As she walks past me, I catch a whiff of her signature scent—honeysuckle, vanilla, and sunshine. I want to bury my face in her hair and breathe it in while I bury my cock between her legs. I want to hear my name on her lips when she comes. I have to close my eyes because the image is so vivid and intense.
Fuck! Get it together. You’re in the goddamn elevator.
I quickly push the first-floor button, willing my dick to behave. But she’s right here, and I can still smell her, which makes my dick even happier, and that’s not helping with my hard-on issue. I put a hand in my pocket, hoping it helps to disguise my predicament. If I’m lucky, she won’t notice.
The elevator door opens to the arena lobby. I hold the door again as Abby trots ahead of Joslyn into the lobby. She follows with her typical confident stride, high heels clicking on the floor.
Do not look at her ass, Damon. Do not! Damn it.
I can’t help it. I try to pull my eyes away, but Jesus, with those heels, it just sways. Her dress is just tight enough to show off that perfect peach, and I want to grab it like I’m a twenty-year-old kid. I fist my hands and purposely will my unruly thoughts back into submission.
I nod at Eddie, the nighttime security guard, as he holds the door open for both of us.
She gives him a fond smile while Abby licks his hand and wags her tail in greeting. They’re obviously old friends.
“Night, Eddie. Say hi to Rosie for me.” She pulls Abby away from her love-fest with the security guard with a wave in his direction, then heads out the door and to the left in her usual confident stride.
“Goodnight, Ms. Joslyn. Be safe.” He looks at me meaningfully, and I nod, accepting the responsibility for her safety from this point on as the heavy arena door clangs shut behind me. I jog to catch up, placing my hand on the small of her back as I fall in step beside her. It’s one of my favorite spots on a woman, so smooth and soft. I love those dimples a woman gets right above the gentle curve of her ass. So fucking sexy. I want to run my hand up and down her back until I can feel them through her skirt. I don’t, but God, I want to.
Not yet anyway…No, not ever!
“So, where are you taking me?” I raise an eyebrow, curious about her favorite hangout, even as I ignore the wayward thoughts in my head.
“You’ll see,” she answers with a bright, impish smile.
We walk in companionable silence for a few blocks until I glance up and spot an old storefront sign halfway down the street. It’s worn but still lit. The Wolf Den Diner. I’ve never even heard of this place before, and Iused to live around here. It’s a hole-in-the-wall, but then again, some of the best places are. The windows and doors are so dark I can’t see inside. I’m concerned it’s empty until I realize it’s only a window tint. We step inside, and I’m blown away.
It looks like an old fifties diner, but on a smaller scale—only a few booths and tables. It’s a small space, but you don’t notice because it’s set up so well. The booths are aqua with white edging, and the tables are black and shiny. Team colors… hmm. Wait, are those stuffed wolves everywhere? Yup, on the counter, at the table, hanging on the walls. Then, I see it. A big Colorado Wolves logo is painted on the wall above the small counter with a cash register. I smile. This place is almost perfect. It’s only missing one thing. I look around… and there it is.
Abby turns excitedly toward the cash register, tail wagging in anticipation. A beautiful husky with a furry black and white face peeks around the side of the counter to greet Abby with a lick and a whine. Yup, there had to be a dog. The husky trots over to Abby, and they engage in the typical dog greeting, complete with butt-sniffing. Eventually, the husky realizes there are people around and comes over to investigate. I offer my hand for him to sniff, then run it over his head and through his silky fur. He licks me as if to say, “You’re acceptable,” before turning around to seek the same treatment from Joslyn.
“Hey there, Sid. You’re such a good boy,” she coos, scratching behind his ears, which I can see he loves. And, of course, his name is “Sid.” A nod to the great Sidney Crosby. Hockey fans are a thing.
Then, like nothing happened, the husky disappears around the counter again. I look over it and see the furry cutie is happily ensconced in his aqua-blue donut bed. The dogs are clearly old friends, which speaks well for this place and our future meal.
“This place is fantastic,” I say, catching her eye and giving her a cheerful grin.
“Yeah, it really is,” she replies, her smile soft and her eyes sparkling with delight. “It’s fairly new, but the food is amazing.” She hits the bell on the top of the counter.
“Be right out! Seat yourself,” a voice bellows from the back, where two large black swinging doors guard the kitchen area. We look around, but it’s empty except for us, so we get to pick our seats. I gesture at a booth, looking out the big front window.
“Does that work?”
“It does.” She sits gracefully while Abby makes herself at home at her feet. I slide into the seat opposite her, giving myself an excuse to look her in the eyes. She grabs the laminated menus from behind the condiment stand and hands one to me. I expect to see the standard diner fare, but I’m pleasantly surprised after perusing the menu options. Not only are they creative, but they look delicious. Each item has an imaginative name, and the colors match the décor. It’s such a compelling setup.
“I see you brought some company tonight, Jos?” A light, pleasant voice breaks through my menu inspection.
I glance up to see a very petite woman with short blonde hair and a wide grin walking toward our table. She’s wearing jeans, sneakers, and an aqua-colored chef’s jacket with “Boss Lady” embroidered on the top left. I chuckle. I’m not even a little surprised they know each other.
“You mean besides Sid’s best buddy? I did. Damon Hawk, meet the illustrious owner of this establishment, Astrid Marks. Astrid, meet the new general manager for the Wolves.”
She gives me the once-over, then looks at Joslyn.
“He any good? We’ve got a lot of rebuilding to do this year, so he better be.”
She eyes me suspiciously. I attempt to reassure her by returning her smile as I hold my hand out in greeting.
“Well, he’s a former Wolf, so he can’t be that bad,” Joslyn teases. “Played here as a rookie back in early 2000,” she adds slyly, smirking at me before she looks over at Astrid.
