Chapter 29 #2
Jason tells Delaney and Emery to meet us at The Hole in the Wall, a small out-of-the-way dive bar for locals the team’s adopted as our unofficial hangout in Portsmouth.
Emery begs off. “I’ll see you at the fashion show.” She smiles, and it strikes me that Chase is a lucky man.
“I guess we’re going out before heading home,” I squeeze Brooks as we hurry through the garage to my car. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not if you don’t.”
That’s the right answer, but I shake my head and don’t tell her how much I mind, because truthfully, I’d love to go home with her and get lost in her soft, warm body and make love to her all night—or rather have sex. Shit. Since when did I think of sex as lovemaking?
“Is the place far? It looks like the others are walking.”
“We could walk, but I noticed you were wearing heels. You always wear heels, don’t you? You should invest in some comfortable sneakers.”
She laughs. “I’m short.” She shrugs as if that’s a good explanation.
“So what? You’re adorably short, and I find you to be a perfect size if you want my opinion.”
Her pleased expression gets interrupted by her phone blaring in the small space of the car’s interior, and she rushes to answer it as if my opinion made her uncomfortable.
Which it did, judging from her pink cheeks.
I could have sworn she looked pleased a second ago.
Her sexy blush makes me squeeze the steering wheel with all kinds of regrets that we’re not heading home.
But she’s not mine, and I can’t treat her like she’s really my bride, can’t expect to make love—I mean have sex—with her at every possible opportunity like I hear newlyweds do. We’re pretending.
Although there’s nothing pretend about our sexual chemistry…
“Kat, where are you?”
Her friend answers loud enough for anyone in the small car to hear, me especially since I’m listening.
“I’m out in Portsmouth. I just finished my gig and saw that the Whalers won—congrats. Where are you?”
“We’re on our way to The Hole in the Wall, a small dive bar in Portsmouth. Do you know it?”
“No. Look, I’d love to meet you there, but I’m beat and on my way home. I do want to meet your new—”
I interrupt, leaning close to Brooks to talk into the phone. “I look forward to meeting you too, Kat. Next game.”
She giggles. “Oh my god. He’s with you. Sorry if I’m interrupting something. Call me when you have a chance, B.” She hangs up, and Brooks looks disappointed.
“I was going to tell her not to meet us anyway. She knows the truth about us, and it wouldn’t be wise to take the chance that she’d get tipsy and say the wrong thing.”
“Well, shit, Brooks. You should have said something.”
“I just did.”
“I mean you should have invited her over to our place so we can meet privately.” She heaves a breath, and I realize that’s not her style. “You don’t feel at home at my condo, do you?”
“Sure I do. I feel so at home I walked in and slapped your ex-girlfriend, didn’t I?”
I laugh, and the memory of that slap-down sends a pleasant buzz through my system like a sip of good champagne.
But I know it wasn’t something she wouldn’t normally do, that it was hard for her.
Maybe that’s part of why the gesture feels so extraordinary to me and makes me feel so fucking grateful for it. “That’s right. You did.”
She smiles with a glint of triumph in her eyes.
“But it cost you.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes and looking away, and I let her get away with the deflection because we’ve already arrived at The Hole in the Wall.
As I pull to the curb not far from the front door, she mutters, “I just hope Nora doesn’t show up here.”
“What do you mean? Why would she?”
“She’s like a bad penny. She came down to the media pit with Kara after the game while you were still in the locker room.”
“You’re shitting me?” What the fuck? “Did she say anything to you?”
Brooks averts her eyes, and I have my answer.
“Not much. She started to cause a fuss.”
I swipe a hand through my hair. “Sorry about that, Brooks. Kara knows better than to let her play any more of her games.”
“You talked to your sister about her?” She looks at me with such hope and disbelief that if I had to, I would lie not to disappoint her. Luckily, I don’t have to lie.
I nod. “We came to an understanding. Kara and I are close—hella closer than she is with Nora.”
“Right. Blood is thicker than water and all.” Brooks tries for a smile as she gets out of the car, but her expression is more brave than happy. Rounding the car, I catch up with her before we go inside.
“Hey, you in a hurry? We’re together, remember? You’re my wife.”
She shivers, and I wrap an arm around her. “I mean, you need to act like my wife.”
“Right. No worries. I can handle it.”
Somehow, I hear the echo of a whole lot of things she’s leaving unsaid. We step inside the crush of noise from the wall-to-wall people all talking at once, drowning out any opportunity to find out what all those unsaid thoughts are about.
