Keeping Ice On The Wound

"It's all right," he said. "She's right. Drinking doesn't help solve anything. Wouldn't you agree?" he asked Hilary, pointedly looking at the almost empty glass before her. "What's that? Your third or fourth?"

She flushed and looked away, her lips pressed tightly together. He watched as she lifted the glass, draining the tiny amount of liquid remaining. Unconsciously, he mirrored the motion of her swallow and flushed when his blood was suddenly diverted south of his head.

"Hilary, maybe you should slow down," Jane suggested, turning some of her attention to her friend.

"I'm fine," she snapped. "I'm going to the restroom," she announced a second later and hopped off her stool.

Jane and Lena exchanged one of those female looks that Mark, and millions of other men in the world, could never understand or interpret and then Lena followed Hilary across the bar. Left alone with Jane, Mark smiled at her. She wasn't stirring him up like Hilary was, but she was friendly and pretty so he didn't think talking to her some more would hurt anyone.

"So what do you do?" he asked.

"I work for an accounting firm downtown," she answered with a smile. Her eyes flicked nervously towards the bathroom a couple times as she spoke and Mark wondered if she was nervous to have been left alone with him. "I've been there for a couple years now."

"You enjoy that?" he asked, keeping the smile on his face and hoping he didn't look like an idiot.

She shrugged and crossed her arms on the bar in front of them. "It's all right. It's what I went to school for, so I knew what I was getting into."

Mark nodded and they continued to chat for a few minutes until Lena reappeared, without Hilary. She had an annoyed look on her face that had Mark smirking behind his glass of beer.

"I feel like playing some pool," Lena announced. "You up for it, Mark?"

He raised his eyebrows at her as he set his beer down on the bar. He let his gaze drop to his crutches before meeting Lena's eyes again. "I would love to, but I don't think I could manage it."

She laughed and nodded. "Sorry! I almost forgot about that. What about you, Jane?"

Jane nodded and got off her stool to follow her friend through the bar to the nearest empty pool table. Mark watched them for a few minutes, wondering what Lena was saying to Jane; and she was saying a lot. Her lips were moving quickly and she was gesturing with her hands, almost clipping Jane in the head a couple times with the triangular rack.

Then Mark caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Hilary weaving her way back through the crowd to the bar. He watched her progress, smiling crookedly at her as she approached. Her eyes immediately took in the absence of her friends and she scowled.

"What happened to the two of them?" she asked.

"Playing pool," he replied, jerking his chin in the direction of the pool tables.

"Hmm," she murmured and climbed back onto her stool.

"Can I get you another round?" Mark asked, twisting back around in his seat.

Hilary glanced in his direction before shrugging.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said and flagged the bartender down. After they both had fresh drinks in front of them, they fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Mark picked at the label on his bottle of beer and glanced sideways at Hilary a couple of times. She was quite attractive and his injury certainly didn't keep him from experiencing desire in all its forms. A smile touched his lips as the thought crossed his mind and he heard a heavy sigh from beside him.

"What?" he asked.

"I didn't say anything," she replied, looking over at him.

"No, but you made some sort of... noise," he replied, his smile widening when he saw her frown. "The sort of noise a woman makes when she wants a man to know exactly what's wrong but he really has no idea."

She blinked and stared at him and Mark was caught by the vibrant blue of her eyes. Then the corner of her mouth twitched and he knew she was fighting a smile. "Well, you're right about men not knowing what's going on."

Lifting his eyebrows, Mark twisted on his stool to better face her. "I didn't say all men. You shouldn't make generalizations like that."

"You're right," she agreed, surprising him. "After years of men assuming they know everything about women, I suppose it would do them a great disservice to return the favor."

Blinking, Mark absorbed her words before letting out a short laugh. He watched her and was pleased to see a real smile spread across her face. "Well, if we're going to debate the sexes, maybe you should move closer."

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows but Mark was encouraged when the smile remained on her pretty face. "Why should I do that?"

"Because I don't want to keep shouting and I'm not exactly coordinated at the moment," he replied, gesturing at the crutches beside him. They weren't really shouting but he was ready to use any excuse to get her closer.

