand suite—at least she hoped not. Thankfully, she wouldn’t belong there.
“Are you girls enjoying the game?” Claire asked.
“I am,” Ava Grace said. “I’ll love it better when we win. Hockey is almost as good as football.”
Hyacinth nodded in agreement, though she wasn’t sure exactly which parts she was agreeing to.
“Is everything ready for All Dressed in White tomorrow, Hyacinth?” Claire asked. Hyacinth had texted her the news as soon as she knew it was happening.
“Yes. The advance crew from the show came this afternoon and approved the Christmas decorations and set up their equipment. Thank you for the Moet and Chandon Champagne and petit fours you sent. They were delivered right before I left today.”
When those things had arrived, a bolt of fear had gone through Hyacinth. She was usually so careful about every detail, but she would have served the same cheap champagne that she bought by the case. Maybe she should have been thinking about that when she was sleeping with Robbie, or when she was at Gus Mayer’s buying underwear. She had gone there only intending to pick up the dress she’d left to be altered, since she hadn’t had time to do it herself. She hadn’t had time to shop either, but she’d had to walk past the lingerie department, and the rest was very expensive history. Maybe as expensive as the wine Claire had sent. It was actually from Champagne, France.
“You’re very welcome. I don’t know how you pulled this off, but I’m proud of you. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“No. Brad’s going to make some finger sandwiches and I have fresh cheese straws. Ava Grace lent me a silver tray, some linen cocktail napkins, and little china plates.” Plus, Ava Grace had insisted on bringing over some of her mother’s Waterford flutes, though Hyacinth had no intention of using them. No doubt Robbie and broken crystal went together like salt and pepper. His dishes were plastic, but he’d broken two plates and a coffee cup at her house in the past four days. At this rate she wouldn’t have a dish left by the end of the month, if they were still doing this by then. She still didn’t know how long a fling could last, but waking up with him on Christmas might be nice.
“I knew you’d have it all in hand, but call if you need me.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Claire removed her old-fashioned leather planner from her purse and opened it—which was Hyacinth’s cue to open her calendar app.
“There’s something else we need to talk about.” Claire uncapped her honest to God fountain pen with the gold nib. “I finally got an answer from Evans’s mother about their schedule. They aren’t planning to have a reception until hockey season is over, but I thought we should go ahead with our party for Jake and Evans sooner. We can have it at my house.”
“Wonderful,” Hyacinth said, and she meant it. Claire was going to be in charge and that was great news. Hyacinth didn’t even know how to give the kind of parties Claire, Ava Grace, and Evans were used to. Witness the cheap champagne and paper napkins. She had grown up on punch and cake showers in the church fellowship hall.
“Yes,” Ava Grace said. “What are your thoughts?”
“Cocktails, like we talked about. Naturally, a couple’s party. Here’s the sticky part. I’ve spoken with Evans and it needs to be this coming Saturday, December ninth. I know that’s less than a week, but if anybody can pull it off, we can.”
Hyacinth supposed if Claire said so, that was true—though she was concerned about what would be expected of her. She couldn’t do anything until this taping was over.
“This was really the only time to have it if we’re going to do it this year,” Claire went on. “The Yellowhammers are in town, but they play in the afternoon. That’s two weeks before the gala, so there wouldn’t be parties on back-to-back weekends for a lot of the same people.”
Hyacinth keyed it into her phone. At least All Dressed in White would be behind her.
“I thought if Ava Grace could take care of sending the invitations, I’ll take care of the catering and decorations,” Claire said.
“I can do that,” Ava Grace said, “but there’s no time for printing and mailing. It’ll have to be email. I can put together something from one of those online invitation websites and send it out tomorrow.” Her grimace showed what she thought of that plan.
Claire nodded. “I hate email invitations, too, but there’s no other way. I’ll send you the Yellowhammer contacts as soon as I get home tonight.”
“And I’ll get a list from Evans,” Ava Grace said.
“I guess there’s nothing left for me to do except wash dishes,” Hyacinth joked. “But I’m a champion dishwasher.”
“About that,” Claire said. “I know you have your hands full with All Dressed in White, but do you think you have time to arrange for some music? I was hoping for a jazz trio or quartet. With all your wedding contacts, I was sure you’d know the perfect one.”
That was a huge relief. The easiest job ever.
“Shouldn’t be a problem at all. December isn’t a hot wedding month and I’m sure someone will be glad for the work. I’ll get on it.” She’d call the Jazz Notes first, with Heart on a String as plan B. Catgut could be plan C, if it got that far. They were fabulous musicians despite their unfortunate name.
“Great.” Claire stood. “I feel sure we’ll have a good turnout, in spite of the short notice.”
True. Nobody turned up a nose at an invitation from Claire. Hyacinth wasn’t a big party person, but this would be fun—plus she would be leaving with Robbie after.
“She didn’t waste any time,” Ava Grace said after Claire had gone.
“She never does.”
Soon after the third period began, Anaheim tied up the game. Then there was a lot of skating and puck-shooting for a long time with no change on the scoreboard. Players on both sides went to the penalty box, but not Robbie. Then, with two minutes to go, Luka Zadorov scored. Hyacinth was relieved. They had won both games over the weekend and she didn’t know if there would be no living with Robbie if they lost. That second loss in New York hadn’t seemed to bother him, but that was a unique circumstance.
The relief didn’t last long. One of the Anaheim players skated into the Yellowhammer net, collided with the goalie, and all hell broke loose.
“Oh, dear,” Ava Grace said. “Robbie threw his gloves and helmet on the ice. Not good.”
That was an understatement. He jumped on the Anaheim guy like a duck on a june bug. Then the Anaheim guy’s gloves and helmet went flying and he proceeded to beat the daylights out of Robbie—right on the face.
The crowd was cheering like they loved it, but Hyacinth damn sure didn’t. Everyone on the ice—including the refs—just stood back and watched them.
