Chapter Two

Ch. 2

“I can’t believe you just drafted Alexander Ovechkin!” Faith cried.  I was actually afraid the tears were going to begin rolling down her cheeks.

“If you want him, you can have him,” I exclaimed.  “I mean it’s not like I care who I get; I just liked his name…sounds like a Russian spy or something.”

The guy sitting to my right on the couch snickered and Becky bust up laughing.

“What?!” I looked over at both of them.

“ESPN shot a commercial with him and Varlamov…” Garrett, the guy sitting to my right began but abruptly stopped when the massive look of confusion flooded my face.  “You really have no clue about hockey, do you?” he chuckled.

I giggled and shook my head.  “Does it look like I am a hockey fan?” I asked, motioning to my lack of hockey jersey and list of names on my draft list.

He leaned over and read down my list.  “Johnny Oduya?” he asked skeptically.

“Again, I like the sound of his name.  It’s funny.”

“You’re funny,” he laughed again and shook his head.  “Don’t you think you should be picking people based on their stats instead of how cool their names sound?”

“Ya’ll take this way too seriously.  Besides, I dislike anything that has to do with sports unless it’s the rodeo or maybe I’ll even watch a little NASCAR here and there,” I divulged.

“Is this why I have never really seen you at the parties the girls throw?” he asked, giving me a look that made me blush.  He was definitely handsome in a Zach Morris way.  According to Faith, he was a West Coast transplant.

I looked back over at my computer screen to avert his gaze before answering.  “That would be one reason.  The other is because I’m always dead on my feet when I get home from the shop.”

“The shop?”

“I own a bakery in on the outskirts of Arlington, closer to DC.”

“What’s it called?”

“Lana’s Down-South Bakery.”

“Really?!  The guys in my department at school talk about that place all the time.  I’ve had a couple danishes from there…they are out of this world.  You own the place?!” he asked, excitedly.

I nodded and dared a glance back over in his direction.  “Yeah, and bet that I made those danishes you speak of,” I smiled shyly.  I was never one to brag about myself or my creations.

“Did you make these cupcakes?”

I nodded, biting my lip to hide my smile.

“I think I just might have to stop by myself sometime to tell the pastry chef what an amazing job she does,” he winked.

This time I felt my ears turning red.  “I always appreciate new customers,” I said quietly, wishing I didn’t feel so pathetic.  If there was one downside to owning my own business, it was the fact that I really had no time for a social life.  No social life meant no boyfriends, mainly just the occasional date.  Of course, this didn’t really help my crappy self esteem.  Sure, I had guys that flirted with me at the bakery, but that was all it was.  It would make me feel good for a few moments, but as soon as they walked back out the door, I was back to square one.  I was a single, white female who was married to her bakery.

The rest of the “draft” went surprisingly quick with Garrett, my blonde couch buddy, talking about his job as a teacher in the same school district with my roomies and his love for the Capitals.  I found myself trying to act interested when he was talking hockey, but by the end my mind was going numb with the different nicknames and stats he spouted off.

“Have you ever been to a hockey game?” he asked at one point.  I was kind of zoning out for the moment, so I didn’t actually hear him at first.  “Lana?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you have ever been to a hockey game…?” he chuckled at my moment of oblivious.  “I’m sorry, I guess I kind of forgot that you aren’t a big sports fan.”

“No, I’m the one who is sorry for spacing out,” I said quickly, cursing myself a little for not paying full attention to the cute guy that was actually giving me the time of day.  “And to answer your question, no, I have never been to a game.  Hockey is not usually a southern sport.”

His eyes lit up and he smiled broadly.  “Well, then I think we will have to fix that…we should go to a game sometime.”

“We?”

“Yeah, you and me?”

“To a hockey game?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh.”

“Or we can just go on a normal date if you like…” he said slowly.

“Um, no, a hockey game would definitely be something different,” I said quickly, not wanting him to suddenly rescind his date offer.  Oh God, don’t make yourself sound pathetic here…

“Cool.  Yeah, I’ll let you know when I get tickets.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile.  Suddenly, I had a date.  Unfortunately, I didn’t know when it was going to be.

“Can we stop at a coffee shop this morning?” I asked Semin as soon as he climbed into my car to head for practice.

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders.  “Well, you are driving…but I don’t ever remember having to stop for coffee in the morning,” he commented curiously.

“Yeah, I know, but Greenie and Brooks took me to this place the other day and I wanted to take you there.  It’s amazing, I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you.”

“I’m cool with it,” he chuckled.  “Although, I have a feeling you aren’t craving a cup of coffee…”

He was my best friend on the team and knew me all too well.  “You caught me.  I fell off my diet-wagon.”

“You were on a diet from women?” he smirked.  “What hot blonde did you see there last time?

I just laughed out loud and shook my head.