"All right," she agreed, lifting her drink and stepping down from her stool.

Mark watched her slide onto the one next to him and as she moved, the door opened again, blowing a slight breeze in their direction. He caught a scent of spicy musk from Hilary's direction and fought the urge to bury his nose in her long hair.

"So if you're in such a mood tonight, why'd you come out with your girlfriends?" he asked.

She whipped her head around to stare at him, her smile fading instantly. "What makes you think I'm in a 'mood?'" She demanded, her tone sharp.

He shrugged. "That noise you made? I know enough about women to know that it's a 'mood' noise." He hooked his fingers in the air in a quotation sign.

For a moment she didn't say anything and then he saw the corners of her mouth tilting up again. He grinned in reply and lifted his bottle to clink against her glass.

"You aren't what I expected," she said after a moment of silence.

He smiled at her but felt suddenly wary. He suspected that as Lena's roommate, she must know who he is, if only by name. Of course, she might also be a hockey fan, in which case her opinion of him could go either way. Women were hard to read when it came to his career. "What were you expecting?" he asked.

She shrugged and the smile she threw his way was almost shy. At least, if he knew her better he'd have thought it was a shy smile. "I don't know," she replied quietly. "Someone more... arrogant. Snobby maybe."

He snorted with laughter and shook his head. "Hardly. I haven't risen so high that I've forgotten where I've come from."

"And where is that, exactly?"

Again he merely gave her a look, trying to ascertain if she was playing him or not. She looked genuinely interested; if in a sort of ticked off way. So he opened his mouth to start to tell her about his youth in Calgary when Jane appeared between them, interrupting.

"Hey, guys!" she exclaimed and took a long sip of Hilary's drink.

Mark watched Hilary's face as her friend arrived and was surprised to see the scowl. Her entire body tensed up and she turned away from Jane and Mark.

"You know, Mark," Jane said, moving her whole body sideways so her back was to Hilary. "You don't have to be nice to her if she's being a grumpy bitch with you."

He lifted his eyebrows, surprised that Jane would say something like that about her friend. He didn't say anything in response and Jane giggled at her own comment.

"Jane!" Lena called her name as she approached. "We're still in the middle of a game."

Jane waved at her and ran her hand down Mark's arm before hurrying away again. For a minute, neither Mark or Hilary said anything. Slowly the tension seeped out of Hilary's shoulders but her pretty smile was nowhere to be seen.

"Can I get you another drink?" he asked, breaking the silence.

She glanced over at him and down at her now empty glass before shaking her head. "No. I shouldn't have any more." Then she did smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Doesn't solve anything, right?"

He shrugged. "I guess. But it makes it feel better for a while."

She laughed and her smile turned genuine. "You're a nice guy, Mark."

"Don't tell anyone," he replied quickly and glanced around as though checking to see if anyone had overheard.

She laughed again and then turned to face him more directly. "Are you planning on staying here for a while?"

The question caught him off guard and he didn't know what to say. Several witty remarks came to mind, some more than suggestive. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to play that game with this woman. So while he sat there, struggling for something smart and funny to say, an amazing grin spread across her face.

"I... wasn't planning to stay late," he replied. He made a show of checking his wrist, though it was bare of any watch. "In fact, I should probably get going."

"I can help you get home," she offered.

Shaking his head, Mark spun around on his stool and grasped the soft handles of his crutches. "I'll be all right," he assured her. "It's only been two days but I think I've got the hang of these things."

He met her gaze again and she tilted her head to one side, that wide grin still on her face. She leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. "I don't think you understood me," she said. "I want to help you get home."

Slowly her meaning sank in and Mark wondered briefly if he'd had too much to drink. I can't even tell anymore when a woman is hitting on me, he thought as he studied her face.

"All right," he replied out loud. "It's probably a little out of your way, though." He thought he should give her fair warning even though every cell in his body was suddenly alive and tingling.

Luckily, she only shrugged. "I don't mind. I wouldn't want you to fall on your way home and get run over by a truck or something."

