Playing It Cool: A York Bombers Hockey Romance (The York Bombers Book 8)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Day got to his feet, a visible wince crossing his face when he put his weight on the leg. He skated forward, winced again, then raised his hand in acknowledgement of the cheering crowd before making his way back to the bench.

  Bryan took one look at him then motioned toward the back. "Go get checked out."

  Day opened his mouth—no doubt to tell Bryan he was fine—then quickly snapped it shut and nodded before heading back to the locker room. Bryan turned his attention back to the clock, ground his back teeth in frustration again, then watched the players get in position for the face off.

  Thirty seconds left in the period.

  Twenty. Ten...

  The horn sounded, signaling the end of the period with the score still tied.

  Shit.

  Bryan followed the players back to the locker room, giving them a few minutes to rehydrate and cool down. To get their skates off to be sharpened or to re-tape their sticks.

  He looked around, studying the faces that were as familiar to him as his own. How long had he been coaching the Bombers? How many years had hockey ruled his life?

  For as far back as he could remember, life had been hockey. From the time he woke up until the time he closed his eyes at night, everything had been about hockey. That hadn't changed, even after he retired from playing. Maybe he wasn't out on the ice the way he used to be, but life was still all about hockey, the same way it was with the players gathered around him.

  Except that wasn't true.

  Studying the familiar faces now, he realized that quite a few of his players had managed to find the balance between hockey and life. Maybe it wasn't a perfect balance, but they were learning.

  Harland Day, who'd lost his shot with the Banners two years ago only to find happiness with his wife and son.

  Zach Mummert, the man he'd figured would be the last to settle down, had been proposing to his girlfriend for the last year. Bryan wouldn't be surprised if they finally made it official before the end of the year.

  Aaron Malone, the oldest player on the team, the man they jokingly called 'Pops'. If they called Malone that, how the hell did they refer to him, considering he was almost fifteen years older? It didn't matter, not to Malone, He'd finally found happiness with his two daughters and his fiancé, and was already thinking about retiring.

  Bryan had never considered retiring, had never thought of it as anything more than a remote possibility, something that was just there, in the back of his mind. Why the hell would he want to retire, when hockey was all he knew? It was his life, twenty-four/seven.

  At least, it had been. Like a lot of his players, he was quickly realizing that there was more to life than hockey and the secret to happiness was in finding the balance—a balance he'd convinced himself he didn't care about because it had always eluded him.

  Until he met Pamela.

  For as much as he didn't believe in all that sappy happily-ever-after shit, Pamela and he had clicked. There was something there, something he wanted to explore a little deeper, just to see where it ended up.

  He'd thought Pamela was on the same page until he saw the look of surprise and maybe even a hint of terror on her face, like an animal caught in a trap. He'd backed off immediately, afraid he'd already pushed her too much just by inviting her to go to Barbados with him. It was just a damn vacation, not a marriage proposal. It shouldn't have scared her that much.

  Which made him wonder if he was the one thinking more about the future and she was simply enjoying things one day at a time.

  He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, knowing he'd see Pamela after the game and they could talk then. But first the Bombers had to finish the game—and hopefully end their season with another one in the win column.

  Bryan cleared his throat, the sound getting the attention of everyone else in the room. He scanned each face, meeting each man's eyes as he tapped the roll of papers against his palm.

  It was time to do what he did best: get the men fired up and ready to hit the ice for the win.

  He just hoped he'd have the same luck when he met Pamela after the game.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bryan moved the leather bag from his right hand to his left then leaned forward and brushed his mouth across Pamela's. She tensed for a split second then relaxed against him as he deepened the kiss. It was over entirely too soon as far as he was concerned—something he'd remedy as soon as they left the arena and got back to his place.

  He eased away from Pamela then looked around, a frown on his face. "No Anita and Gary tonight?"

  "No. They had babysitter issues."

  "You should have said something. I could have gotten two more tickets for the kids."

  "It was pretty much a very last-minute thing." Pamela fell in step with him as he backtracked toward the elevator. "Their youngest developed a stomach bug."

  "Oh. Then I guess coming to the game would have been out of the question."

  "Unfortunately. But it was a great game and I know Gary will be very disappointed he missed it." Pamela slid him a small smile. "Congratulations on the win, by the way."

  "Thank you. It was hard-won but we ended the season on a winning note. It's a good way to go out, although we would have preferred making it to the playoffs." Bryan pressed the elevator button then stepped back to watch Pamela from the corner of his eye. Was it his imagination, or was she holding herself back a bit?

