Built for Speed: Winter Sports, Book 1 Page 2

  “Yes, that’s the place.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from grinning when James answered:

  “See you then. I can’t wait.”

  The weather turned sharply colder late in the afternoon. Weather forecasters explained something about polar winds sweeping in from Canada. Sophie pulled a blue plaid scarf from the closet, and, following her insistence, I wore it over my face as I hurried the two-block distance along the street from Sophie’s building to Angelo’s. It clashed with my orange and black, but matching clothing was the least of my worries in the bitter cold.

  James emerged from a taxi as I approached the restaurant. He wore layers of clothes as heavy as mine, but I recognized the shape and movements of his body. He headed directly for the door, and I pulled the scarf down and called out, “James!”

  He turned to face me and then beckoned sharply with his dark leather gloves. No one told him to wear a scarf, and his cheeks were already rosy red from the lashing of the north wind. I rushed to his side, and together we entered the welcoming atmosphere of Angelo’s.

  A smiling woman nearly as round as she was tall greeted us at the door. She patted me on the shoulder and exclaimed, “Welcome! Any customer who visits on a night like this is a special guest! I’m Rosa. Please, let me help you with your coat.”

  As she helped me out of my parka, I looked around the dining room to see only two other tables filled with customers. She hung my down coat on a tree by the door and turned to help James with his coat, too.

  James and I stared at each other for a moment before speaking. It was the first time we laid eyes on each other free from the bulky winter clothing. He took my breath away. It wasn’t that he had the looks to rival a model or a movie star. It was the fact that James somehow looked right. I wanted to set up an easel in the dining room and begin painting his portrait immediately. That’s the best compliment I can give to the appearance of anyone.

  Rosa ducked out of the way with a giggle when James spread his arms wide to embrace me. I hesitated slightly. I liked to maintain a healthy personal space with most people, but, I was learning to accept the gregariousness of many Americans. I knew that it would be rude to turn down James’ offer of a hug.

  My reluctance crumbled to dust there on the floor of the dining room of Angelo’s when I first felt James’ arms wrap tight around me. It was a firm, confident grip. His smile lit up his face as he said, “Thank you for the invitation. I thought I might never see you again.”

  “That would be tragic.”

  Rosa led us to a table. “I’ll seat you back here near the kitchen. It’s warmer, and on a day like this, you need that. Do you both drink wine?”

  As I sat at the table, I gazed at James’ expectant face. I wasn’t sure about his age, but I said, “Yes, I drink wine.”

  James smiled. “I do, too.”

  Turning first to James, Rosa said, “I’m so sorry that I need to look at identification.” James held out a driver’s license, and I offered my passport.

  “Excellent,” said Rosa. “I’ll give you a bottle on the house. It’s our thank you for being special guests tonight.”

  As she left the side of our table, I struggled to think of something to say to James. I didn’t need to worry. He began to talk immediately. I smiled at his easy way with a quick story about his family. Then he asked, “Do you visit your sister often? I guess I’m really asking if you are in the U.S. much, or if this is a one-time trip.”

  The brief answer to the question would be, “No,” but I wanted to share more detail. I said, “My wish is not to feel tied to any nation in particular for residence. Of course, I will always be proud of my Dutch heritage, but I want to travel and explore the world.”

  “Your work lets you do that?” asked James as he leaned forward.

  I nodded. “Yes, most of my work is on the computer and over the Internet. I’m a graphic artist. I also paint on my own when I can, but my profession is creating commercial graphics.”

  “Wow, that’s exciting,” said James. Something prickled at the base of my spine when I saw the genuine interest in his eyes. He said, “The way you skated, I thought you might be an athlete. I mean, you are an athlete, but I thought that might be what you do.” He shook his head unsatisfied with the specific comment. James’ habit of clarifying what he had to say was charming.

  I answered truthfully, “I was an athlete,” and I knew it was time to change the topic away from me. “You’re very athletic, too. You said you play hockey. Are you on a professional team?”

