Chapter 5-Callie
Don’t let your guard down.
“I come, too?”
“Not tonight, baby.”
“I’m not a baby. Some snails can sleep for three years. Did you know that? Did you, Mama? I did.”
Charlie bought Wyatt a book of animal trivia. I could strangle Charlie but not for that. The rec center hosting youth soccer signups on Monday afternoon was also hosting peewee hockey league signups. Imagine my surprise when I got home from that infuriating confrontation with Ezra to hear my little boy shrieking, “I’m gonna play hockey!”
At least, I know Ezra won’t have anything to do with an under-six children’s team who’ll play and practice at the old, worn-down skating rink across town from his shiny new arena.
If I’d told Wyatt where I was going tonight, I would’ve had a riot on my hands trying to leave without him. So, even if it wasn’t quite bedtime, I’d read my son his favorite story before going to ease my guilty conscience, turning the worn old pages of the well-loved book. My mother had found the used copy of Grumpy Bumpy when I was three. She had no idea she’d be reading it every night for the next several months or that her grandson would love it just as much years later.
And, even if I could recite it in my sleep, I love the way he’ll still snuggle close when I read it even if he tells me every day that he’s big now and not a baby.
“What’s that smile, huh?” Doug asks as we enter the Power Play Arena and Sports Complex, home of the NHL’s newest team, the San Francisco Fog.
“Just a fond memory.” A fond memory to help me deal with my anxiety about tonight.
Even not quite completed, the arena is something else. State of the art technology paired with a long stretch of old-fashioned parquet flooring and concessions stands that resemble elegantly appointed speak-easies more than something you’d find at a sporting event.
With satisfaction, I note my army of Botties at their appointed stations, covered and ready to be revealed whenever Ezra gives the word.
It smells like buttery popcorn and plump bratwurst in here despite the underlying whiff of fresh paint. Along the walls hang banners for the team, each player getting his homage in ten feet of fabric. There’s tables set up to buy jerseys and enter raffles for prizes. It’s a semi-private event but there’s a helluva lot of people here already and I see plenty of them wearing Ezra’s old team jersey from before an injury forced him into early retirement.
Wyatt’s eyes would be as big as saucers if he could see all this and he’d be begging for soda, gummy bears and ice cream.
But, Wyatt can’t come here, Callie. It wouldn’t be safe.
Ezra’s too sharp. Some motherly intuition tells me he’d know if he saw him.
Suggesting we enter the main arena, we find far fewer people milling about. Most prefer gathering around the giveaways and food in the outer hall where it’s warmer. I prefer this. The dip in temperature helps clear my head, too.
The jumbotron is dark and the scoreboards aren’t flashing any advertisements. The ice glows blueish under the low lights, so glassy it looks like water. There’s a reverential hush that falls over any who enter. But someday soon, these stands will be filled with twenty thousand fans who’ll roar and players who’ll dash across that ice, leaving it cracked and scuffed before crashing into each other to chase that elusive little puck.
“Thanks for agreeing to the change in plans tonight,” I say to Doug after spending too much time gaping at the complex my company has helped build.
I don’t need Doug to be here any more than I needed my bosses to defend me the other day but it’s nice knowing they were ready to and it’s nice not arriving alone.
The thing is though, I don’t want my bosses to see me as weak or incapable or as someone they have to protect. I’m a mother. I’m supposed to be the protector. So, facing Ezra tonight and showing off my work on a larger scale and showing him he doesn’t intimidate me is important.
Doug shrugs at my gratitude. “Sure thing. Maybe I’ll get some autographs.”
“Oh, that’s-”
“I can sell them online and make a buck.”
Okay…
“Plus, there’ll be food here instead of me having to spring for dinner.”
Wow.
He waggles his eyebrows and nudges my shoulder with his. “Since the rugrat is staying at your mom’s, why don’t we go back to your place after?”
Who you calling a rugrat?
“My place?” I repeat.
“Yeah, it’s been three dates, right?”
Way to make a girl feel special. “This is the fourth, actually.” And, the last. Did I really consider sleeping with this man last week? Because I am not feeling it now.
“Callie,” a deep voice rasps from behind me.
I know that voice. My nipples recognize it, too.
I turn to find Ezra silently descending the steps that must lead up to the owner’s box. He looks too delicious for words wearing the mossy green home jersey for the Fog. It compliments those gorgeous eyes of his.
He’s tall, athletically graceful even when walking down stairs and handsome as the devil with that masculine bit of scruff covering his jaw. My palms itch to rub over it, savoring the prickle and warmth of a man’s bearded face. You and my nipples, total traitors.
“Why don’t you introduce me to your date?”
It’s a friendly suggestion to be accompanied by such a fearsome scowl. I know he recognizes Doug and, by the way Doug’s mouth has fallen open, I’d wager he recognizes Ezra but Doug doesn’t realize he’s the same man from the ball last weekend.
“Holy cow, the Falcon! Man, I loved watching you play…”
A lengthy monologue of Doug’s thoughts about some old game begins and I can’t help noticing the utter contempt broiling under Ezra’s wooden smile. Not surprising. He dislikes me so why wouldn’t he dislike my date?
