17: Meeting The Team

I always wondered if it would hurt to take a frying pan to the nose. If Brooks wasn't careful, he was about to find out. "What do you mean the whole team?!"

"Well I want you to meet them, and I might have been bragging about your food. So it just kind of formed into that."

"So wait, how many guys are on your team?"

"Well not all of them are coming, maybe just twelve of us."

"Twelve!? You eat enough for a family of five, and you want me to cook for twelve of you!? You're out of your fucking mind! That's like cooking for... fuck, what's twelve times five?"

"Sixty."

"SIXTY OF YOU!! Wait, how'd you figure that out so fast?"

"Math, it was my strong point."

I groaned as I placed the frying pan back down on the stove. "I can't believe you. What am I supposed to cook for sixty people?"

"Twelve people, and I don't know. Make your pizza, that would be a big hit."

"That would be like thirty pizzas!" I spun around and rested my hands on the edge of the counter and hung my head. There were too many numbers floating around in my head, and the only one that was sticking out was the number 'sixty'.

"Calm down Niko, it won't be so bad. I'll help you."

"You'll help me cook? For sixty growing boys?"

"I can so make a dirty, unnecessary comment right now about that, but I don't think you're in the mood for crude humor."

"Get out of the kitchen."

"So you'll do it?" I turned back around and looked into his eyes, his bottom lip forced out as far as it could go.

"I'll do it. But you owe me."

"Whiskey?"

"Johnnie Walker."

"Blue Label?"

"Nothing less."

"Done." I walked up to him and pushed him on the chest to get him out of my kitchen. I had less than twenty-four hours to mentally prepare myself to cook for twelve men. Twelve hockey players. What the hell was he thinking?






The guys were set to arrive any minute, and I looked like an insane asylum escapee running around the kitchen. My hair was flipped every which way, the only down side of having short hair. I was almost positive I had a zit forming on my chin, and on top of that I was about eighty-six percent sure I had lost my mind. "Do you need any he-"

"GET OUT!" I tossed the last pizza in the oven and ran past Brooks upstairs to grab a quick shower. I stunk on top of everything too. How nice would that be? To be known as the chick that smells of feminine hygiene products and pizza sauce? Good lord, I'm getting old.

I never knew it was possible to brush your teeth and blow dry your hair at the same time, but somehow, I managed. Once my hair was manageable and my teeth squeaky clean, I ran out of the bathroom and straight into my room to get dressed. I looked in my closet confused. What was I supposed to wear? This would be the first time I would meet his NHL teammates, I had to look somewhat decent. "BROOKS!" I screamed out my door, frightening him as he was only walking down the hall a few feet away.

"What?! Woah, where are your clothes?" I watched as his face turn a few different shades of red as he looked over my new set of matching lingerie.

"That's the problem! Help me! Fuck, no wait! The pizza!" I ran out of my room and made my way to the stairs, but Brooks caught my wrist first. He pulled his T-shirt off and handed it to me. I felt myself blush as I pulled it on over my head and proceeded down the stairs.

As I bent over to pull the pizza out, I heard a low whistle from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and jumped up, dropping the pizza back on the oven tray. "You must be Veronica?"

I turned around to face him and pulled on the bottom of Brooks' shirt to cover my thighs. "And you are?"

"Eric Fehr, I play with Brooks."

"That's nice, um, can you maybe help me and just pull this pizza out and place it on that stone right over there, while I run upstairs real quick? Okay thanks, bye." I continued to tug on the shirt as I ran back up stairs and found Brooks laying out an outfit for me on the bed. I began to pound on his back with my fists.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!" I heard him chuckle as he turned around and grabbed my wrists, he held both of them in one hand as he reached down and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. "I'm going to need this back before I head downstairs."

I froze. He released my wrists and pulled his shirt up and over my head. I bit down on my bottom lip as I stood in front of him, now just in my underwear. I've been here before, except the last time it was in a fantasy. "You okay?" He asked before he pulled his shirt on.

"Um, yeah. Sorry, I think I've lost it. Now can you go make sure that teammate of yours that I didn't know was here took the pizza out?"

"You're lucky I gave you my shirt, I could have sent you in just your underwear." I pushed him toward the door and he continued to laugh. "I, uh, like the underwear by the way. You look good in lace."

My eyes grew wide as I watched him walk out and shut the door behind him. I looked down at my underwear, noticing for the first time that they were pretty much see-through. Right then I was convinced today was the death of me. I turned around and looked at the clothes he laid out for me. Jeans and a yellow v-neck T-shirt. Simple and easy, just the way I liked it.

By the time I made it back downstairs the living room was full of large men. Brooks walked up to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, handing me my payment for the day. A bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label Whiskey. I brought my eyes up from the bottle and they immediately fell on Mike, he was grinning at me and I could feel my day turning to the upside. I smiled back at him before Brooks whisked me away to meet his teammates.



"There's no way I'll remember everyones name I hope you know."

"I wasn't expecting you too," he laughed as we approached Alexander Ovechkin. When Ovie turned around I verbally gasped and turned beat red. "Alex, this is Veronica. Veronica this is Ovie."

"It's nice to meet you," he greeted me holding his hand out for me to shake. I took his hand in mine, trying desperately to stop starring. It was like a car wreck, I just couldn't look away.

"Ni-nice to meet you too." I was trying my damn hardest to not word vomit. Brooks could sense my sudden loss of brain cells and dragged me away.

"What was that about?" He laughed as we wandered into the kitchen.

"So I knew he was ugly, but oh. My. God. His nose has a bigger curve than a damn boomerang! Are you serious!? That, THAT, is the face of the Washington Capitals?! Oh lord, babe, I'm sorry."

Once Brooks had stopped laughing, we brought the pizza into the living room and everyone dug in. I snuggled in next to Mike on the couch, happy to finally relax and be in his arms. I leaned my face up to his and kissed him gently on the lips. Maybe today wouldn't be the death of me afterall.

"So wait a second," Eric announced pointing his finger at me. "Are you with Brooks or Mike, because it looked like you were with Brooks earlier?"

"What?" Mike snapped out with a chuckle. I felt my ears burning and starred at Eric, trying to mentally scream at him.

"Well when I got here she was in panties and Brooks' T-shirt, I just assumed. Obviously wrong."

I felt Mike stiffen next to me, and then his arm around my shoulders lift away. I looked over at him to see what he was doing, but it was too late, he was already standing up and walking away.