All You Need

  She seemed skeptical. “You’d rather be on the ice than anywhere else?”

  “Back then? Yes.”

  “Now?”

  “Now . . . I’d spend the day in bed.”

  “Sleeping?”

  I granted her a lustful look. “Want to come over on my next day off and I’ll show you all the fun, dirty things we can do in a bed besides sleep?”

  She opened her mouth.

  That was when the food arrived.

  My meal was delicious. I noticed that Annika kept pushing hers around on the plate. “Problem?” I asked.

  She sighed. “I’m not a super-adventurous eater. Everyone in my family gives me crap about it. This is . . . weird. The noodles are good. But the eel?” She flicked a chunk with her fork. “Do Scandinavian people still eat eel?”

  I kept a straight face. “Historically we ate a lot of eel because we were limited to what the sea’s bounty produced. Let me try a bite.”

  “Have at it.”

  “No, Annika. Be adventurous. Feed it to me.”

  She speared a noodle, then a piece of eel, then another noodle, dipping the bottom of the fork in a pool of sauce before holding it across the table.

  I leaned in, watching her eyes watching my mouth as my lips closed around the fork.

  “Well?” she said huskily.

  “I’m not sure. I need another taste.”

  This time she teased me, touching the tines of the fork to my bottom lip and then slightly pulling back. “Say please.”

  “Please.”

  “Open wide.”

  “An-ni-ka.”

  She slipped the fork between my lips, waiting until my mouth closed before she slowly pulled back. “You have the hottest voice, Axl. My heart races when you use that ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone.”

  I swallowed and took a long drink of my beer, never taking my eyes off hers. “And yet when I use that ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone, you don’t pay it any mind. In fact . . .” I reached out and twined a hank of her hair around my finger. “You tend to go out of your way to mess with me. Why is that?”

  “Because messing with you and seeing that fire in your eyes makes me feel like I’m doing something naughty.”

  Now we were at the getting-to-know-you part that I understood.

  “Maybe you’ve already figured this out, but I’m the good girl who follows the rules. Who always does what’s expected of her. What’s asked of her.”

  “I did notice that . . . except I didn’t believe it.”

  “You’d be the first.”

  An awkward silence settled between us after the server picked up the dishes.

  Screw this. Time to go on the offensive. I picked up her hand. “What’s the one thing you wish you were better at?”

  “Skiing.”

  “Downhill? Or water?”

  “Downhill. I’ve taken lessons numerous times, but I haven’t improved much. I end up skiing by myself because everyone in my family is awesome at it.”

  “Have you ever tried snowboarding?”

  “That would be worse. I’ll bet you’re an expert at both.”

  “Winters are long in Sweden.” I cocked my head at her. “What’s the scariest thing that ever happened to you?”

  “My brother Brady went missing for twelve hours when we were kids and the police were convinced he’d gone swimming alone and drowned. I was terrified I’d never see him again. That day seemed nine years long.” She looked away for a moment and I knew she hadn’t been totally honest. Not that I doubted her brother’s disappearance had terrified her, but it wasn’t what still put the fear in her eyes. “What about you?”

  “My friends Roald, Mikel and I were playing hockey on a lake by Mikel’s house. The ice had started to thin and thaw in spots—not that we were aware of it until it was too late and Mikel went through the ice.”

  Annika gasped. “Omigod. You weren’t joking about ‘skating on thin ice’ being a life lesson. What happened?”

  “Roald and I got ahold of the back of Mikel’s jacket and kept him from sinking into the water. Hockey gear weighs a lot. Wet hockey gear . . . Anyway, we laid our sticks across the hole so Mikel had something to hold on to. I stretched across the ice on my belly behind him, holding his jacket. Roald ran up to the house in his hockey skates to get help.

  “The entire time we were out there waiting, all I could hear was the cracking and shifting of the ice. I decided if I died in a cold-water grave, I’d come back as a ghost. A really mean ghost who’d scare kids away from the lake.”

  “Everything turned out okay?”

  “Mostly. I had frostbite on my face from crying.” I felt my neck heat from that admission. “Mikel . . . the doctors had to amputate both his pinkie toes. After that, I only played hockey on dedicated outdoor rinks.”

