It’s 11:45 and I’m trying my very hardest to not freak out. I’m so excited to see Jackson again. I really like spending time with him, and this date – whatever it is – should be no exception. But the last time I saw him, he had his hand in my pants. I’m trying to be an adult about this, but somehow this scenario seems even more awkward than if we’d had actual sex. At least with sex we’d both have gotten off. Now I just feel guilty about being the only satisfied party. And I definitely don’t feel like I’m doing my best to show him I’d be a good girlfriend.
My worry-fest is interrupted with a knock.
It’ll be fine. Don’t be weird.
I’m out of excuses to delay, so I pull on my coat and open the door.
Jackson’s standing right there. I knew he would be, obviously, but he’s closer than I expected and it startles me. He takes me in for a moment, his gaze starting at the top of my head, trailing down to the tips of my boots. As his gaze travels, his smile grows.
Jackson told me to dress casual and warm. I took his word for it. I’m wearing my favorite emerald green sweater. It’s snug where it needs to be and only shows a hint of cleavage. I’ve matched it up with dark jeans that fit my ass like a glove and are tucked into knee-high brown riding boots. I have on my tan hip-length jacket. The finishing touch of my ensemble; the matching pair of Sleet mittens and pompom hat, which I’ve pulled on over my straightened hair.
I prop a hand on my waist and pop out my hip.
“Hey, Candyman. Am I dressed alright for this mystery date?”
Jackson takes a step forward and I swear I hear him growl. “Kitten, you look good enough to eat.”
Without warning, he takes hold of my face with both of his giant man hands and presses a kiss to my lips. But before I’m able to react, and by react I mean shove my tongue down his throat, he’s stepping away and asking if I’m ready.
Nodding, I take his hand and let him lead me to his car.
After helping me into the passenger side, Jackson carefully shuts my door. I work on calming my nerves while I watch his masculine stride as he heads to his side of the car. We’re dressed somewhat similarly. He has on a grey sweater that’s stretched across his muscular chest. And his jeans might now be my favorite thing in the world, with the way they fit his firm, oversized thighs. To top it off, he’s got on a worn but expensive looking black leather jacket, and black leather boots. He looks like a damn model. And not one of those pretty-boy slender models. More like a rip your dress right down the front and toss you over his shoulder models.
The knowing smirk on Jackson’s face when he settles in his seat tells me he saw my ogling.
I smirk back. “You look very handsome today. But I suppose you hear that from women all the time.”
“Hmmm. And yet coming out of your pretty mouth, it sounds entirely different.”
“Different good, I hope.”
“Oh Kitten, I’m pretty sure everything about you is different good.” Jackson starts the car, then reaches over and takes hold of my mitten-clad fingers.
The warmth travels up my arm and I try to suppress a blush. “So, where’re you taking me today?”
“Well, we’re starting with lunch.”
I arch a brow. “Starting with?”
“Yep.” Jackson shoots me a quick glance as he pulls out into the street. I think he’s enjoying the secrecy. “You were asking about my diet the other night, so I thought I’d take you to one of my favorite lunch spots. I’m enough of a regular that the owner and I have become friends. There are way more health-conscious places now than when I first started my career. Back then most of my food was made at home. But even with all the options, this place is still at the top of my list.”
“Well color me intrigued.” And just like that, all my nerves have evaporated. I don’t know what I was worried about; Jackson’s always been easy to talk to. “So does that mean you cook?”
Jackson chuckles. “Not well. Truthfully, my mama made a lot of my food, even as an adult. And if she wasn’t available to cook for me, she’d give me detailed instructions.”
“That’s sweet. Even before I knew she was your mom, she exuded motherliness. You can tell she really cares about you and Steph.” Jackson squeezes my hand as he nods. “Has she always lived near you? You’ve played for a few teams, right? So you’ve lived in different states?”
“Short answer, yes.”
I smile. “Pretty sure we have time for the long answer.”
Jackson nods. “True. So, when we were young, mama stayed home to raise us. My dad was a principal at the middle school in our little town. We lived not too far outside of Springfield, Illinois, but you wouldn’t know the town unless you were from there. Anyways, once Steph and I were both in school full-time, mama got bored, so she got a job as a lunch lady at our elementary school. Said she could keep an eye on us that way.”
