9. Rachel

CHAPTER 9

RACHEL

I haven’t gone on a first date in almost a decade. Add to that, I’ve been with a whopping total of two people, and one of them was Charles. And he barely counts, he was so awful in bed. It’s a miracle I got pregnant with Jett because we rarely had sex and when we did, the entire act lasted about ten minutes from start to finish.

Like I said, bad in bed.

Not that the date with Xander will end between the sheets. I highly doubt that. But what if it does? I’m woefully unprepared. Unskilled. Is a born-again virgin a thing? Because if it is, I qualify.

Gah. I can’t keep thinking like this.

Slipping on a black sweater dress, I pull the cozy fabric down over the matching black bra and panty set I managed to find. I slide on ankle booties and smooth my blonde waves over my shoulders. With a light coat of pink lip gloss and a swipe of mascara, I’m ready.

Knock, knock, knock.

Butterflies zooming around my growling stomach, I take a quick, calming breath and hurry to the door.

“Hey.” Xander’s deep voice sends heat straight to my belly and the butterflies flutter even faster.

He’s fucking hot, wavy, dark hair still damp from the post-practice shower, stubble peppering his chiseled jaw. The light blue button down must be custom fit because it perfectly showcases his broad, muscular physique and matches his eyes. He’s as spectacular in jeans as he is in workout clothes, the tight denim hugging his strong quads. Leaning in, he lightly brushes his lips against my cheek and his scent almost undoes me. Clean and woodsy, winding around me and reminding me that this guy is all man.

“Hi.” My throat’s thick with nerves, but I manage to croak out the one syllable.

His full lips curve up into a wide grin and at least some of the nerves calm down.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

I lock the door and we head downstairs to his car, his large hand hovering at my low back. Reminding me of his presence, but not being pushy or domineering.

Hot.

“I made reservations at the Boathouse. I hope that works.” The Porsche engine purrs as we pull out of the dark lot. “I asked around and that was the overwhelming recommendation.”

“Solid choice. The food’s amazing and the restaurant’s right on the water.”

“Perfect.” He glances over and the butterflies go into overdrive.

This man is perfection.

I don’t know who’s in charge of my good fortune—I don’t recall making any special wishes when the clock struck midnight—but so far this new year is off to a strong start.

“How’d Jett do at practice today?”

Oh, Rachel. Probably a real mood killer, mentioning your kid.

But I can’t help it. Jett’s my entire world, and I didn’t get to talk to him after practice. Charles failed to answer my call or respond to the text. Typical dick move.

I wonder if he knows about this date and ignoring me is his passive-aggressive response.

Xander scrubs at his jaw, and my spidey senses kick in.

“Uh-oh. What happened?”

“Nothing. Practice was great. Your ex was late picking up Jett, though. We may have had words.”

My stomach sinks, the butterflies crashing hard, swallowed up in a pit of dread.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I would have picked him up.”

“No, not your fault at all. I figured Jett would tell you, though. So I thought you should know.”

“The guy had one job. Pick up his kid at six-thirty. Why is that so hard?” I try to keep the harsh, angry tone out of my voice, but it still creeps in.

Xander shrugs his massive shoulders. “I don’t know. Everyone else managed.”

Aggravation churns in my gut and I close my eyes, centering myself. I don’t want this night to be ruined by Charles the asshole. He’s done more than enough in that department already. He’s not taking this date away from me, too.

“Anyway—” I blow out a quick breath. “Jett skated well?”

Xander’s face cracks into a wide smile, his white teeth gleaming in the reflection of the dash lights. “Yeah, he did. The kid’s a natural. Might even take over my position someday.”

I laugh and instantly, Xander’s erased the tension sitting between my shoulder blades. I love that about him.

“I’m not sure about taking over for the star goalie. But we’ll see.”

“You never know. I didn’t start playing hockey until I was seven.”

“It definitely worked out for you. Boston’s not looking so great without you in the net.”

Xander’s lips press together in a tight line and I worry I overstepped, bringing up yet another bad subject.