  James laughed softly. He said, “I play for my college team. It would be exciting to make it on the roster of a professional team, but my coaches say to keep my feet on the ground. I’m studying to be an architect. Someday, with a whole lot of luck, my name might be on a plaque in the lobby of one of the tall buildings here in Chicago. I can dream at least.”

  It was my turn to smile. “It will happen, James. You will be successful at whatever you want to do. I see it in your eyes.”

  Rosa interrupted the conversation with a smile and a bottle of wine. As she poured glasses for each of us, she asked, “Should I come back in a few minutes for your orders?”

  James leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I’m afraid we were so busy talking that we forgot we needed to order food.”

  The evening swept by. When James asked me about the time, and we realized we had been at Angelo’s for more than two hours, we were both surprised. Rosa stepped up to the table one more time and said, “I have cannoli for each of you. It’s on the house, too.”

  As she left the table, I asked a question that was in the back of my mind throughout most of the meal. “How did you start playing hockey? At home, it’s like we are born with skates. I’ve heard Canadians play hockey, but it’s not as favored here, is it?”

  I was surprised to see a hint of darkness spread over James’ face for the first time in the evening. He spoke quietly and said, “I needed to conquer the ice.”

  With a quizzical look on my face, I began to ask another question, but he held up a hand. Instead of the question, my comment was, “Oh.”

  James looked relieved at my response. He smiled again and dug a fork into the cannoli. It was crisp and flaky. “Angelo’s was a fantastic suggestion, Lucas! Please hug your sister for me. I haven’t eaten Italian food this good in a long, long time.”

  I agreed. “It is delicious. Sophie will be pleased, and Jerry, too. He is the one who made the suggestion. He was born and grew up here in Chicago. He’s a little blustery, but he’s a good man.”

  “Blustery?” asked James.

  “He’s a big man with a loud voice, but I’ve never heard him speak in anger. He’s happy, and he’s as gentle as he is loud.”

  “Sophie is fortunate,” said James.

  I wanted to say that I hoped I would soon be as fortunate as her while staring straight into James’ dark eyes, but I knew that it was too soon. My mother often told me that I rushed into everything. She said, “If you hurry, you trip, and then you fall.”

  With the meal complete and our bellies full, James and I collected our coats. Rosa rushed to our sides to help us bundle up against the cold. While she wrapped the scarf around my face, James’ taxi appeared at the curb.

  We both waved to Rosa as we stepped back into the winter cold. James turned toward me and said, “I can’t let you leave without this.”

  I raised an eyebrow. James spread his arms wide again. I mumbled, “Oh,” as we hugged. He reached out and pulled my scarf down just enough for our lips to meet.

  In the passion of the moment, our lips parted, and our tongues met. I forgot the cold as a wave of electricity passed over my body. James kissed well. The tip of his tongue brushed my bottom lip while he pulled back and stared deep into my eyes. He said, “We’ll meet again.”

  3

  James

  My little brother, Michael, who wasn’t so little anymore, gave me a shove with both hands planted on my chest. “On the prowl over
Christmas, big brother. I’m impressed. A few minutes on the ice and you have a date. Do you have any juicy details to share? I learn by example.”

  I shook my head and laughed. Michael was a senior in high school, three years younger than me. The casual observer had a hard time picking me out as the older one. Michael’s shoulders were broader, and he had striking, muscular pecs from his workouts for the high school football team. We were both naturally slim, so he had a hard time putting on the weight that he wanted, but he was one of the best quarterbacks in the state. I said, “I don’t have any lurid details. We shared one small kiss.”

  “What’s he look like? Did you take a pic with your phone?”

  I felt a pang in my gut wishing I’d taken a photo of Lucas, or that I’d asked Rosa to shoot one of us together. Instead, I had to describe him in words. By the time I got around to comparing the blue of his eyes to the pale blue of the sky on a sunny day, Michael had said, “You’ve got it bad. Where’s he from?”

