Chapter 2
TWO
BEAR
My teammates…well, they’re good people.
The group of them that I like hanging out with anyway are.
The rest of them?
I wouldn’t mind seeing a few of them go before the trade deadline hits.
Then again, we might end up with an even bigger group of assholes, so really, what do I know?
That it’s late and I’m ready to go home, to get some sleep before our game tomorrow.
Or at least, that’s what I’m intending as I head out of the bar and over to my car.
My sweatshirt is damp and the material smells like alcohol and soda.
Likely a lost cause, but one I hardly notice.
Because the woman’s hair had smelled like flowers.
Sierra.
I’d gotten a kick out of the fact that her name mirrored those of the mountains we were standing on top of.
Sierra.
What kind of last name goes with that?
It can’t be anything too normal. It should be something unique, something as beautiful as her.
Then again my parents decided to give me the moniker Bear Lexington, so I don’t have any room to talk.
Sighing, I move to my car, bleep the locks, and start to get in.
Then pause.
Because…
“Sierra?” I call, watching the shadows in front of my car still and coalesce into the petite redhead with soulful gray eyes.
That sends a thought flickering through my mind, a blip of recognition Sierra. Gray eyes.
It’s there on the periphery of my vision.
And then it’s gone.
Lost in a flash of movement.
Sierra jerks at the sound of my voice and—
Thunk!
“Shit,” I mutter, moving toward her, knowing that I’m the reason she just concussed herself on the trunk of her car. “Are you okay?”
She moves again, albeit carefully this time, ducking out from beneath the open trunk, turning to face me. “I’m fine.”
She didn’t sound fine.
Or look fine standing there considering me so carefully.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t.”
Such a blatant lie, but it’s not one that I call her on.
Not when I’ve noticed why she was likely poking around in the trunk of her car.
Her tire’s flat.
And since I’m not doing all that great with words, I decide to take up action.
I move toward her, then by her, hating the way she goes stiff, hating the way she inhales sharply as I shuffle by her and reach into the trunk, pulling at the tab she’d clearly been struggling with.
Revealing the spare tire below.
“You—”
I pull it free, carry it up to the flat, then return for the jack and lug wrench.
Which is the moment that her protests pick up.
“You don’t have to do that—” I plunk the jack down, start lifting that car. “Really,” she says. “I was going to call a tow truck and—” Once there’s room for me to work I get down on the ground and start loosening the nuts. “I can—”
Old tire off.
Spare that looks more than a little well-worn on.
I release the jack, scoop it and the tire up, stowing everything in the trunk. “There’s a repair place in town that will patch that up for you,” I tell her. “I know the manager there. Want me to call him in the morning and let him know you’ll be coming by?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “I’ll—”
I pull out my cell, hit the button to bring up his contact, then call him, knowing that he’s going to be up anyway.
“Jack?” I ask when he answers on the third ring.
I explain the situation. “Want to drop it off on your way home?” he suggests. “I’ll get to it first thing in the morning and then she can just stop by when it’s done?”
“Thanks, man,” I tell him. “I’ll owe you a pair of tickets—”
Sierra chokes quietly but doesn’t otherwise protest as Jack laughs, says, “You know I’d never turn down free hockey tickets.”
“Pick the game and their yours.”
We hang up.
“What did you do?” she whispers.
I snag the tire from the trunk, bring it to my car and stow it away.
“What are you—”
“I’ll drop this off at the garage”—I nod to the tire—“my buddy will fix it and you can just pick it up when it’s ready.”
“I—”
“Give me your phone.”
She blinks.
“So I can have him call you when your tire is fixed,” I explain, waiting as she pulls out her cell and unlocks the screen. I snag it from her, type in my number and hit the button to connect the call.
And so I can have her number.
Creepy much?
Maybe.
But also, I feel like I’m going to need it.
Or maybe, I know that I’m going need it.