Page 20 of He Has It All (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“Sure, except yours isn’t such a big secret, is it?”
Gramps looks at me, perks up and leans forward. “You been flashing your package, son?” He wears an excited grin and Chelsea lets out a whoop of laughter. It’s contagious and even Gramps chuckles.
“That’s one way to get ‘em,” he says, making Chelsea laugh so hard her eyes start watering, making me laugh until my gut spasms. Making me want to leap across the table and gather her in my arms and swallow her laugh, eat her whole, soak in everything good about her. And everything devilish.
Because, let’s face it, she has that devilish side, the one that makes her good at being Gossip Girl even if it’s not her first career choice. It taps into that mischief-maker slice she’s always had in her, the one that made her beat up my little brother Gary.
We finally settle down when Gramps starts a coughing fit and I pat his back, hand him his water, and eye him.
“You been smoking those cigars again?”
“Course I have. Man’s gotta have some pleasure in life, hasn’t he?”
“He does.” I smile, glance Chelsea’s way. She has that same smile on her face that I feel on mine. Fondness. For Gramps, for memories of our youth, for the warm summery day on Nantucket with the gentle sea breeze scenting the air. For the picture-perfect wedding weekend.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for another drink,” she says, standing.
“Get me a double bourbon,” Gramps says. “To make up for this water.” He waves at the glass in front of him. “No wonder I’m coughing.”
She laughs and eyes me. “You want anything?”
“I’ll come with you.” It’s the last thing I should say as I pat my grandfather’s shoulder and rise from my seat.
“Go on, the two of ya. Just don’t forget about me. After you get back with my drink you can do whatever you want.” He gives a crinkled wink and half smile that makes Chelsea laugh again, but it’s a tight laugh and she moves away fast like she’s trying to lose me, but of course she can’t. Her long legs notwithstanding, I’m quick and fast and my legs are long too. I still have three inches on her even in her fancy heels. No other man at the party—except Levi—is taller than her, I realize. A grin stretches my face as I catch her and take her elbow as if I’m her date, a dangerous, impulsive move.
She flinches but doesn’t shake me off. My heartbeat picks up.
We reach the bar and I say, “Table at three o’clock, sitting with Levi’s parents and my brothers, the small white-haired woman is Levi’s grandmother, his mom’s mom.”
She nods and whispers, “It doesn’t look like Mrs. Brown has any other family here. I wonder why?”
I shrug. I wonder the same thing, but I won’t ask Levi. Not today. Not any time this weekend. No spoilers. My best friend and sister deserve the best. I let go of Chelsea’s arm and we hit the bar to order our drinks.
“I’ll have a Sam Adams Summer Ale and give me a shot of JD on ice with a spray of soda.”
“You’re getting Gramps a drink?” she chides me.
“You know he’ll make a scene if I don’t.”
“And when he gets drunk—”
“He’ll fall asleep in his Jell-O.”
She laughs and we weave through the tables on the way back, stopping to say hello here and there and it feels like we’re together. In every way except reality.Fuck. I want to get along, but the last thing I need to do is fuck up this wedding with messy relationship drama.
The solution is simple. I need to be agreeable, charming and yet distant enough so my cock doesn’t get involved.What about the rest of me?
The rest of me follows my cock when it comes to women. Always has, right?
Wrong. Fucking wrong when it comes to Chelsea Wilde.
By the time we get back to our table, the breeze picks up, helps to cool me, and Gramps is surrounded by my three younger brothers. Glen and David are eligible to hit on the bridal party and are asking Gramps for tips. The youngest, Gary, was a freshman at BC this past year, playing hockey as a defenseman. He’s always been Chelsea’s favorite. I think she’s been trying to make up for having beat him up that time when they were both still in grade school. No one ever lets either of them live it down.
He’s sitting next to Gramps in my chair, also testing pickup lines, when Chelsea comes up behind him and gives him a hug, planting a kiss on top of his blond head. My pecker does a flip as a surge of jealousy heats me up. I can imagine being in his shoes, want to rip him from the chair so Icanbe in his shoes right now. Irrational, I know. Fucking stupid. Putting Gramps’s drink down in front of him, I take a healthy sip of my beer. It’ll either help me chill or make me worse, more irrational. Here’s to a live experiment to test my self-control. All fucking weekend long.
“Why don’t you try that line out on me?” she says to Gary as he looks up at her with a blush and a grin. My irrational jealous pecker forgives him for taking my place in her arms. He’s barely nineteen, still a boy in a lot of ways, and I take mercy on him.
“Let’s leave these guys to entertain Gramps and go for a walk,” I say, taking her hand and leading her away. It’s the worst idea I’ve had in . . . wait . . . yeah. About four fucking years. But damn if I want to share her company with my kid brothers right now. Glen and David give me knowing looks, because they have dirty minds and can’t help themselves. Too many hormones and both twenty-one—Irish twins, born ten months apart. They both decided to skip college and work construction with my old man, are in the union operating cranes, building skyscrapers and bridges.
