Chapter 24 #2
I thought we were past this, but I guess she hasn’t completely forgiven me for keeping Mark—and everything else—a secret.
“Only by a day. If it makes you feel any better, I was mad too.”
“You got over it awfully fast.”
“Yeah. Well, I like her.”
“Me too,” Katie agrees, her eyes flicking toward me. “She’s annoying like that.”
“If you could both stop talking about me like I’m not here, that would be great. Katie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mark before I told him about you. You’re right. I should have told you first.”
“You guys really are like sisters,” Mark comments.
“Yes. We are,” Katie says. “So if you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” she tells him, pointing a fork at him.
To his credit, Mark merely nods and says, “Okay.”
“Shall we sit down and have the most awkward dinner ever?” I ask, handing out the plates that are stacked on the table as Katie passes out chopsticks.
There are a couple of minutes of semi-uncomfortable silence where no one says anything under the guise of filling our plates and taking our first bites before Katie says, “So, Mark. How’s the season going?”
“Kay,” I chide.
“No, it’s fine,” Mark interjects. “It’s okay, all things considered. We’re six and six right now.”
“That doesn’t seem very good,” Katie comments around a mouthful of lo mein.
“It puts us fourth in the division with most of the season left to go. It’s better than we were doing this time last year,” he says, surprising me.
“Why have you been so stressed then?” I ask. “Beyond the obvious,” I add quickly.
“New jobs are always stressful,” Mark says, deflecting.
“Oh, come on,” I prod. “That’s not why. I’ve been assuming you were worried about being fired or something.”
“They can’t fire me. Well,” he amends quickly, “they could, but they’d have to pay me for the duration of my contract, so they’re unlikely to, especially since we’re not losing quite as badly as you’d expect considering we’ve had three players die.”
“So why then?”
Mark taps his chopsticks against his plate, his eyes darting to me and then to Katie.
“They were never supposed to be on the team,” Mark says finally, his eyes locked on Katie.
“Regardless of whether the trial ended in a conviction, they were never supposed to be on my team. That stipulation was part of my agreeing to take the job in the first place. But it wasn’t written into my contract.
It was a handshake deal. And player contracts with the NHL are fully guaranteed by the collective bargaining agreement unless the contract is terminated by breach,” Mark explains.
“If the trial had ended in a guilty verdict, well. Terminating their contracts outright would’ve been simple enough.
But it didn’t. It shouldn’t have mattered, though.
They could’ve still made the case for terminating, or at the very least sent them down to the minors or bought them out.
Only every one of those guys was a good enough player that when the GM and the owners saw the chance to keep them, they did, which was already enough of a pain in my ass,” he says looking back to me, and I know he means Garret Fischer specifically.
“But now I’m having to deal with a GM who thinks the sky is falling and our franchise is crumbling, police who want to come back and question the players every other day, a team full of superstitious idiots, and a bunch of rent-a-cops standing around, pretending they’re doing anything other than being in the way.
Half of the team is acting like they’re next, and the other half doesn’t want to share the ice with Fischer and Steichen for fear that they might be hit by a stray bullet or something.
“There’s constant talk of canceling games, only no one wants to be the one to make that decision.
I’m having to run interference between about forty different morons, and none of them will just let me do my fucking job.
And that doesn’t even touch on having to deal with Garret Fischer day in and day out.
If someone is actually targeting those assholes, they should’ve started with him,” Mark growls.
I look at Katie, eyebrows raised, only to find the same expression on her face.
But at least that answers my question about the private security—Mark had mentioned it before, but it sounded like they were still only considering the option.
I guess they decided to cover their asses.
That’s going to make things more difficult.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“I hear you threw a guy out of a window,” Katie says.
Mark glares at me. “Yeah.”
“That’s cool.”
The rest of the dinner goes by slightly more normally, and by the time we’re done eating, Katie seems to have somewhat rescinded her grudge against Mark.
“Well, I’m going to go to my mom’s for the night,” Katie announces as I’m taking our plates to the dishwasher.
“What? Why?” I ask, looking back at her.
“I should go see her before I leave for California. Otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it.
Plus, if I go to my mom’s, he can spend the night without feeling weird about it, and I know he wants to,” Katie says, her eyes locked on Mark, who looks like he’s trying really hard not to squirm under her gaze.
