12. JENSEN
12
D iscussing the safety of my General Manager’s niece is not what I expected to be doing today when I woke up this morning.
“Mr. Pearce? Hi.” I wait for him to say anything, with the phone pressed against my ear, my chest still tight from the freak moment that sassy blonde just gave me.
Who gets out of the car on the fucking interstate?
“Look Jensen, I don’t know what you’re doing—”
“Nothing, sir,” I interrupt before his authority-filled voice does the same with me.
“I wasn’t finished.” The force in his voice shuts me up, and I clench my jaw. “Don’t bullshit me with some kind of fairytale about your girlfriend and you, or how you need my niece to fix whatever mess you made of your life. I know you’ve always had a thing for her. I’m not stupid, and I also don’t care. But if I find out you’re using her in any kind of way, I’m going to make life in the NHL real hard for you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He pauses. “Is she giving you hell?”
I think back about my confusing morning, a smile slipping in place. “More than you know.”
“She’s good at that.” His amusement is audible, and my pulse simmers down a little at his calm tone.
“Don’t I know it.”
“Listen, since you decided to hijack her trip back home, I’m holding you responsible for her wellbeing. You have her home by three on Friday. In one piece and happy. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
The satisfaction is crawling into his voice while I wait until he’s finished. “Who’s driving?”
“Rae is, sir. She won’t let us drive.” I crunch my molars together.
“Put her back on the phone.”
“Yes, sir.” I hate the way he’s talking to me, and if he was anyone else, I’d tell him to go fuck himself. He can be my boss, but no one bosses me around like that unless you share my last name. But I know that picture will get Rae a lot of questions when she arrives back home, and I don’t want to make it any worse by picking a fight with her uncle. Even if the dick is only eleven years older than I am.
I walk back to the car, pulling the driver’s side open. Rae turns to me, a frown pulling on her forehead. Without saying a word, I hand her the phone, and she swiftly grabs it from my fingers. Her fingers graze mine, and our gazes lock when a spark flies through our hands.
I have got to stop doing that.
“Yeah?” she asks, a little reluctant while her bright eyes never leave mine, making my heart rate speed up a little. “What?! No!”
Her tone is stubborn, and I do my best to hide the amused grin that’s lurking in the corner of my mouth. I love it when she’s feisty and fired up.
“That’s ridiculous. I’m fine, Johnny!” She lets out a deep grunt, rolling her eyes, then exhaling loudly.
“I hate you right now,” she huffs, directing her scowl toward me.
I have no clue if she’s talking to me or to Johnny, but something tells me it’s the smartest thing to shut up while I stand in the open door as the tension wraps around us like a thick curtain. Our gazes stay sealed with the sound of cars rushing by, reminding me we are on the side of the damn interstate, yet I’m unable to break our connection.
“You’ve put it in my name.”
Pause.
“Fuck you, Johnny.”
Pause.
“Whatever.”
Pause.
“Fine.”
Pause.
“Shut up.”
Amused at her reaction, I watch as she hangs up, then slides her body out of the car until she hits the ground right in front of me. Our bodies are almost touching. I dip my chin, holding back the smile that wants to slip in place as I peer down into her pretty gold eyes.
Bright specks are dancing around her irises, like fireflies in the night. The sweet scent that invades my nose has me sighing in contentment while I try my hardest to keep my focus on her glare.
“Apparently, you’re driving. Asshole .”
Fuck yeah.
I chuckle, content. “We’re back to name calling?”
“We are if you’re turning my uncle against me to get your way.” She roughly pushes me to the side, stalking around the car to hop into the passenger seat.
“I didn’t,” I tell her, still standing in the open door when she gets back in.
She buckles up with a grimace plastered on her face, then crosses her arms in front of her chest like a damn toddler, looking defiant as fuck.
“Just get in the fucking car, Jensen.”
“Rae, babe, I swear.” My tongue darts out, licking my lower lip, trying to keep the smile off my face as I climb behind the wheel. “Come on. Rae?”
“Just drive, Jensen!”
A grunt escapes my lips, and I throw my hands in the air, then glance at Bodi in the backseat. He shrugs, shaking his head.
“Fine,” I mutter.
Starting the car, I hold her phone out to her as I drive the car back onto the interstate. Without a word, she yanks it out of my grip, then throws it on the floor, snapping her head toward the window.
Damn, her spunk is cute.
Her small fit stirs me alive, and I silently laugh.
