Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“I swear!” Posey sighed as she stabbed at the leftovers she’d brought for lunch. It hadn’t been that good the night before and hadn’t improved with reheating. 

“But he did drive you home, right?” her co-worker and friend Cheryl prodded. Beau had indeed driven her home, late, after stopping for a drink or six at a pub with Borts, and things had progressed beyond the front door this time but….

“It’s not that it wasn’t progressing in that direction,” she admitted, finally pushing the plate she’d been picking off of away from her, “but then he got this text and then he just…kind of got up and left.” 

“Oh snap! You got dropped like a hot potato for a better offer? Dude, that is cold!” Cheryl exclaimed, causing Posey to wince and glance around the lunch room. Fortunately it seemed she had been the only one startled by her coworker’s outburst. Luckily for her Cheryl was well known for her dramatics. Most of the office put it down to her having a full head of naturally red hair, not to mention a temper to match. 

“I don’t think so,” she began, unwrapping a pair of double stuff Oreos. “He didn’t seem happy to get the text. Like it pissed him off but whatever it was he had to deal with it.” 

“Or he’s a really good actor and that’s what he wanted you to think,” Cheryl offered, Posey thought a little unhelpfully. She mulled his actions over in her mind, the face he’d pulled as he read the text and the nearly whispered curse words he’d snarled as he’d grabbed his t-shirt and covered all of that Godliness. 

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t strike me as having much of a poker face,” she mused as she popped half of one of those sugary treats into her mouth and let the icing melt on her tongue. She was almost sure he hadn’t wanted to leave. Even as she’d walked him to the door he’d lingered, that last kiss curling her toes enough that she’d almost begged him to stay. She’d managed not to, mostly by biting her lip which he’d seemed to find endearing. He’d laughed and kissed her nose and told her to call him, soon, which she was also managing not to do by having Cheryl hold her phone for the morning. “Give me my phone.” She held her hand out but her friend didn’t make a move to rescue her phone from the bottom of her friend’s purse. 

“And what if he’s phoned with some cockamamie story like his grandma died?” Posey stared at her friend. 

“What if his grandmother did die? That could have happened,” she argued, her palm still held out across the table. 

“I think he’s bad news. Cute, but bad news. C’mon P, you know what the word is on these guys. They’re all man whores. That’s so not your style.” Posey sighed and her shoulders drooped. This particular group of Pens players didn’t quite have the reputation that the group who had won the Cup a few years back did but still….

“I know but…it’s not like I’m looking to get married right?” Cheryl arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow and rolled her blue eyes. “Okay, not this minute and I mean, probably not to him but that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun.” Cheryl rolled her eyes again. 

“You don’t know how to do fun Poze. You’re like…the least fun person I know,” she began and then held up a single digit as Posey pursed her lips and made a huffing sound in objection. “I mean that you’re not one of those girls whose tube top falls off in the middle of the dance floor and she doesn’t care, she just keep dancing. You’re not exactly the kind of party girl these guys go for, that’s all.”

“Most of the Wags seem perfectly settled down to me,” Posey objected, tossing the second Oreo in her mouth, whole. 

“Now, yes but all it takes is a little online stalking and I can show you a dozen examples right now of Wags that definitely did not start out as nuns,” Cheryl pulled her own phone out and tapped on the Tumblr app. Posey waved her hand dismissively. 

“Fine, whatever. So I’m not Lindsey Lohan or Rihanna. Maybe they’re all over that now. Maybe they’re looking to settle down with a perfectly respectable girl who likes to watch Masterpiece Theatre,” she suggested to which Cheryl rolled her eyes again and pushed her chair back from the table. 

“I love you Poze, I do but the only thing he’s looking at in your case is a nice rack and decent bootie. I’m not saying don’t tap that but please do not obsess over this guy. I guarantee he is not worth it. Anyone that would leave you in the middle of the night is not worth your time. I’ll see you in reception at the end of the day. You can have your phone back then.”

Posey watched her friend walk out of the lunchroom feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her sails. She wanted to argue that her friend was wrong but the part of her brain that liked to watch Downton Abbey and read thick gothic novels well into the night told her that Beau Bennett was waayyy out of her league, even if she was cute enough to get appreciative looks from men on the street.

“Maybe you’re right,” she told Cheryl’s retreating form under her breath. She had felt let down when she’d watched him walk away even though her lips had still ben tingling from that last, lingering kiss. If he’d called today, or even texted a reasonable explanation she was pretty sure she’d forgive him. She was a firm believer that everyone deserved a second chance.

__________________________________________________________________________

Reminding the rookies that they should be in bed and up for practice early was just one of the many responsibilities Sid had appointed himself with since he’d been made Captain. Actually that wasn’t strictly true. It really hadn’t been until the third season of wearing the ‘C’ that he’d really taken any of the off-ice duties seriously at all. 

He knew what it took to improve every season, how seriously every player should take both on and off-ice workouts and he now insisted that the rest of the team take it as seriously as he did. He wasn’t yet as fanatical as Gary Roberts but he knew it was only a matter of time before his body began to fail and he’d resort to the same strict diet and regimen as one of his mentors. He’d seen how it had benefited Stamkos which was why he’d sent out the text the night before. 

Everyone had room for improvement, even the player that most of the sports media agreed was at least one of the top three best players in the league. He felt like his legs were under him and like he was seeing the puck before it reached his stick but he knew that even though he was playing at his best now that could all come crashing down around him in a single moment.

How often had that happened to him already in his career he wondered to himself as his skates dug into the ice and he felt the burn in his hamstrings. Too many times.

