Going all In: Men of the Ice, #8

Michele Shriver

SMC Publishing

Going all In: A Men of the Ice Novella

By Michele Shriver

Copyright 2017 Michele Shriver

Published by SMC Publishing

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. All characters, locales and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Michele Shriver. Photography by VJ Dunraven/Period Images.

Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit.  ― E.E. Cummings

Chapter One

Lauren Chase stared into her closet and wanted to let out a wail of a defeat. Why had she agreed to a blind date? And with a professional hockey player, no less? I can’t do this, she said. It’s a terrible idea.

It’s not a terrible idea, Riley Marks said. It’s a wonderful idea. And why do you say you can’t do it?

Because I have nothing to wear. All of my jeans make me look like a fat cow. As a nurse, Lauren wore medical scrubs to work each day. They didn’t look good on her, but they didn’t look all that good on anyone else, either. Lauren loved that about her work wardrobe. It leveled the playing field. That was important, because as a plus-sized woman, Lauren often felt that the field was tilted against her.

Then wear a dress, Riley suggested. She was a second-year resident at the same hospital Lauren worked at, and this whole thing had been her idea. Riley’s boyfriend, San Antonio Generals defenseman Noah Mann, was hosting a charity golf tournament to benefit the local youth center. Riley would be there to support Noah, and she invited Lauren along to meet one of his teammates. Lauren didn’t know why she agreed, other than the fact that it’d been eight months since she’d been on a date, and it had turned out to be a disaster. She was tired of being home alone every night.

A blind date with a hockey player sounded like a good idea at the time, but now Lauren was less sure. It’s too cold to wear a dress. If it were summer, it would be a no-brainer. Having struggled with her weight her entire life, Lauren knew there were certain types of clothing she looked better in, and she wore dresses better than jeans. Except it was late February, and chilly, at least by Texas standards. She couldn’t wear a sun dress to a golf tournament.

Riley sighed. Okay, fine. Point conceded. She marched over to Lauren’s closet. You do have a pair of plain black leggings, right?

Of course. They’re a wardrobe staple.

I concur. Riley rifled through Lauren’s closet, and finally pulled out a tunic top in solid green. Here. Put this on with the leggings, and a pair of cute boots, and we’re good. Better than good. You’ll look great.

Lauren was less convinced, but followed Riley’s advice. Once dressed, she studied the end result in the full-legth mirror. Great might be a stretch, but overall, she was pleased with how she looked. Lauren didn’t often get to say that. Okay, this’ll work.

Riley grinned. Told you. Tunics were a great fashion invention. They can hide a multitude of sins.

Lauren rolled her eyes. How would you know that? You have no sins.

Her friend laughed. Oh, I have my fair share of sins and struggles. Everyone does. She gave Lauren a gentle smile. You’re nervous, aren’t you?

Of course. Wouldn’t you be, if you were me?

Riley nodded. Yes. I was nervous when I met Noah, too. It’s natural, I think, with blind dates.

Maybe, Lauren said, and it’s worse when you’re fat.

Stop it! Riley said, her tone gentle. You have to stop with that kind of talk, Lauren. It’s self-defeating.

I know, Lauren said, but I can’t help it. It’s how I feel most of the time. Defeated. She sighed. I’m trying to be more positive, but it’s hard. I’m scared, Riley. When you first suggested this, I was excited. I didn’t want to turn down a date, especially with one of Noah’s friends. Now, I’m not so sure. She knew nothing about this guy, other than his name was Trenton and he was a member of the San Antonio Generals. Since Lauren didn’t follow the hockey team all that closely, she wasn’t familiar with most of the players. She didn’t even know what position Trenton played. Then there was the bigger issue of what he might have been told about her. That part scared her the most. What if she didn’t live up to his expectations? And how could she live up to them?

It’ll be fine, Riley said.

You don’t know that. Have you ever met Trenton?

No, Riley admitted, shaking her head. I don’t know him, but I do know Noah, and I trust him. I think this is going to turn out well for you.

