Chapter 4
4
J ude didn’t have time to think about Brynn once he was at the gym. Which would’ve been a good thing, except he was dying.
“I’m dying,” he gasped, sprawled on the floor of the weight room, his limbs like rubber and his heart beating like a jackrabbit’s.
The toe of a sneaker tapped his ribs, drawing his gaze to the short, muscular, hairy man standing over him in gym shorts and a tank top. “You’re not dying, but you’ll feel like it tomorrow if you don’t get up and stretch.”
“Just bury me here,” Jude wheezed and closed his eyes. “Put up a plaque in my memory, tell my story. Don’t let my death be in vain.”
“Wah, wah, wah,” came the pitiless reply.
Jude opened one eye to glare at his trainer. “You’re fired.”
Mac just grinned. “No refunds.”
“I’m filing a complaint with the Better Business Bureau.” Jude rolled to a sitting position. “Ow. Fuck.”
“That’s what you get for playing beach volleyball and drinking beer all summer,” Mac said, all cheer and no sympathy. “Come on. Stretch, then massage.”
“You say massage,” Jude said and hauled himself to his feet, “but you mean torture. I’m onto your tricks, you sadist.”
“Are you always this dramatic?” Mac wanted to know.
“Just for the first few weeks.” Jude shifted into a hamstring stretch, stifling a groan. “Then I’ll be over it.”
“Good, because I charge extra for whining.”
“This isn’t whining.” Jude sank deeper into the stretch. It almost felt good. “It’s biting commentary.”
Mac’s beetle brows shot up, but he only said, “Go deeper.”
“Fuck you,” Jude said without heat, and obeyed.
Two hours later, he walked almost normally down the hall towards the team lounge, where lunch awaited. His muscles were looser, thanks to the massage—which had, indeed, been torture—and a spin in the whirlpool. But he was going to feel it tomorrow, and if he hadn’t been starving, he would’ve already been home taking a nap.
He pushed open the lounge door and grinned. Tommy Jakes, a fellow defenseman and the only First Nations player on the team, was sitting in one of the recliners with a smoothie in one hand and a game controller in the other, thumb flying as someone with a sword on the big screen in front of him decapitated a cow.
“Shit,” Tommy muttered and frowned down at his controller. “Was I supposed to kill the cow?”
“I think you’re supposed to kill the dragon,” Jude offered.
Tommy’s head popped up, and a grin spread across his square brown face. “Why would I kill a dragon? Dragons are cool.”
“And cows aren’t?”
“Not as cool as dragons.” On the screen, his PC swung the sword again and took out its own leg. “Hell. What do I do now?”
“Hop?” Jude suggested.
“Fuck it.” Tossing the controller aside, Tommy gulped the last of his smoothie and surged to his feet. “How the hell are you, Bess?”
Jude accepted the bear hug with genuine pleasure. “I’m good, I’m good. You?”
“I’m aces.” Tommy scooped one hand through his mane of thick black hair. “Stayed in town this summer instead of going back to BC, since Kara’s ready to pop.”
“How’s she doing?” Jude asked, recalling his teammate’s tall, pretty wife. The last time he’d seen her at the post-season team golf outing, she’d been waddling across the green, her pregnant belly leading the way.
She’d still shot four under par.
“She’s good. Craving some weird shit, and she has to pee every five minutes, but feeling great otherwise. Two weeks to go.”
“Nice. You going to be there?”
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he vowed, then grinned. “Besides, she told me if I tried to weasel out of it she’d gut me like a fish.”
Jude laughed. Tommy was six foot five, built like a lumberjack, and one of the scariest defensemen in the National Hockey League. His wife was scarier. “I believe it.”
“Nice crumb catcher,” Tommy said, reaching out to give Jude’s mustache a tweak. “You lose a bet or something?”
“Hey, mustaches are in these days,” Jude said defensively. “You’re just jealous you can’t grow one.”
“Got me there,” Tommy said, amused and unoffended. His playoff beard had looked like the five o’clock shadow of a twelve-year-old. “So, what brings you to the barn? The brass call you in?”
“No.” Thank God. “I’m working out with Mac.”
Tommy’s eyes, nearly as dark as his hair, lit with interest. “Getting a leg up on your conditioning, eh? Smart.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Jude said with a wince.