Not this year, he promised himself. He’d keep his head up and on a swivel. His core was going to be stronger to withstand the beating he had to take and he wasn’t going to be easily swept off his feet.

“Where is your head at?” Tanger asked, sliding behind him on the boards and tapping his skates with his stick. Sid frowned. “Well you were about a million miles away then,” the defenseman added as he leaned on his stick and fixed Sid with a look that told the Pens’ captain that he wasn’t going to believe just any line of bullshit. 

“I was actually thinking we should set up a juice bar,” Sid replied honestly, glancing towards the boards where some of his late arriving teammates were still loitering, venti Starbucks cups in hand.

“Caffeine is a stimulant,” Kris pointed out. Sid shook his head.

“It’s also a diuretic,” Sid replied matter-of-factly. “We could get a juicer and a blender and makes some really healthy snacks,” he added thoughtfully. Kris tipped his head to one side so his long dark hair fell into his eyes. 

“You’re a weird dude, you know that right?” Sid didn’t reply. He’d been different as long as he could remember but he was also living the dream and he was pretty sure that made missing out on hangovers and one night stands was well worth it. “You know what they’d say if you suggested it right? You’re like..., mister no fun. You’re like the fun police,” the Quebec native added with a smirk. Sid shrugged one shoulder. 

“Do you want another Cup? Cuz I do.” One had been good but even that mullet sporting booze sucking Kane had more than one and that didn’t set well with him. Sometimes he thought he was the only one on the team that was motivated to get another Cup. As if one was enough. As if one could ever be enough.

“We’ll get there mon ami, I am positively visualizing it every day,” Kris smirked as he skated backwards and away. Sid knew when he was being teased and he also knew that he shouldn’t still be reacting to that kind of teasing. Not anymore. He’d heard it all before, on the ice and off. Sid wondered if Toews and Tavares still bristled when similar taunts were aimed in their direction. He decided Tavares probably did but the two Stanley Cup rings Toews had probably went a long way to drowning out that kind of provocation.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Poe, you’re wanted up at reception,” Cheryl hissed as she paused by Posey’s desk. Firstly any kind of fraternization during work hours was severely frowned upon and secondly, there were generally only two reasons for being called to reception; either there were papers waiting for you at the front desk that you had to sign for or someone from HR wanted to take you for “coffee”. People went for coffee but they rarely returned. She ran her hands along the front of her grey flounced hem pencil skirt and took a deep, centering breath. “It might be nothing,” her coworker offered. 

“Two minutes. I was two minutes late,” she grumbled as she got to her feet and looked down at the pair of boots she hadn’t really been able to afford but bought anyway. “Raman noodles are about to be my best friend.”  Cheryl gave her a hand a squeeze but it didn’t make Posey feel better.

She felt like everyone was watching her as she walked through the office, that they all knew she was walking to her certain demise. Not that any of them would lift a finger to help her. They hadn’t made her late. 

“Delivery for you Miss Pritchard,” the receptionist intoned with a sarcastic tone as she pointed in the direction of a young man in a backwards Steelers baseball cap holding a clipboard in one hand and a box of long stemmed red roses in the other. 

Her knees nearly giving with relief she managed to take the clipboard, shakily sign her name and then cradle the box in her arms. She didn’t look for a card. Not right away. She’d decided she wouldn’t until she’d walked back through the office, letting everyone admire the clean white box with its big red satin bow. 

Roses, and it wasn’t even Valentine’s Day. 

She was wondering to herself if it was worth putting them in water now or if she should take them home when she finally looked up to see one of the partners standing at her desk. She stopped, mid stride, all of the warm fuzziness of receiving the flowers ebbing from her like the tide draining from the shore. 

“Oh fuck,” she hissed, cursing herself for hitting the snooze button that one extra time. She wondered if she would be able to trade the roses for groceries. “Ms. Davies.” Her voice quavered when she said the lawyers name. It did every time. She looked like a cross between Juliana Marguiles and Bebe Neuwirth or maybe she just looked like a pretty and sultry version of the wicked witch of the west with the air of a woman that wears cat suit at home and drags full grown men around on leashes in her private time.

“Oh Miss Pritchard, there you are.” Pamela Davies purred, turning to reveal that her ample curves had been serving as a blind for the young man leaning against Posey’s desk. His grin widened as she came into view. 

“Well that’s lame. I thought you’d have had those by now or I would have brought them myself,” Beau huffed as if he were truly upset to find that his gift hadn’t been around long enough to be appreciated.

“If you wanted to leave a little early, Miss Pritchard, I’m sure you could make up the time tomorrow.” Posey wondered if it had been just any Tom, Dick or Harry and not one of the Pens players standing there in a grey t-shirt one size too small and bad boy leather jacket if her boss would offer a hall pass so easily. She didn’t question it out loud though, just grinned, thanked her boss politely and grabbed her purse from one of the drawers in her desk. 

“I told Pam here that I made reservations, kinda early ones. I’m used to eating before games,” Beau explained in a voice loud enough for most of the office to hear. Posey felt her cheeks get hot as most of the heads within spitting distance swiveled in their direction. 

“I hope you’re taking our Miss Pritchard somewhere nice,” Ms. Davies purred, giving Beau a long, considering look like she was measuring him up for one of those suits made entirely of latex. 

“I hope not, I’m not dressed for anything fancy,” Posey hissed, mostly under her breath. 

