4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Keyshaun

As I rolled around in bed the following morning, I blinked at the sun streaming through the thin slats of my window blinds. My toes curled under the covers as I stretched to work out some kinks. Funny how before I hit thirty, I had no kinks. Now I was Petty Officer Kink and not the fun kind of kink either.

Sunrise was just occurring as I lay in bed, a ceiling fan moving the warm May air around my room, and reflected on last night. There were quite a few things to ruminate over as I lay there with the cool sheets tickling my bare thighs.

Thought number one: Hockey. Not a sport that I generally paid much attention to, but suddenly found myself wanting to watch more. It was fast, physical, and entertaining. I'd been to a few games here and there over the years but tended to enjoy boxing, followed by basketball. Ice hockey just wasn't a big game in the Black community, and that was a shame because it was one hell of a game. So yeah, I thought I could become a fan of ice hockey.

Thought number two: Hockey players. Now we were talking. Like most jocks—and I felt qualified to comment on those of the athletic persuasion as I was one of them—hockey players were incredibly attractive specimens. Toned, strong, and aggressive. I liked a man who took care of himself. Ate well. Worked out. Didn't do drugs or drink to excess. Had some swagger but not too much. Just enough to make my dick take notice.

Thought number three: A particular hockey player. Damn. Yeah, Tanner LaBrie was one particularly fine man. He possessed that inner knowledge of his skills and talents but wasn't boastful. The most appealing thing about him other than his looks and that fine body was that he didn't see himself as anything other than a regular guy. He was a little shy. Okay, a lot shy. That, in and of itself, was a quality that I generally wasn't drawn to. As mentioned in thought number two, I liked some swagger. His strut was there, it was just softened by his lack of ego. A man who was gorgeous but didn't know he was gorgeous. That did not happen often. I wanted to show Tanner just how pretty I thought he was.

Thought number four: Clay Pendergast was going to freaking lose his guavas when he saw Tanner in some of his athletic wear. Especially anything lacking sleeves. Tanner had amazing guns. I'd seen them up close and personal at the gym. I'd have to text Clay when I got around to it to let him know Tanner was healing from knee surgery so he shouldn't bring any shorts. I didn't know the big man well, but I suspected Tanner would not want to broadcast his injury. Hell, I wasn't even sure Tanner would agree to the modeling job, but I was going to do my best. It would mean more cash and exposure for him as well as a nice boost to his pride. Also, and this was pure me being greedy, if he and his agent signed up, perhaps we could do some shoots together.

"I'd like to see more of him up close and personal," I told the empty pillow sitting beside my head. My alarm went off just as I thought about indulging in a fast hand-job while dreaming of exactly what I'd find if I ever did get my hands on a certain out-of-commission defenseman. "Right, reality arrives."

I pushed up to sit, stretched, and kicked off the sheets. I'd not taken three steps when a text rolled in. Nothing coming in at five after six in the morning could be good. Mom always said any news between eleven p.m. and seven a.m. was bad news.

Key-My brother's dog has a broken toenail so I can't come in to cover the desk. Sorry. ~ Terrence

Yep, Mom was right yet again. This guy, honestly. He'd been in my employ for two weeks. Two. Weeks. And he had missed four days with some pretty dubious excuses. Terrence and I were going to have a long talk when he showed up tomorrow morning. If he showed up. Honestly, why was it so hard to find good workers?

"Right, well, this is going to sting a bit." I sighed after running through a mental list of people I could contact to cover Terrence's shift. There was nary a damn soul. Everyone had their own classes to lead, so I couldn't pull the trainers from their schedules or personal clients unless I wanted to piss off my members. So, I thumbed over the weekly work schedule on my phone and then called my mother. Called, not texted. Mom was not a fan of texting. "Hey, Mom," I cheerfully said as I yanked some jogging shorts and a tee from my pile of clean clothes atop my dresser. All credit to me, I'd carried the basket that far two nights ago.

"What's wrong?" she asked right off.

"Nothing major. I just got a text from Terrence."

"Oh, he's a shifter."

I paused to mull that over. "Like he changes into an animal?"

"No, Keyshaun, don't be silly. He's shiftless. I pegged him right off the day I met him."

"Oh gotcha." Mom had a nose for shifty, shady, and lazy people. Claimed she could sniff them out like a bloodhound. Oddly enough, she was usually on the mark. "I don't know if he's a shifter or not, but I do know he's left me even more short-staffed on the desk. You mentioned something the other day about—"

"I'll be at the gym at seven to unlock it and will man the desk!"

She hung up before I could say thanks. That made me chuckle. I'd stop by the little minute mart after my run with the Silver Sprinters in fifteen minutes to get Mom some flowers and a cup of tea. Shaking out my tee with the word GOAT beside a picture of Caitlin Clark, I tugged it on, yanked on some shorts and socks, and bolted downstairs to find my keys, wallet, water bottle, and running shoes.

