“What if it’s windy and your dress flies up?” I ask her, thinking that everyone will be seeing her ass, and I’m not okay with that.
“It’s winter in Texas, which means no wind,” she tells me while she sits down on the bed, bringing out her strappy heels and I know she will be wearing only those tonight. We walk out of the room and my hand automatically goes to grab hers, but the sound of a door opening has both of us dropping our hands and looking behind us to see who it is. Noticing an older man with his wife, we smile at them and wait for the elevator. My hand goes to her back once we get off the elevator to see most everyone waiting at the bar. I go sit with Phil and Luka while Karrie goes toward Mindy. It doesn’t take much longer before we are all on our way to the restaurant walking. I make sure I’m walking behind Karrie, just in case the wind picks up, but she is right. There’s no wind in winter in Texas.
Once we get to the restaurant, I sit next to Karrie while she sits next to Mindy.
“So, Matthew, Karrie said you agreed to the Christmas Party. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. Lots of the big sponsors will be there. It will be a great time.” She smiles at me and I just look over at Karrie.
“Yeah, well, she did agree to be my date, so how could I say no.” I grab the water glass and take a sip.
“Agreed, really? I felt bad when I beat him at rock paper scissors and he almost cried.” Karrie sits back in her chair, smiling at me.
“I don’t care how she did it. I’m just glad she did,” Mindy says, and then they start talking about some new reality television show.
We all have a great time eating, and the bill is picked up by Mindy.
“I can’t wait for the break,” Mindy says. “I’m going to close my phone for five days straight. And sleep.”
“I can’t wait. I’m going to hit Mexico,” Karrie says while my head whips around. “I can’t wait to sink my feet in the sand.” She closes her eyes and exhales.
“Are you going to leave straight from the last game or are you going back to New York?” Mindy asks while I take in the conversation.
“No, I’m going to leave from New York. It’s easier that way. I don’t have to bring two bags of luggage. My flight is an early morning one, so I will be sipping Mai Tais by lunch.”
“Okay, girls, let’s go,” Phil says while he pushes his chair away from the table.
I don’t say much on our way back to the hotel, or that night either. Instead, I make a plan, an evil plan. A plan that will make her all mine for five days, whether she wants to be or not.
Chapter Eighteen
Karrie
I’m so tired I can hardly stand up. I don’t know how Matthew does it. Being on the road is fucking hard. I miss my bed. I miss my house. I miss my routine. I have one more game to get through and then it’s five days off. Five whole glorious days.
“I can’t wait, Vivienne. Honestly, I think I’m going to sleep for seventy-two hours straight,” I tell Vivienne while we are on FaceTime.
“What is Matthew doing?” she asks, and I have to admit I have no idea. We really never brought it up.
“Je ne comprend pas.” I don’t understand, she cuts in. “You sleep with him every single night, tout nu.” Naked, she adds in. I roll my eyes at her while she leans back in her chair. “Chéri, you play with fire, you get anal!”
I laugh at her. “I think that’s the exact saying. You play with fire you get burnt.”
She waves her hand in the air. “Même chose.” Same thing.
I hear the click of the hotel door and sit up, watching Matthew come in. He throws his hat on the chair before falling into bed.
“Bonjour, Vivi,” he says in broken French while he leans in and kisses me on the lips while cupping my breast. He lays his head in my lap.
“Matthew.”
He peers into the phone. “She’s French. They do a lot worse.” He winks at her while she throws her head back and laughs at him.
“You know it, Matthew. Okay, I’ve got to work,” Vivienne says. “Text me to let me know when you land. D’accord.” All right, she ends the sentence.
I click the phone off, putting it on the bedside table while I rub my hands in his damp hair. “What time are we going to the rink tonight?” I ask him while he closes his eyes.
“Four-thirty,” he says to me. “Fuck, I love when you play with my hair.”