“I think you look great Rosey Posey,” Beau smirked, his hand on the small of her back as he followed her out of the office. “Besides, I thought we’d order in,” he added, his breath warm on her cheek as he bent to whisper in her ear, “finish what we started if you know what I mean,” he added with a throaty chuckle that made her belly clench and her face get very, very hot. 

Posey ducked her head and doubled her speed as she headed for the front doors of the office, knowing if any of her co-workers could see the expression on her face that they would immediately know what the Pens forward had just proposed. 

______________________________________________________________________

He sat alone in the middle of the overstuffed leather couch and surfed through the channels for the second time, with nothing catching his eye. He paused on the Jimmy Fallon show. That usually had something funny on it. He considered skipping through an episode of Orange is the New Black, just for the girl on girl scenes, but decided against it. He probably would have had Geno or Tanger or any of those guys had actually come over but that happened less and less these days. All the guys on the team seemed to have so much going on now; families, relationships, pets and responsibilities. His house was still empty, still devoid of a significant other or any other sign that the Pens’ captain had a life off the ice. 

When he’d begun building the house he’d been sure it would be full by now. If not by a burgeoning family then at least with his teammates. That had been back in the day when he and most of the rest of his teammates had been single. They’d done everything together back then. They’d painted the town every night; had always been at each others houses. These days he spent a lot of nights just like this, on his own, feeling like he was missing out on something. 

He dug his thick fingers into a bowl of mixed nuts. What he really wanted was ice cream but he only allowed himself that kind of treat on special occasions. Maybe his birthday or maybe out of the Cup. That was one of the good things about going on a date. Girls always ordered desert and then felt guilty and he couldn’t just let it go to waste. Of course then he’d have to run an extra mile, do extra wind sprints to work it off. Everything had a price. 

Like now, he thought gloomily as he turned off the TV, giving up on it for company. The house immediately fell into complete darkness. Dark and empty, that was the price of being alone, of not submitting someone to the craziness that was his life. It would all calm down, probably soon. Probably now that Nate Mackinnon was in the league. He hoped Nate would really be the next wonder kid and would draw some of the attention away from him. Then maybe he could have a life like the rest of his teammates. 

Sid didn’t even bother to turn on the light when he turned the corner into the master suite. He stepped out of his jeans and left them in a pile on the floor beside his bed. He tugged his golf shirt off and tossed it towards the overflowing hamper standing outside his ensuite. He thought about but decided against pulling off his socks as he sat on the edge of his California King bed. 

“FML,” he muttered to himself as he tossed a few of the superfluous pillows off his bed before climbing under the beige comforter and in between the high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. He slammed his fist into one of the overstuffed pillows before rolling onto his side and staring into the darkness. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Posey stood by the window and watched the rain slide down the pane, tugging her robe tighter around herself. She purposely didn’t look at the nearly perfect male specimen sprawled across her bed like some kind of pullout from Playgirl magazine. She worried that if she did she’d want to crawl back into those stained sheets and let her fingers do the walking which, eventually, would wake him up and that would lead to more…well, barely adequate, meaningless sex. 

She sincerely wished it was something to write home about but the fact of the matter was that it just wasn’t. It had been as bland as a vanilla shake but not as filling. He’d seemed far too interested in flexing and posing over her as if he’d been waiting for her to clap for him, to ooh and aah over him before he’d finish the deed. She’d half expected him to insist on taking a selfie to mark the occasion. 

Instead he’d rolled over and promptly fallen asleep as if he’d been doing wind sprints for an hour after a game and was dead tired instead of having spent about fifteen minutes doing not much of anything.

This was what happened when you gave the milk away with the cow or was it…when you didn’t make them pay for the milk or…? Posey rubbed at her eyes. Whatever the saying was her mother had been right. She didn’t have much experience with men but this wasn’t the first time that bells had failed to ring and angels had definitely not sung and worse than that it had just been a lot of grunting and not a lot of anything for her. He hadn’t even made any attempt to make sure she had gotten anything out of the experience. 

“Better next time,” she told herself, finally turning back to the view that she knew at least a few thousand women would sigh over had they been in her place. Beau’s six pack rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm just above where the sheet pulled taught across his perfectly sculpted pelvic v. His skin was pale silver, smooth and unblemished. He was a Caervelli painting brought to life and he was in her bed. 

Posey knelt on the edge of the mattress. Beau mumbled in his sleep and reached towards her. She crawled into the bed and fitted her body next to his. Her hand slid over the hills and valleys of his six pack and the corners of his full mouth turned up in an appreciative grin. 

“Can’t get enough of the Beaumonster hey baby?” he cooed and pushed her hand lower. His dick was already half hard as her fingers curled around it. 

“Something like that,” she whispered, lowering her lips to his chest, his cool skin tasting of expensive cologne and musk. 

“Well allllright,” he groaned as she tightened her grip at the base of his cock and slowly dragged her hand upwards as she swirled the tip of her tongue around the pink peak of his nipple. His cock thickened in her hand, harder and hotter with each stroke. 

Posey nipped at his nipple with her front teeth. Beau sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and she felt his entire body tense. She had planned to climb aboard and ride him like a bucking bronc but one more stroke and her hand was covered in gooey, hot jizz. 

“Oh yeah baby,” Beau collapsed with a satisfied grin as he just lay there with his hands behind his head, obviously done, with no thought of turning the tables and offering to help her get off.  “Gonna sleep good now. You got a washcloth baby?” he asked with a beatific grin. Posey stared down at him, half shocked and half pissed. 

“Yeah, let me get that for you,” she muttered, turning and shoving herself off the bed, stamping her way across the room to the tiny bathroom in her tiny one bedroom apartment.

So much for better next time.

