Part 9 (1/2)
She moved to the bucket and grabbed another beer. ”If your brain is numb it's more than likely the Vicodin.”
Sam laughed. He loved s.h.i.+t talk, no matter who was talking it. ”He's getting old. His memory isn't great.”
”His memory is convenient.” She twisted the top and held the beer toward Sam.
”Thanks, Short Boss.”
She pulled the bottle back before he could grab it. ”Did you just call me Short Boss or Short Bus?”
”Boss.” She shoved the beer toward him and he took it from her. ”What are you doing later?”
”Are you hitting on my a.s.sistant?” Mark asked before she could respond. He didn't like the idea of any of the guys. .h.i.tting on Chelsea. Not because he had any interest in her, but because he was doing his best to discourage her from sticking around. If the guys liked her, she'd never leave.
”I've never known a scream queen.” Sam grinned and took a drink of his beer. Mark knew for a fact that Chelsea wasn't Sam's type. Sam liked tall, leggy women with big lips. Like Angelina Jolie. His preference was so well-known that everyone razzed him about dating Octomom.
”I'm going to church with my sister,” she said, her blue eyes s.h.i.+ning with humor. ”You're welcome to come along.”
”I'll pa.s.s.”
Vlad and Andre walked through the door from outside, oblivious of Chelsea. ”If you go to ze strip clubz,” the big Russian was schooling the rookie, ”ze Luztee Lady is a good one. Ze best.”
”The l.u.s.ty Lady is a dive,” Andre said. ”I prefer the clubs in Canada. Cheetahs in Kelowna has totally nude dancing and the girls are hot. If you go, get a lap dance from Cinnamon. I don't think that's her real name, but she has better-”
”You guys haven't met my a.s.sistant,” Mark interrupted before the two got into a debate over which nudie bar gave the best lap dances. Although everyone knew that it wasn't Cheetahs. It was Scores in Las Vegas.
”Hey guys.” She looked up and smiled. ”You must be Vlad.”
Vlad wasn't unattractive. Just severe-looking. Women had been known to run in the other direction. Especially if he dropped his pants and showed them the impaler. Although to be fair, he didn't do that much anymore.
Without moving his head, Vlad glanced at Mark before returning his gaze to Chelsea. ”Yez.”
”Mr. Bressler mentioned that you weren't drinking today.” She dug down in the ice and pulled out a bottle of Evian. She moved toward him and gazed up into his face. ”So I brought you water.”
”Thanz.”
”You're welcome.” She turned to Andre. ”Can I get you a beer?”
Andre wasn't tall like Vlad or the rest of the players, but he was ma.s.sive and had a low center of gravity, like a cement pylon. Which came in handy when he needed to knock an opposing player off the puck or duke it out. ”Ah-yeah. I guess.”
Mark didn't know if the rookie enforcer was stunned or embarra.s.sed. Probably both. For the past year or so, there'd never been a female in the house when the boys had gathered. They weren't used to putting their best manners forward while they drank beer at Mark's house.
”I watched you guys play the other night.” Chelsea moved to the bucket. ”I'd never been to a hockey game before, and I know absolutely nothing about it, but you guys did great.”
”Yeah,” Mark said dryly. ”They won the cup.”
She leaned forward a little, and her skirt slid up the backs of her smooth legs. She had the kind of legs he liked on a woman. If she was standing in front of him naked, with her knees touching, there was just enough room to slip his hand between her thighs.
She stood up straight and moved toward Andre, holding a beer. ”Why did you hit that guy in the head the other night?”
”When?”
”Second period.”
Andre's black brows lowered. ”He had the puck,” he answered, as if that explained it all. And it did. She gave him the beer, and he said, ”Thanks.”
Little Miss Suns.h.i.+ne smiled at the rookie. ”You're welcome. Does your chin hurt?”
He shook his head and returned her smile. ”It was just a little love tap.”
She looked at Vlad and pointed to her own brow. ”Is that a love tap?”
”Nah. Hurtz like h.e.l.l.”
She laughed, and it occurred to Mark that she not only wasn't running like h.e.l.l, she wasn't the least bit intimidated by any of the other six big hockey players in the room. She grabbed a bottle of water and moved toward him. ”Holler if you need anything,” she said, and handed him a bottle of Evian. He reached for it but she didn't let go. His fingers brushed her hand and he almost pulled back. ”My number is programmed into your cell. So you don't have to come and find me.”
”What's my ringtone?”
She smiled and let go of the water. ”Any of you guys need anything else?” she asked instead of answering his question.
”Maybe nachos,” Andre answered.
She turned to the enforcer, her back facing Mark. ”I don't cook.”
”But you're a girl.”
Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell.
”That doesn't mean I was born with a burning desire to brown meat and grate cheese.”
He hit redial on his phone, and Chelsea's Black-Berry lit up a split second before the line about ”messing with a son of a b.i.t.c.h” played from the vicinity of her waist. She reached for the cell, pushed a few b.u.t.tons, then turned toward him.
He raised a brow and she explained, ”I thought I'd just stick with the Guess Who. Kind of a ringtone theme.”
Sam laughed.
”Have fun guys,” she said, and practically ran out of the room and down the long hall.
The boys watched her go, and the room fell into silence. Of course Sam was the one to break it.
”She's cute.”
Mark watched the white stripes on her skirt disappear from sight. Sure she was an attractive girl, but they didn't know the real Chelsea.
”I like ze short womenz.”
”You like any womenz.”