Yes, but he also called Doug unworthy of you last week.
Only because he didn’t know it was me which is obviously why he was flirting.
“Where’s your date, Mr. Sokolov? We’d love to meet her.” I expect him to have some model hanging off his arm. Not sure why that thought immediately made my stomach twist in an unpleasant manner.
His head whips toward me so fast I’d swear there was an audible cracking noise to accompany the move. “I don’t have a date tonight, Ms. Anderson. They get in the way of business,” he snaps as frost creeps into those green eyes.
His smile is back the next second except it’s turned calculating. I don’t like it. “Why don’t you head into the hall to grab some food and free merch, Doug? I’d like to talk tech with Callie for a moment.”
“Free? Hell, yeah,” Doug says, striding away without a backwards glance. So much for not being alone.
“I told you last week he wasn’t worthy of you,” he growls as a warm, commanding hand comes to rest at the small of my back. Goosebumps rise and spread all over my body from that point of contact. I should smack his hand away but I don’t. “Let’s take a stroll and talk.” It’s like I’m in a trance as he leads me further into this cavernous space.
We don’t speak initially as we move, taking a slow lap around the upper deck. He seems to seethe with some sort of rage I don’t understand but his hand never wavers from its place on my back. It’s like an electric current pulsing through me, making my heart race and giving me unwanted thoughts. I must resist such thoughts with all my might. He’s Ezra, cold, unkind and powerful, more powerful now than he ever was as a hockey player. He’s a huge client of ours and I don’t want to piss him off and upset my bosses.
But the tension keeps building with the silence and his hand right there and I can’t stand it. “It’s an impressive-”
“How long have you been seeing him?”
His words catch me off guard and derail me from the compliment I was trying to give. “That’s not really your concern, is it?”
He huffs. “How did you meet him?”
I am not about to confess we met through an app. “Why do you care, Mr. Sokolov?”
“I don’t.”
Could’ve fooled me.“I thought you wanted to talk tech.”
“No, I don’t. I have no interest in talking tech at the moment, Callie.”
Again, that raspy way he says my name. I involuntarily shiver, hoping he doesn’t notice. But a sliver of worry passes through me, too. Does he know about Wyatt? Is that why he’s determined to speak to me alone?
“You made it sound like I had to sell you on the-”
“I’m sold, dammit. I’ve had them installed, haven’t I?”
He spins to face me, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck and pressing his lips together in a tight line. For several seconds, he stares at me, that intense stare that I used to find unnerving and equally arousing.
Used to?
My dumb butterflies flap their wings in my belly until my old fear freezes them like insects caught by a sudden glacier. I cannot let my guard down around him.
“Five fucking years, Callie. I didn’t know what the hell happened to you. The way you disappeared from New Jersey.”
Stunned, I stare at him. “I wasn’t aware you cared what became of me so long as I went away.”
“You think I didn’t… have you spoken to Chase since you left?”
Is he kidding? “Only once to tell him I was transferring schools. Do you speak to Chase often?”
“Of course, I do. He’s my brother.”
And, that’s all I need to know. I take a step back so he’s forced to remove his hand from my back.
“Did you marry or…” I glare at him and his words trail off.
“Anderson is my stepdad’s last name. I don’t want to go back over the past, Ezra. I’d rather live in the present.”
He nods, smiling for some reason. “You called me Ezra.”
Shaking my head, I look away. I can’t bear the way he’s staring at me. It confuses me and dredges up the weird guilt I’d feel every time I was around Chase’s brother back then. How we’d bicker and spar and how it excited me.
“I don’t want you to stop working on my arena just because we’re not...”
“Friends? I suppose we don’t have to be friends to be civil. By Christmas, everything will be completed anyway.” When I glance up again, the smile has disappeared and he’s back to scowling. “Look, I’m sorry if that annoys you but this is an enormous project. Some things can’t be rushed no matter how much money you throw at them.”
“I’m not asking you to rush anything. I want you here.”
Why? I want to ask. You couldn’t stand me. I need some space. He scrambles my brain. Or his sandalwood scent does. “Fine, I’ll keep doing my thing and you’ll do yours and we’ll just… go about our business and ignore each other.” Another scowl. God, there’s no pleasing this man. “I should get back to-”
“Dud?”
I can’t help it. I snort at the name which makes Ezra smile again. Ezra’s smiles are a rare treat and, by God, they’ve always made me weak in the knees. “His name is Doug, which you know.” Neither of us is fooled by my annoyed tone.
“Very well. Let’s return to the hall and unveil your genius to the world.”
“Oh, I’m a genius now? I thought I was just another puck bunny.”
“Callie,” he chides, steering me toward the outer hall with his hand back where it was and a wry smile playing on those full lips. “I thought you said you didn’t want to go back over the past.”
My cheeks burn because I did say that.
“I was wondering… who was reading Grumpy Bumpy the other night?” he asks just before we reenter the hall.
My heart nearly stops before I quickly rattle off a lie. “My cousin… to her daughter. We were chatting and she mentioned it.”
“Hmm,” he says, thoughtfully.
I don’t like that thoughtful ‘hmm’ one bit.