The Right Fit

Chapter 38

The young man grimaced a bit then started leading him down the hallway. “There was an accident. When she found out you weren’t part of the mafia, she fainted and sort of fell into the chairs in front of us.”

“Mafia?” Antony picked up his pace, wishing this Stuart guy would walk faster. “Is she hurt?”

“Just her pride. She also spilled the beer she was holding all over her pants. Just to warn you, it’s dried some, but she still looks like she wet herself.”

Antony stopped. “What’s your name again?” “Stuart Ling.” He said it like a radio jingle. “Stuart,” Antony said, glaring down at the slight

man. “Where is she?”

He swallowed and motioned with his head to the left side. “Up here…um, she sent me to get you.”

Antony marched around the curve of the hallway. “Maxine!” His heart was in his throat. She was leaning against the wall, her face was pale, and her hair was in a side braid. Her expression was a mix of relief and embarrassment. “My poor, Ms. Dior,” he said, brushing the hair off her forehead. The bump was a soft green color.

A young guy in a sweater, cleared his throat. There was a familiarity around the eyes.

“This is my brother, Westley,” Maxine said, her voice was hoarse.

Antony prepared to shake Westley’s hand. “I heard lots about you. Nice to meet you.”

Westley crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Antony a guarded nod.

Stuart said unnecessarily, “Told you I’d find him.” “Do you need ice?” Antony asked, turning back to

Maxine. “Have you seen medic?”

“I’m fine.” She reached up and pulled the hair back in place, covering the bruise. “I’m just in shock about all this.”

He wanted to pull her into a hug, but the brother was practically standing in between them. “I wanted big surprise for you,” he said. The elation of the win and his performance tonight fizzled in the reality of the moment.

“Mission accomplished.” She smiled, but her hesitant tone kept Antony straight-faced. He originally pictured her being ecstatic, running into his arms after the game. “I scored that goal for you,” he would have said, because in truth, he did. He even half expected the brother to be gracious and slapping him on the back. Who wouldn’t want their sister to be dating a professional hockey player?

But Antony regarded both of them and realized he’d assumed wrong, so very wrong. There were three more tickets for tomorrow’s game in his pocket. He suspected offering them would make things worse.

“That was an amazing game, by the way.” Stuart was beaming at Antony’s side. “You work out every day, right? Say, do all the players leave this way?” He strained his neck to peek around the corner.

The dark circles under Maxine’s eyes pained Antony. “Hungry?” he asked, linking his fingers with hers.

She started to say something then paused, her gaze focused on something over his shoulder. Two women in tight mini dresses with VIP badges made their way to the locker room.

“We split a twenty-dollar hotdog at half time,” Stuart said.

Antony turned back to Maxine, wishing she’d give him wink or a smile to let him know he didn’t completely screw up. “My treat. I made reservation at Chairman’s Suite.”

Out of the three, Stuart was the only one who smiled at the invitation.

Antony led them to the south side of the complex, hoping the opulent surroundings of the exclusive restaurant, still busy with patrons, would make up for the bump on her forehead. They were shown to a spacious booth overlooking the now darkened ice surface.

Although irritated with the talkative roommate at first, Antony soon became reliant on Stuart to keep the conversation going. The awkwardness of the evening had manifested itself in silence. Westley, it seemed, was intent on playing the begrudging brother as if it was Antony’s fault she’d fainted.

What he wouldn’t give to be in his kitchen cooking for her right now, instead of being waited on by the woman in the low-cut dress and high heels.

“Must be hard to work dressed like that,” Maxine said, fixing her hair again, worried the bruise was showing.

Antony was grateful for the distraction of the chilled seafood appetizer.

“Why did you tell my sister you worked for a towing business?” Westley asked. “Ouch, my shin!” He glared at Maxine. “What? You thought he was part of the mafia! If you’re not going to ask, I will.”

“Not now!” she hissed.

Antony put down his fork. “I was trying to be…how do you say, hidden in the crowd?”

“In disguise?” Stuart popped a jumbo shrimp into his mouth.