Tommy let out a hoot of laughter. “Mac’s a sadist, but you’ll be ready for puck drop.”
“That’s the plan.”
“It’s a good one.”
Jude began walking toward the dining side of the lounge. “What’re you doing here? Besides killing your PC.”
Turning his back on his legless character without a glance, Tommy followed. “Kara’s mom and sister are in town. They started talking about mucus plugs and contractions and shit, so I bailed, came for lunch.”
Jude stared. “What the hell is a mucus plug?”
“Dude, you don’t want to know.” Tommy waved at the chef behind the grill. “Let’s get a steak and you can tell me about your summer.”
Half an hour later, Tommy was frowning at him over what was left of a ten-ounce sirloin, steamed broccoli, and a baked potato. “Dude, that’s fucked up.”
“I know.” Swallowing a bite of his filet, Jude reached for his glass of iced tea. “My agent’s assistant is digging into what happened, but in the meantime, she’s homeless.”
“Seriously fucked up.” Tommy sat back, looking thoughtful. “I’d offer my guest house, but Kara’s mom is staying there until after the baby’s born. I have a guest room. It’s in the main house and not that private, but she’s welcome to it.”
It took Jude a second to realize Tommy was offering Brynn a place to stay. “I appreciate the thought, but you’ve got enough going on right now without adding a house guest.”
“Offer stands,” Tommy said with a shrug. “You going to put her up in a hotel?”
Jude shook his head. “I offered. She said no.”
“Well, hell, man, where’s she going to go?”
“I told her she could stay with me,” Jude said casually and took another bite of steak.
Tommy blinked once, slowly, then leaned forward and cupped a hand around one ear. “I’m sorry, come again?”
“I told her she could stay with me,” Jude repeated patiently, pleased with his bland-as-toast tone. “I’ve got plenty of room, and it should only be a few days until things get squared away and she can move to her own place.”
“Sure, sure,” Tommy said, nodding, lips pursed as though in thought. “That makes sense. I just have one question.”
“Shoot,” Jude said.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
It was Jude’s turn to blink. “Huh?”
“I said, are you out of your fucking mind?” Tommy repeated slowly, the way one would with someone who didn’t speak fluent English. “She can’t stay with you.”
“Why not?” Jude asked, genuinely baffled at his friend’s reaction. Tommy was acting like he’d invited the captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs to live with him, not his harmless—and homeless—assistant.
“Jude. Come on.” Tommy shook his head. “You know why.”
“I actually don’t.”
“You really gonna make me say it?” Tommy asked.
“Say what?” Jude said, bewildered, and reached for his iced tea again.
“Okay, you asked for it.” Tommy leaned forward, looked him square in the eye and said, “She can’t stay with you because you want to stick your dick in her.”
Jude choked, spewing tea over his plate and Tommy’s face, coughing and gasping so hard he saw sparks. When he got his breath back and blinked his streaming eyes clear, Tommy was mopping his face with a napkin and holding another out.
“Thanks.” Jude took it and cleaned his face before croaking out, “How did you know?”
“I’ve seen the two of you together,” Tommy said drily. “It’s pretty fucking obvious.”
Jude tried swallowing. It felt like gulping razor blades. “Please tell me that isn’t true.”
“Probably not,” Tommy allowed. “Maybe I see it because, well, been there—done that.”
“What are you talking about?” Jude asked, then realization hit. “Wait. You and Kara?”
“She was my PA when I was with Pittsburgh.” Tommy raised one eyebrow. “You didn’t know that?”
“No.”
“For about six months,” Tommy confirmed. “Until I couldn’t take it anymore and fired her.”
“You fired her?”
“Well, I couldn’t date her while she was working for me,” Tommy said reasonably. “I got her a job with a teammate, fired her, then asked her out.”
Jude stared, fascinated. “Did she say yes?”
“She kicked me in the balls and told me to ask her again in a week,” Tommy recalled with a fond smile. “She said yes then. You can’t sleep with Brynn, Jude.”
“I know that,” Jude said, irritation working through the shock. “I’m not completely clueless.”
“I didn’t think so, but here we are.”
Annoyed, Jude scowled. “So, I want her. Big deal. I’ve wanted plenty of women I haven’t slept with. I can handle it.”
“I think you’re underestimating the power of lust combined with proximity, but let’s say that’s true,” Tommy allowed. “Why risk it? Any kind of a sexual harassment scandal could fuck your career.”
