Chapter 15
HANNAH
H annah stood at Central Park’s 7th Avenue entrance as arranged, and checked her watch. McKenzie was running late again. The guy was really beginning to test her patience. She shouldn’t have to work with someone who didn’t respect that her time was important.
She wandered into the park and sighed, deciding to take a load off while she waited. One of the reasons she hated client meet-ups in public spaces was that the blasted benches might as well have been designed by experts in medieval torture.
Five minutes sitting on one and she was almost ready to confess to being a witch. Then rearranged her vexed expression when she saw that her client had decided to grace her with his presence. She pasted on a relaxed smile as McKenzie ambled toward her.
No, wait, he was shuffling. Yikes, the injury really wasn’t getting any better, she mused, biting her lip. As he drew closer, however, she saw that he was unshaven and his eyes were bloodshot. He sat down next to her – although ‘sat’ was too generous a way to phrase it. He all but collapsed and it was then that she caught a distinct whiff. Beer and something else too … was it fish ?
Hannah wrinkled her nose, wondering why she’d been worrying about his initial appeal that first time in Frank’s potentially clouding her judgement. Appearances truly could be deceptive.
‘You’re late,’ she stated, despite not wanting to get things off to yet another bad start.
‘Is it that I’m late – or you’re early?’ he asked, grinning stupidly as if he’d just made some kind of brilliant point in a courtroom.
‘So how are you?’ she asked, biting back her frustration that this meeting was surely another wasted effort on her part. ‘Knee playing up again?’
He straightened up suddenly. ‘I’m good. Had some more physical therapy earlier and it … uh … took a lot more out of me than I expected.’
‘You sure you’re up for this then?’
‘Yeah. I’m just a little wrung out, that’s all. Though maybe I should grab a coffee.’
‘There’s a truck just over there. You stay there and rest a bit and I’ll get it,’ she offered.
‘Hey, don’t do me any favours. I don’t need anyone to baby me.’
‘I’m not looking to baby you,’ Hannah shot back sharply, despite her best intentions, Ed’s words about not being afraid to speak her mind popping into her brain all of a sudden. Then she bit her lip. ‘I was just trying to be considerate.’
‘Yeah, well, if you were being considerate, you would have agreed to meet me in a bar again like the first time and listened when I told you that I wasn’t interested in any damned makeover.’
‘Oh, for feck’s sake will you give it a rest? For the hundredth time, I’m not trying to make you over. Far from it. After that pointless day at the shelter, I’m just trying to get a better handle on what you’re happy to share about yourself. Simple as that.’ She took a deep breath, annoyed with herself. Losing control of her emotions like this was unlike her, but there truly was something about McKenzie that somehow always seemed to unnerve her.
He snorted. ‘And what if someone doesn’t want to share anything? What is it with people having to know everything about everyone these days? Speaking of which,’ he added gruffly, ‘I didn’t realize you were Irish.’
Despite herself, Hannah smiled. So many years of living in the US had dispelled much of her accent, but it unfailingly resurfaced when she was riled.
She worked to get the conversation back on track. ‘It’s you that we’re here to discuss. Like it or not Ward, you’re a talented pro athlete in a successful team – and that puts you in the public eye. I know you manage to get some benefits out of being a celebrity,’ she added, referring to his womanising reputation. ‘But having a public profile comes with a price. So maybe level with me a bit.’
He didn’t seem to be listening though. In fact, he was beginning to sweat and his pallor was now a worrying shade of grey. Yikes.
‘OK. Just … stay there, and I’ll grab us a coffee. And maybe some water?’
Looking as bad as he did, Hannah wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to leave him alone, but she knew he’d surely have something to say about it if she refused.
When she came back with the drinks, the two sat in silence for a moment drinking their beverages, until Ward spoke again.