“Anonymous,” Maxine clarified. She looked at Antony. “We bumped into each other at Uniun, and I assumed he worked as a mechanic. His job never came up again, it wasn’t important.” She smiled and a gush of relief washed over Antony. She was giving him an easy out, letting him get away with lying. Maybe she was starting to warm up to the idea of dating a hockey player.

“That’s like buying a stick of gum, but instead the clerk sells you a winning lottery ticket,” Stuart said. “I have to start going to Uniun more often.” He gave Antony a serious look. “Do you guys trade disguises? I might start hitting on Ace Towing dudes now.”

Antony noticed how red Westley had become in the face.

Maxine chuckled and reached for a piece of lobster. The knot that had been tightening inside Antony’s chest had begun to loosen. His cell phone buzzed on the cushion between them.

Ursexslave

Maxine read the screen.

“Marc,” he explained, anticipating her question. “Old joke, his idea. I never ignore text from sex slave.”

“How long has he been calling himself that?” “Right after accident.”

“Oh.”

Antony finished his Coke, crunching a mouthful of ice. Stuart refilled the other’s wine glasses and the air around the table began to ease. The steaks arrived and Antony was glad to see Maxine and Westley joking with each other.

Stuart’s gaze roamed around the room. He quizzed Antony on every one that walked in, asking if they were a member of the team’s official organization.

By the time the dessert menu came, Antony had offered the three tickets for the next game and the gift was well received, especially by Stuart who was already tweeting about it. He leaned back, enjoying the feeling of Maxine by his side. He felt like the universe was giving him a high five. It seemed foolish that he’d wasted so much time worrying about how to make Maxine part of his life. An overwhelming sense of invincibility settled in his heart.

“The chocolate brownie is made for sharing,” the waitress told them.

Stuart cleared his throat and slid out from the booth. “Good night,” he said. “It’s been a tremendous honor meeting you, Antony Laurent.” Then he motioned for Westley to follow.

Westley stood and shook hands with Antony. “Thank you for the meal and the tickets, and for not being part of the mafia.” It was a joke, but he had no humor in his voice.

Once they left, Antony felt Maxine relax beside him. He put his arm around her shoulders and asked, “Is there part of you even little excited I’m in professional hockey league?”

“It would have been better if you’d just told me from the start. However”—she smiled—“it was pretty sexy when you scored that goal and made thousands of people stand and scream at the same time. What does that feel like?”

“Almost as good as hearing you say my name when you come.”

“Antony,” she chastised under her breath. “Non”—he frowned—“higher and God mentioned,

too.”

The brownie arrived with two forks.

Maxine took off a small piece with her fork and dipped it in the whipped cream.

“I’m winning you over,” he said.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not a hockey puck,” she said.

“My next trip is Philadelphia. You come too. Same hotel but different room. Oui? My treat.”

She put another bite in her mouth and chewed. “This is all too fast,” she said.

“So…oui?”

“Maybe.” She smiled at the brownie, already half gone. “I have a job, and I help Carmine, and Crosby is doing this Marry Me thing, and she asked me to help with this celebrity bachelor auction, and—”

He squeezed her knee. “I know. Think about it…please?”

“Excuse me?” Someone giggled. “Can we get a picture with you?” Two women rocked in place on their spiky high heels.

“Sure.” He pushed himself out of the booth. “I have long arms,” he said, taking the taller one’s phone. Once all of their faces were in the shot, he took the selfie.

“Thank you!” the shorter one gushed. “You were amazing tonight.”

“Merci.” He started to sit back down when one of them touched his elbow.

“I hate to ask you this, but could we get a full length one?”

Antony thought there was a slight lift to her voice, suggestive almost. He hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

The shorter of the two women handed the phone toward Maxine. “Please?” she said. “We want our legs in the shot.”

Maxine took the camera and pointed it toward Antony, it was in front of her face so he couldn’t see her expression. His smile felt forced.

“Actually,” the woman interrupted. “Can you take it standing?”

Antony opened his mouth to object, but Maxine slipped out of the booth. His eyes trailed down her outfit. The spilled beer from when she’d fainted had stained her sweat pants. Her hair was loose from the braid on one side, and the bruise on her forehead seemed to glow.

The women tucked into either side of him. The one on the right put her hand on his ass and squeezed.