“She’s homeless, Tom. Because of me.”
Tommy pointed a finger. “Because of a screwup in your agent’s office, not because of you.”
“I should’ve been paying closer attention,” he insisted, leaving out the part where he hadn’t been paying attention because he was avoiding her due to the aforementioned lust. It didn’t seem like it would help his argument. “It’s my responsibility, ”
Tommy snorted. “So, what? Having her stay with you is penance?”
He wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. “I owe her a place to stay until this gets straightened out.”
“Then get her a hotel room.”
“I told her she could stay in the guest room, not on my dick,” Jude snapped. “For Christ’s sake, Tommy.”
“Fine.” Tommy raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. You’re a grown man, and you know what you’re doing.”
“Thank you.”
“And when it blows up in your face, I promise not to say, ‘I told you so’.”
“Fuck you.”
Tommy jerked his chin at Jude’s plate. “You done eating?”
Jude looked down. He still had half a steak left, but his appetite was gone. “Yeah.”
“Good. Let’s go get a beer. I won’t tell the nutritionist if you won’t.”
Jude pushed his chair back. “You’re buying.”
Jude crossed the hall to his front door with a scowl. “I hate you.”
“That hurts me, Jude,” Tommy said, tapping a fist against his chest. “It hurts me right here.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
“Wow. And after I sprang for the good beer.”
“You were supposed to spring for the good beer in a bar, not at my house.”
“Is it so terrible I just wanted to have a quiet beer with a friend where I wouldn’t risk being recognized by fans?”
“You love getting recognized by fans,” Jude shot back. “You wanted to come here to see Brynn.”
Tommy blinked in mock surprise. “Brynn’s here?”
“You’re an ass,” Jude muttered and turned away to key in the door code.
It unlocked with a beep and he shoved it open, annoyed with his friend and with himself for opening his big mouth, and saw Brynn.
She was sitting on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, a laptop open in front of her and the dog asleep at her feet. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, covered only by the skinny straps of the white sundress she wore. It left a remarkable amount of leg bare, too, and for a moment, all he could see was thigh.
Then she said, “Hi,” and jolted him out of his thigh-induced stupor.
“Hi,” he said and shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts.
“Hi,” Tommy said from the doorway, and dammit, the son of a bitch was laughing.
“Tommy,” Brynn said, her voice warming with her smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, just hanging out. Kara and her mom and sister are talking about childbirth nightmares at the house, so Bessie here was nice enough to offer refuge.”
“That was sweet of him,” she said, sliding off the stool to hug him while Jude looked on with resentment and tried not to stare at her legs.
Tommy laughed, dark eyes dancing over Brynn’s head when Jude glared at him. “He’s a bowl of sugar, Bessie is. And hello, who’s this?”
Tilly had squeezed herself out from under the stool to sniff at Tommy’s shoes. “That’s Tilly.”
Tommy glanced at Brynn. “She yours?”
Brynn shook her head. “I’m dog-sitting. Her family is in Europe while their house is being renovated.”
“Hi, Tilly,” Tommy crooned, holding out a hand. Tilly gave it an experimental sniff, a nudge, then rolled onto her back with a delighted wiggle.
“Oh, what a good girl,” Tommy enthused, crouching to rub her belly. Tilly’s back foot began to pump. “Yes, that’s the spot, isn’t it? Does it feel good? Does it?”
“She’ll let you do that all day,” Brynn warmed.
“That’s okay,” Tommy crooned. “I could do it all day, couldn’t I? Yes, I could.”
“Give me the beer.” Jude reached out to take it and walked around the counter into the kitchen. “You want a glass?”
“Bottle’s fine,” Tommy said, making kissy noises at Tilly.
“You want one?” Jude asked Brynn.
“Oh. Um, no thanks.” She nudged her glasses up her nose, her eyes guarded behind the lenses, and resumed her seat at the counter.
He pulled two bottles from the six-pack and dug the bottle opener out of the drawer. “Has Chloe called you?” he asked Brynn, popping the bottle tops and trying to ignore the fact that he was close enough to smell her. She smelled like the shampoo she’d left in his shower—he’d had a good sniff earlier, even though he’d felt like a creep doing it—and an image of her wet and covered in nothing but suds leaped to mind.
“No, not yet.”
