3. Kalen
3
Kalen
T aylor drags Sahara down the sidewalk and Elias falls into step beside me. He’s a quiet guy, but much quieter than usual lately. I cast him a glance as he pulls his ballcap lower on his head. Perhaps he’s just worried about being recognized…and swarmed. Last time that happened, and his face was splashed all over the papers, his parents paid him a visit.
His dad is high up in the government and feels Elias’ actions—which are very carefully scrutinized by the public—are a reflection on him. I guess that’s why he keeps his head down and nose clean. But he’s a grown-ass man, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him with a woman. Not that I can blame him. The guy never knows who wants him because he’s a pro hockey player, or to use him to get close to his family.
I don’t have that problem…but that’s not to say I don’t have demons of my own.
As though feeling my eyes on him, he angles his head, grins, and nudges me. “Taylor did great tonight.”
I nod and a smile I have no control over spreads across my face as my sister laughs at something her friend said. “Yeah,” is all I reply as pride wells up inside me. After high school, Taylor floundered for a bit, not knowing what she wanted to do, or what career she wanted to pursue. With my aging grandmother’s health on the decline, we thought it was best she go into nursing care. Unfortunately, our grandmother passed before we could make that happen, and with no family left in Darien—yeah, our old man is still in New York—I knew it was time for Taylor to join me in Boston. I’m so fucking happy to have her here where I can watch over her again.
Taylor and me, against the world.
I wasn’t ready for the responsibility before, not with college and hockey. Hell, who am I kidding? I wasn’t ready for the responsibility at thirteen either, when Mom got sick, and I found Dad in bed with another man. Who the fuck sleeps around when their spouse is dying? My old man, that’s who.
I didn’t want anything to do with him after that, and I took over taking care of Taylor. Even after I asked Grandma if we could live with her, and she agreed, I still watched out for my kid sister. She’s everything to me, and I want what’s best in life for her.
Which is living under my roof and going to college to make something of herself. I’ve been with the team two years now, and my feet are on solid ground, so I knew it was time. Plus, my house over on Beacon Hill is big enough for a family of ten. My stomach tightens at that thought. All I ever wanted was a big family, seated around the table during the holidays. I know from some of the guys that big families can be chaotic and messy and loud. Heck, Tanner Bang has five siblings and while he might grumble, there’s always love and happiness in his eyes when he talks about them, and dammit I want that for me and Taylor. But now, since our grandmother passed, it’s always just the two of us.
My gaze strays to Sahara as she glances back at me, and something niggles in the back of my brain. There’s something familiar about her. I can’t quite place it, though. Perhaps it’s just that she’s flamboyant and outgoing like my sister. While I was at the theater to watch Taylor, I can’t deny that my gaze strayed to Sahara numerous times.
“She’s cute, huh?”
I glance at Elias as he grins at me. “Who?”
He pushes me. “Fuck off.”
Laughing, because I damn well know who he’s talking about, I shove him back. “If you want her, go for it.”
He shakes his head, a dark storm flashing in his eyes. It hits me with the force of a hurricane and nearly sucks the air from my lungs before he quickly blinks it away. What is going on with him? I’m about to ask, only to stop when he speaks.
“She’s your type, Coolio.”
I turn back to take in Sahara. Tall, with dark hair and a lithe body, she kind of is my type. Not that I’m looking for anything serious. Okay, I am looking for something serious. I want the house with the picket fence and the SUV. I’m just too much of a chicken shit to put myself out there. Trust is hard for me.
Life has taught me that people hide things, that they aren’t who they say they are, that they’ll show you the side of themselves they want you to see. Tonight on stage, Sahara proved she’s a great actress. But fuck, that doesn’t mean we can’t have a great time, right? Although I wouldn’t want to come between Taylor and her friend.
We reach the bar and Taylor pulls the door open. Her cheeks are a bit flushed as she waves her hand for us to enter. “Age before beauty,” she jokes and I nudge her chin.
“Wait, are you even old enough to drink?” I ask and she purses her lips and glares at me, but then her gaze strays to Elias as he moves past me. “I’m old enough for a lot of things,” she tells me and lifts her chin.
“Ugh.” I put my hands over my ears. “I don’t want to hear it.” Yeah, okay, I know she’s old enough to do whatever she wants, but in my eyes she’s still that kid who danced around the house in pig tails. She lost a bit of that spark when Mom died, and I made it my mission to protect her and get her through the hard times.
Who got you through the hard times, dude?
I glance up as Gavan, the owner of the place, comes from the back room to greet us. I put my arm around Taylor and tug her to me. “Eyes up here, sis,” I tell her as her gaze rakes over Gavan’s kilt.
“Kalen, Elias. How’s it going?”
“Great.” I give Taylor’s hair a playful tug. “Celebrating Tay’s opening night over at Chester Theater.”
He grins at Taylor. “I saw the posters. Congrats, Taylor. I bet you killed it.”
I smile at my sister. “She did.”
Taylor drags Sahara to her. “So did Sahara. Sahara, this is Gavan. He owns the place.”