I laugh. “She meant an eye on you.”
“Oh, don’t I know it. She stayed there for a few years even once we were out of that school, then she went to work in food service at a hospital. Said she didn’t want to just follow us to middle school and have Dad as her boss. Said it would confuse things too much, since she was the boss at home.” He sighs. “They were quite the pair.”
My heart aches for him. I can’t imagine what it would be like if my dad wasn’t around anymore. It seems like his family was close, even before his dad passed away.
He seems to notice the prolonged silence and cuts it off with a huff of breath and a smile. “Sorry, Kitten. I didn’t mean to get lost in thought like that.”
“Don’t apologize. I was just thinking about how lovely your family is. I’m really sorry about your dad. I can’t even pretend to know how hard losing him must have been.”
“It wasn’t fun. He died of a heart attack while I was in college. It took all of us by surprise. I mean he was on meds and stuff, but you never really think something like that will happen. I wanted to move back home to help take care of Mama, but when I brought it up, she read me the damn riot act. The only bright side was – I think her anger at me for daring to give up on school and hockey gave her something to do other than be sad about my dad.”
I squeeze his fingers like he had done to me. “It’s good to have something to focus on.”
A big smile spreads over his face, clearly remembering something fondly. “She called me every freakin night, and made me give the phone to my roommate so she could make sure I was going to class and practice. My dad was the one who got me into playing hockey, since he played some growing up. So, when I started playing for the University of Michigan they would come to as many games as they could afford. We didn’t get all the good free tickets like I do now. They often ended up in the nosebleed seats, but they never complained. Dad would bring along these dorky old opera glasses claiming they helped him to see the puck from way up there. They were just happy to be at my games, and I was just happy to have family there cheering for me. Dad had a decent life insurance policy, so once he was gone Mama did her best to make it to all my college games. I had some pro teams sniffing around, but she made me promise to finish out my degree.”
“What did you study?”
“Business management. Nothing too exciting, but hopefully I can figure out something to do with it when I retire from the game.”
“Sounds like a smart choice. So, you waited to go pro?”
“Yep. It was the right call, and as soon as I graduated I got drafted by Philadelphia.”
“I bet that was an amazing feeling. Was that your goal all along, to get into the NHL?”
“It was. And when it finally happened it was exciting, and terrifying, and humbling. I know a lot of pro athletes can be cocky, but for me it felt tenuous for the first couple of years. College was a big deal, sure. Bigger than high school. But college to pro, that was a huge change. I was always waiting for someone to come take my jersey away and tell me that the gig was up. I mean, I knew I was good, but a lot of guys are good.” Flipping on his blinker, Jackson shakes his head. “My mama’s always been talented at getting information out of people, so it didn’t take her long to find out how freaked out I was.”
“Oh, I lived it. I get it.” I can’t help but shake my head at myself, thinking about all the stuff I told her before knowing who she was.
“Yeah, you know exactly what I mean. Now imagine having her on the phone with you every single day. No secrets were safe.”
“I bet hanging up on her doesn’t work, does it?”
Jackson barks out a laugh. “I’ve never been brave enough to try.”
“Okay, so you’re in Philly and Mary has your secrets…”
“Yeah, so then I did what every man would do after getting his big break. I asked my mama to move in with me.”
“You did not!”
“I did. And I didn’t so much ask as beg. I begged her to move out to Philly, and live with me, and cook for me, and help guide me through the mayhem of life.”
This man. When I think he can’t possibly be more adorable he tells me this story. “I take it she did what you asked.”
We’re at a stop light, and Jackson turns a bit to look at me with a mischievous grin on his face. “Not exactly. After I got finished begging her over the phone, she said – and I’ll never forget this – she said ‘Jacky boy, I love you. I’ll do anything for you. But you have got to be fucking kidding me. I’ll move to Philly and help you in every way I can. But our days of living under the same roof have passed. You’re a big stinky man now, and I don’t ever want to touch your dirty underwear again.’”
“Shut up! Seriously?” I’m laughing now.