Before I take three steps, my attention is grabbed by Jason, who beckons us to the back. As we move through the place, fans congratulate me, shake my hand, slap my back, and whistle, preventing any contemplation aside from making it to the relative quiet of our team table.
“You come here often?” Brooks shouts. “I’ve never heard of this place.”
“Well-kept secret hang-out.”
She gives me a side-eye and I laugh. “It used to be a secret hang-out. Now it’s infamous. We may need to find a new place.”
“Why bother? Don’t you enjoy fan adulation?”
I can’t tell if she’s serious or sassing me, but we reach our table and I get enveloped by my teammates, in particular, by Ax.
Brooks gets swallowed by my friends' wives and I lose track of her for a second. When I find her across the table, down several seats, I make a point to give her a nod of encouragement and keep my eye on her for the duration.
Ax is in the process of pouring a round of beers from a pitcher when Link elbows me and says, “Look who’s here.”
I turn to follow his line of sight and let out a groan. Then I spin back to find Brooks. Her eyes are pinned on the two women pushing their way through the crowd, relentlessly heading in our direction. I see rather than hear her gulp. She turns to me with an expression like she’s in real pain.
Kara reaches me first, whispering an apology—followed by Nora Shade.
“Shit,” I mutter and rise from my stool.
Link puts himself between Nora and me and I hustle my way around the other side of the table toward Brooks. She’s already standing like she’s going to make a run for it. Can’t say I blame her, but she has the upper hand on Nora, especially after that slap, because she has me on her side.
I reach her before she gets far and wrap an arm around her. “Stay. With me.”
She stares into my eyes like she’s reading me, and we have a moment of understanding, like we’re actually communicating between our minds without words.
“Where did you think I was going?”
“To stand at my side.” I only realize it’s true as the words escape from my soul. My chest tightens, but I let the notion wash over me and chase the tension away.
She nods. The overwhelming need to kiss her, to embrace her as if I could make her part of me, part of my body, takes over and I crush her mouth with mine, owning her, communicating my appreciation, my acceptance, and especially my need, the best way I know how.
There’s a loud guffaw and the sound of silverware clinking against glass gains volume until it penetrates our bubble. Even so, I take my time ending the kiss, nibbling her lips, kissing her jaw, and sucking an earlobe, enjoying the shiver that visibly moves her.
Her eyes are glassy, and we share one last moment of our silent connection before turning our attention to my friends—our friends—as they make a fuss at our expense, laughing and whistling.
“That was some performance,” Nora says loud enough to be heard over the ruckus.
I ignore her, but Link doesn’t. He doesn’t deal well with game playing.
Never did, from what I know about him. Delaney is his perfect partner in that regard, a sharp-witted straight shooter.
They surround Nora now, and I’m not sure what they’re saying to her, but Nora’s mouth thins to an ugly defiant line.
“I’m staying until I finish my beer,” she says too loudly.
Kara comes to her side and gives Link a don’t-you-dare look because she’s a loyal friend, a ride-or-die friend, and she’s been friends with Nora seemingly her whole life.
“We were just passing through to say hello and catch up, Link,” Kara says. He respects her, as do all the guys on the team, as a fellow hockey player, if nothing else.
He nods.
Kara raises an unclaimed glass of beer from the table. “One more beer should do it.” She sticks by Nora’s side, and the tension eases.
Ax comes around the table with another pitcher to refill our glasses.
“Who appointed you barman for the night?” I ask.
“Self-appointed. Hey, um, what’s the deal with the chick Nora? She seems… I don’t know—”
“She’s an old flame,” I say.
“Ahh. That explains a lot.” He flicks a glance at Brooks and smiles. “Good thing you ditched her for the real deal.” He raises his glass, and we clink ours to his.
“Thank you, Ax. That’s really sweet of you to say.” Brooks touches his arm for emphasis, and not for the first time, I notice she’s a toucher. And I realize I love that about her as I snake my free arm around her waist.
Brooks whispers, “Nora said they were supposed to be going to a party. How did they find us here?”
“Kara knows we always end up here after games. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle Nora if she says anything else.”
Brooks looks up at me like I’m her hero. It’s getting to be a thing, and I have mixed feelings about it—which I shouldn’t. I should be flattered, and that’s all. I shouldn’t feel it deep in my chest like a heart attack warning—or worse.
“Thank you, Brody. I wouldn’t put it past her. That is one shameless woman.”
“It’s probably liquid courage.”