I shouldn’t think she is cute right now, but fucking hell, she is. The way her nose wrinkles when she’s mad. The slight pout on her perfect, plump lips. The hostility comes at me in waves, turning me on even more. It’s tempting to throw out a flirty comment, yet I push away the desire. Giving her a minute to calm down.
Eventually, the mood in the car changes back to slightly awkward as we all stay quiet, listening to the sound of Bodi’s fingers connecting to his laptop, some country song on the radio softly echoing through the car.
“Well, that answers my question,” I state when we’re well on our way twenty minutes later.
I can feel her holding back, doing her best to keep shutting me out, but it doesn’t take long before she can’t resist responding.
“What question?”
“If you’re close to Johnny.”
She narrows her eyes at me, grumpy as fuck.
“What makes you think that?”
“You talked to him for a minute, and he somehow managed to get you right there,” I point at her. “While I took the wheel. What did he tell you?”
“Nothing.”
“I hardly believe that.”
“Just drop it.”
“Come on, babe. We have a very long road ahead of us. You’re gonna ignore me the entire way?”
Her head snaps my way. “You’re gonna keep talking my ear off if I do?”
“You bet your ass I am.”
“I hate you.” Her eyes narrow, and her nose scrunches like before, resulting in a warm fuzzy feeling forming inside of me as I look into her adorable face.
“I highly doubt that. Nobody can hate me,” I pipe up with a smirk.
“Your mother,” Bodi chimes in from the backseat. “Leo from tenth grade. The mailman you keep calling names. I bet Emily hates you right now. Really, the list is endless.”
I glare over my shoulder, meeting his smug smile with those gleaming eyes.
Asshole.
“Okay, we get it.” Turning back, I glance at Rae staring at me with her mouth open in shock. “What?”
“Your mother hates you?”
“Not sure if she hates me—”
“She hates him,” Bodi interrupts while his fingers never stop typing.
“ Thank you for your input , Australian dickhead,” I seethe, then answer Rae’s question. “We don’t really get along.”
Though that might be the understatement of the year.
Kathleen Jensen always adored her oldest boy, the good-looking boy that knew how to behave and when. I think she might love my seventeen-year-old sister Della, motivated by the fact that she can treat her as her own personal clone. But I was the boy that came home with dirt on his clothes, split lips, and messy hair. I was the one who always messed up her plans, even when I didn’t mean to, and she never tried to hide her resentment.
“How come?” Genuine curiosity is written on her face, along with a pinch of pity that annoys me.
I don’t want pity from anyone.
“Because I’m not my brother? Because I don’t do everything she wants? Because I annoy her?” I shrug. “Who knows, really?”
“You annoy everyone. That’s not enough reason to hate someone.”
“Gee, thanks. Are both of you done insulting me?”
“Never.”
I roll my eyes, then hold her gaze for a few seconds. “So, you don’t hate me anymore?”
“Don’t change the subject.” She scowls, though I can see amusement etched on her lips.
“Tell you what,” I start, “how about I tell you about my mother and you tell me about Johnny?”
A heavy grunt rumbles from her throat as she rolls her eyes, then slouches down in her seat like a child.
“Fine.”
“You go first.”
“What? Why?!” she cries, giving me a wary look.
“Because I asked first.”
She stays quiet for a moment, staring onto the road as if she’s contemplating how much she wants to share. Giving me that same feeling I’ve always felt looking at her; there is more to her than she shows.
“Johnny is the brother I never had. He knows me best,” she starts, shrugging her shoulders while staring at the road with a vacant look.
“Have you always been close?”
“In a way, yes. He was only seventeen when I was born, and he was the youngest of three, so to him, I was his baby sister. When he got into UNC, he called me every other day and came home every chance he got to take me to the zoo or the park. Then he graduated, moved to LA, and I saw him less frequently, but he always made sure we stayed in touch. After—” She swallows her words. “In my teenage years, I was a bit of a troublemaker—”
“A troublemaker?” My ears quirk up, suddenly on high alert.
If she’s admitting there is a rebel inside of her, I’m dying to get it out of her.
Poke the bear a little.
“Pretty much,” she agrees. “I drove my family nuts. Still do sometimes, I guess.”
“How?”
“Different subject, hockey boy .” She dismisses the question. “At some point when… well, Johnny threw me into his car, and he drove us to LA, forcing me to work for the Knights. I hated him for it, but I also respected his motives. I ignored him for a few weeks, but eventually, we grew closer again.” I can hear her voice hitch when she sucks up her words, telling me there is something she doesn’t want to share. But I can’t help trying one more time.
“Are you gonna show me this side of you?” I wiggle my brows up and down.