  “I can’t say as I blame you. Yikes.”

  My lips curled into a sheepish smile. “And that’s when the dinner date conversation took a turn for the worse.”

  She laughed softly. “I know what you were trying to do, though. Make me answer the same type of questions I asked you.”

  “You’re better at it than I am.”

  “What was your next question going to be?”

  “What you’d do if I kissed you.”

  She reached down for her purse and pulled out a round container. “First I’d pop a mint so I don’t have fried eel breath.” She held the container across the table. “Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  “Besides. That really wasn’t your question,” she mock-chastised. “Try again.”

  It was my question. As she’d been talking I became obsessed with her mouth. “Name two things that you think people assume about you when they look at you that are actually true. And one thing that isn’t true.”

  Annika grinned. “You’re getting the hang of this. That is an awesome question, Axl. Okay. First, blondes do have more fun—totally true. Second, I spend a ridiculous amount on clothing, shoes and personal care—also true. Your turn.”

  “First, I play hockey because I get paid to be aggressive—true. Second, I’m an asshole—feel free to chime in and disagree.”

  She laughed. “Not touching that one. What’s the one assumption that you think people make that isn’t true?”

  “That I’m nothing but a dumb jock. You?”

  “I’m successful in my family’s company because of my last name, not because I worked hard.”

  The server showed up with a tray of desserts. Annika ordered a mini-princess cake and coffee. “This was actually a pretty good date.”

  I threaded my fingers through hers. “What would have made it better?”

  She shrugged. “Normal food.”

  “What’s Annika’s definition of normal food?”

  “Meat loaf and mashed potatoes. A BLT. Breakfast food. Salads.”

  “We’ll go to a place that serves Annika food next time we go out for dinner.”

  “That’s sweet. But it wouldn’t be fun if you couldn’t eat. I bet you follow a special diet during the season.”

  “Just a balance of protein and carbs with vegetables and starches. If I eat like shit, I play like shit.”

  “Are you excited for the exhibition game tomorrow night?”

  “Nervous. This is a new team for me with new expectations. I feel strong.”

  “You look strong.”

  I glanced up at her. “You’ve been sneaking into practices?”

  “No. But you are a super-big guy. I don’t have to watch you lift weights to know you could probably heft a Volvo over your head.”

  “A Volvo? Really?”

  Annika snickered. “Come on. That was funny. And you want to know what else is funny? I thought you’d say the misperception about you is that you based your hairstyle on Prince Charming from Shrek 2.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “In that first scene where Charming slowly takes off his knight’s helmet—I’m guessing it’s very similar to when you take
off your hockey headgear—and he shakes his head . . . There’s a collective aah as everyone admires his flowing hair? Yours is about the same length and the same color.”

  I didn’t bother to mask my look of horror. “What the hell, Attila? I don’t swing my hair around like some vain cartoon character.”

  “That’s why I said ‘misperception,’ Ax-hole. But it’d be really hot if you did it one time during the season.”

  I leveled her with my most menacing glower. “Fuck. No.”

  “Please? Just for me? Ooh, and what about skating around shirtless while you did it?”

  “You do realize it’s freakin’ cold down there, because it’s, oh . . . ice, right?”

  “I know. We could turn it into a fund-raiser. Pay a little extra, come to the game early and see the hockey hottie warming up. Are his muscles twitching and quivering from excitement for the game? Or from the extreme cold?”

  “Maybe they’re twitching from extreme anger.” I eyed her empty beer mug. “We had the same amount of booze, so I know you’re not drunk.”

  “I’d want to be stone-cold sober if I ever got you half-naked.”

  I leaned far enough forward that I could wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in so we were almost mouth-to-mouth. “You don’t need to go to all that trouble of setting the scene if you want me half-naked. All you have to do is ask. Throw in a please? And I’ll bare all.”

  “God, I’d love to see that.”

  “What has gotten into you?”

  “You’ve given me some pretty rockin’ compliments tonight. I can’t do the same?”

