“Mr. Hockey!” she calls back. “Coming home from a game or a night out with a lucky lady?”
“Game. We lost,” I admit and frown.
"You'll get 'em next time," she replies easily. Typical response from someone who doesn't get that hockey players don't shrug off losses, ever. "Wanna go for a drink at the wine bar down the road? I always go there after a bad day, and mine wasn't great. They're open until one and have an amazing selection of Spanish reds."
Now, if this was happening two weeks ago, I'd say yes without hesitation. We'd get warm and fuzzy on wine, and I'd kiss her. She'd let me. And then I'd give her my number and walk away. Because I don't fuck drunk women. It's my only rule. I need sober consent. I call it the Mallory Rule now because I broke it with her and that was a huge mistake. Mallory never blamed what happened between us on the booze, but I did. I hate feeling like she only let me touch her because she was drunk.
So I would wait until Tara was sober again to make a real move, but the scene would be set and flirt-texting would happen next, while on my road trip, and then next time I was home I would invite her over and…
“You okay?” Tara’s voice interrupts me. “I’m trying not to take you zoning out personally.”
“Crap! Sorry!” I give her a sheepish smile. “I had a really shitty game. Also, I have house guests right now and just… a lot going on.”
“That friend of yours and her kid still with you?” Tara asks and her blue eyes sparkle mischievously as she makes air quotes around the word ‘friend’.
“Sheisa friend," I reply, not addressing Dylan's existence at all because it's definitely none of her business. "And yes, they're staying a while and I'm cool with it. But I just… We've been put on lockdown for the upcoming playoffs. Curfews and all that stuff. I should head to bed."
“So, like, do they not allow youanyfun?” Tara asks, still smiling, now devilishly. She leans a little closer and whispers, “Do they really ban extracurricular activities?”
She’s an attractive girl, but right now, in my current state of mind, I observe that fact passively. Because it doesn’t matter to me right now. Attractive girls who are down for casual sex are not on my bingo card anymore. For now, anyway.
“Not technically.” I give her a quick smile and then jerk my thumb toward my place. “Gotta go.”
“Right. Your friend and her baby.” I just nod. “Okay well, if when your houseguests leave and you need company while on your team lockdown… I’m three doors down.”
“Noted,” I reply and give her a wave as I turn to follow the short path to my unit. Hers is down the footpath on the other side of the entrance to the building, but she doesn’t turn that way. She watches me walk all the way up my porch steps. Now I know what it feels like to be a woman walking by a construction site.
I try not to notice as I unlock the storm door. It’s a hot night so Mallory had the big door open and just the storm door locked, which means she probably heard some of my exchange with Tara I realize as I step inside. Kicking off my dress shoes, I drop my keys on the console table and shrug out of my jacket as I walk into the living room. Mallory is sitting on one of my couches, arms crossed over a plain yellow T-shirt. Her long blonde hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her face makeup-less.
I stare at her and she stares at me and for some reason, even though I have a lot to discuss with her, I can’t even find the courage to say hello. It’s the way she’s looking at me. Mallory has a def con five resting bitch face right now. It's classic, old-school Mallory. She's quiet with her words but not with her expressions. I remember the first time I saw this type of look on her. We were at a high school party, one of my teammates was talking shit about a girl he just broke up with. Really disrespectful stuff and Mallory overheard and glared at him just like this. She never spoke but the dude saw her face and shut the fuck up.
Now, she gets up, also without a word, and walks away. I watch her as she climbs the stairs and doesn't even realize I'm fixated on her perky ass as it jiggles with every step in the boy short pajama bottoms she’s wearing until my dick starts to twitch and grow in the front of my suit pants. Mallory Echolls is a smoke show. Who hates me. But my dick doesn’t care about the semantics.
I pull off pieces of my suit while I make a BLT for a bedtime snack. There’s no sound from upstairs. Mallory must have gone straight to bed. Or she’s quietly making a voodoo doll with my name on it.
I sit at the dining room table and quietly eat my sandwich in nothing but my underwear. I don’t even feel weird about it because I’m too grumpy and exhausted to care and I’d bet money, from that look on her face, that she would rather eat glass than be in the same room with me right now. And honestly, even if she did come down, whatever.
I finish my sandwich and my glass of water and leave the dishes on the table. I can’t be bothered to clean anything. I grab my suit and carry it upstairs, stopping at the small cart in the dining room to grab a bottle of tequila and take a swig, hoping it will loosen the knot of tension between my shoulders. I’m a foot from the door to my room when the guest room door opens and Mallory steps into the hall. She stops abruptly and stares at me. It doesn’t start as a classic Mal RBF, it actually starts with a soft, slightly shocked look because I’m just in my underwear, which is very snug.
“Jesus, Tate,” she huffs and covers her eyes. “You forget I’m here?”
"No," I reply and shoot my balled-up suit from one hand to the other. "I just thought you were asleep."
Her fingers split a little in front of her eyes, but she doesn’t look at me. She’s looking past me. “Are you alone?”
I blink. “What? Yeah. Of course. Who the fuck else would be here?”
“The pretty woman you were talking to outside.”
So she did hear me with Tara. Is she… jealous? I tilt my head and try to wrap my head around that, and why the thought turns me on. “Tara is a neighbor. Nothing else.”
“Whatever.” Mallory keeps her hand over her eyes, fingers still split, as she turns with her back to the guest room door and motions with her other hand for me to pass. “Please feel free to take yourself to bed.”
I start to walk by her but I’m annoyed and, as anyone in my family will tell you, I love to push buttons when I’m pissed off. So as I pass, I slow down when I’m right in front of her. I step closer, so I walk sideways by her, making sure my bare chest brushes around her front. She drops her hand to give me that RBF again but her cheeks are flaming red, so I shoot her a cocky smirk and as our eyes lock I slide by even slower. Now I can feel her nipples harden through the thin fabric of her loose t-shirt and blood surges downward, and my plan instantly backfires.
I might be getting under her skin but she is also getting under mine. And it's making me hard. Quickly. I take the final step needed to slide by her and move my crumpled suit to cover my boxer briefs, even though I have my back to her now as I walk into my room. I'm figuring out how to close the door without looking like I'm covering a boner. But I hear a hard click look over my shoulder and realize Mallory closed the door for me.
Well, this is going well, I think to myself. I throw my crumpled suit in the bin in my open closet that’s marked ‘Dry’. My cleaning lady also takes everything in that bin to the dry cleaners for me and picks it up too. She also does all my laundry but I doubt she’ll be happy about adding Dylan’s laundry to the pile when Mallory leaves and I have to handle this on my own. Right now Mallory is doing her laundry and Dylan’s. I guess I can ask the next nanny to do his laundry?