“Eh, at least it will remind them of how important I am to the team, right?”

“Exactly.”

We pull up to the Boathouse and Xander idles his car at the valet stand. The valet helps me out of the car and Xander hands over the keys, then slides his arm around my waist. Like it’s the most natural movement in the world, as if his hand was made to fit perfectly across the small of my back, my body tucked under his protective embrace.

The butterflies revive and heat pools in my belly. I may be too nervous to eat.

The hostess immediately leads us to a candlelit table tucked away in the back of the restaurant overlooking the bay. Moonlight dances on the flat surface of the dark water and boats bob in the harbor.

“Wow, Xander. This is a gorgeous view.”

“I requested the best table in the house.” He leans his lips close to my ear as he pulls my chair out for me, the vibration of his voice sending a ripple of pleasure skittering down my spine. “Guess this is it.”

“A bottle of Veuve for you and the lady. On the house.” A sommelier appears, popping the cork on the expensive wine I’d never buy myself. He pours each of us sparkling flutes of champagne and Xander lifts his glass to mine.

“To a lovely night with a beautiful lady.”

My cheeks flush as he stares across the rim of his glass at me.

I must be dreaming. This can’t possibly be my life right now. On a date with a beyond gorgeous hockey god, wining and dining me in my small town.

An absolute dream.

A waiter recites the specials and we order appetizers. The soft candlelight flickers, emphasizing all the sharp edges of Xander, the hard planes of muscle lying just beneath his clothes.

Clothes I seriously want to take off him right now.

“You okay?” He arches a brow and I clear my throat, clenching my thighs together to try to ease the pressure.

“Yeah. Great. When’s the last time you had a serious relationship?”

Oh wow. Real subtle, Rach. Maybe you should just propose right now.

Xander chuckles. “It’s been a while. Am I that out of practice on the dating scene?”

I run a finger up and down the smooth stem of the flute.

“No, not at all. If anyone’s out of practice here, it’s me.”

“How long were you married? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s fine. Too long is the glib answer. Five years, eleven months, and six days is the actual answer.”

“Not that you were counting.”

“Not at all.” I sigh, shaking my head. “Charles was a mistake. But I can’t regret the entire relationship because I have Jett. He’s the only good thing that came out of that marriage.”

Xander reaches across the table for my hand and the gesture’s so sweet, so easy and instinctual, my breath catches in my throat.

“He’s a great kid, Rachel. You did good.”

“Thanks. He is pretty special. But he’s been through a lot already. That’s why I hesitated to see you tonight.”

Xander rubs the back of my hand with the rough pad of his thumb and sparks fly up my arm.

“I know. And you’re right. This is and will be complicated. But easy’s boring, right?” He winks and my heart skips a beat.

I could love this man.

I nod, smiling. “Exactly.”

The food arrives—Oysters Rockefeller, jumbo shrimp with warm butter sauce, ceviche—and we dive in.

“Try this.” Xander lifts an oyster shell from the plate and brings the mollusk to my lips. “Open and suck.”

His husky command sends hot pulses straight to my core, wetness flooding my panties.

“Mmm, so good,” I murmur, holding his gaze. His pupils widen, darkening his crystal blue eyes. As we stare at each other across the table, my body hums with desire. I’m on edge and the night’s barely begun.

He places the empty shell back on the plate and I lick the salty brine from my lips with the tip of my tongue.

“And what will we be having for entrees tonight?” A waiter interrupts the moment and I cross my ankles beneath the table, trying to ease the ache between my legs.

Xander rattles off the order and I sit back, happy to have him take the lead. It’s nice letting someone else shoulder the responsibilities of life, even for a minute or two.

“Sound good, Rach?”

Rach.

The nickname rolls off his tongue like we’ve been together for years.

“Yes, sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

The waiter takes our menus while another server clears our plates and yet another sweeps crumbs from the table with a tiny bristle brush.

“I could get used to this,” I joke, taking a long sip of bubbly.

“It’s a great life, not gonna lie.” Xander leans back, but keeps hold of my hand across the table.