“Me neither.” He lifted the beer to his mouth, hoping it would douse the sudden fire in his gut, then grimaced at the taste. “Yuck.”
“Hey, that’s good shit,” Tommy called from the floor.
“Too hoppy,” Jude complained, setting the bottle aside.
“You’re too hoppy,” Tommy countered.
Brynn snickered, and Jude rolled his eyes and carried the second bottle around the counter. “Here. Don’t feed it to the dog, she’ll shit everywhere.”
“Good to know.” Sprawled on the floor, one hand still stroking Tilly into doggy bliss, he tipped the bottle back for a long drink. When he lowered it, he said, “How’s it going, Brynn?”
“Good.” She swiveled on her stool to look at him, her skirt riding up on her thigh. Not much, just an inch or two, but sweat popped out on Jude’s forehead anyway. “I talked to Angela today.”
“Yeah?”
“She gave me some recommendations for a new cleaning service,” she explained, then lifted her head to look at Jude. “I’ve got interviews set up for tomorrow. Do you want to be here for those?”
He started to say no, then changed his mind. “Yeah, I do. What time?”
She turned to tap at her computer. “One, two-thirty, and four.”
“I can make that work,” he decided.
“That reminds me,” Tommy interjected. “I booked some ice time for this week. Wednesday afternoon, two o’clock. You want in on that?”
“Sure. Just you?”
Tommy tipped his beer back. “Nah, I’ve got a couple of other guys coming too. We should have enough for a full scrimmage.”
“Can I come?” Brynn asked and had both men turning to look at her.
“Sure,” Tommy said.
“Why?” Jude asked.
“Because I want to film it,” she said, looking at Jude. “For your social media.”
Jude grimaced. “Do you have to?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “You barely posted anything all summer, so I’ve been recycling pics and vids from last season, and I need some fresh stuff. In fact,” she went on, straightening on the stool, “I’m going with you to your workout Wednesday morning, too.”
Ignoring the cackle of laughter from the floor—he never should’ve brought Tommy home with him—he narrowed his eyes. “You’re not filming my workout.”
“Not all of it,” she promised. “Just the parts that are sexy enough for social media.”
“That’ll be easy,” he said drily while Tommy continued to chortle. “None of it is sexy.”
“Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that,” she muttered, and for a moment, her eyes glowed with heat. Then she blinked and adjusted her glasses, and it was gone.
“Come on, Bessie,” Tommy said, yanking Jude’s attention away from Brynn’s Bambi eyes. He was sprawled on the floor, propped up on one elbow and wearing a shit-eating grin. “Let her film you doing lunges. You’ll go viral.”
“I don’t want to go viral,” Jude ground out and vowed to put heat-activated muscle rub in Tommy’s cup at the first opportunity.
“I won’t get in your way,” Brynn said, pulling his gaze back to her. “I swear, you won’t even know I’m there.”
Like that’s possible . Jude sighed. He didn’t love the idea, but he wasn’t going to tell her no. “Fine. But I get the final say on what goes on social media.”
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“Why not?” he asked while Tommy started cackling again.
“Jude, if it was up to you, nothing would go on social media.”
“I’m a very private person,” he muttered defensively.
“And I respect that,” she said soothingly. “But like it or not, you’re a public figure, and part of my job is making sure the public sees you in a positive light.”
“Come on, Bessie. Let her do her job. Besides, I bet the fans are going to love your new lip fringe.”
Jude scowled. “Fine. You can come to the rink.”
“And to your workout?”
He sighed. “And to my workout.”
She beamed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Jude waited until she turned back to her computer, then gave Tommy a swift kick in the leg. He only laughed harder. Jude would’ve kicked him again—in a much more sensitive place—but his phone buzzed.
He dug it out and looked at the screen. “The delivery van is downstairs with the dresser. They need someone to let them in.”
“Tilly’s due for a walk.” Brynn hopped off her stool. “I’ll send them up.”
“Thanks,” Jude said, watching her skirt flutter as she walked barefoot to the front door.
“Come on, Tilly.” Brynn paused by the door to slip her feet into flip-flops and grab the leash. “Let’s go find a patch of grass to water.”
Tilly scrambled up and waddled across the room. Brynn held the door open, rolling her eyes at the dog’s leisurely pace. “Thank you for joining me,” she said as Tilly walked past her into the hall. With a little wave, she let the door swing shut behind her.