‘I never wanted to be famous, you know. I just liked playing ice hockey. No, I loved playing – and the more I loved it, the more time I spent doing it and the better I became.’ He shook his head. ‘Next thing I know, I’m having scouts approach me and one thing led to another. Before I knew it I was a “professional athlete” and everyone seemed to think that entitled them to a piece of me – either money or my autograph or my time, and yeah, even my goddamn body.’ Hannah tried to ignore his pointed sidelong glance as if trying to unsettle her. ‘It was like I wasn’t even myself anymore. Just some kind of … commodity. And that’s why I hate this crap. I’m not just a product, a cereal box that needs rebranding.’
‘That’s not why I’m here though,’ she said, now resisting the urge to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘I genuinely want to help you. Your agent said you’re on your last chance with the team and—’
He shook his head. ‘That’s only ’cos of my injury. Once I’m good, the top brass don’t care what I do off the ice.’ But Hannah could tell he was trying to convince himself more than her.
‘Regardless, you want to consider income potential down the line too,’ she encouraged. ‘Endorsement deals, maybe some TV work. An athlete’s playing life – no matter how good they are – has an expiry date; I’m sure you know that.’
‘I’m into some stocks and real estate, I’ll be OK.’
‘Maybe, but why not kill two birds with one stone? Get back on the team, yes, but there’s another game you can play just as well. You think you already know the rules, but honestly, there are lots of different ways to win at that too. I just need you to trust me and let me guide you through. Like a teammate, a wingman or whatever.’ She laughed. ‘Sorry, I’m not familiar with ice hockey.’
‘You want to turn me into some new improved fake version of myself? Take some pictures of me at an orphanage this time – doing a “Make A Wish” tour or something?’
The mocking smirk was back on his face as he spoke, and again remembering Ed’s words of wisdom about straight talking, this time Hannah set aside her restraint.
‘Maybe I could set up a camera crew at an AA meeting instead. How does that sound?’
He stared at her, eyes wide with surprise at her tone or the words, she wasn’t sure.
‘I’m not an alcoholic,’ he growled with a much sharper edge to his voice too. ‘Yeah, right now, I’ve got some booze in me. So what? I’m having a rough morning – or afternoon. I’m not sure which it is if you want to know the truth. But having a beer doesn’t make me an alcoholic. Being Irish, you of all people should know better than to make that kind of leap.’
He was right. Realizing that particular jibe had truly upset him, Hannah just as quickly backtracked, feeling all over the place herself now. How did this guy so effortlessly scramble her best intentions purely by proximity? ‘I’m sorry. That was unprofessional and unacceptable and I shouldn’t have said it. And yes, I’ve had enough fightin’ Irish stereotypes thrown at me over the years,’ she added, nodding softly. ‘And people making assumptions. You’re right, it’s not fun.’
He stared at her for a few moments and there was something else in his gaze this time, as if they’d finally arrived at a kind of impasse. He wasn’t lying; while he was definitely in pain physically there was more there too. Whatever it was, it again made something in her soften.
Bloody hell, Ward McKenzie truly was a conundrum.
His level of emotional intelligence was unexpected for a jock, and Hannah also got the sense that despite all the tough guy talk, he was lonely. Plus she still couldn’t forget how charming he’d been on their first encounter, to the point that she’d been completely flustered.
But then she recalled all those articles and mentions of him boozing and scrapping and pap shots with women of varying ages and items of clothing. Didn’t necessarily mean anything either she knew, though it bothered her that she kept thinking about it.
‘Hey, success always comes with a price,’ Hannah remarked gently, ‘but no one believes it until it happens to them.’
He looked at her then and she saw a flicker in his eyes as he met her gaze. Uncertainty, coupled with hesitation about whether or not to trust her? Then he snorted and reached for his crutches to stand up, as if still in two minds whether to stay and listen or walk away.
But somehow he misjudged his footing and next thing Hannah knew he’d crashed to the ground, this time landing square on his face.
‘Oh!’ she cried out, rushing over, unable to believe what had just happened.
Again.
Before she could reach him though, he’d pushed himself back up, his face red with embarrassment and he held his hands out as if to forcibly keep her away.
‘I’m fine!’ he growled. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
With that, he stormed off, leaving Hannah to stand there wondering which version of this guy actually was the real Ward McKenzie.
And why she felt so inexplicably drawn to find out.