Sleet Kitten: Book One of the Sleet Series

Facing the newly formed group of ladies, Isabelle included, I wonder what the hell we’re gonna do to pass the time. We all look around at each other for a moment before I put my hands on my hips. “I think this night calls for a drink.”

I know that I just told Jackson I was good with water tonight, and that was true when I said it. But then his mama, his sister, and his coach’s daughter – who seems to have the hots for him – ended up being my evening’s company. Things have changed.

I head into the kitchen with the rest of the women trailing behind. “Jackson mentioned that he had a bottle of wine in here somewhere.”

Steph chuckles, “Oh, I have all sorts of booze stashed in this place. Just because he’s Mr. Athlete doesn’t mean I’m going to stay sober every time I visit.” Pulling one of the island stools over to the cupboard, Steph climbs up, opens the top door above the fridge, and does Vanna White hands to showcase the nearly dozen bottles of liquor she has hidden up there.

“Holy crap!” I say at the same time Mary says, “Why didn’t you show me this sooner?”

Isabelle stays quiet as she takes a seat at the island. Steph starts to hand me down a few of the bottles. There’s a Merlot, a Cabernet, a bottle of tequila, and even a bottle of unopened margarita mixer that looks far more high-end than anything I’ve ever purchased. Climbing off the stool and looking at the selection she chose, she asks, “What should we open first?”

Isabelle clears her throat then looks to me, “Are you dating Jackson?”

Unsure how exactly to answer, I give a one-shoulder shrug.

But Mary interjects, “She’s his girlfriend. And they’re just so damn cute together.”

At that Isabelle slumps down on her seat and looks to Steph. “Tequila, please.”

“Hot damn, girl. I knew I liked you!” Steph’s a little overly happy with her delivery, but it does coax a small smile out of Isabelle. “Mama, find us some glasses that will work for margaritas. Katelyn, can you dig around and see if Jackson has any limes?” Steph glances around the kitchen then slaps her hands down on the counter. “And where the hell is his salt? What sort of person doesn’t leave it out sitting out?”

Finding two limes in the fridge, I place them on the counter along with the glasses and the now-found salt. Seeing that Steph has the rest in hand, I take a seat next to Isabelle. Side by side, we watch the drinking making magic happen.

With her perky façade gone, Isabelle asks, “How long have you and Jackson been dating?”

Feeling a little bad for ruining whatever fantasy she had, I decide to be honest. “I think tonight was actually our first real date.”

At that she looks over at me, then over to Steph and Mary. “He invited his family over on your first date?”

“What? Oh, yeah, no. I can see how it would look that way.” Shaking my head, I think about when I really did meet his mom for the first time. Catching my eye, Mary must be thinking the same thing because she bursts out laughing. Looking back to Isabelle, I tell her, “Tonight was just supposed to be the two of us for dinner, but then Luke showed up saying that your dad was on the way for the tape stuff. While we were waiting for Coach to show up, Mary and Steph arrived. Unannounced.” I shoot a fake glare over at them. “So, by the time you and your dad got here, our party of two had already turned into a party of five.”

Isabelle’s cheeks get a little pink. “I’m so sorry… I wish we’d known. I would’ve told Daddy to reschedule. And I definitely would not have come along.”

“No worries. Like I said, you guys were hardly the first ones to interrupt our evening.”

“But still… I asked him to dinner, right in front of you!” Isabelle puts her face in her hands, shaking her head back and forth.

Mary comes over and pats her back. “There, there, dear. No need to be embarrassed.”

“I’m so sorry. If I’d known he was in a relationship I never would’ve even hinted that I was interested. Please forgive me. I would never interfere with what someone else has. I only wish the best for Jackson.” When she turns to me, I see sadness on her face I wasn’t expecting. Sensing that her strong feelings might be coming from past experience, I soften even more to this girl.

Placing my hand over hers on the counter I tell her, “Seriously, no apologies are necessary. But yes, of course, you’re forgiven. Hell, he’s a great guy! If you’re single and not hitting on him, I’d think there’s something wrong with you.”

Isabelle’s mouth pulls into a little smile. “Honestly, I’ve tried asking him out a few times. I don’t know him well, but everything I’ve heard about him says he’s a good guy. I’ve dealt with a lot of jerks in the past, so I figured I would try my hand with a nice guy for once. He has always been so kind when turning me down. I thought maybe he was just being gentlemanly and taking it slow, but I don’t think he was ever really attracted to me.”

“Isabelle”—my tone is flat—“have you ever looked into a reflective surface? Of course, he, and every other male in a hundred-mile radius, is attracted to you. Shit, I’m attracted to you. But you’re the coach’s daughter.”

She cocks her head, not understanding the point that I think is obvious. The point I realized about ten seconds into her interaction with Jackson.

Sighing, I elaborate. “All of the guys that play for your dad clearly respect him. They also fear him. Now imagine he finds out that one of them is dating his daughter. That one of the big, sweaty, men that he coaches, has had big sweaty sex with his little baby girl. Do you think that would go over well?”

Isabelle’s cheeks color and she gives a small shake of her head.

I continue. “Now imagine you and this guy break up. Say you got serious and he breaks your heart. What do you think would happen to him?” I don’t give her a chance to answer. “I’ll tell you what would happen. Along with making the jerkhole player skate until he pukes every day, your dad would trade his ass off the team in a heartbeat. Hopefully before he breaks the guy’s kneecaps in the locker room when no one is looking. Does that sound about right?”

Isabelle locks eyes with me before responding. “Well, fuck.”