Right Man, Right Time

“Are you bringing Ollie to the family skate welcome party?” Posey asks as he sits next to me on the bench, water bottle in hand.

“We’re in the middle of drills, and that’s what you’re asking me?” I pick up a water bottle and squirt some water in my mouth.

“What am I going to say? That I can feel the bologna sandwich I ate before stepping on the ice lodged in my stomach, acting like a two-ton brick and slowing me the fuck down?”

“Dude, you have a problem. Stop eating those.”

“I do have a problem. I got a new pack yesterday, and it was calling me to open it this morning. I have no control.”

“You’re vile.”

Our coach blows the whistle, letting the third-string line take a turn. First string is up next, so I stand from the bench, sweat dripping down my face with my helmet perched on the top of my head.

“So, are you?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” I answer.

“You should. She could meet everyone. I know Penny and Winnie will be there. Penny won’t be skating, but it might be nice for Ollie to meet them.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say.

“Don’t be that way.”

“Don’t be what way?” I ask, confused.

“Not go because Sarah will be there.”

I turn toward Posey. “She’s going to be there?”

“Yeah, everyone is.”

I run my tongue over my teeth just as the whistle sounds. I pull down my helmet, slip my mouth guard in, then hop over the boards and onto the ice.

If Sarah will be there, this might be the perfect time to introduce Ollie to everyone. After all, this is why we’re doing this whole thing, right?

SILAS: Hey, what are you doing this Saturday?

Ollie: I was planning to go on a long run. Why? Do you need something?

Silas: The team hosts a family skate welcome party before every season starts, and its Saturday. They make a big thing of it. Hot chocolate, s’mores, catered dinner. Wasn’t sure if you could make it?

Ollie: Of course I can. But there is one big problem.

Silas: Don’t tell me you don’t know how to skate.

Ollie: Guilty.

Silas: Jesus Christ.

Ollie: Uh, pardon me for not growing up on the ice like you. I spent my youth being teased . . . remember? The last thing I wanted to do was flop around on the ice.

Silas: Well . . . good thing you have me.

Ollie: Are you telling me you’re going to teach me how to skate in front of your entire organization and their family members? You understand how humiliated I’ll be if you make me use one of those kid walkers.

Silas: Consider it payback for donkey pervert.

Ollie: Listen here, mister. *points finger* You can’t use that anymore. Donkey pervert is off the table for negotiations.

Silas: I’ve barely used it.

Ollie: Well, this is your last time. No more.

Silas: Fine, but I think I’m getting the short end of the stick.

Ollie: The sooner you realize the world revolves around me, the better.

Silas: This is a partnership, not a dictatorship.

Ollie: Cute that you think that. Send me the deets and what I should wear. Slutty or non slutty. I have both covered.

Silas: It will be cold. Non slutty.

Ollie: Oh Silas, you truly have no idea about women, do you? Doesn’t have to be warm to be slutty. Let me ask you this. Will Sarah be there?

Silas: Yes.

Ollie: Slutty it is!

SILAS: I’m here.

Ollie: Tucking my tits in. Give me a second.

Tucking her tits in? What the hell does that even mean? Do I want to know?

Probably not.

I lean my head against the headrest and let out a large sigh.

I’m fucking exhausted. Practice was brutal this week. Not sure if Coach was trying to prove something or if he’s not pleased about our performance, but I’m wiped out.

My legs are sore. My back is on fire. And after a heavy round of lifting, I feel like my upper body can barely move.

The last thing I want to do is skate around some more, but I know everyone will expect me to show up and bring Ollie. Pacey told me how excited Winnie is to meet her, which just adds to the pressure of it all.

And then there’s Ollie and what might come out of her mouth. I decided to have a friendly chat on our way to the arena about what we say and don’t say.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Ollie walking toward me, so I open the door for her from inside the car. It pops open, and she fully comes into view . . .

Jesus fuck, is she hot.

“What do you think?” she asks as she twirls in place, showing off her perfect ass and toned legs.