  I mumbled, “The Netherlands.”

  Michael took a step back. “No, seriously, I don’t care where his grandparents came from. Is he from Chicago?”

  I repeated, “He’s from the Netherlands. He’s European.”

  Michael blinked his eyes furiously. “That’s kind of hot, but it’s a long way to go to look for a boyfriend. You’ll have to have a crazy kind of Instagram relationship.”

  I sighed. I was already aware of how ridiculous it could be to fall for Lucas. He did have a sister in Chicago, so that meant he would return to the U.S., but he spent most of his time thousands of miles away, and I was in college. I said, “It was just a date. I didn’t say that he’s my boyfriend.”

  “Do you wish he was?” asked Michael. He had a twinkle in his eye. I couldn’t ask for much better in a younger brother. Michael was genuinely interested, and, from the moment I came out to him, my straight little brother was a cheerleader for my relationships with other guys.

  I whispered, “Yeah, maybe, but I don’t want to think about it that much. I’m heading back to school, and then he’ll fly back across the ocean.”

  Michael shrugged. “Who knows. If you really like him, don’t let it go too easily. Hang on to what’s important.”

  I sighed again. Michael’s comment about hanging on to essential things made me think about Meredith. She was never far away on our Christmas trips to Chicago. I wished I could still hold on to her.

  “What’s up?” asked Michael. “Did I say something wrong? You don’t look like a happy camper. ”

  I looked up. “No, it’s nothing about you. I was just thinking about Meredith. It’s hard not to think about her even after all these years.”

  Michael smiled and tried to keep the conversation light. He said, “Remember when we all threw snowballs at each other outside the Art Institute? Mom was mortified.”

  I laughed. Michael was brilliant at coming up with good memories to chase away the bad. Meredith was only seven at that time, and Michael was just five. “That was so funny. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

  We had one family dinner remaining in Chicago before I was due to hop a plane from the O’Hare airport back to school. Michael and my parents were taking the car home to Minnesota. I was making my mom unhappy. I said, “I know it’s important, and I’ve never asked to miss it.”

  “Your father and I miss you every day that you’re away. Michael does, too.”

  My dad called from the bedroom of the shared suite. He was busy packing up his clothes. He said, “Let the boy go. It’s just one dinner. I can understand how he feels.”

  My mom chose to shift the rules and not play fair. I saw a single tear roll down the side of her face. It was the same expression as the day she said goodbye when they drove my stuff and me to college. I grumbled, “C’mon, mom, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m in college. I’m an adult. It’s not fair to cry.”

  She whispered, “It just hurts is all,” and then she turned on her heel and headed for the bedroom.

  After she slammed the door shut, Michael put his arm around my shoulder. He whispered in my ear, “Her boy is growing up.”

  I responded with an elbow to his side and growled, “It’s not a big deal. Just wait. You’ll go through this, too.”

  Michael gripped my bicep and asked, “Do you really wanna take a poke at me?”

  I tugged to pull away, but my little brother’s grip was tight. “What if I do?”

  He taunted, “I think it would be fun. I’ll have you on the carpet begging for mercy in minutes.”

  I wrestled Michael when we were little kids, and I won for years and years, but he was probably right. All of that time in the weight room turned him into a bruiser. I kept in shape for hockey, but I didn’t have the upper body strength to match Michael.

  “I’d do it, but we’re likely to break something here in the hotel room. Then Mom would be on our case. Remember how many times I ground your face into the carpet at home, Michael? You were such a pussy crying and whining.”

  I could see the brotherly twinkle behind his attempt to glare back at me. “That’s why I’d take you down now. Payback is a bitch, big brother.”

  My dad stepped out of the bedroom and said, “Cool your jets. No wrestling in a hotel room. Are the two of you packed? James’ plane leaves at 6:00 a.m., so we’re all getting up early.”

  “What?” asked Michael in mock disbelief. “I have to get up because of his plane? The sun won’t even be up.”