  Maybe it made me a pussy to ask, but I had to know. “So none of that hair-tossing, bare-chested, muscles-quivering hockey hottie stuff was Annika from PR talking?”

  “No.” Her mint-scented breath teased my lips; I could actually taste it. “It was Annika the woman who’s spent a vast amount of time thinking about you talking.”

  “It’s good we’re in a public place.”

  “Why?”

  Because if we were alone I’d prop you up on the table and make you my dessert.

  She touched the side of my face. “I like you. Yet I still think you’re an ass. It’s weird.”

  “I like you. You’re not boring.” I grinned. “Plus, you have an ass that I’d like to sink my teeth into.”

  She pushed away from me. “We were having such a nice moment and you had to ruin it.”

  “You brought up my ass first.”

  “I said you were an ass. Big difference.”

  But she wasn’t really mad.

  The mini-princess cake arrived. The dome-shaped top was wholly meringue. “I’ll share,” she offered.

  “No, thanks. My sweet tooth gets me in trouble.”

  “So I do want to talk about the schedule. It’s a little confusing to me. Exhibition game tomorrow night. Then there’s another one out of town next week?”

  “All the teams have to travel at least once preseason. Our first game of the regular season isn’t at home. In fact, our first two games aren’t at home. We don’t play at home until two weeks from Friday night.”

  Annika sucked the meringue off her fork and I had to look at my coffee cup to restrain myself.

  “Are you busy a week from Saturday during the day?”

  “We leave early Saturday night to fly to Edmonton for the Sunday night game. Which means an early practice. Why?”

  “I’m organizing donations for the Lund Cares Community Outreach coat drive that Saturday and I could use help.”

  “This is part of the charity deal I agreed to?”

  “It is. This is the actual working part. Sorting, hanging.”

  I frowned. “You do that? You don’t have employees—”

  “Do the dirty work and then I sweep in, wearing my mink coat and tiara, for a fab PR moment on the day the less fortunate souls show up to choose their free winter wear?”

  One day I might use my brain before I opened my mouth. “I’m an ass for assuming. Sorry.”

  “This project is volunteer-driven. So naturally it’s hard to find people who want to spend their weekend off helping out for free.”

  “I’ll round you up some kick-ass volunteers.”

  Annika looked up and smiled. “Super.”

  After we finished, the server told Annika the check had been taken care of. There wasn’t a reason for us to linger in the restaurant, but I didn’t want to walk her to her car and end this date.

  We paused outside the restaurant and headed to the parking lot. Once the sun had gone down, it had become downright cold and Annika hadn’t worn a jacket.

  I unbuttoned my suit coat and shrugged out of it, then draped it around her shoulders. “Maybe we should make sure you get a coat at the coat drive, yah?”

  She smirked.

  “What?”

  “That’s the first time you sounded like my mother.”

  “Because I worry that you’re cold?” I tugged her braid from beneath the jacket collar and pulled the coat more tightly around her.

  “No. When you said ‘yah.’ She says it all the time.” She glanced up at me. “Why is it so easy to talk to you? I don’t struggle to find the right Swedish words. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

  “No. You’re basically a native speaker.”

  “But don’t you—”

  I kissed her. A gentle press of my lips to hers, letting them linger as I learned the shape of her mouth.

  I ended the kiss before it really got started. At her soft moan of protest, I dragged my lips across her jawbone to her ear. “That is as much as I’m willing to let the public see. Anything else doesn’t belong to them, Annika.”

  “Who knew you had a chivalrous streak?”

  “That’s what this is?” I mock-gasped. “It is curable, right?”

  She head-butted my chest.

  “Come on. I have something for you and then we’re calling it a night.”

  “You bought me a present?”

  I noticed she’d parked just three spaces down from me. I stopped behind my Audi and popped the trunk. “It’s just a team jersey.”

  “Axl. You’re not supposed to tell me!”

  “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up that it was jewelry.” I snagged the plastic bag.

  “Thank you.” She slipped free from my suit jacket and handed it back to me. “You look immensely fuckable yourself, so you should definitely wear this suit to the press conference after the game.”

  “Thank you.”