“Uh . . . good,” I say as my eyes float down to the low-cut crop top sweater she’s wearing. It shows off an abundance of cleavage while also offering a view of her toned stomach. Her leggings sparkle in the sunlight, and she paired them with fluffy white leg warmers that match her sweater or what little sweater she has. And then there’s her long, bouncy, and voluminous chestnut hair with the ends curled and curtain bangs framing her gorgeous face. Her green eyes stand out against the dark of her mascara, and her glossed, shiny lips pull my attention for a second longer than I care to admit.

“Just good?” she asks, then lifts her breasts. “I have cleavage in a crop top sweater. Do you know the kind of bra I had to wear to make this happen?”

“Something made of magic?” I ask as I stare at her round tits.

“Exactly, so I would appreciate a little more appreciation.”

Mouth dry, my eyes move from her stomach, back up to her tits—tits I wouldn’t mind fucking exploring—and up to her face, where I catch a smirk. “You look fucking hot,” I say.

“That’s much better,” she replies as she slips into my car and sets her mini backpack on her lap before buckling up. “So you approve of the outfit, then?”

“Yes,” I say, putting the car in drive and taking off.

“Then why do you seem all frowny?”

“Tired as fuck,” I say. “Sore. Hungry. Just irritable.”

“Oh, fun for me, especially since you’re supposed to teach me how to skate today.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be grumpy when we get there.”

“Ah, so the grumpiness is just for me to experience.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Not like I need to impress you or anything. I already have a signed napkin stating you’re mine.”

“Something you should be grateful for.”

“Trust me, in that sweater, I’m very fucking grateful.”

I catch her smile and then turn to look out the window, clearly satisfied with that answer.

“So do we need to have a conversation about what’s appropriate to say in front of people?”

“No,” she groans. “I have it under control.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s what you thought when we went into the fundraiser.”

“Listen, I might be a loose cannon, but now that I’m seasoned, I totally got this.”

“That’s what you’re calling it?” I ask. “Being seasoned?”

“Yes, the perfect description. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to turn on some Taylor Swift to pump me up.”

“Taylor Swift for pumping up?”

“Uh . . . yeah. And if you piss me off, I can go into the party with Reputation on my mind, or we can be friendly and fly in on a Lover high. Take your pick.”

I tug on my hair and sigh. “Do Lover.”

“Good choice, Silas. You’re so good at pleasing your fake girlfriend.”

“SO I KNOW I EXUDE CONFIDENCE,” Ollie says as I hold her hand and walk her down the hallway toward the rink. “But I’m going to tell you right now, I feel like I could throw up.”

That causes me to pause and turn toward her.

“But we played the Lover remix featuring Shawn Mendes on repeat.” She squeezes my hand and looks up at me in a panic. “Wait. Are you serious? Do you need a bathroom?”

“I think I just need a second,” she says as she backs up to the wall and leans against it.

I continue to hold her hand and rub my thumb over her knuckles.

“Sorry,” she says while taking a deep breath. “I just got really nervous all of a sudden. You would think I would be more nervous at my event, but this just feels so . . . intimate.”

“We can leave if you want.”

She shakes her head. “No, this is what I signed up for.” Her eyes connect with mine. “Can you do me a favor, though?”

“Anything,” I say, feeling her nerves course through me as well. She’s so good at being vulnerable. It comes so easily to her that whenever she is vulnerable, it’s almost like those feelings transfer over to me as well.

“Please don’t leave my side. Yonny would do this thing where he took me to events and expected me to hit it off with other people without him. It’s intimidating. I’m much better around people when I’m comfortable.” She blinks, and those green eyes nearly bring me to my knees when she says, “This might sound weird, but I’m comfortable with you around.”

“I’ll be at your side the whole time. I promise.”

“Thank you. I just know that Sarah will be here, and I’m not sure I’m ready for the whole you go flirt with her thing while I watch. I know it seemed like I did that with Yonny, but I didn’t and—”

I reach up and cup her cheek as I say, “When I say I want nothing to do with Sarah, I fucking mean it. I’m not leaving you. You’ll be by my side the whole time, okay? Remember, you’re doing me a favor, so I’m here for you.”