  Dad nodded. “You have to get up and say goodbye to your brother.” I admired my father. He held the family together when I was a kid. Mom had dark moods after Meredith died. I thought she would never pull herself out of it, but Dad was confident. Nothing was ever the same again, but my mom managed to stay on an even keel most of the time, and Michael was going to be just like my dad.

  I asked, “Is mom okay? I didn’t mean to upset her, but I got invited. It’s hard to say no. We had a great date.”

  Dad shrugged, “Yeah, she’ll be fine. She just needs a little time.” He gestured toward the chairs in the suite’s living room space. “Have a seat. We should all just relax and give her a little time. She’s finishing up the packing.”

  I headed for one of the chairs, and Michael laughed and shoved me out of the way. I rolled my eyes at him and took another seat. Then I asked, “Wouldn’t you have done the same thing, Dad?”

  He nodded. “I did the same thing, basically, and I reminded your mom of that.” He leaned forward, “And between the two of you and me, I saw a little smile on her face before she went back to moping about it.”

  I asked, “What did you do?”

  “Your mom and I started dating in college.”

  “Yeah, we knew that already,” piped up Michael.

  “But I don’t think the two of you know the details of our first Christmas together.”

  Michael said, “She gave you one of those hokey Christmas ornaments, and you kissed under the mistletoe, didn’t she?”

  Dad shook his head. “You’re turning into a smartass just like your dad. Just keep it toned down a bit.”

  Michael said, “I’m learning from the expert.”

  I shook my head while Dad continued his story. “I was at home with my family for Christmas break. It was my second year of college, and your mom invited me to come and spend Christmas with her family. We had been dating about nine months in total if you count the summer when we didn’t see each other.”

  I said, “I didn’t know you were together on Christmas day. I bet Grandma didn’t like that much.”

  Dad nodded. “I was worried that she wouldn’t. I was afraid even to ask her, so when I got the invitation, I talked to my dad. He told me that she could deal with it, but I begged him to talk to her first.”

  “And he let you get away with that?” asked Michael.

  “For once, yeah.”

  I asked, “How did she take it?”

  “She spent several hours alone in her bedroom. In
fact, my dad sent my sisters and me out to have lunch together in town. He gave me a fifty and paid for it all. We splurged and had dessert. Finally, a couple of hours before dinner, she came out of her bedroom and found me. She said she hoped I would have a great trip to Iowa for Christmas.”

  I said, “Wow.”

  Dad said, “Of course I acted like a fool. I asked her if it was really okay.”

  “And she said no?” asked Michael. I could see him working hard to suppress a laugh.

  “She said, ‘I knew it was coming sooner or later. You and Liz are happy together. You should get to spend Christmas together.’”

  Michael jumped on the comment. “So that means you’re okay with James heading off to dinner with the Dutch guy, and you’ll let me have next Christmas with Sarah?”

  Dad shook his head and said, “You don’t waste time, do you? This means I’m okay with James heading off tonight for dinner. We’ll talk about next Christmas in November.”

  Michael lowered his head and shook it back and forth. “Aww man. I’m always the youngest one.” Then he snickered. “I hope you have a great dinner, James.”

  I spoke up, “Wait, who’s Sarah?”

  “My girlfriend.” Michael looked up to see my questioning face. “Oh fuck, I didn’t tell you…”

  Dad held up his hand. “Language…your mother’s in the next room.”

  I asked, “How long have you been going out?”

  “I took her to homecoming. We both got picked for the court, and when they put us together, and she was all dressed up, she seemed different from when I saw her walking through the halls on a school day. So yeah, that was our first official date.”

  “Back in…October?” I gave Michael the side-eye. “Are you keeping secrets from me, little brother? I knew you were on the court, but I didn’t hear about a date.”

  Michael shrugged and said, “No, why would I do that. I’m sure I was going to mention her sooner or later.” Then I saw a couple of looks exchanged between Dad and Michael. He decided to fess up. “Okay, yeah, I guess there was a reason.”