Chapter 1

Over, I'm so over you
The way that you said that you'd always be true
And maybe if I tell myself enough
Maybe if I do I'll get over you
Maybe if I tell myself enough
Maybe if I do I'll get over you

(Lyrics from “Over You” Ingrid Michaelson)

Chapter 1

“Maybe it’s not what it looks like.” What it looked like was a romantic and intimate dinner for two at the same bistro he’d taken her for their first date. What it looked like was a young, handsome couple feeding one another and gazing into one another’s eyes over a small table through flickering candle flame. What it looked like was her world coming down around her ears. “I did the right thing, right? I mean, I thought you should know.” 

Posey took a deep breath, reached for her friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Even if it’s so you can say I told you so?” 

“I wasn’t going to, I promise,” her friend Alexis sighed, squeezing back. She’d warned her about the blue eyed rookie with the nickname of Sunshine. Everyone had said he would bring nothing but storm clouds into her life. If only she’d believed them. She’d somehow convinced herself that someone with cheekbones as sharp as the ones she was staring at couldn’t possibly turn out to be a total dirt bag.

Apparently she had been epically wrong.

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It had started a month ago when she’d been just like any other girl in Pittsburgh wearing her game day Pens jersey, standing in line at Starbucks, anticipating nothing more than her regular Friday morning chai tea latté. She’d been texting Alexis about meeting up at the Pub after work to watch the game which was why she hadn’t seen the guys tumble in needing an espresso to give them a swift kick in the butt so that Disco Dan didn’t have to hand one out. She had heard their mumbled chatter but they’d sounded so much like so many of the junior associates she worked with, limping into work with hang overs and comparing notes on the co-eds they’d tapped the night before that she’d automatically shut them out. 

Alexis: You should invite that new guy @ work 

Posey: Noo! He’s cute but he might be a serial killer for all I know

Alexis: Yeah but he’s cute 

She’d made her way to the front of the line and the barista held her hand out for Posey’s card, not needing to ask for her order. It was already placed, which was the he advantage of having placed the same order every Friday morning for the last six months since she’d graduated from college.

“Hey, d’ya see that? She’s like Norm.” Posey frowned. She understood the reference despite never having watched an entire episode of Cheers but, without needing to brag, was quite certain she was a bit too cute to be compared to a rather rotund, ageing, beer swigging accountant.

“Betcha Crosby doesn’t have to order either,” the deeper voice behind her added with a dramatic sigh. Every muscle in her body had clenched at the sound of the name spoken almost in her ear. Everyone in Pittsburgh knew who that was. Probably everyone in Canada too but in Pittsburgh he was like Batman. She thought that maybe Mario Lemieux might even have a bat signal that looked like a Pens logo that he used to call the star of the local NHL franchise.

“I bet you’d be right,” she turned to agree with the two young men behind her, “if he actually drank coffee but I bet he doesn’t.” She would have gasped, had there been any air left in her lungs once she’d taken in the view now in front of her. Instead she dropped her purse and only just managed to hang onto her phone.

“She’s right,” Robert Bortuzzo, commonly known by Pens fans as ‘Borts’, agreed with an eye roll.

“And that makes me want to order a scone too,” the lighter haired boy wonder beside him peered at the display case, wearing his famously boyish grin that made every girl in Pittsburgh or at least the ones who weren’t staunchly and firmly in love with Sid, giddy and weak in the knees. “Blueberry or lemon cranberry?” he mused, scrunching his nose and making one of those faces that she’d seen him use in the many selfies he posted on his personal twitter account.

 “Beau,” she whispered, her lips forming the name before she had realized she was using her outside voice. He turned his sparkling sky blue eyes on her and she had to step back from the glint coming off all of those teeth. She thought surely he had too many teeth to be a hockey player, but then he was so all American. His sharp cheekbones and ashen blonde hair, which fell carelessly into his forehead so that he looked like he should have been on a billboard for Abercrombie and Fitch, made her heart skip a beat.  

“Hey, that’s me,” he chuckled as if he was truly pleased to be recognized. Posey was cringing, expecting the two Penguin players to react badly to being publically identified. Instead the dark haired Borts handed her the purse she’d dropped, aiming a friendly grin in her direction.

“You’re so fucking smart Sunshine,” Borts smirked, elbowing the younger member of the Pens’ roster in the ribs.

“They don’t pay me to do long division,” Beau Bennett replied and then winked at her. Posey felt her knees begin to knock in the reflected light of the young handsome hockey god.

“Oh my god no one is going to believe this,” she mumbled and not as far beneath her breath as she had hoped. Both young men laughed and she cringed even more.

“Give me your phone,” Beau held his hand out towards her. She stared at his hand, at how long his fingers were and how smooth and soft his skin appeared. She put her phone in his hand and he held it up and grabbed her around her waist at the same time. She felt her eyes get wide as he pulled her against the solidity of his tall, lean frame and then let out a squeak of surprise when Borts grabbed her ass as he wiggled his way into the frame.

“Say trannies,” Borts called out as Beau took the selfie with his cheek pressed against the top of her head.

“I think you’re wrong about that. I’m pretty sure they weren’t dudes,” Beau grumbled as he narrowed his eyes at the Pens defensemen. Posey stared at her phone, which was still in the young forward’s hands. He scrolled through all of her apps until he found the little blue bird that opened her twitter page. At that moment she wished, with every bone in her bod,y that she used a passcode on her phone so that her Twitter account didn’t immediately open to reveal her last posting, a dare to stuff a giant meat burrito in her mouth as far as was humanly possible.