  The doors slid open and he waited for Pamela to step on before following her. The elevator's descent to the garage level was smooth and quick, the ride silent as they both studied the glowing numbers above them.

  And no, it wasn't his imagination: Pamela was acting a bit more reserved than usual. She seemed preoccupied and he wondered if it was because something had happened at the coffeeshop, or if it was because of the invitation he had issued the other day.

  The door slid open and they stepped out. Instead of turning toward his car, Pamela started to move left. He caught her hand and motioned to the right. "I'm parked over there."

  She pointed behind her. "And my car is this way."

  Which made perfect sense. How else would she have gotten here tonight, especially since her friends hadn't been able to make the game? Apparently, Pamela wasn't the only one who was a little distracted tonight.

  "Did you want to grab dinner? We can meet somewhere. Or we can go back to my place and you can drop your car off—"

  "Actually, I was hoping we could talk first."

  Bryan's stomach did a slow roll, his mind automatically jumping to all the wrong conclusions. He hid his reaction behind a forced smile. "Sounds ominous. Nothing bad, I hope."

  One corner of Pamela's mouth tilted up in a smile as forced as his own. Instead of giving him words of reassurance, she waved in the direction of her car. "Walk with me?"

  "Yes. Of course."

  He started to reach for her, hesitated, then lightly placed his hand in the small of her back. She didn't stiffen or pull away, both good signs as far as he was concerned.

  Unless he was simply fooling himself.

  Their steps echoed around them, bouncing off the concrete walls and floors as they moved through the garage. Only a few cars were left, their owners nowhere to be found. Pamela's car sat off by itself, tucked into a far corner at the opposite end of the garage.

  She pulled her keys from her purse and hit a button on the fob. The taillights blinked as the horn emitted a small beep and the doors automatically unlocked. Bryan hesitated, fully expecting her to open the door and settle into the driver's seat. She turned and leaned against the car instead, her gaze focused at something over Bryan's left shoulder.

  A minute went by, then another, before Pamela shifted against the car and reluctantly met his gaze. She looked away almost immediately, but not before he caught a glimpse of what was coming in her wide eyes.

  "Getting tired of me already, huh?" He'd meant the words as a joke, nothing more than a lighthearted attempt at easing into a conversation he knew he didn't want to
have. But the expression that crossed Pamela's face was anything but lighthearted and he mentally kicked himself for making such an asinine comment.

  Pamela offered him a small smile then shook her head. "It's not that. Not exactly."

  "But?"

  "But..." She sighed and stared at the keyring in her hands. "I'm wondering if maybe things are moving too fast."

  Too fast? Maybe they were. But they had shared so much already these last two months, enough to let him know that he wanted to spend even more time with her. He didn't say any of that out loud, though, because he figured that would only scare her more.

  He swallowed back a sigh of frustration and cleared his throat. "It's because I invited you to go on vacation with me, isn't it?"

  "No, not really." Her gaze darted to his then quickly slid away. "Maybe a little."

  "You don't have to go. We can both stay here and continue on the way we've been doing."

  "That's just it, though. We're on two completely separate paths." Pamela pushed the hair behind her ear and laughed. The sadness in the noise bounced back at them ten-fold and Bryan wondered if she could hear it. Or maybe it was just another figment of his imagination because she kept talking like she hadn't even stopped.

  "I've shown up late two times this month. And this week, I raced into the shop thinking I was running late again only to realize I had messed up my days and went in on my day off. I've never done that before. Ever."

  "I'm not following. What does any of that have to do with us?"

  "It's..." She sighed, the sound lost and lonely in the empty garage. "I've lost track of what's important, Bryan. That business means everything to me. I've worked so hard for it, for the security it gives me. I can't afford to lose sight of that and I won't give it up."

  A brief spurt of anger flashed through him and he quickly pushed it away. "I never asked you to give it up. I would never even think of asking you to do that."

  "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you did. It's just—I think we want completely different things out of life."

  "You don't want happiness?"

  Pamela's gaze shot to his and he didn't miss the flash of irritation that sparked in their depths. "Of course, I do. But I'm not willing to sacrifice everything I've worked so hard for to get it."

  He laughed, the sound a little too harsh. A little too bitter. Hadn't he been struggling with this exact same issue? Up until a few months ago, he'd been convinced it was an either/or situation. Hockey had been his life at the exclusion of everything else and he'd fooled himself into thinking it was enough for him. That the joy of the game that ran through his veins would always be enough.

  Until it wasn't. Until he realized he wanted more. Until he learned he could have more. He could find the right balance and have them both.

  It was a revelation that had come to him in stages, the most recent one hitting him ten minutes ago with the force of a puck to the chest.