Mark's eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "Yeah, that would suck a lot."

Still grinning at him, Hilary hopped off her stool and pulled on her jacket. Then she waited patiently as Mark did the same, arranging himself with his crutches as well. Another minute later, they were walking together out of the bar.

***

The minute she'd seen him in the bar, Hilary had known who he was. She followed hockey a little bit and knew most of the faces and names of the Washington Capitals. She'd learned more since Lena had started dating their star forward, Anatoli Oborotenski. Secretly she'd always liked Mark Gaines. He was a defenseman and they sometimes got overlooked in favor of the flashier goal scorers. Mark was a different sort though. He was good at his job but he had a shot that was sure and strong. It didn't hurt that he was tall and muscular and Hilary had always been a sucker for dark hair and eyes.

Even though she'd been less than relaxed upon walking into the pub with her friends, Hilary had been thrilled to meet him, in spite of her assumptions about all hockey players. In the past, she'd been hurt while dating a hockey player and she had never really gotten over it. She supposed she could have been a little nicer to him but Jane had jumped right in, hitting on him unabashedly. All three of them had effectively excluded her from the conversation until Lena had cornered her in the washroom.

"What's your problem tonight?" she'd demanded.

"I don't know why I'm here," Hilary had replied honestly. "I didn't think I'd have to sit there and listen to Jane hit on yet another guy."

"You could join in the conversation, you know."

"Why bother? He's just a hockey player looking for someone to hook up with tonight and Jane seems to be a more than willing participant."

"Don't be ridiculous. Jane is a flirt but she doesn't take guys home from the bar."

"I should hope not. What do we even know about him?" Hilary had demanded, her mind racing through the stats she did know and pushing aside thoughts of going home with him herself.

Lena had thrown her hands into the air at that point. "I don't know why I bother. If you want to drink yourself silly tonight and try to forget about what an asshole Scott is, go ahead. I won't be a part of it though." With that, she'd stormed out of the washroom.

Left alone, Hilary had washed her hands, checked her hair and clothes and slowly made her way back across the bar to where Mark had been left alone. She'd expected him to give her a hard time about drinking, like her friends had. Instead, he'd been perfectly friendly and she'd actually found herself enjoying talking to him.

Then she'd offered to take him home and had to live for long seconds wondering if he'd shoot her down. He hadn't.

So here she was; riding the Metro with him towards his home in Arlington. It was a decidedly unsexy mode of transportation but she figured at this point there was no turning back. So they chatted awkwardly for a few minutes before stopping altogether. Hilary sat next to him and he held his crutches on his other side, out of the way of other passengers, though the car they were on was mostly empty now.

She thought if she just leaned slightly to the side, or even relaxed a few muscles, she'd end up touching him from shoulder to thigh. Then she thought she was being ridiculously prudish considering she was going home with him; in all likelihood for a one-night stand. That was something she'd never done before. But then, she'd never met someone she felt so instantly attracted to. It was more than a little rattling.

"What are you thinking about?" Mark asked, his deep voice startling her out of her twisting thoughts.

"Nothing really," she replied vaguely. There is no way I'm going to tell him what I was thinking, she added silently.

He chuckled and nudged her with one arm, letting their bodies remain in contact after the move. "I can tell when a woman has something on her mind," he said.

Scoffing to hide her reaction to his touch, Hilary reached up with one hand and scooped her hair off her shoulder. She glanced over at him in time to see him follow the motion of her hand with an almost hungry look. Something clenched inside her belly and her mouth went dry.

"I think you should get it off your chest now," he said, his voice coming out thicker than when he last spoke. "Before we end up at my place and I won't be letting you run away."

Hilary blushed furiously at his words, pleased that he was no longer bothering to pretend that they were going to his place for coffee and cards. She bit her lower lip and peeked at him through her lashes. "I won't want to run away," she told him, her heart pounding erratically in her chest.

All or nothing, she thought as the heat in her face spread lower. All or nothing.

"Are you sure?" he asked and swallowed. Hilary watched the knob of his Adam's Apple bob up and down. "This could be tricky, what with my injury and all."