“Talented,” Borts said approvingly, hanging over Beau’s shoulder and reaching around to scroll down through her most recent posts. Luckily most of them were just random thoughts, nothing quite as embarrassing.

Beau posted their selfie but didn’t immediately hand her back her phone. Instead he ordered Venti mocha with lots of whip-cream and a tall Americano for Borts who was now eyeing her up as if she was a thick t-bone steak grilled to perfection still dripping with blood and seasoned lightly with only salt, pepper and a hint of chili powder.

“Ummmm, well…nice to meet you,” she squeaked and then turned back to the barista who had already put her drink on the counter.

“Coming to the game tonight?” Beau asked, finally handing her back her phone. Posey slipped it into her purse as she shook her head.

“No but good luck. Fucking Flyers, am I right?” she added and then immediately wished she could have taken it back. Her voice sounded strangely high pitched and annoyingly like a dogs’ squeaky toy.

“Fucking right,” Borts agreed.

“Well maybe after then,” Beau grinned at her, his row of perfectly white teeth gleaming at her like spotlight. She grinned back at him as she backed, slowly away. She turned, somewhat reluctantly only when her ass hit the door. She waited for three whole steps before she let out a loud squeal, right in the middle of the sidewalk. She didn’t even care if half the business district was staring at her. They hadn’t just been in a selfie with two of the Pittsburgh Penguins. 

____________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t until later…, in fact it wasn’t until she was sitting perched at the pub with a long island ice tea sweating on the bar in front of her that she realized there was a new contact in her phone. She stared at the new name in her contact list and felt the palms of her hands suddenly grow clammy and realized that she had actually stopped breathing.

“Alex,” she coughed, barely able to form her friend’s name as she reached over to shake her friend, knowing how difficult it was to drag her attention from the game. “Alex!” she repeated, more loudly this time. The bartender looked up from filling a pint. She ducked her head and shoved her phone in front of Alexis who only glanced down at. Nealer had the puck and was looking for an opening to make a pass to Geno in front of the Flyer’s net. “Alexis Marguerite Beauchamp, I have Sunshine’s number.”

This got her friend’s attention and Alexis grabbed her phone up and pinched the new name in Posey’s contacts and then spread her fingers to make the name bigger, as if this would either change it or clarify it so that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t actually be what it so obviously was.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” They both stared at the name, there in black and white on the glowing screen of her iPhone 4s in its plastic and rubber Penguins protective cover that the Beau Bennett had held in his actual hands earlier in the day. His arm had been around her waist and that had been epic but this? “Do you know what this means?” Alexis asked, her long, naturally dark and perfectly curled hair framing her heart shaped face and huge, dark eyes which were currently searching her own face.

“No,” Posey replied truthfully. She hadn’t really had time to let more than the immediate fact of his name being in her phone sink in. 

“He wants to go out…y’know…with you.” Alexis’s dark brown eyes lit up as her bright red lips pursed in an amused expression as the entire room went crazy. Posey glanced up at the screen. Letang had sent the puck rocketing into the top left corner of the Flyer’s net and the noise around them was deafening as the crowd roared their approval. Normally she would have been on her feet, clapping and shouting along with everyone else. Now she just stared at her friend, trying to make sense out of what she was suggesting. 

Sunshine, Beau Bennett, the Pens young forward who was so handsome he was pretty with his high cheekbones and Jamaican lagoon blue eyes had given her his number, presumably for her to use to call him, or maybe text him, for the purpose of meeting up again. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed as the crowd in the bar quieted down around them. “Oh. My. God!” 

______________________________________________________________________________

He’d been, impossibly, more handsome in his tailored navy blue suit and crisp white dress shirt. He’d taken his tie off as soon as they’d sat at the table in the intimate Italian restaurant, rolled it and laid it down by his glass which was now filled with dark, red wine. He had ordered a bottle that cost more than she made in a day as a junior legal secretary and the alcohol had immediately made her head feel as if it was filled with cotton wool. 

“This is my favorite restaurant,” he told her for the second time. Or at least it had been one of the things he’d texted her as she’d frantically made her way to another friend’s apartment, one close to the bar and who was nearly the same size or close enough that the black a-line dress she was wearing was tight across the bust and had barely zipped up but the shoes she had borrowed pinched her toes enough that she had kicked them off under the table. 

“So you can order for me? I mean…because you know what’s good,” she added quickly, wondering if she sounded pushy, or worse, like one of those girls she hated that played dumb and helpless. 

“I don’t know, I order the same thing all the time,” he chuckled, picking up the menu and frowning at the list of pasta dishes. 

“Oh that’s right. You all eat chicken Parmesan don’t you?” she offered brightly, remembering one of those shows she’d watched about the Penguins and all of their habits and superstitions. Like Sid with his unappetizing looking pb&j sandwiches on multigrain bread before a game. There are just some things that have to be on white bread, like French toast and anything with peanut butter. 

“Actually no, I like the Tetrazzini,” Beau turned the menu and pointed at the item.

“Oh,” was all Posey could manage, biting back her first reaction which was about how much butter and whip cream went into a really good Tetrazzini. “I’ll just have the putanesca,”she decided, thinking it might be the least messy item and, she hoped the least fattening. She’d barely gotten into her friend Shavon’s dress. Eat too much and it would be pretty apparent.

“Whatever that is,” he snickered as he handed the menu to the waiter and then watched him go. “More wine?” He was already tipping the bottle into her glass. He hadn’t touched his, she noted, and warned herself to sip this glass more slowly. The first had nearly disappeared immediately in an attempt to calm her nerves but she was determined not to be the type of girl who got drunk and threw herself at him; even if that seemed to be his modus operandi .