We walked into the shop and this morning it was just Lana and not the dark haired girl who had waited on us the day before.  Just my luck!

“Hello, what can I get you guys?” she said cheerfully.  The way her eyes lit up, I could tell she instantly recognized me.

“Large coffee, black and one of your delicious muffins,” I said, slightly leaning on the counter and giving her the eyes that worked on every woman I knew.  Of course I couldn’t help but allow my eyes to graze across the whole length of her body.  She blushed and then walked away to get the stuff I had ordered.

“I’m fairly sure she’s thinking you are ready to devour her with the way you are licking your lips,” Sasha commented quietly in Russian.

“Maybe I am,” I grinned back at him  just as he rolled his eyes.

Soon she was back in front of me, still blushing and giggling.  “Here you go, Mr. Ovechkin.”

“Please, call me Alex,” I remarked before handing over a $50 bill.  “And keep the change.”

Her eyes became large as she began to protest but I just held up my hand and placed a finger on her lips, shaking my head back and forth.  She quieted and then mouthed, “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” I nodded.  “Oh! And do you do catering?” I suddenly asked, despite the people in line behind me and Sasha who were annoyingly clearing their throats and making snide remarks about hurrying up.  People in America can be so impatient.

She reached underneath the counter and handed me a brochure.  “If you need anything at all, please give us a call,” she said sweetly and then proceeded to wait on Semin after he practically shoved me out of the way from being impatient.

When we got outside he was growling.  “Seriously Alex?  If you want to ask the girl on a date, just ask her!”

“I need to lead her in…you know, just like the lion and prey.”

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to play with your food?” Sasha threw back with a playful chuckle.

“Don’t hate the game, just hate the player,” I said.

This just made him laugh harder.  “It’s totally the other way around!!” he howled.

“What?! Oh. Yes well,” I shrugged and stomped on the gas pedal, heading to another pre-season practice.

“Hello?  Lana’s Down-South Bakery.”

“Is this Lana?” a thick Russian accent rolled into my ear through the phone.

“Yup,” I said cheerfully while scootching my butt up on the counter.  It was close to noon.  The shop was at a nice lull with only 2 customers in the shop and they were 2 older gentlemen who frequently played cards or checkers after the rush hour crew came through.

I had already sent Dawn home for the weekend.  Friday afternoons were usually the quietest for me and she had asked to leave early so that she could skip out of town with her boyfriend for a weekend away.  Dawn was my newest employee.  She was a college student at Georgetown and despite her parents being rich; she was still paying by herself to go through school.  Somehow she was able to make it that all of her classes were in the evening.  She said it would probably take her twice as long to get through, but she didn’t mind.  I loved having her work for me and it was even nicer not to have to worry about paying for health insurance since she was still under her parents.

“Yah, I am wondering about your catering?”  It was kind of hard to understand him.

“You want to know about my what?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too rude.

“Your catering.  You know, food for party?”

“Oh!” I exclaimed.  You want to know about my dessert trays?”

“Dah.”

I was a little put off by the fact that it sounded like he was saying duh, but I began rattling off my price list until he interrupted me.

“I already have the paper.  I want to order.”

“Oh.  Um, sure, what would you like?”  I was slightly flustered because as much as I liked to think of myself of being cultured, I did not find it easy to understand foreign accents, especially Russian and Spanish.  It also didn’t help that he almost sounded rude.

“25 eclairs, 50 crème puffs, and a tray of cookies.”

“Anything special with the cookies?”

“Make them, uh, fall themed.”

I nodded, even though he wasn’t able to see this over the phone.  “When do you need this for?”

“Tonight at 2000hrs.”

“Tonight?!  For 8pm?!”

“Yah.  Can you do?”

“I close the shop at 4pm…” I grumbled.  It was a Friday night and I was looking forward to going out with the girls tonight.  “And usually people order a week ahead of time so I can get them all done…”

“You can have them finished by 8pm?” he asked, almost as if he didn’t hear me.

I left out a not so polite sigh into the phone.

“I will pay you $1000.”

My ears immediately piqued at this.  “$1000?!”

“Da.  I really like the pastries and I want them there for my party.”

I bit my lip and cursed myself when I began speaking.  “I won’t be able to have them done by 4pm for you to pick up.”

“You can drop them off at my place by 8pm, yah?”

“Drop them off…?”  I was not a delivery service unless it was for a wedding cake or something.

“Yes.  I live not to far away from your shop.”

It’s $1000.  I think I can make an exception for this one time…but, ugh.  “Fine.  Your address?”

She had a fairly thick southern accent which I didn’t really remember from the other morning when she waited on me, but it definitely added to her charm.  A tall, southern blonde? This could be fun.

The plan was to get her to my house, lay on the charm and get her to come back to my party that night and wake-up with her in my bed tomorrow morning.