The second it did, Tommy sat up and said, “Brother, you are screwed .”
“Fuck you,” Jude said and tried to kick him again.
Evading, Tommy rolled to his feet with effortless grace and snorted. “Man, this is going to be fun. I can’t wait to tell Kara you’re in love with your assistant.”
Jude blinked. “I’m not in love with her.”
“Oh yeah, you are,” Tommy said, circling the counter with his empty beer bottle. “Where’s your recycling?”
“Under the sink. Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” Tommy dropped his bottle in the bin and planted his hands on the counter. “You’re going to tell me it’s not?”
“Of course, it’s not,” Jude scoffed, ignoring the spurt of panic.
“Uh-huh. When did you meet her?”
“Last November, when I hired her,” Jude said, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew it was a defensive move, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
Tommy’s eyes danced with amusement. “And when’s the last time you had a date with another woman?”
His mind went dead blank. “Ah…”
“I’ll make it easier. When’s the last time you slept with another woman?”
“Last Thanksgiving.” When he’d been part of Esme’s gang bang fantasy.
“So you met Brynn in November, and you last had sex in November?”
“Yeah.” Wait—he hadn’t had sex in nine months?
“And you don’t see a connection there?” Tommy asked, smirking.
“I’ve been busy,” Jude said weakly. Nine months. Good God.
Tommy snorted.
Jude’s knees went wobbly, and he sat down on the couch. “I’m not in love with her.”
“Maybe not all the way,” Tommy conceded, coming around the counter. He shoved the little candles and the plant out of the way and sat on the steamer trunk facing Jude. “But you’re headed in that direction.”
Jude scrubbed his hands over his face. “Shit.”
“On the bright side, I think she’s in love with you, too.”
Jude’s head came up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “What?”
“Well, she wants to bang you, anyway,” Tommy amended. “You didn’t see the way she was looking at you?”
“No,” Jude admitted. He’d been too busy trying not to look at her to notice how she was looking at him. “How was she looking at me?”
“She stared at your thighs almost as long as you stared at hers,” Tommy said. “She was more subtle than you, of course.”
“Of course,” Jude muttered, the tips of his ears heating with embarrassment.
“When she was talking about filming your workout, there was a moment where I thought she might melt into a puddle right there on the stool.”
“Really?”
Tommy nodded. “She’s into you, man. What are you going to do about it?”
Jude stared. “What do you mean, what am I going to do about it? I thought you said it was a terrible idea.”
“I changed my mind. I think you should go for it.”
“Go for it?” Jude echoed.
“Ask her out,” Tommy clarified. “See where it goes.”
“What happened to ‘a sexual harassment scandal could ruin your career’?”
Tommy snorted. “In this league? You’ll be fine.”
Jude barked out a laugh before he could stop it. “Jesus, Tommy.”
Tommy cocked an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” Jude admitted. They’d both seen players who’d done far worse be condemned in the press and social media, offer either fierce denials or false apologies, and go right back to playing under multi-million dollar contracts for top teams. The league talked a good game about not wanting abusers on the ice, but money trumped ethics, and the sad truth was a guy who brought in enough of it could probably commit murder and still have a job.
“Besides, you’re not going to sexually harass her.”
“Just asking her out could be considered harassment,” Jude pointed out. “I’m her boss, remember?”
“So don’t ask her out yet. Just…observe.”
“Observe.”
“Yeah. How she talks, how she looks. You know how a woman acts when she’s interested.”
“Yeah, okay. Then what?”
“Then you sit down and have an adult conversation about it.”
“Just like that?”
“What could be easier?”
A loud thump on the door interrupted them. “Yo! Got a dresser here.”
“I don’t know,” Jude muttered, getting up to answer the door. “Curing the common cold?”
The kid on the other side of the door jerked his chin in greeting while his partner, who looked about sixteen, leaned on the dresser, snapping a wad of gum the size of a baby’s fist. “S’up, bro. Where ya want this?”
“Room at the end of the hall,” Jude told him, pointing. “Just pick a good spot against the wall somewhere.”
“Bro,” the kid replied, which Jude assumed meant ‘okay’, and they wheeled the dolly with the dresser down the hall.
“You think they recognized me?” Tommy asked, and Jude sighed and went to find some cash for a tip.