She was also determined not to ask about the Pens’ captain, even if every single one of her friends had texted her a dozen questions about the handsome center since the selfie had been uploaded to her Twitter account that morning. As if meeting Beau meant she was automatically friends with the Pens’ captain. She didn’t know for sure but she bet that all the other Pens players got sick of girls climbing over them to try to get Sidney’s attention. 

“Do you miss Cali? The winters here must seem so cold,” she began nervously, running through every fact she remembered from Wikipedia and the few interviews Beau had given to the local press. 

“Actually it’s kinda fun to have real snow,” he replied, his eyes lighting up and that famous boyish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I think I was eighteen when I built my first snowman.” The thought of him rolling a giant snowball eased the tension Posey felt in her shoulders and she giggled which made his grin grow exponentially.  “I thought I was going to have my first white Christmas I when I played in Penticton but it hardly snowed at all and then I went home and didn’t even need a jacket,” he shrugged.

“I bet it was a lot colder in…,” she bit her lip as she tried to recall the name of his college team. The name of the team escaped her but she remembered the city, “Denver. I mean, even colder than here?”

“Fer sure,” he laughed out loud and then reached for the bottle of wine, once more tipping it into her glass. Posey sipped at the rich red liquid and tried to think of something, anything to talk about other than the weather. 

“Sooo your sister visits you a lot,” she began, knowing she’d seen a number of selfies of the two siblings at local football and baseball games. 

“Right?” he shook his head. “Totally checking up on me and totally hoping Crosby will marry her.” 

Posey covered her mouth with one hand in case she spit the wine across the white linen tablecloth. She watched him tear into a piece of garlic bread like he hadn’t eaten in days and tried not to think about those fingers, now dripping in butter, sliding across her skin. 

He looked up at her as he chewed and she got the distinct impression he was waiting for her to say something, probably about Sid and how good a catch he was. There was no denying that he was possibly the most sought after bachelor in Pittsburgh but she was sure his life was far more complicated than most people would ever dream it was. Certainly far more complicated than she wanted her life to be. 

“I bet he’s a lot of work,” she offered and was rewarded with a brilliant smile from the handsome man across the table. 

“Oh my god you have no idea!” he announced, grabbing another piece of bread and ripping into it with his perfectly white teeth in a way that made her squirm in her seat. “For instance, this one time….”

Posey listened intently as Beau launched into a story about the first time he went for dinner with the whole team and Sid spent the entire time signing autographs and posing for pictures while the rest of the team ate. The captain had ended up taking his food back to the hotel and eating it cold. Her date seemed to find this story and the next one he told her very entertaining. Posey thought it all sounded so horrible and thought the rest of the team sounded heartless for leaving their teammate high and dry.

“Sounds…lonely,” she decided. Beau frowned. 

“The guy needs to learn to say no,” Beau grumbled. Posey opened her mouth to argue but as she did their food arrived and he grabbed the plate from the doe eyed waitress and was digging into it before the plate was even on the table. “Oh my god thissss issss ssssooo goooood,” he crooned with his mouth full. Posey nodded and pushed her food around her plate. It smelled lovely and she hadn’t eaten since the hotdog she’d had at the bar but she found that she didn’t have much of an appetite. 

It was just nerves, she told herself as she speared a piece of tuna and slid it into her mouth, chewing slowly. The way Beau was attacking his food with gusto hinted at other appetites that might be similarly boundless and that thought made muscles low in her belly tighten. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

She wasn’t that kind of girl. She had never been that kind of girl she told herself over and over again as his solid, muscular body pressed hers back against the still locked door of her apartment. If she opened that door, if she gave in to the way flames were licking at her insides as his teeth grazed the curve of her neck she knew, without a shadow of a doubt that she would give in to him. 

His hand grazed her hip and slid down to the hem of her borrowed dress and her breath caught in her throat. If his hand made its way under the dress she didn’t know if she would be able to hold out. She’d seen pictures of him without his shirt and guessed that someone built like a Greek statue of Achilles would probably have stamina none of her college boyfriends would have hoped to come close to matching. 

“It’s late,” she gasped as his fingers trailed up her thigh. “You must be tired after the game and…and everything.” She thought if she’d eaten as much pasta as he had, (he’d finished all of his and most of hers’), she would currently be in a carb induced coma and she hadn’t played fifteen minutes of a hard skating physical game. 

“Not that tired,” he chuckled into her ear, his teeth digging into the flesh of earlobe, sending a bolt of electricity directly to her loins and she wasn’t able to stifle the traitorous groan that slipped from her lips. “C’mon, y’know you want to,” he added, his hand sliding around to cup her ass as those blue orbs gazed down into hers, as if he could mesmerize her with his boyish grin and she wasn’t sure he wasn’t doing just that. 

“Don’t you have like…a curfew or something?” she mumbled, a last ditch effort to hold onto some shred of her dignity. Her mother had made her swear never to give it upon the first date. Her mother had never had anything like Beau Bennett grinning down at her. 

“Not after home games,” he laughed quietly, his fingers tracing the lacey edges of her panties. 

“Oh,” she mumbled as her eyes fluttered closed as she felt the tip of one of his long fingers trace the waistband of her panties. 

“Sooo, you gonna let me in or what?” he asked, his deep voice sending vibrations along her skin as he pressed his lips lightly against the corner of her mouth. She knew he wasn’t just talking about gaining entry into her apartment as he tugged playfully on the little bow at the center of the waistband of her panties. 