“You must go to some amazing restaurants.”

“We do. But life on the road can be lonely. It’s not all sunshine and roses twenty-four by seven.”

“Yes, I could see that. Are most of the players single?”

“About half. The other half’s wifed up, and most of those guys have kids, too.”

“Do the families travel with the team?”

Xander shrugs. “Sometimes. It kind of depends on the schedule. But we do have downtime, which is nice. Probably more than the average nine-to-five job.”

“Tell me about it. I get two weeks of paid vacation a year, but rarely take it because most of my days are used up on school holidays or times when Jett’s home sick.”

“That sucks. Must be hard on you.”

I shoot him a wan smile. “It is what it is.”

The sommelier reappears, refilling our flutes and then the food comes, a whole fish for Xander and lobster for me.

“Enjoy!” The server waves a black napkin through the air with a flourish before spinning and heading back to the kitchen.

“This is massive. I’ll never be able to eat all this!” I eye the red lobster tail steaming on my plate.

“It’s fine. Eat what you want. You can always take the rest home. Or not. Whatever you want.”

I appreciate Xander’s laidback attitude, his casual mannerisms, the ease with which he carries himself. Charles was stingy and uptight, barking at the wait staff and complaining about this, that, and the other. Nothing was ever good enough for him. Xander’s the complete opposite, totally calm, cool, and collected.

“How did you end up with the nickname the bad boy of hockey?” I dip a bite of lobster in the warm butter. “Because—no offense—but you’ve been nothing but nice to me and Jett. Not exactly what I’d expect from a bad boy. Honestly, you seem kind of tame.”

Xander locks his eyes on mine, his face serious. “You haven’t seen me in action. They’re not talking about out in the general public.”

My face flames as I realize what he’s insinuating, hot embarrassment flushing my entire body.

“Oh. I see…” I stammer, an image of Xander in bed, possibly with multiple women, popping into my mind.

“On the ice, Rachel. They’re referring to my bad temper on the ice.” He smirks, a tiny smile tugging at his lips, and I’m not sure I fully believe him. “What were you thinking about?”

I’m positive my face is the same shade as the cocktail sauce on my plate.

“Nothing. I mean, that’s exactly what I thought you meant.”

“Uh-huh.” He presses his lips together, a glint in his eye, and he’s so damn yummy I might come right here in my chair.

“You want dessert?” Xander asks.

“No, thanks. I can’t eat another bite.”

He catches the waiter’s eye, discreetly signaling for the check. I debate offering to split the bill, but do the quick math and deduce I can’t possibly cover my half or even a quarter.

“Thanks for dinner, Xander. Now I owe you two dinners, several rides, and a car battery.”

“Stop. You don’t owe me anything. This is the best meal I’ve had in months and it’s because of the company.” He squeezes my hand and scrawls his signature on the check, tucking his credit card back into his wallet.

Standing, he offers me his hand and I take it, appreciating the warm, calloused palm wrapped around mine. He slides his muscular arm behind my back and we walk through the restaurant. More than a few diners stop and stare at us and I wonder if they recognize Xander. I’m not a huge hockey fan, but most of the town is.

Xander opens the door for me and I’m blinded by a flashing light, then another.

“Xander! Xander!” Voices I don’t recognize call out Xander’s name and he wraps his arm around my shoulders, hugging me tight to his body. Covering his face, he jogs to the waiting Porsche and ushers me in. More bright flashes and then Xander’s behind the wheel, his chest heaving.

“Did not expect the paparazzi to find me in Starlight Bay.” He revs the engine and peels out of the circular drive. “Guess we’re going to take a quick scenic drive because I don’t want to lead them to your house or to mine.”

“Wow,” I breathe, panting. “That was intense. Does that happen to you all the time?”

“A lot. Especially in Boston. Still don’t believe I’m the bad boy of hockey?” he asks, cutting his gaze at me. Tiny crinkles form around his eyes and he’s devastatingly handsome in the moonlight.

“I’m not sure. I think I’d like you to prove it.”