“You’re sure?” I question.
“Yeah. I’ll be back at noon tomorrow, so if you’re still here, be wearing clothes,” she tells Mark before turning to head to her room.
“Are all the women in your family that direct?”
“Yes,” I answer, loading the plates into the dishwasher.
“Ask me to spend the night,” Mark says from immediately behind me.
I close the dishwasher and turn to face him, stepping into his space and looping my arms over his shoulders. “Would you like to spend the night?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, his lips are on mine, and my hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. I’ve wanted him since before the intercom buzzed and interrupted us earlier. I’ve wanted—
“Geez. You could’ve at least waited until I was gone,” Katie says, sounding amused.
Mark steps back from me, his cheeks flushing. It might be the first time I’ve really seen him look embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and Katie and I both laugh.
A few more minutes pass, and then Katie is out the door.
“Why is she going to California?” Mark asks.
“She’s got a friend who lives in Redding, and the reporters have been circling around trying to be the first to get a sound bite from Katie since the news about Brandon’s murder broke. We’ve had three make it into the building and knock on our door this week alone.”
“Ah,” he says, pulling me closer to him.
I keep waiting for Mark to ask me about Brandon. Or Matt Davidson. Or Joey Carmichael. Or even if I think Katie could have something to do with it. But he hasn’t. If I thought he was stupid, I’d be less nervous about his disinterest in questioning the circumstances around their deaths.
I keep almost asking him about it. And I keep chickening out.
“I liked the windows in your bedroom,” Mark says softly as he wraps his arms around my waist.
“The curtains were closed. You didn’t even see them.”
“I liked the windows in your bedroom,” he repeats, a low growl in his voice.
“I… Oh. You want to open the curtains and fuck me against the window, don’t you?” I drop my hand to stroke him through his jeans, and he rocks his hips into it.
“Yes. I’ve wanted to do that since you told me about your dream, and you’ve got better windows than I do.”
I grin. “Want to record it?” I might not want to have FaceTime sex, but I have no issues recording us having fun together.
“Are you asking me if I want to make a sex tape?” he asks, a wild look in his eyes.
“Yes,” I reply, pulling him out of the kitchen toward the hallway.
A soundless gasp escapes my lungs as he scoops me up, cradling me to his chest. “You weren’t walking fast enough,” he states before I can say anything. He turns sideways, stepping into my bedroom and setting me down.
The lamps above the orchids are still on, casting glowing pools around them. I reach for the light switch, but Mark grabs my hand, stopping me before I can hit it.
“This is fine.”
“But—”
“If you turn on every light in this room, you’re going to spend more time worrying about the neighbors watching us than you are enjoying this, and this is your fantasy as much as it is mine.
You wouldn’t have been dreaming about it otherwise.
Besides,” he says, cutting me off when I open my mouth to protest, “we can always turn on all the lights next time we do this.”
“Bold of you to assume there will be a next time,” I tell him as I stare into his hazel eyes, already having to restrain myself from winding my hands into his hair so I can drag his mouth to mine.
“Oh, I know there will be a next time,” he replies with an annoying amount of confidence.
“Whatever,” I scoff, although I’m pretty sure he’s right.
Lust has been racing through me since he mentioned my curtains, and it’s tinged with just enough uncertainty to make things really exciting.
I pass him my phone. “You set up our phones, and I’ll get the curtains.
The dresser is going to be your best bet. ”
The drapes snick along the track as I pull them open, revealing a sliding glass door that leads to a small balcony surrounded by windows on both sides.
“Stay where you are. Don’t move,” Mark orders over the sound of him shifting things around. “I need to make sure you’re in frame.”
“Okay,” I agree, looking out the windows to the building opposite mine. Lights are on in at least half the units, and of those, there are a solid twenty whose occupants can see into my bedroom. I’m still fully clothed, but I’ve never felt more exposed.
Another moment passes, and then Mark is behind me, his body pressing into mine, his hands sliding under my shirt. They’re warm against my skin as they move up my stomach and over my ribs. I lift my arms so he can pull it off.
“Nervous?” he whispers, his lips next to my ear as his hands undo the hooks on my bra.