If she’d known when she’s left her apartment that morning that Beau Bennet was going to be nibbling her earlobe she would have worn an actual set of matching underthings. Unfortunately, her panties were black and lace, which went with the dress and were sexy on their own but her bra was blue with pink polka dots and she really didn’t want the Beau Bennett to see her like that. Being in mismatched underwear was not how you wanted to the first time to go.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I’m doing this but you should go,” she hissed and pressed the palm of her hand against the solid wall of his chest. She could feel his heart beating beneath her hand, slow and steady, the exact opposite of how her pulse was racing. 

“Really?” he looked…amused and then confused and then his nose scrunched up as he took a step back and his smile disappeared altogether. “Well…all right. If that’s how you want this to go down.” She nearly lost her nerve then, nearly gave in and gave him the answer she knew he wanted but instead she chewed on her bottom lip and nodded, not trusting herself to actually speak. He made a noise in her throat that sounded like frustration but he bent forward and brushed his lips along her cheek. “Give me a call sometime, or whatever.”

Posey watched him stride down the hallway and then leaned back on her door as he turned and disappeared through the door to the stairway. She let out the breath she’d been holding since she’d suggested he go and shut her eyes. It had been a near thing but she felt like she’d made the right decision. 

Guys didn’t respect girls that gave it out like candy from a Pez dispenser. He was irritated now, without a doubt but in a few days she’d call him and they’d go out and then maybe….

_______________________________________________________________________________

He seemed pleasantly surprised to hear from her, his voice raising an octave at the sound of her voice and he even called to Borts to tell him that the Starbucks girl was calling. So maybe he didn’t remember her name. He had so many things to think about and they had only just been out for dinner the once. 

“I was wondering…, I mean if you’re schedule isn’t fully booked, if maybe we could go for coffee or something?” Posey poked her head out of the bathroom stall in which she was currently hiding to make this call. She was still alone, so there was a positive and he hadn’t hung up on her or ignored her call so there was that too.

“Well not just coffee. Let’s go to a baseball game or something fun.” She felt her heart flutter in her chest. He hadn’t said no or made some excuse not to see her. Things were definitely looking up.

“Okay,” she agreed. Not because she liked baseball which she actually found only a little less boring than watching golf but it wasn’t no and it was another date with Beau Bennett and that was all that counted. 

“God…I feel like I should remember your name because it’s like Flower or something,” he snorted and Posey decided that although he didn’t remember her name that this was an improvement on totally forgetting. 

“Posey,” she reminded him quietly. “My name is Posey.” 

“Right, Rosie Posey,” he repeated in a sing song voice that made her wince because of course she hadn’t heard that particular rhyme about a thousand times, in the last month. “There’s a game tonight. I was just gonna go with Borts,” he began and she heard Bortuzzo curse in the background. “So maybe if you have a friend we could make it a party.” She was glad he didn’t say double date. She wouldn’t have to ask Alexis to ‘take one for the team’ if they were all going out just as friends. 

Well, just as friends who had recently been on a shopping trip to Victoria’s Secret. 

“We could meet out front of the gates,” she suggested, emerging from the bathroom stall to review her current outfit. A black pencil skirt, heels and short sleeved white blouse did not seem proper apparel for a night out at the ball park. She would have to go out on her lunch hour and find something more casual to wear. 

“See you then Rosie Posey,” he promised and she felt that same flutter in her chest that she had when she’d first seen him at Starbucks. He probably had that effect on all women she reasoned as she leaned against the counter to text Alexis, telling her to meet her at the mall at twelve thirty sharp. 

___________________________________________________________________________

She was beginning to regret the skinny jeans she’d bought at J Crew as she attempted to look casual and indifferent, instead of peering through the crowd for any sign of the two players. She felt conspicuous, not to mention pretty sure she wasn’t going to be able to sit down. 

“I still think you should have worn runners,” Alexis sighed, noting their location on Facebook. 

“But these are Pirates colours,” Posey objected, lifting one of her leopard print kitten heels. They also looked great with the tight fitting jeans and the artistically torn Pirates t-shirt. Sometimes beauty is pain.

“Yeah well don’t come cryin’ to me when you can’t walk home,” Alexis smirked and then she wasn’t looking at Posey’s shoes anymore but past her and her eyes got wide as her lower jaw dropped. Posey followed the direction of her friend’s gaze and felt her own jaw begin to droop. 

There was Beau and he looked great in snug fitting jeans torn at the knee, vintage checkered Vans and classic white t-shirt that left next to nothing to the imagination. However, as good as he looked and the young forward looked as if he’d just stepped out of a Calvin Klein add, the slightly stockier man next to him was getting most of the attention of both men and women making their way into the ballpark. 

Though the nondescript grey t-shirt that Sid was wearing didn’t cling to him as if he had just been partaking in a wet t-shirt contest, it still made crystal clear that the body beneath had been sculpted by Michelangelo. His thick dark waves were hidden beneath a plain black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and he was keeping his gaze locked on nothing at all straight ahead of him but somehow everyone that he passed knew it was him. His name floated around them, hissed, whispered and gasped. 

“Hey Rosie Posie!” Beau drank her in like gulp of fresh air, his grin turning lascivious as he let his gaze linger overlong on the way the Pirates logo tugged across her chest. She had fully appreciated what buying a size too small for her would do but instead of making her feel sexy Posey suddenly wanted to have a jacket to pull around herself. 