Without even a cup of coffee or a bagel, I was out the door and in my car. On my way to the Keuka Lake Outlet trail, a gorgeous chunk of natural beauty set aside for hiking, camping, running, horseback riding, fishing, or snowmobiling in the winter. It was a decent run of about seven miles one way. I'd have to cut out early to cover the senior walking aerobics class at nine, but Uncle Devon could lead them back to their cars when I split off to return. Many of the older folks who ran with us were lifelong runners. My uncle had not been, not even close. He'd only signed onto this whole fitness thing when his brother died so suddenly. He'd lost close to a hundred pounds, lowered his sugar and cholesterol, and probably added twenty or more years to his life. If only my father had taken the counsel of his doctors, family, and friends…

My sporty Mustang filled with the latest album from Childish Gambino. Windows down, the cool touch of morning on the air, I hustled my backside to the trail. I arrived late and was told about it not with words but with the disappointed grandma/grandpa look from a dozen seniors in tracksuits.

"Sorry, sorry," I apologized as I exited my car, grabbing my water bottle and then hitting the fob to lock up things. "I was at the hockey game last night and then went out to have a few laughs with one of the players and his brother."

Tanya, the self-appointed second-in-command of our running squad, eyed me through her round bifocals.

"About time you had a date," she said as she did some bent leg swings. Uncle Devon's gaze flew from his shoelaces to me. I waved both hands in the air.

"No, no, no date. Just a hockey game followed by some laughs at the Yellow Pickle," I clarified. The last thing I needed was to have twelve gossip-loving seniors spreading around things that weren't true about me and Tanner.

"I heard that the Yellow Pickle serves curly fries with cheese," Arthur Ingot piped up and then got a dour look from his wife, Tanya.

"You and your curly fries. The Yellow Pickle is a gay bar, obviously, if the gay boys go there and have laughs," Tanya countered. A rather loud discussion about the Yellow Pickle—it was not a gay bar but a new trendy little café/bar on the west side of Seneca Lake—broke out and I eventually had to wade in to explain that people of all persuasions were welcome at the Pickle to enjoy cheesy fries and pulled pork sandwiches.

"Now, if we can get going? I'm only making a half run with you all today," I said as a swarm of gnats flew into Millicent Parks. She had to have Beatrice Lyons, her sister-in-law and retired librarian from the Watkins Glen School District, pluck the black specks out of her silver hair. "Devon will run the whole course with you. Everyone has their phones, water, and emergency contact bracelets?"

They all raised their hands to show their beaded bracelets, courtesy of Tanya the bead crafter, and we began stretching. The woods were cool with beams of sunlight titling through the thick canopy of trees. A few bikers were enjoying the lower temps of early morning as we took a few minutes to warm-up before we set off. I usually let Uncle Devon lead, and I brought up the rear, keeping an eye on the group for anyone struggling. Not that any of them did. They were all in great shape and had been given clearance to join the Silver Sprinters by their doctors. Running was a wonderful way for seniors to build and maintain bone density, keep their joints and muscles healthy, and improve cardiovascular health. It also provided them with companionship and comradery, something that many in the group needed as they had lost spouses and were living alone.

These runs were no easy jogs. We hustled. But we also took longer to warm-up and then cool down. If I were running alone, I'd be hitting it much harder, but this run was not about ego or who could outrun who. It was to keep these seniors healthy and happy. If I could do that, then I was doing okay. We took shorter strides to ease the impact on older knees, took multiple water breaks, and slowed to a fast walk every fifteen minutes or so to help reduce stress and lower the chance of injury.

The chit-chat slowed as we ran but picked up when we were in our walking mode. I speedwalked behind the group, enjoying the gossip they were sharing. The trail was gorgeous in early summer. We ran past ponds with sunning turtles on logs and overgrown metal bridges that nature had reclaimed and skirted the beautiful Seneca Mills Falls.

When my smartwatch alarm went off, I called out to the runners, jogging in place to wave goodbye to them. Uncle Devon nodded, shouted to the group to follow him to the turnaround spot about a mile ahead, and then gave me a salute as I passed the baton.

"You all be good," I called out. "I'll see you next Saturday morning over at Punch Bowl Road for a short run followed by a birthday brunch for Charles at the Checkered Flag Eatery by the raceway."

They shouted in agreement and followed Devon around a subtle bend in the trail, disappearing behind some slim, leafy oaks. I spun and headed back to my car, hitting the run back hard. When I arrived at the parking area, I was soaked through with sweat, panting, and feeling fantastic. I took time to stretch—I did not like cramps—and hydrate before checking over the texts that had rolled in while I'd been running. I did my best to unplug from the world during my runs and sparring bouts in the ring by turning off my phone. Mental health is just as important as physical health. Lord knows the internet can be unpleasant at times.

