A Deal with the Defender (Love on the Line #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Talia

“Want another one?”

The bartender looks at me expectantly, his gaze moving from my empty glass to my face.

I’d love another whiskey sour, followed by three more. Drinking until I flop face-first on the bar sounds fantastic. But I can’t, because not spiraling into alcoholism is the one and only thing I’ve managed to succeed at in the past five months.

“Just some water, please.”

He nods and walks away, leaving me to play Tetris on my phone in peace. Today has been hard, and the last thing I need is some stranger trying to strike up a conversation before my dad gets here.

Moving in with my dad at age twenty-five. I definitely didn’t have that on my bingo card six months ago. It felt better than I thought it would to sell every piece of furniture I had at my San Francisco apartment, pack up my clothes, and drive to Cleveland.

I never have to look at the leather recliner Kyle used to sit in. Or my bed, where he’d sleep over after we watched Survivor and had perfunctory sex.

And best of all, I’ll never again step foot in the kitchen where he proposed while I was making his favorite dinner—meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Fuck meat loaf. But not mashed potatoes, because they’re delicious.

It was an underwhelming proposal, but did I care?

I actually convinced myself it was romantic that my douchebag ex got down on one knee while I was knuckle-deep in two pounds of raw meat, eggs and breadcrumbs.

In the video I deleted five months ago, he asked me to turn around, and when I did, both messy hands in the air, he asked me to marry him.

And stupidly, I said yes. If I could go back in time, I’d punch him in the face instead.

“Holy shit, they’re here!” the woman sitting on the barstool next to mine gushes. “I told you they hang out here. How do my boobs look?”

“Amazing. But why are they all wearing suits?” one of her friends asks.

The woman beside me responds. “That’s what they always wear after games. Oh my god, oh my god, I have no chill.”

Games? I narrow my eyes in a glare at my phone screen. It’s just my luck that a bunch of pro hockey players would come into the place my dad wanted to meet up with me.

Maybe they play another sport. Any other sport.

“Who’s the one with the red tie?” someone asks. “Because he can tie my hands up with that any day of the week.”

“That’s Carter Stanton,” the woman next to me says. “He’s married.”

“Ugh. Of course.”

I glance up, irritation coursing through my veins. It’s definitely a group of hockey players. Carter is the captain of the Cleveland Crush, and they had a home game tonight.

If I was feeling nice, I’d warn the woman next to me about the perils of being a puck bunny. Hockey players are users. They change women more often than they change underwear. And screwing them isn’t the status symbol puck bunnies think it is.

I’m not feeling nice, though. My vibe has been the same since September—bitter, pissed off and stabby.

I haven’t talked to anyone but my therapist, my parents, and Sergio, the delivery driver who brought groceries to my apartment.

The Chinese and pizza places I ordered from had the decency to leave my food outside the door so I didn’t have to talk to them.

But Sergio insisted on coming inside to help me unload the groceries.

He was the only witness to my steady weight gain, watching the progression from pants with waistbands to stretchy sweatpants.

I’d been living on junk food, only moving from my couch when I absolutely had to. That is, until I ran out of money a few weeks ago.

Dad to the rescue. I would have moved into a homeless shelter before living with my mom. And while my father can be brash and impatient at his job, he’s always had a soft spot for his three daughters.

I promise you this will all make sense one day, Talia. You’ll look back and know Kyle did you a favor.

I crumbled when he said those words to me after the breakup. Then I went for a rage run to a park, where I screamed as loudly as I could until my throat hurt.

Twenty-pounds-lighter Talia was a runner. I ran to manage my moods and my weight, because a love of junk food isn’t a new thing for me.

I don’t care anymore, though. My weight? Fuck it. Mood? Fuck that, too. When my therapist told me I’m depressed, I just shook my head, because yeah, obviously.

“Which one is that?” the woman next to me whisper-hisses to her friends. “He’s looking at his phone so I can’t see his—” She inhales sharply. “It’s Lucien Beaumont. Hot, massive bulge and single. Jackpot.”

I sigh dramatically, hoping she might take a hint. She doesn’t.

“Ladies, I hope you don’t mind,” a deep voice says in a playful tone.

I pull the hood of my hoodie up over my head and tug on the strings to tighten it. Lucien continues.

“My buddy is thinking about using a pickup line on a woman, and I told him it’s too cheesy. Since you’re even more beautiful than she is, I was wondering if you could tell me whether it would work on you.”

The woman next to me giggles as I grimace, trying to keep my focus on the game I’m playing. Careless men are picking women up at bars around the world at this very moment, and I can’t stop it from happening. I need to stay focused on myself, and where the hell is my dad?

Lucien clears his throat. “Hey girl, is your name Anesthesia? Because you’re a knockout.”