“Have I told you lately that I fucking love you?” Alexis whispered before slinking towards the group of men that also included Borts, Kunitz and son of hockey royalty Brandon Sutter. Now Posey did wish she’d worn simple keds like her friend had. All of the guys were in jeans or shorts and she felt decidedly overdressed next to her friend who looked perfectly relaxed in her boyfriend jeans and black crop top. 

“I’m fucking ready for a chili dog,” Borts announced and the entire group wheeled like a flock of birds, in tight formation. Posey tried to fall into step beside Beau but in her kitten heels she found herself immediately falling behind. 

“Sometimes Sunshine can be really oblivious,” Chris Kunitz chivalrously offered his arm as he slowed his pace for her. Posey gratefully hooked her arm in his and let him lead her through the crowd.

_______________________________________________________________________________

“Sometimes he’s just kind of a dick.” He hadn’t really meant to use his outside voice but her sharp intake of breath and Kuny’s bark of laughter told him the words had slipped out before he’d been able to edit them. “Sorry,” he added quickly, glancing sideways at the curvaceous, stylish girl on Kuny’s arm. She looked amazing, he thought, this time to himself, but he was willing to bet she would have looked even better if she hadn’t gone so overboard in her attempt to look like something out of a catalogue. 

“What our illustrious leader means is that Beau’s a little clueless and I’m sure he didn’t mean to leave you behind. He’s like an excited little puppy. You have to watch out, he might pee on you by accident,” Chris added. This time it was Sid’s turn to laugh out loud and he threw back his head as he envisioned Beau’s date taking a rolled up newspaper to the rookie’s nose. 

“It’s kind of my fault. I couldn’t resist these shoes,” she sighed as they headed towards a set of narrow, concrete stairs. She eyed them with apprehension and Sidney shook his head. Women and their shoes.

“Let me help.” He took a step and put himself in front of her. 

“Oh hey man, do you think that’s a good plan?” Kuny’s voice held a note of concern that Sid ignored as he bent his knees and held his hand back for her.

“It’s just like weight training,” he replied dismissively, glancing over his shoulder and into her astonished expression. 

“N…nnn…no way. I am not going to be the person that breaks Sidney Crosby’s back.” She back peddled, looking horrified at the option he hadn’t even expressed out loud.

“I think you should listen to the lady. She makes a lot of sense,” Kuny sighed but Sid could hear the resignation in his teammate’s voice. He knew all too well what happened when Sid Crosby made up his mind about something.

“Do you wanna break an ankle or do you wanna get up these stairs without hurting yourself?” he asked, motioning for her to come closer.

“God. This is like an accident on the side of the road. I don’t want to look but I just have to,” Kuny grumbled. Sid sighed. 

“The more we stand around the more people are going to post this on Instagram.”  That seemed to do the trick. She didn’t look happy or excited about it like he was sure just about any other woman at the ballpark probably would have if offered a ride on the back of the Penguin’s captain but that was part of the reason he’d offered. He’d been reserving judgment on Bennett for a while now but if this was the kind of girl that he picked to date, Sid thought the kid might not be entirely useless. 

He was aware of the number of phones pointed their way and tried to keep his head down as she clambered onto his back, her arms wrapping so tightly around his neck that for a moment he couldn’t breathe at all. As he straightened though and as he balanced her weight by scooping her legs over his forearms she eased her death like grip. 

“Hold on. I promise I won’t let you fall.”  She made a sound or maybe she said something he didn’t catch but in the next moment he wouldn’t have heard it anyway. It seemed like the entire ballpark was watching him piggy back her to their section. Every woman in the place seemed to be giving the evil eye to their significant others and every guy in the place was either cheering or jeering him. 

What he did hear, just as he was turning to head up the second flight of stairs towards where the rest of the guys were already chowing down on hotdogs and stale popcorn, was her giggling. Not laughing but giggling. A high pitched giggle that sounded a little like the one he was forever being teased for and he grinned. 

“That a girl. Ride ‘em cowgirl!” her friend called out, grabbing the cap off Borts’ head and whipping it in the air like she was at a stampede. 

“Give him some spur!” another woman called out, whistling appreciatively as he mounted the last few stairs. His teammates hooted and hollered like they were on a construction site as she slid off his back. Her cheeks were the colour of a ripe tomato when he turned around. 

“Th…thank…thank you,” she stuttered in an enchanting sort of way before turning and squeezing her way down the aisle to the space Beau had mad for her. 

“Better watch that,” Kuny smirked at him, “you were almost having a good time with a girl.” 

“Whatever,” Sid muttered as he stared after her, as he watched her dip her fingers into the extra large popcorn in the circle of Beau’s arm. If he’d had a girl sharing popcorn with him right now they’d probably be on the Jumbotron.  As it was he was already reaching for his phone. Troy would be calling any second now to berate him for giving a girl a piggy back ride and then there would be twenty questions from his mother. 

With a sigh he turned his phone’s ringer to silent. He could deal with that later. 

“You know he’ll be tired of her in a week, right?” Kuny reminded him as he signaled for the beer vendor. “You could always be there to pick up the pieces.” 

“I’m having a great season. Why would I want to mess that up by getting involved with some…some girl?” He glanced down the aisle to watch her leaning back so that Beau and Borts could have one of their now famous bromance moments. 

“Oh yeah, god forbid you get sloppy seconds,” Chris mumbled. “I don’t think they sacrifice virgins on alters anymore.” Sid sighed and shook his head. It was so easy for the married guys to give him a hard time. They weren’t in his shoes. There wasn’t going to be a hundred pictured of him on Instagram, Facebook and Tumblr by the time the first batter stepped up to the plate. How could he ask any girl to deal with that?