Sweat ran into my eyes as I leaned on my car's front fender to catch up.

Mom had made it to the gym and was now holding down the fort.

Ornell was meeting with a realtor at nine to check into a second building as the first was being niggled to death by the owner and he was getting tired of the stall tactics.

Etta had reached out to see if I had any plans for the weekend as Lionel needed help to set up the cribs. I loved Lionel to death, but that man didn't know a screw from a lag bolt.

Clay Pendergast had talked with Tanner's agent and was typing up a contract for them to look over this very morning.

All good news for the most part. The seller in Buffalo being a PITA wasn't so great, but Ornell would either get them to come down or he would move on. My brother was not one to suffer fools or people trying to outmaneuver him. He was too smart for his own good at times, but that tenacity was a Williams family trait that had served us all well.

Feeling a little cheeky, and a lot winded, I reached out to Tanner, just to say I'd had fun at the Yellow Pickle with him and Rudy as well as sharing how excited I was to hear he was going to be a Pendergast Athletics rep. My sneaking into his life at the crack of dawn had nothing to do with the fact that I'd awoken thinking about him. Nope. This was purely a professional reach out. And I was one of the Golden Girls.

Morning. So happy to hear that you're coming aboard the PA train! ~ K

Smiling down at how clever I was, my eyes flared when I saw those three dancing dots. Ah, so he was an early riser too. That checked. Being an athlete, I assumed he would be up and at it training when he wasn't recovering.

Personal Assistant? Plum Attendant? Plastic Aerator? Specifics matter. *winky face emoji* ~ T

Oh, so it was like that, was it? Not only was he up with the chickens, as Uncle Devon liked to say, but he was also witty in the morning. Good to know. I was an up-and-at-?em kind of man, and it seemed Tanner was as well.

Ha, ha. Pendergast Athletics. ~ K

Oh, that PA. Yeah, I'm down with it as long as they don't show my scars. ~ T

Nothing at all wrong with a man having scars. Shows you lived life well and played hard. ~ T

A rowdy wind blew in, sweeping up some dust and swirling it around the parking area. The gust felt amazing on my overheated skin.

Are you always this eloquent in the morning? ~ T

Pretty much. ~ K

LOL! Good to know. Off to PT. Have a good one. ~ T

I was so tempted to add something outrageously flirty before I signed off. Something about him finding out just how eloquent I was in the morning by waking up beside me some time. My thumbs were flying, the vampy text, before my brain caught up. I stared at the come-on then deleted it. Most guys tended to be pretty upfront about hooking up. Tanner seemed more reserved. That could just be he was feeling lost and vulnerable due to his injury, surgery, and a rather long recovery, or he was just a slower-moving sort of man.

Whatever the reason, I'd find out at his time, but I didn't want to come on too strong and discourage the nice relationship we had been building.

Give that therapy hell! ~ K

I forced myself to pocket my phone, smile at the summer sun, and get my sweaty ass to work. Mom was at the desk probably talking the ears off everyone who walked through the front door. She was like that. Guess that's where her kids got that gabber gene.

***

It took a week for Clay Pendergast, Tanner's agent, and me to get all the paperwork signed and approved by our various attorneys. During that week, Tanner and I had become quite the text buddies. He had a warm, dry wit that I enjoyed and a love of books that bordered on obsessive. Not the kind of books I would ever imagine a professional hockey player reading, mind you. He was shy when it came to discussing himself, but if you touched on his dogs, hockey, or Jane Austen, then he could talk off your ear. Tonight, I moved around my kitchen preparing myself some dinner—I'd been eating takeout far too often this past week. Fourteen-hour days at the gym meant little time to come home and cook, but that was the life of a business owner. I hired two new trainers, thank God, which freed me up to take on the yoga classes that had been on hold. Etta had tried to help out, but she'd been hit with some serious cramping, so her doctor had told her to rest. Rest being resting, not cleaning the house on the daily or canning everything she could shove into a Mason jar or leading yoga classes. She'd not been happy. Poor Lionel. He was getting the brunt of her displeasure. I had told my brother if Lionel could put up with my sister throughout this pregnancy and the birthing of two little ones, he deserved sainthood. Ornell had agreed wholeheartedly. We loved our sister to bits but carrying twins had shown us the sharp side of her tongue more than once. Course, if I were that pregnant, I'd be snippy too.

My phone buzzed as I chopped up some cilantro to place in the bottom of a beef, cilantro, and lime rice bowl I was making for supper. I glanced at the image of four dogs and Tanner on a sofa, smiled, and read the incoming text.