“Dead serious. But she came out the very next week. Sold her house, quit her job, and moved to Philly to help her grown-ass son. She and Dad owned the house outright, so she used that money to find a little place to rent. Since I wasn’t making a ton my first few years, she wouldn’t let me help with much. But she came to every game, Home- and Away.”
“That’s so wonderful.”
“She really is. We spent four years in Philly getting our routine set. When I was traded to Denver, I nervously asked mama if she’d follow me again. She knocked me upside the head, saying ‘Duh.’ That was it. Duh. She still didn’t want to live together, and by then I was more than okay with that. But I had started to make a name for myself, so I insisted on paying for her rent. She was a stubborn shit about it, but I pulled in Steph as backup and we convinced her to consider herself retired. Steph, of course, threw in some jabs about me finally being worth all the trouble.”
I laugh again. “That sounds like Steph. Where was she during all of this? Did she move with you guys?”
“Naw, she went to college in Chicago – for architecture – and found a job there when she graduated. She also tried to move home after our dad died, but I believe Mama gave her the same tough-love treatment that I got. I was just the bigger, needier baby, so I got to keep her with me.”
“It’s a big thing to admit when you need help. Too many people don’t know how to do that. Plus, your arrangement clearly paid off. You never got your jersey taken away.”
Jackson smiles. “Sure didn’t.”
“Did you come here from Denver, or was there another stop along the way?”
Jackson pulls over and puts the vehicle in park. Glancing around, I see we’re on a side street. I’m not sure where, but our lunch destination must be close.
Propping a forearm on the steering wheel, Jackson turns to face me. “No other teams, I was traded off Denver to Minnesota. As before, Mama came along for the ride. I got us rental apartments, just like we had in the other cities, but after about a year I decided that this would probably be it for me. I feel like I have a few good years of playing left in me, but I know I’m on the back end of my career. And this place”—he gestures out the front window—“just feels like home. So, without telling mama, I bought myself that condo and bought her a house just outside of Saint Paul. She had a righteous fit when I gave her the key, but I knew she was ready to settle down too.”
“Jackson…” This time I use both of my hands to squeeze his. “That was very kind of you.”
He shrugs and looks a little embarrassed. “It was the least I could do. I still owe her so much.”
“Wait, does Steph still live in Chicago? Was she only here visiting?” The idea that she doesn’t live here instantly bums me out.
“Nope, she moved up here around the same time that I bought Mama’s house. Steph helped me with the house search, since I didn’t want to mess it up by buying something mama hated. Over the years, Steph would travel to us for certain games and holidays. And then in the off season we’d go to her. It didn’t take her long to fall in love with Minnesota. When she first hinted that she might want to move up here to be by us, Mama made me buy her a house too.”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out, not only at Jackson’s statement, but because he rolled his eyes while he said it. “Did you really buy Steph’s house for her?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I hogged most of mama’s time over the past several years. And now she’s not allowed to complain about it anymore. That was the deal.”
“Your mom was right. You really didn’t waste all your money on strippers and cars.”
Jackson jerks back a little, “She said what?”
Laughing, I pat his hand. “She said you didn’t, so don’t worry. She’s not spreading rumors.” I wave it off. “It’s an Izzy thing, never mind.”
“Ah.” He smirks a little. “Mama did tell me about your plans to get her into the business of helping players with their money. It’s a good idea. She also told me that, thanks to you, I don’t have to worry about fending off Isabelle anymore. Sorry, I mean Izzy.”
“Well, I’m sure the practice of fighting women off will come in handy if I’m going to stick around.”
Jackson watches me for a moment and looks like he’s trying to decide if he should say what he’s thinking.
I’m curious to ask about his ex, Lacy, and when she fell into this timeline. But that doesn’t seem like first-date material. Or is this our second date? The sushi night should maybe count as date one. Does the hallway, hands in the pants thing, count as date two? Can it really be a date if all you did was fool around? Okay… wow… I can’t think about that right now.
Jackson snaps me out of my spiral when he leans forward, kisses me on the forehead, and whispers, “You’re fucking adorable.”
Then he’s getting out of the car and walking around to my door.
I’m. Melting.
His lips didn’t even touch my skin, they touched my hat. But I’m still melting, and my stomach is full of bumblebees again.