After the two say hello, Gavan guides us to my favorite booth in the corner. Elias slides in and Taylor moves in beside him, leaving Sahara and me on the other side.
“What would you like?” I ask Sahara as she reaches for the menu.
“When in Scotland…” She smiles at Gavan. It lights up her face, and brings out the warmth in her blue eyes. “I’ll have a Scottish whiskey.” I stare for a moment, mesmerized, and that’s when I realize everyone is staring at me.
“Oh yeah, I’ll have the same and can we get a plate of nachos for the table?” Gavan walks away and I turn to Elias and Taylor. “Did you order?”
Taylor laughs. “Yeah, bro.” She waves her hand in front of my face. “Where’d you go?”
I shake my head. “Oh, was just thinking about tomorrow night’s game.”
“You play New Jersey tomorrow,” Sahara comments quietly as she sets the drink menu down.
Before I can respond, Taylor’s jaw gapes open. Jesus, she’s so dramatic. Her hands lift. “You know my brother? You recognized him? I don’t think I ever told you he was a professional hockey player.” Taylor’s gaze goes to me, and her head angles, like she just had an epiphany. I’m not sure I want to know.
Sahara toys with the edge of the menu before she begins to tap her thumb on it. Oddly enough, that gesture reminds me of the girl I made out with in the library all those years ago. Not that Sahara is anything like quiet, shy Darien Lewis.
I never did see her again after that night. When I visited my sister and grandmother back in Darien, I drove by her house a few times. I never stopped. What the hell was I going to say? Oh hey, remember me? I’m the guy who brought you to orgasm in the secret room at the country club because I thought you were my girlfriend.
For years, I wondered why she didn’t say something to stop me, to let me know she wasn’t Juliette. I always assumed she knew it was me. I did talk to her, and figured she recognized my voice. Plus, one look at Juliette standing there glaring at us, and she had to know who I was, right? I guess I didn’t recognize her voice because she pretty much only moaned and screamed yes…
Dammit, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to hear yes on her lips again.
“You didn’t,” Sahara explains, pulling my thoughts back to the present. “I recognized him.”
“You follow hockey?” I ask.
She looks almost embarrassed when she answers, “Yes. The Shooters are my favorite team.”
Elias laughs. “I guess there’s no accounting for taste.”
Sahara grins at him. “They’re my dad’s favorite team, so it’s kind of a family thing.”
“Time to pick a new favorite team,” I propose and nudge her.
She casts a fast glance my way. “I guess I could be convinced. You know, since I live in Boston now.”
“Where did you use to live?” I ask, suddenly wanting to know a lot more about this woman. From my peripheral vision, I catch my sister’s grin. Shit, does she think I’m hitting on her friend?
Is she right?
Fuck yeah. But I’m not going to do anything to come between friends. Taylor is new here. So is Sahara, and they seem like they’ve bonded. My sister could use a friend in her life.
She blinks, and her brow crinkles. Uh, does she not remember?
“Washington.”
Elias laughs. “That’s why your dad is a Shooters fan.”
“For a while, I was a New York fan,” she points out, and when I narrow my gaze, she laughs. “I went to Columbia University.”
“Come to tomorrow night’s game with me,” Taylor says, and a shocked look moves over Sahara’s face. Jeez, you’d think Taylor just asked her to fly to Mars and back. She opens her mouth, and hesitates. “It’ll be fun,” Taylor continues. “We can sit in the box together and get all the special treatment. Sometimes it’s fun to have a professional athlete in the family.”
“Sometimes?” I joke and when Sahara laughs I turn to her. “If you already have plans,” I begin, giving her an out because I’m not so sure going to a game is her thing. Although she does follow hockey.
Our server, Cassandra, comes with our drinks. “Heads up.” She gestures with a nod. “Couple of girls over there are losing their minds. You want me to talk to them? Tell them you want your privacy.” Elias looks around, and once again tugs his hat low.
Gavan brings our nachos and sets them in the center of the table. “Enjoy.”
After he walks away, Taylor picks up her whiskey. Honestly, I’ve never seen her drink whiskey before, and I’m a little surprised she ordered it. She must be following Sahara’s example. “Oh, give them your autograph, big brother. Make a girl’s day.”
“Maybe they saw your play tonight and want your autograph, little sister,” I shoot back and Taylor grins.
“Someday, brother…” She lifts her chin. “I will be the star in the family and my face will be splashed all over the papers.”
Sahara laughs. “I have no doubt, Taylor.”
“I can send them over?” the server asks.
I nod. “Sure.”
Taylor takes a sip of her whiskey. “Ohmigod, this is horrible.” She sticks her tongue out and waves her hand in front of it. “How can you guys drink this?” She pushes it away. “Just no.”
Elias grabs a monstrous cheesy nacho and holds it out to Taylor. “Eat this cheesy one, it will help.”
Taylor opens her mouth and Elias sets the nacho on her tongue. He pulls his hand away fast and his glance jerks to mine. I smile at him, thankful that he cares about my little sister as much as I do.