She nods. “Okay, yeah.” She lets out another deep breath. “God, I’m sorry. I’m stronger than this.” I watch as she steadies her shoulders, lifts her chin, and poises herself for what’s to come. It’s interesting to see someone just drop their fear and anxieties like that, as if to say, I’m done worrying and now I’m moving on.

Not sure I even can do that.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “Very sure. I’m taking a page out of your book and not showing any vulnerability.”

For some reason, that doesn’t settle well with me. Maybe because I have seen her vulnerable before or maybe because I know what it feels like to hold those feelings in. Either way, I don’t want her to feel like she needs to deter from being herself.

“Don’t take a page out of my book,” I say. “It’s not a healthy way to live.”

“You say that,” she says, tilting her head as she looks at me, “yet you don’t listen to your own advice.”

“Never said I was an expert at handling emotions. I just know if you have feelings, you’ll feel better when you get them off your chest.” I run my thumb over her cheek.

“Well, I’m nervous. What if people don’t like me? I’ll be letting you down.”

“Trust me, the last thing you can do when dressed in that sweater is let me down.”

That puts a smile on her face. “Really a fan of the sweater, huh?”

“Everyone is a fan of the sweater.”

“Told you I could dress warm and slutty.”

“You continue to prove me wrong.” Now that she’s feeling a touch lighter, I ask, “Ready to do this?”

“I am.” She nods. “And thanks, Silas, for understanding.”

“Listen. We’re both doing each other a favor here. Working out all the kinks will take a second, but once we’re comfortable, it will be easy moving forward.”

“I hope so.” She pushes off the wall and snuggles into my arm as we hold hands and head down the hallway again. “Remember, no ditching me.”

“Babe, trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Babe?” she asks, with a raise of her brow.

I just shrug my shoulder, choosing not to address it because honestly, the term of endearment just slipped out. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much I can control these days.

Like the way I keep glancing over at her stunning eyes.

Or how my gaze drifts down to her shirt and her mouth-watering tits.

Or how I can’t wait to get out on the ice despite being sore, so I can show her how to skate.

Ollie is fun to be around, and I appreciate her keeping my mind off my demons.

“So this is where we enter on game days,” I say. “And that”—I point at our logo on the wall—“that is what we tap before we enter the arena.”

“Is it a good luck thing?”

I nod. “Yeah, good luck, tradition, all of the combined.”

“And these heavy mats on the floor, is this because you wear skates?”

“Yup,” I say as we pass a few employees. I nod and smile at them.

“Do you ever stop to talk to fans?”

“Before the game, not really. I’ll toss pucks over the boards to fans after warm-ups, but conversations and autographs? No. I’ll save that for after games . . . games that we win. Coach doesn’t like us hanging out on the ice after a loss.”

“I can understand that. Good thing you win a lot, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I haven’t really paid attention to your stats.”

“Shame, I could really impress you.”

“Stats mean nothing to me. How you treat the people around you, now that’s something to talk about.”

I lead her out onto the ice. The staff has truly made something special out of the event, they always do. Half of the ice is a rink for family and friends to skate on. Covered by rugs, the other half has a mix of couches, chairs, tables, and of course, hot cocoa and s’mores stations, which are really more for the kids. Food is up in the club section. I’ve been to this event a few times with Sarah, so being here with Ollie feels slightly awkward.

“Oh wow, this is . . . this is bigger than I expected,” she says as she glances around the arena. “You play hockey here? Look at all those empty seats. Are they usually full?”

“Every home game,” I say.

“It must get loud in here.”

“Very loud, but the cheering fans only spur me on to work harder.”

“Sexy,” she coos as I take her over to the skates section. Of course, the players all have their skates on display and below them are their respective family and friends. We had to provide the team with sizes prior to arriving to make it easier.

“Mr. Taters, are you ready to skate?” the attendant asks.

“I am,” I say. “And please, call me Silas.”

