“If you’re implying I’m pussy-whipped, then yes, I certainly am.” Hewitt shrugs. “And I’m damn happy to be. My wife is awesome.”
“She is,” I have to agree. Katie Hewitt is brash, fiery, and a ton of fun. I always wanted Kara and me to double date with the Hewitts, but she found Katie to be too “in your face”—her words, not mine.
“Of course she is,” Lemming says kindly, before breaking out in a grin. “But you know what else is awesome? The single life. That bar OC and I went to in Chicago was like an all-you-can-eat chick buffet. No lie.”
“OC?” Jamie echoes as Blake deals out the cards.
“Will O’Connor,” Lemming explains. “We’re trying out some new nicknames for each other. I wanted to call him Willie but he punched me when I suggested it.”
“What’s his nickname for you?” I ask, trying not to roll my eyes. Ever since Lemming broke up with his girlfriend, he’s been spending a lot of time with O’Connor, who gives new meaning to the word manwhore.
“Madagascar,” Lemming replies before glancing down at his cards.
“I don’t get it,” Wes says.
I don’t, either. I check my cards—queen and seven, off-suit. Blake deals the flop and my spirits rise. I’m looking at a queen, seven, and ten. Nice.
“You know, because my last name is Lemming? Madagascar has a huge lemming population.”
Jamie snorts loudly. “False. Those are lemurs, dude.”
“What the fuck’s a lemur? You just made up that word.”
Jamie, Wes, and I bust out laughing. “It’s not made up!” Wes sputters. “That’s a real animal.”
Lemming puts his cards facedown on the table and narrows his eyes at Wes. “What’s it look like? What animal family does it belong to?”
That stumps Wes for a moment. “It’s, like, a rodent?”
Hewitt wrinkles his forehead. “Nah, man, it’s a primate, I think.”
Jamie nods. “I think it’s a primate.”
Lemming looks around the table, his expression suspicious. “You fuckers are messing with me.”
That sparks another round of raucous laughter, until Blake clears his throat and taps his visor in an exaggerated motion. “Boys. Please. We’re pokering.”
“Yeah,” Lemming mutters. “We’re pokering, so shut the fuck up.”
“I raise five,” Blake announces.
“Call.” Hewitt.
“Fold.” Wes.
“I see your five and raise you ten.” Jamie.
“Big spender!” Blake crows. “Now we’re talking!”
I call and so does Lemming, and then Blake deals the turn—another ten. Not great, but I’m still looking at queens and sevens. There’s another round of betting. Lemming and Blake fold this time, leaving me, Hewitt, and Jamie to battle it out. Blake flips the river and hot damn. Another queen. Full-fucking-house, baby.
I go all in during the last betting round, prompting Hewitt to gape at me. “Seriously? On the first hand?”
“He’s bluffing,” Jamie decides, intently studying my face.
I smirk. “Am I?”
“He totally is,” Blake agrees, but the three hundred bucks’ worth of chips in the middle of the table is apparently too pricey for both Jamie and Hewitt. They fold. I gleefully rake in my winnings.
As several more hands are dealt, we shoot the shit about nothing in particular. Our upcoming schedule. The juniors team that Jamie coaches. The new Escalade that Hewitt bought for his wife. Eventually the conversation turns back to Lemming’s escapades with “OC.” Or, more specifically, the fourgy they indulged in after that Chicago bar visit.
“Wait—so you were doing one chick and O’Connor was doing the other, and it was just in the same room?” Wes asks curiously. “Or were you guys all, you know, up in each other’s bizness?”
Lemming snickers. “No offense, Wesmie, but I’m not into dicks. So, no, there was no dude touching involved. But the girls were happy to touch each other…” He glances over at me, waggling his eyebrows. “You should’ve come, E. It was good times.”
Honestly, it sounds terrible, but I don’t say that out loud. Lemming’s allowed to have his fun. He’s six years younger than me and still enamored with the pro-hockey lifestyle that I took full advantage of before I met Kara.
These days, I’m not looking to tag-team two chicks with one of my teammates. I’d rather watch Disney movies with my kids and catch some sports highlights before bed. And maybe enjoy a nice dinner with a particular hottie…
“Matty-Cake?” Blake prompts.
I realize they’re all waiting for me to play. I check my cards—seven, nine. Then the table—king, queen, king, ten, ten. There’s about five hundred bucks in the pot.
“I’m out,” I announce, slamming my cards down.
“Anyway,” Lemming says, eyeing me again. “I don’t get you, dude. You’re single now. Take advantage of it.”
I shrug. “I’m over the whole hook-up scene. Been there, done that.”
Hewitt speaks up in a careful tone. “What about more than hooking up?”
I bat my eyelashes at him. “Aw, Ben-Ben, are you saying you want to ‘more than hook up’ with me? You’re in love with me—I knew it.”
He flips up his middle finger. “No, jackass, I’m talking about dating. As in, you dating someone.”
Blake nods earnestly. “Yeah, Luko and I were talking about it the other day—”
Um, what? Why are my teammates discussing my love life?
“—and he was saying how Estrella’s sister is a F-O-X-X fox.”
“Fox only has one X,” Jamie pipes up.
“Not when you look like Estrella’s sister,” Blake declares. “She definitely deserves two X’s. Or three—yeah, that makes more sense. Triple X. So, F-O-X-X-X.”
I roll my eyes. “Have you even met Estrella’s sister?”
“No,” Blake says glibly. “But I trust Luko’s eyes.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I think I’m going to pass,” I say in a gracious tone. “I can’t date my captain’s sister-in-law—what if I break her heart? He’ll string me up by my balls.” I hesitate. “Besides, I, uh…” I stop abruptly. What the hell is the matter with me? Was I really about to tell them about Hailey? This is poker night, not an episode of Sex and the City.
But Blake is quick to pounce. “Besides what?” he demands.
I cave. “There’s someone I might be interested in.”
“The plot thickens!” he shouts, maniacally rubbing his hands together. “Who is she?”
“My dog-walker,” I blurt out.
Everyone laughs. “Seriously?” Jamie says.
“Yes and no. She walks Rufus as a favor to me because I’m a good customer of this cool business she owns called Fetch.”
“Oh yeah!” Lemming says, shuffling the cards. “OC uses Fetch to buy groceries and pick up his shirts. He showed me the app. There’s a babe on the home screen.”
My jaw ticks with irritation. I’ve always thought of that photo of Hottie as mine, even if that’s ridiculous. “That’s the place.”
“How does it work?” Wes asks, draining his beer.
“You pay them by the hour,” I tell him. “And they take a surcharge on the things they purchase for you. But it’s totally worth it. If you’re flying home to an empty fridge and the cleaner’s is closing in an hour, they’ll take care of it.”