Taylor chews and Elias asks for water for the table before Cassandra walks away to talk to our fans wanting to come say hello.
“Thank you,” Taylor says. “That helped a lot. Here, brother, you drink this.” She pushes the glass toward me and I shake my head no. “I’m driving.” I glance at Sahara, but she shakes her head no as well.
“Fine, I’ll take one for the team,” Elias says, and Taylor watches him as he takes a swig from her glass.
“I’m sticking with my girlie drinks. I’ll be right back. Little girls’ room.” She slides from the table, and Elias looks like he’s about to follow her to the bathroom, but settles when three girls come rushing over.
We spend the next few minutes autographing napkins and taking selfies and I note that Sahara doesn’t seem fazed by the commotion at all. Normally the girls I date hate it when we’re bombarded by fans. Not that I’m dating Sahara.
Once they disappear, Taylor comes back with a strawberry daiquiri, and we eat and sip, talking about hockey, and theater, and Elias and I tell Taylor and Sahara about our favorite Boston restaurants.
Once the drinks are gone, and the nacho plate is empty, Sahara stifles a yawn. “I should get going. Tonight was exhausting.”
“Yeah, I have classes tomorrow,” Taylor announces, and stands. “We on for the game, Sahara?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so. I’m free tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be glad when my full-time job is theater or dance and I don’t have to study,” Taylor moans. As we step outside, Sahara looks like she’s about to say something, when Taylor interrupts, “I have my car. I can give you a lift.”
“No, I’m just a few blocks over.”
“I’m not letting you walk home alone in the dark.” Taylor pulls her keys from her pocket, and just when Sahara looks like she’s about to protest, Taylor suggests, “Why don’t you walk her home, Kalen?”
“Sure. Elias and I can walk you home.”
She waves a hand. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
“You’re not.”
“Fine then. I’m not putting you both out. I don’t need two bodyguards,” she jokes. “Elias might as well get a lift from Taylor.”
“Yeah, right. Okay,” I agree. Taylor grins at Sahara and hugs herself as a breeze rushes down the street.
“You cold?” Elias asks Taylor, and shrugs out of his jacket.
As he puts it on her shoulders, Sahara touches my arm and pulls my attention. “Thanks. It’s not far.”
We start down the sidewalk, and when someone passes us, my body brushes hers, and little electrical impulses zip through my body. I cast her a fast glance. Did she feel that too? “Have you been acting long?” I ask, searching for normal conversation, which is weird, because I’m pretty good at making small talk.
She nods. “A few years now.”
We turn a corner and pass the Nook, a team favorite café that my buddy Ash’s wife Gina owns. I’ve noticed Tuck hanging out there more and more, now that Gina hired her friend Maria as manager.
“You acted at Columbia?” I ask.
She nods. “I did.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and glances at me. “How about you? Been playing professional hockey for long?”
“A couple of years now. I was drafted a few years ago, but went to Boston college for a business degree.” I snort out a laugh. “A guy needs something to fall back on when retired, or you know…injured.” I wince thinking about that. My buddy James has been down and out with a concussion. We all work so hard to get where we are, we hate for anything to take us out.
“I get it. What did you major in?”
“Accounting.” I cringe, and rub my hand over my arm. “Just saying that word gives me a rash.”
She laughs. “Why did you choose accounting if you hate it?”
I shrug. “My dad is an accountant. I just picked something that would pay the bills.” I try to keep the disdain from my voice. She doesn’t need to know about my father. Not that I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps, but there’s a lot of work in the field, and I needed something to support Taylor and me if hockey didn’t work out.
“I see.”
We turn another corner. “How long have you been in Boston?”
“Just a couple of months. Still getting my bearings.” I glance around the dark street. I can’t say she’s staying in the best part of town. “I’m right here.” She stops at the end of a driveway, and I take in the duplex. “Thanks for the drinks and nachos, and for walking me home.”
“Anytime.”
She nods, and stands facing me, like she’s not ready for this night to be over either. Does she feel this pull as much as I do? Fuck. A part of me wants her to invite me in. The other part of me remembers she’s my sister’s only friend in Boston and since I’m not into relationships, a fast hookup can only make things awkward.
“I hope to see you tomorrow night.” I wink at her. “I’ll make a Bucks fan out of you yet.”
She grins, and then something I can’t identify, something real, honest, and vulnerable—something different from the outgoing, vivacious woman that intrigued me earlier—moves over her face and hits me like a flying puck. But not in a bad way.
“We’ll see.” She lowers her head, an air of shyness coming over her. “See you later, Kalen.”
“Later, Sahara,” I respond and really fucking hope I do see her later.
I stand there, watching her walk to her door. She climbs the three steps to her door. But then she hesitates, and the next thing I know, a gasp fills the silence of the night and she inches back her arms wrapping around herself.
What the fuck is going on?
“Sahara.” I hurry to her, and the second I see the panic in her eyes, and her door, which has been kicked open, my protective instincts kick into full gear and I put her behind me. Fuck. This isn’t good.
Not good at all.