“Sure thing,” she says as she retrieves the skates and hands them off to us.

“Thank you.” I guide Ollie to a couch, then kneel in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Helping you put your skates on,” I answer and then carefully slip her shoe off. When I glance up at her, I notice her cheeks are blushing. I don’t know how much of that has to do with me kneeling in front of her or the chill of the ice beneath us.

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“Have you done it before?”

“No,” she answers.

“Then let me help you . . . babe.”

She chuckles. “Really going with that, aren’t you?”

I’m about to answer when I hear, “Oh my God, Pacey, look, he’s helping her with her skates.”

Winnie.

Here we go.

“Hi,” Winnie says, walking right up to us and holding her hand out. “You must be Ollie. I’m Winnie, Pacey’s fiancée.”

“Hi, Winnie,” Ollie says with a bright smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Good God, she’s gorgeous.” Winnie knees me in the side. “Potato, she’s so freaking pretty.”

Ughhhhh, Winnie.

“Potato?” Ollie asks. There it is.

“Oh yes, that’s what I call Taters. Just reminded me of a potato.” I glance up at Ollie to see her smiling from ear to ear.

“I rather like that nickname.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I mutter under my breath as I pick up her foot and help her insert it in the skate. When it’s fully in, I lace her up.

“When Pacey told me Potato was bringing you, I could not stop thinking about all the things I want to talk to you about.”

“Winnie,” Pacey says. “Give her a second to breathe.”

But Winnie takes a seat right next to Ollie and says, “How on earth did you two meet? The first time I met Silas, he was a total ass. Sure, I was crashing his guy vacation, but God, he was a tough one to break.”

“And you think you’ve broken me?” I ask with a raise of my brow.

“It’s adorable that you think I haven’t.” Winnie pats me on the head and turns back to Ollie. “So how did you two meet?”

Here we fucking go . . .

“Well, it was at a doctor’s office,” Ollie starts, and I take her other foot and slip it into the skate as I hear her tell the story of how we “met.” Pacey and Winnie are laughing the entire time.

“Dude . . . what were you doing with your penis out near the donkeys?” Pacey asks.

“My dick wasn’t out,” I groan as I stand, my muscles firing. “My fly was just down, that’s all. Right, Ollie?”

She nods. “There was no perverting over the donkeys.”

“I’m wondering why you were holding a chicken tender,” Winnie says. “That doesn’t seem like something you would eat. You’re fancy.”

“I like to switch it up when I’m at the zoo,” I say, just going with the flow at this point.

“I didn’t even know you like to go to the zoo by yourself,” Pacey says.

“Who goes to the zoo by themselves?” Posey says, walking up alone.

“Taters,” Pacey says.

“Really?” Posey asks. “That doesn’t seem like something you would do.”

“And he had a chicken tender with his fly undone while jerking off to the donkeys,” Winnie adds, causing me to pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Jesus, dude . . . come on. There are children at the zoo.”

I stand from where I was helping Ollie and hold out my hand to her. “Ready, babe?”

“Oooo.” Winnie claps her hands. “He calls her babe. Pacey, did you hear that?”

“I did.”

“I still can’t believe it. Potato has a girlfriend.”

“Glad you’re not making a big deal about it,” I say to Winnie.

“I’m happy for you. For both of you,” she says. “Let’s chat some more. I want to hear about all of the romantic things Potato does for you.”

Ollie smiles. “There’s a lot. He’s easily the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Winnie clutches her chest and then, out of nowhere, comes up to me and gives me a hug. Unsure of what to do, I awkwardly pat her back as she squeezes tight.

“I’m so happy for you,” she quietly says. “I hated seeing you so upset over the summer.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “I can’t wait to learn more about your girl.”

Okay . . . someone is super emotional today.

Winnie and I had a rocky start, but a lot of it had to do with the fact that I was still trying to get over my breakup with Sarah and what happened that summer. It was supposed to be spent with my guys. But it was interrupted on day one by Winnie. It took me a while to accept her into the group, but after I got to know her better and saw how much she cared about Pacey, I knew she was a keeper.