And if it doesn’t? Lauren wanted to know.

Then the guy’s a jerk, and he doesn’t deserve you, Riley said. I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, though. She smiled at Lauren. He’s going to love you. You’re pretty, and sweet, and fun to be around, and smart, too.

And fat...

You’re not fat. Stop saying that.

Whatever. Lauren sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged on her favorite black boots. When she stood, she gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. The tunic top did have a slimming effect, and she was having a good hair day, as her light brown hair fell past her shoulders just the way she wanted it to. She might not like her body much, but she at least had good hair. Let’s do this, before I lose my nerve.

***

Trenton Majest had no idea what he got himself into. He’d played golf only four times in his life—and badly each time. Yet here he was, at the San Antonio Golf Club, helping to launch his teammate’s charity golf venture. And not only that, he was somehow expected to entertain Noah’s girlfriend’s colleague, as well.

If he died now, it might be less awkward, but that didn’t seem to be an option. Trent was still breathing, and Noah had left him conspicuously alone—after little more than a cursory introduction—with a woman whom he guessed was his blind date. Trent hated blind dates, and he had no idea what to say to her. Thanks for nothing, Noah. So, he began awkwardly, your name is Lauren, right? Not the most auspicious of beginnings.

The woman nodded. Yes. Lauren Chase. I’m a nurse.

He smiled. Good profession. He liked nurses, at least most of the ones he’d met, which admittedly wasn’t very many. Trenton Majest, though most everyone calls me Trent. I play hockey for the Generals. Sometimes.

Lauren tilted her head to one side. What do you mean by that?

Trent hesitated. I mean, I play, but not as much as I’d like. I warm the bench a lot. Or I sit in the nacho box. Lately, it had been a lot more of that.

I’m sorry, I don’t know what that term means.

Yeah, it’s a hockey thing. Trent shoved his hands in the pockets of his gray Dockers. It’s what we say about healthy scratches. We’re not injured, but we don’t suit up for the game, either. We don’t even warm the bench as subs. We sit in the press box, dressed in our best suits.

And eat nachos?

Occasionally. Trent’s hands dug deeper in his pockets as he looked at the ground. The truth was, he hated nachos, and he hated sitting in that box. He tilted his head up, meeting her eyes. I don’t know what you expected out of this, but if you thought you were meeting an All-Star, it’s not me.

To be honest, I didn’t expect much of anything. Lauren reached for a strand of her hair, twisting it around her finger. "I hope you weren’t expecting a skinny girl, because, well..."

Her voice trailed off, and Trent looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time. He’d been caught so caught up in his own doubts about the whole blind date thing, but now he studied her. She had hair the color of honey, worn long and straight, and brown eyes. As for the rest of her, the word curvy came to mind, although other people might not be as kind in their assessment. She didn’t come right out and say it, but Trent suspected Lauren’s weight was an issue for her. Since he had a sister with a weight problem, he wasn’t ignorant of the struggle.

Trent had decked a guy once, for calling his sister fat, so what kind of asshole would he be if he cut and ran now? No way he was doing that. Besides, Lauren was pretty. He hadn’t even noticed her weight until she decided to draw attention to it herself, but now that she had, he didn’t want to say anything to step on a landmine.

Expectations are overrated, Trent said. "What I hoped for was to meet a nice woman I could have a conversation with while I passed a few hours at an event I don’t really belong at. Heck, I don’t even play golf. I’m only here to support Noah. He glanced down at his Dockers and Polo shirt. Hopefully I don’t look too out of place. Or too much like a JC Penney catalog."

Lauren smiled, and her whole face lit up. You look like you fit in just fine, she said. I’m the one who doesn’t belong here.

On the contrary, Trent said. I think you look great. Green is a good color on you.

Thank you, Lauren said, while casting her eyes downward.

Trent didn’t claim to be a genius, but he didn’t have to be to know Lauren struggled with confidence. Kara did, too. You’re welcome.