Hilary lifted her eyebrows but lowered her eyes to take in the wrapped ankle. Slowly she raised her eyes, lingering on his muscular thighs and his broad chest. When she met his gaze again, she thought she saw a blush on his cheeks. It made him look younger than he was, though he definitely had one of those faces that gave an impression of youth. He narrowed his eyes and blinked, his dark lashes distracting her entirely for a long moment. The look he gave her then was anything but youthful.

It was the sort of look a man gives a woman he wants to undress with his teeth.

Images flashed through her mind and Hilary blushed again. She ducked her chin and looked away, shocked by her own imagination. Heat suffused her entire body and she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, hoping he didn't know just how affected she was.

"Well," he said quietly, shifting on his side of the seat. "That answers that."

Hilary bit down on her lip to keep her nervous laugh from escaping. For the rest of the ride to Arlington, they remained silent. Every so often, Hilary would glance at him. Sometimes, he'd be looking at her and his eyes would go wide for a second before he'd look away, a blush coloring his ears and cheeks.

He led her off the train and through the quiet streets to his apartment building. Thankfully there was an elevator up to his floor so he didn't have to try to navigate stairs with his crutches. Though Hilary reminded herself that he'd obviously managed to get out and across town with them and he was fine. At last they were alone in his apartment and as Mark shuffled down the hall away from the door, Hilary stood by awkwardly in her jacket.

Mark turned to look at her and smiled. "Why don't you come in here?" he suggested, nodding his head towards his living room. "I would take your coat but I honestly don't think I could manage it and remain standing."

Hilary laughed and followed him into the other room, pulling her jacket off as she went. She tossed it onto a chair along one wall and watched as Mark maneuvered around the room, finally planting himself in the middle of his couch. He set his crutches on the floor beside the couch and leaned his head back.

"Man," he groaned. "I never thought trying to get around on those things would be so difficult."

"Why did you even try?" Hilary asked as she moved around the room, looking at everything. His apartment was sparsely decorated, a regular bachelor pad. A few plain pieces of comfortable looking furniture and one or two pieces of art on the walls. The kitchen off the main room was clean looking with dark appliances and bar stools lining the kitchen island. Of course, the centerpiece of the entire room was a large flat screen television. A smile touched her lips as she stopped in front of it.

"Does my place meet your approval?" Mark asked from behind her.

She looked at him over her shoulder and shrugged. "I think it doesn't really matter what I think," she said.

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm hardly the first girl you've brought home, right?"

Silence greeted her question and after a moment she turned around to face Mark. He had a strange look on his face. Hilary wondered if she'd offended him.

"You think I do this all the time," Mark said. He didn't phrase it as a question. From his tone, she guessed that she'd misjudged.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"It's fine," he replied, shrugging one shoulder.

They fell silent then. Hilary looked at him, met his steady brown-eyed gaze and then looked away, a blush staining her cheeks.

"Come here," he said, his voice husky.

She hesitated, still not looking at him.

"Hilary," he murmured her name and she heard the couch creak as he moved. "Gorgeous babe, come over here."

This time she laughed, a short burst of sound one step shy of hysteria. It felt like a whole other lifetime when she'd offered to come home with him and now that she was here, alone with him in this apartment, she wasn't sure what she'd been thinking. She wondered if he knew she wasn't used to doing things like this and she looked over at him. He was leaning forward, a grin on his handsome face and Hilary was caught by the dark shade of his eyes. Before she knew it, she was moving towards him, walking slowly across the room until she stood beside him.

He reached for her, closing one warm hand around her wrist and she had to tell herself not to flinch at his touch. He was so gentle, his palm so soft, which surprised her considering the physical life he led. He turned his hand and slid his thumb across the skin of her wrist and she shivered. His grin turned positively wicked at that and his grip tightened on her wrist.

"Sit with me," Mark said, his voice still very low.

Hilary stared at him, taking in the width of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the soft look in his eyes. Biting her lip, she moved closer and sat down, as he asked. What he probably wasn't expecting was where she sat down; one leg on either side of his as she settled in his lap, facing him.