And now, as she hugs me tightly, I can honestly call her a friend, even though a lot of the times she drives me nuts.

“Thanks, Winnie.”

She pulls away and goes to Pacey, who hugs her into his side. “Let’s get your skates,” he says. “Ollie, I expect to see you more later.”

“Of course.”

And with that, I take her hand in mine and guide her toward the edge of the carpet.

“So . . . potato, huh?”

I chuckle. “Winnie is something special. She’s the only one who gets to call me that.”

“And what nickname should I use for you?”

“You might have to get to know me better to find out.”

“Why do I feel like that’s an innuendo to call you daddy?”

I nearly choke as I glance down at her. “How the hell did you get that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You just seem like one.”

“Can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“In my world”—she pauses and smirks—“it’s a good thing.”

That smirk makes me believe there’s so much more to this girl that I will never find out about. I already know she likes to fuck, she likes to come, she likes to be sexual, but even though I know these things, it doesn’t mean I’m going to experience it.

“Are you ready to go out on the ice?”

“No,” she answers as her hand trembles in mine.

I glance over at the open ice where kids and families are already skating.

“Do you trust me, Ollie?”

“I think so,” she answers.

“Then know when I say I won’t let you fall, I’m not going to let you fall.”

Her eyes connect with mine, worry etched in them. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” she says. Guiding her out on the ice, I skate backward while her wobbly legs skate toward me. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Just glide with me,” I say. “Bend your knees a bit, yes, just like that. And let me bring you around the ice. Rely on the strength in your glutes, thighs, and ankles from all your workouts.”

Her hands tremble in mine, but I keep her steady on the ice as I swivel around.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” she says and glances up at me, her lips barely forming a smile.

“Relax. It’ll be a lot easier if you’re not so stiff.”

“I want to make a joke about stiffness and donkey pervert, but my brain can’t seem to connect the two at the moment.”

“Well, thank God for small miracles. Maybe I should always have you on the ice.” I bring her closer to the boards so if she wants to grab on to them, she can.

“See those kids over there?” she says, nodding to the right.

“Yes,” I answer.

“Please, for the love of God, keep them away from me.”

I chuckle. “Understood.”

“I can’t believe you do this for a living.”

“I started young. It just feels like second nature now,” I say as she grips my hands tightly.

“I wish I had done something like this when I was young. I don’t think my parents cared enough to get me involved in any sort of sport.”

“Were they mean to you?” I ask, just as a kid flies by us. “I got you,” I whisper, letting her dig her fingers into my forearms.

“No, they weren’t mean per se.” She pauses and takes a breath. “But you know how there are super involved parents, and then the parents who have kids but don’t get very involved in their lives? Those were my parents. They weren’t mean, just not interested.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, wondering what it would be like if my parents didn’t take an interest in me. I’m not sure I’d handle that. “Well, you have me if you ever want to move further in your ice-skating journey.”

She glances up at me, those beautiful eyes of hers penetrating right into my soul. “I can say with full confidence that this will be the beginning and the end of my ice-skating journey.”

I let out a low chuckle and continue to skate backward as I say, “At least you know your limitations.”

We spend the next fifteen or so minutes skating around the ice. She tries moving her legs, but when she almost falls on her ass, she thinks better of it and asks me to just move her around, which I have no problem doing. We joke around. Talk about hockey and what a game day looks like. We go into detail about the gear, which I think is funny. Once I notice her shivering from being out on the ice for so long, I ask her if she wants some cocoa and receive an emphatic yes.

“Sit right here, and I’ll help you with your skates.”

“You know I can manage it, right?” she asks.

“Yes, but if you were my real girlfriend, I’d take these off for you. Therefore, I’ll do the same in this situation.”

Once I finish, I slip our shoes back on, drop off our skates, and then head to the cocoa bar.

“Wow,” she says, taking in all the fixings. “I’m overwhelmed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many hot cocoa options.”