She swats my arm in return. “Shut up. Your turn.”
“You know I’m gonna get back to this point eventually, don’t you?”
Having her admit something I’ve been seeing for ages triggers excitement inside of me. If she thinks her small disclosure of her rebel side will be enough for me, she’s wrong.
Now I want more.
Now I want to peel back the layers until I’ve found her.
Until I’ve found the real Rae.
“Oh, what a surprise!” Sarcasm hits my way, her brown eyes still glaring at me in defiance, though she doesn’t seem as annoyed with me anymore. “Not today, though, smartass. Now, stop dodging and answer the question!”
“What was the question again?” I tease.
“Jensen.” Her lips growl my name, making me blink at her in fake shock, an O forming on my lips as a flutter runs through me.
Her demanding expression grows my dick tight against my jeans, giving me a hard time keeping my face from tightening.
“Why do you think your mother hates you?” Her voice sounds soft like honey, and my relaxed mood is replaced by irritation, as I rub my face in frustration. My parents are never something I want to talk about, but the authenticity she gives me makes it hard to keep up my dick-ish stance.
“Right,” I mumble, not sure where to start. “Well, growing up in the public eye might make it seem like we have it all, but really, we are just a bunch of string puppets. We are supposed to behave a certain way.”
“Like how?”
“Say the right thing. Act the right way. Show we are a happy family, I guess?”
My family memories mostly contain events where we need to be on our best behavior, acting like model kids while my parents were chatting with important people who could help my father’s career as a politician. I hated it. My life felt boring and stale for as long as I remembered, and I took every chance I could to roam off, play outside, climb trees, or just get away from it all. Hockey saved me from dying of boredom.
“But you weren’t? A happy family, I mean?”
I shrug. “Not sure what a happy family is, but I hated it all. My mother was always busy organizing the next fundraiser, always too busy for us, and she hated it when I didn’t do what she expected me to. I was mostly raised by nannies.”
“I’m sorry, Jensen.”
“I guess I don’t know any better.”
The number of times I wished I had a normal family. A family that spends their Christmases around their decorated tree, baking cookies on Christmas morning. A dad that watched your games, or a mom who cradled you to sleep after a bad dream. But the truth is, I don’t even know if that exists.
For all I know… it’s just a fantasy.
We make it to Amarillo right before dinner, and after a quick stop at a food truck, we book a room at the nearest hotel, then freshen up.
Bodi and I are waiting for Rae to join us for drinks, and I can’t help my eyes searching the door every five seconds. In just twenty-four hours being in her company, we’ve grown into a routine that feels natural. A balancing mix between a push and pull of our characters clashing that keeps me on my toes and has the image of Rae roaming through my head when she’s not around.
Finally, my waiting is rewarded, and my glass stills mid-air when a gorgeous blonde enters the hotel bar. Her silky hair is hanging in a thick braid over her shoulder, her brown eyes beaming through the room when our gazes lock.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter.
I lick my lips when she sways her petite hips covered in black jeans, making a few male heads spin as she glides through the room.
She’s with me, fuckers.
“You okay, mate?” Bodi shoves his elbow into my ribs, trying to snap me out of my fixation. “She’s getting in your head, isn’t she?”
“I’m not sure if she’s getting in or everything else is getting out,” I admit, honestly. The whole reason I went back to the arena was to find Rae. To make sure she could help me fix whatever bullshit I had going on with Emily, knowing my family would be nagging me about it. But the more time I spend with Rae, the less I think about fixing what is supposed to be fixed.
“I’m pretty sure it’s both.”
I watch Bodi bring his glass to his lips in the corner of my eye, a smug tone in his voice. “Christ, mate. Stop staring.”
“I can’t.”
She walks the final yards while my heart pounds against my ribcage until she stops in front of our table. Her vibrant smile lighting the room.
“Hey, boys.”
When I stay gawking at her pretty face, her eyes widen in embarrassment, and she examines her black crop top. “Oh, God. Do I have a stain somewhere?”
“No!” Bodi blurts. “You look great. Just different from what we’re used to.”
She drops her attention to her jeans and red boots, then takes a seat beside us with an amused grin.
“Is it the boots?”
“It’s everything.” Our eyes meet, and she bites her lip, keeping her attention focused on me for a brief moment. “You look good.”
She looks like trouble.
“Thank you.” Her cheeks turn a light pink.
“Right,” she says, changing the subject. “What are we drinking?”
And I just smile, because I don’t care what we drink.
As long as it gets me into trouble.