Me, Bingley, Elizabeth, Darcy, Elinor chilling on the back porch. ~ T

He looked so happy with his dogs all curled up next to him. Funny. I'd swear I knew those names from somewhere.

I stopped chopping greens. No way. A grin broke free. I wiped my hands on the dishtowel, turned down the smooth soul playlist flowing out of Alexa, and grabbed up my phone from where it was lying beside a lime and a bag of brown rice.

I'm calling you. ~ K

I tapped in his number, snickering all the while. He picked up instantly, an old pug dog lying on his chest, tongue lolling. Tanner looked great. His beard had been trimmed up showing more of his chiseled facial features. There were still some thick whiskers so his playoff beard was safe, but I could see Rudy's delicate hand in the shaping.

"Hey," he said as a gray pittie tried to wiggle her way onto his chest as well. A black dog with one eye stuck his face into the camera, blocking out everything but a pink wet nose. "Oh my God, you guys. I can't see…oh shit. Squirrel!" The screen cleared instantly. Barking dogs could be heard. Tanner righted his phone to point at his smiling face. "Works every time. Everything okay? You never call."

"Was there really a squirrel?"

"Nah, but they don't know that. They'll be busy staring up into the trees for half an hour. So…"

He sat up straighter, giving me a fine peek at a broad chest barely covered by a tank top. Lots of curly dark hair, tons of muscle, and one thick arm with a beefy bicep. Mm, mm good.

"They'll get you for lying to them. That old pug looks like he could cook up a fitting revenge."

"Nah, Eddie's too old to plot. Elinor is too loveable to entertain revenge, Darcy isn't devious enough, and Elizabeth is too busy trying to wheedle food to plan retribution."

"Right, about those names…" I plucked my phone from the counter to watch his reaction up close. A blush crept into his cheeks and nose, then spread to his ears.

"What about them?"

"Are they from something I should know? I feel like I saw a movie about a group of people with names just like those." I glanced up and to the right while tapping my chin. "The name of it escapes me…"

"You're an asshole," he mumbled as yips and yaps flowed into my kitchen. I sorely wished I was there at his big old farmhouse, lounging around with some dogs and a blushing hockey player.

"What? Why would you say something so mean to me? Here I am just trying to recall a movie and you're all snippy."

He rolled those expressive brown-green eyes as a snort of amusement broke free. "Okay, yeah, I'm being an asshole."

"I know you are, that's why I said it." He looked fearsome, but his eyes were sparkling with mirth.

"Care to tell me about it?" I turned to lean on the counter, my dinner on hold until I teased the big man a little bit.

"Not really." I tipped my head and gave him my best drag queen "Gurl" look. "Fine, it's nothing. They're good names. I read a few books."

"You read the books?"

"Yes, books. I read the books. I like to read." I was enjoying his bumbling ramble of an explanation. "They were…I like…them. There's nothing wrong with a man enjoying a good romance story."

"Never said there was. I'll confess something to you, but you have to keep it a secret."

"Sure, okay."

"I've seen Notting Hill at least a dozen times." His smile was brilliant. "And The Proposal . I know most of the dialogue by heart."

"Cool. So you get it. I like romance. I enjoy watching two souls meet and then slowly fall in love, growing, changing, and accepting each other's quirks."

And there it was. That was Tanner LaBrie. A man who liked slow romance that built into something eternal. That I could do. If he'd let me. No time like the present to find out if he wanted to open the door to his heart just a crack.

"Just to put it out there, I have a few DVDs of my favorite romances on a shelf in my living room. If you'd like, maybe I can bring some over some night?"

"You okay with dogs?" He seemed willing, and that gave me a tingle in all the right places.

"Dude, I love dogs. Wish I could have one, but I'm not home enough and that's not fair to the dog," I replied in earnest. He nodded, seemingly pleased with my reply. "I also dig cats, chickens, goats…love goats, to be honest."

"Well, I only have the dogs right now. They're enough to worry about when I am traveling with the team and all, but someday when I retire, I'd like to fill up this old farm with animals."

"Sounds damn fine. So…a movie night?"

"Okay yeah. I'm free tonight. If you want. I mean, I know you were cooking dinner and all, so maybe tomorrow or Friday would be better suited to—"

"If you want, I can bring the ingredients and cook at your place? You and Rudy eat yet?"

"No, not yet. My therapy session was late."

"Then I'll come make my lime rice bowls at your place. That sound good?"

A long moment passed, and I was sure he was going to decline.

"Yeah, that sounds really good," he replied.

"See you in half an hour." He bobbed his head and smiled, a smile that caused all kinds of additional tingles in all the places. I fist-pumped the air a few times, gathered up my ingredients, and ran out the door with cloth bags filled with food flapping in the wind.