The three women burst out laughing like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. I audibly groan, but no one notices.

“I mean, if it was you trying that line on me, it would definitely work,” the woman next to me says.

I turn to look at her. She’s maybe twenty-one, with long blond hair and an overeager smile.

“You’re so familiar to me.” She’s breathless with excitement now. “Where do I know you from?”

“Are you a model? I did a magazine thing last year and there were some models in it.”

She blushes, basking in his compliment. “No, I’m a nursing student.”

“If you need to practice mouth-to-mouth, I volunteer.” He grins wickedly and she laughs again.

“Are you a hockey fan?” he asks.

“I’m a massive fan. Oh my god, wait ... Are you ... Lucien Beaumont?”

There’s a smile in his voice as he replies. “I am. And you are ...?”

“Gullible.” I turn on my stool and look Lucien in the eye. “How many times have you picked a woman up with that stupid line?”

His brows shoot up in surprise. One of the blonde’s friends, a brunette with bright-red lipstick, glares daggers at me.

“Who invited you into the conversation?”

“I’m trying to look out for her, which you should be doing.” I look at the blonde. “You’re disposable to him. You deserve someone who isn’t picking up a different woman every night.”

Lucien is scowling, mentally calling me a cockblocker. “I’m sorry, who are you? Are you just some random person inserting yourself into other people’s business because some guy stood you up?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “No one stood me up.”

“Right, because look at you.” Red Lipstick sneers at me. “You’re wearing a nasty hoodie with a stain on it and you look like you’re in the middle of a bender. Instead of being jealous of other women, go take a shower and locate your dignity.”

Her words make me recoil, my temper igniting.

“I’m the one who needs to locate my dignity?”

“Ladies.” Lucien puts his hands out in a calming gesture.

“Now I know what we’ve been smelling since we got here,” Red Lipstick says. “She’s living proof that not all incels are men.”

“Okay, bitch.” I slide off my stool, the flare of anger in my chest the strongest feeling of any kind I’ve had in months.

“Hey, don’t,” Lucien says gently, putting a hand on my shoulder to keep me from charging toward Red Lipstick.

“Beaumont, why the hell are you touching my daughter?”

I know that voice very well, but I’m not used to it being so lethally calm. My father, the coach of the Cleveland Crush, is far more furious than I am right now.

Lucien’s hand flies away from me like I’m on fire and he’s getting burned.

“Coach, I’m sorry.” His swagger is long gone as the apology spills out of him. “I didn’t know she was—”

“You’re at a bar trying to pick women up? After that piss-poor performance tonight? You should be back at the rink practicing—or sleeping. But instead, you’re here touching my daughter.”

I’d forgotten how much fear Noel Turner instills in his players. He was once a pro hockey player himself, and even though he’s forty-seven, I’d still put my money on him in any fight. He’s six foot two and he and Lucien are eye to eye.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien repeats, a couple of his teammates coming over to stand behind him. He looks at me. “I’m very sorry.”

“Hey, Talia,” Carter Stanton says, nodding at me.

“Hi.”

I haven’t seen him in years, but he’s a longtime Crush player, and we’ve been at the same functions a few times when I was still in college. Since I graduated three years ago, I’ve been in San Francisco, and I haven’t made it back for many games or events.

“This was a misunderstanding, Coach,” Carter says, stepping forward so he’s beside Lucien. “Lucy’s gonna go home now, right?”

Lucien nods. “That’s right. I’m going home, and again, I’m sorry, Coach.”

I’m not smiling outwardly, but I’m enjoying his discomfort. A lot.

My dad nods toward the bar’s exit. “Get out of here, Beaumont. We’ll talk about this at practice tomorrow.”

Lucien starts to walk away, the blonde sliding off her stool to follow. He turns to look at her, his eyes wide.

“Who’s this, Beaumont?” my dad asks.

“It’s, uh ...”

“Kelsey,” she supplies, giving my dad a little wave and a smile. “I’m a big fan.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence as my dad bitches Lucien out with just his expression. I’ve gotten that look from him before, and it’s ... well, terrifying.

“It was nice meeting you, Kelsey,” Lucien says. “But I have to go now.”

She frowns. “But what about the anesthesia thing? I thought ...”

Carter shoots Lucien a glare. “He’s leaving with me. Have a good night, Kelsey.”

My dad watches as the two men get their black wool dress coats from the backs of the chairs they were sitting in at the table. Carter leans down to say something to Leo, a player I’ve only met once, and then they head for the door.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” I say to my dad.

He nods and waits for me to lead the way. I glance back at the three women and the brunette is giving me the finger. I blow her a kiss and finally allow myself to smile.