“It’s more popular than the s’mores,” I say. “Let me give you the tour. You have milk chocolate and dark chocolate cocoa as well as white chocolate to choose from. From there, you have caramels, peppermint sticks, espresso shots, raspberry syrup, cherry syrup, chocolate chips, five kinds of marshmallows ranging from Martha Stewart’s homemade recipe to Lucky Charms. And then there’s Cool Whip, whipped cream, sprinkles, caramel drizzle, fudge, twizzle cookies, Oreo cookies, and coconut.”

“Dear God,” she says, causing me to laugh. “I don’t know where to start. What do you usually do?”

“Are you asking for the Silas special?”

“Is that a thing?”

“It is in my head.”

She smirks at me. “Then please, delight me with the Silas special.”

“Okay. First up is milk chocolate cocoa.” We fill up a glass mug that we get to keep. “Then it’s cherry syrup for me.”

“Oh interesting,” Ollie says as she follows me.

“Two cordial cherries.”

“You didn’t mention those.”

“Because it’s a surprise.” I plop two in her mug.

“Then Martha Stewart marshmallow followed by whipped cream, chocolate drizzle, and chocolate sprinkles.” I load her up and then sink a paper straw into her drink. With her hand in mine, I bring her over to one of the couches and help her down.

Music plays in the background, offering a festive atmosphere in the very large arena.

“This is nice,” Ollie says. “I know nothing about professional sports, but it’s really cool that your team does this for family and friends. It must make them feel special.”

“It does,” I say. “They always bring it back because of the positive response, and it seems like the hot cocoa bar gets bigger and bigger every year.”

“Was the first year just a canteen of it that everyone had to share?”

“Almost,” I say with a smile. A smile that seems to catch her attention because I sense her staring at me as I take my first sip. “Can I help you?” I ask when our eyes meet.

She lifts her hand and presses her finger along my cheek. “I never noticed your dimples before and how deep they are.”

“I got them from my mom,” I say.

“Your eyes too?”

“Yes,” I say. “How did you know?”

“Because despite the stark color that gains someone’s attention from across the room, they’re soft, warm, inviting, the type of eyes I’d expect to see on a mom.”

“Not sure anyone has called my eyes soft or warm.”

“Then they haven’t been looking hard enough,” she says right before taking her first sip of her cocoa. I watch as her lips wrap around the straw and her cheeks hollow out as she sucks. It gives me a brief glimpse into what she might look like sucking my cock. Those bright-green eyes satisfied, her cheeks flush but contoured, those lips passing up and down my shaft. It would be so hot.

“Are we interrupting?” I hear Hornsby ask. I look up to find him gripping a very pregnant Penny.

“Not at all.” I stand. “Penny, would you like to sit down?”

“Would love to,” she says while sitting next to Ollie. She presses her hand to her stomach and says, “I’m Penny. That hunk of meat over there got me pregnant, and I’m ready to not have this baby in my belly anymore.”

Ollie chuckles. “I’m Ollie, and I can’t imagine how you feel at the moment. For what it’s worth, your boobs look amazing.”

Penny claps her hand over her chest and, in a choked-up voice, says, “Thank you, that means so much to me.”

“Could you imagine if I met you for the first time and told you your dick looked nice in your jeans?” Hornsby asks.

Hands in my pockets, I say, “Wouldn’t hurt to hear it every once in a while.”

“Ahhh,” Ollie coos. “Silas, your dick looks fantastic in your jeans.”

Well fuck me, that makes me smile.

Smile and blush, because she didn’t just tell me my dick looked good. She also let her eyes fall to my crotch and paused for a moment and stared.

I rock on my heels and say, “Thanks, babe.”

“Oh my God, I love them already,” Penny says, clapping her hands, and I kind of feel bad at this moment, my friends meeting Ollie and thinking we’re a real couple. I can see the girls becoming attached. And when this is over, whenever that is, what the hell am I going to say to them? “So how did you two meet?”

Ah, fucking hell . . .

“Well, we were both in the doctor’s office,” Ollie starts, a conspiratorial look in her eyes.

Here we go.