Chapter Nine #2
Like I’ve said: women can’t have it all at the same time.
Everything is a trade-off. My mom didn’t choose her career or even her own happiness, which is why I feel like I have to see my career through until it rejects me totally.
And while I love what I do and would choose it a million times over, I also want her sacrifice to have been worthwhile.
She doesn’t know about the dark sides of this career, because I’ll never complain to her about a single thing.
But I’ve already said too much to Leo. “Your mom didn’t have to give up her job, though, did she? She still has plenty of movies credited on IMDb.”
His laugh is a deep, gritty thing. “McLaren stalker, at it again.”
“Just doing my job.” I toy my lip between my teeth, eager to relinquish the spotlight. “So how are you feeling now that we have our first few games under our belt?”
“What do you mean?” There’s an air of confusion in his tone. I guess he’s not used to being asked how he’s feeling.
“Just in general.”
“Never better,” he says evenly. He flicks his blinker and tilts his head to check the passenger’s side mirror. The afternoon sunlight hits his eyes just right. They’re jade green, almost jeweled. “Feel free to play music. Whatever you’re into.”
Subject change duly noted. Even though he felt fine asking me to open up, I sense he’s not interested in doing the same.
That’s okay. I don’t want to scare him. He’s like a pufferfish, and I don’t want to activate his spiky defense mechanism.
He veers to an exit for Cape Elizabeth, but instead of taking the popular turn that leads to lighthouses and coastline, he makes a left, driving until we hit tree-lined roads.
“Your next assignment is Anders.” I poke at his elaborate center console. “All I know about him is that he has ‘stuff going on at home’ and no clue what that could be. See what you can get out of him without being insensitive.”
“He’s notoriously one of the most guarded people in the NHL. You think he’s going to spill his secrets to me?”
“Try bringing him coffee. I find it works well with difficult people.” I flip down the mirror and fish a tube of lipstick out of my purse.
He shoots me a horrified look as I drag color over my lips. “What are you doing?”
I look right back, rubbing them together to spread it evenly. “You’re taking me to a place unknown. And since you are a strapping hockey player who attracts attention everywhere you go, I’m trying not to drag down the team average here.”
“I’m taking you to an open house that starts in twelve minutes for a house I am fairly sure I’ll buy on the spot.”
“What? Damn!” I whip out my mascara wand. “Do you have any idea how competitive the housing market is here?”
“I’m familiar, yes. This is the fourth house I’ve gone after since August. That’s why I wanted to get here right when it opens. Otherwise, I never would’ve dragged you along on my errand.” He turns into a lush green neighborhood with houses barely visible from the street.
“You could’ve rescheduled our meetup,” I say.
“This meetup could’ve been an email,” he counters.
“It also could’ve been a 5K, or a game of horseshoes, or an interpretive dance. Why would we settle for an email?”
A laugh darts from his mouth. “Who knew you were so weird in real life?”
I flick mascara over my eyelashes as he turns onto a driveway. “I take that as a compliment.”
His hand finds the gearshift and he puts it in park. “Good.”
It comes out smooth and low. Maybe a throwaway word, the way someone says yeah or nice when they’re barely listening. I really need to stop reading too far into the things this man says, because that road only leads to trouble.
I clear my throat. There are at least ten other cars here already, with people lined up on an impressive front porch. “We better get up there. Unless you want me to wait in the car?”
The look he gives me destroys that idea on sight. “As if I’d make you wait in the damn car.”
I quickly cap my mascara and drop it in the bag. “Okay. I’m ready.”
His lips pull into a hard line. Conflict wars in his eyes. “Uh—your necklace.”
“Hmm?” I’m wearing a stack of them. I take the heaviest pendant in my fingers. The silver is cool against my skin.
“No.” He leans closer. I nearly jump out of my skin. “One of the chains is caught in your hair.”
I brace for warm fingers on the nape of my neck, but he doesn’t touch me. His hand rises and then falls. He was merely pointing it out.
And yet my body is on high alert.
“Thank you.” I tug the chain free and fix my hair. By the time I finish that, grab my license—which is sometimes required for open houses—and hop down from the truck, he’s already on my side waiting for me.
The fresh air is exactly what I need to cool the blush I’m sure is coloring my cheeks.
“This property is gorgeous. Pretty remote by Portland standards, but not too far from the city.” My gaze falls to the twenty-dollar bill in his hand. “What’s that? Is there an entry fee?”
“For the coffee.”
I glance up. “Don’t be silly. It’s on me.”
“Rivers.” He shakes the bill. “Take the cash.”
“Not to brag, but I am a woman of more than adequate means—”
He yanks me forward by the belt loop of my pants. The breath leaves my lungs in a gust as he tucks the bill into my front right pocket.
“And I am a man of means. You boss me around the ice all day. I take care of the coffee.” He retracts his hand. “Otherwise our meetups will become a free game of horseshoes.”
I swallow as my right hip warms. The night after a sunburn, before you know how bad it’ll be. IV contrast warm.
The fresh air suddenly doesn’t feel like enough to reset my senses.
“Okay.” The word comes out breathy. Embarrassing.
I try to calm my body down as I follow him toward the house.
He didn’t touch me. And then he almost touched me. I’m sure he didn’t think twice about either of these things.
But now I’m thinking about how it’d feel if he took it a step further. If his fingers didn’t stop at my belt loops, but slid inside the waist of my jeans. Made contact with my skin. Lingered.
It’s the worst possible thing I could do.