  He wanted the woman in front of him. Watching her now, he could easily see a future for them together. But he couldn't push her. He couldn't force her to learn what he'd only recently discovered himself. He could only stand back and hope she'd be blindsided by her own revelations and sooner rather than later.

  No, he couldn't force her to see—but he could maybe nudge her in that direction.

  Bryan reached out and cupped her cheek with one hand, took it as a promising sign when she didn't bat his hand away. "Who says you can't have both?"

  "I don't..." Her voice trailed off and whatever answer she had been ready to give him faded into the silence of the cavernous garage.

  Bryan reached into the leather bag and pulled out the small envelope he had shoved inside earlier. It had been a spurt of wishful thinking that had made him grab it before heading out to the game. And it was wishful thinking that made him pull it out now.

  Bryan stared at the small envelope, still hesitating. A minute went by, then another, before he pulled in a deep breath and quickly released it. He stepped forward and caught Pamela's mouth in a gentle kiss then shoved the envelope into her hand before stepping back.

  "I think it's possible to have both, Pamela. At least, I'm hoping so. I have no idea where we're headed but I think that this—whatever this is between us—has potential. I'd like to see where it takes us."

  "Bryan—"

  "Just think about it, Pamela. That's all I'm asking." He kissed her again, drawing even more hope from the fact that she didn't push him away. He broke the kiss then stepped back, held her gaze for a long moment and wished he could read whatever it was he saw in her eyes.

  "Just think about it." He repeated the words then, with a quick nod at the envelope she held in her hand, turned and headed to his car.

  And hoped he hadn't just made a mistake in calling that last play.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "You are the world's biggest fool."

  "Anita—"

  "No, I take that back. You're not a fool, you're an idiot. A full-blown idiot."

  "Anita—"

  "If you don't go, I'm disowning you. I'm just going to turn right around and pretend I don't know you. I'm never going to talk to you again. I won't even let my kids talk to you again." Anita paused her brisk pacing, tilted her head to the side with a frown then shook her head. "Except when you're babysitting. I'll let them talk to you then. But any other time? Not happening. It'll be like you don't even exist."

  "That's not—"

  "Fair? Who cares about fair? Fair walked out that door a week ago, along with the last shred of your dubious sanity."

  "I was going to say realistic." Pamela forced the words out in a rush, surprised that she was finally able to complete an entire sentence without being interrupted. Not that it mattered because Anita wasn't paying any attention to her. She was still pacing back and forth in the small office, her bobbed hair swaying with each sharp pivot. She stopped, threw her hands up in the air, then resumed her frantic pacing once more.

  "You need your head examined. This is such a no-brainer that I'm astounded we're even talking about it. No, I take that back. I'm speechless. Absolutely speechless."

  "Could have fooled me." Pamela muttered the words under her breath then bit back a smile when Anita whirled on her.

  "I heard that." Anita moved toward Pamela's desk and placed both fists on the edge before leaning forward. "You need help."

  "I don't—"

  "Yes, you do. For crying out loud, Pam, it's a vacation. Two weeks on a beach surrounded by crystal blue waters and in the company of a hunky hockey coach. On what planet is that even remotely a bad thing?"

  "I can't—"

  "Yes, you can. And you should. It's a vacation, Pam, not a damn marriage proposal."

  "You don't understand."

  "You're right, I don't." Anita pushed away from the desk and planted both fists on her hips. "So why don't you explain it to me? And maybe you should use tiny little words so my poor addled brain can comprehend them."

  "Now you're just being sarcastic."

  "Gee, you think? Can't imagine why. Vacation, Pam. Read my lips. Va-ca-tion. Barbados. Blue waters. Bryan." Anita waved her arms one final time then marched over to her desk and dropped into her chair. "You need some serious help."

  "I don't need help."

  "Okay then. You need a vacation."

  "There's too much to worry about here. I can't just leave."

  "That's just an excuse and you know it. I'll be here and so will the rest of the staff. We won't fall apart without you."

  "But—"

  "Unless you really don't trust me to run this place while you're gone."

  Pamela's mouth snapped closed. She glared at her best friend for a full minute then shook her head. "You know that's not true."

  "Then why are you so dead set against going?"

  Pamela studied her best friend for a few seconds then leaned back in her chair with a long sigh. Her gaze moved from Anita to the airline ticket propped against her computer. She sighe
d again then ran both hands through her hair, trying to get Bryan's words out of her mind.

  Who says you can't have both?

  I'd like to see where it takes us.

  The words whirled through her mind, over and over and over until she was sure her head would start spinning. Every mental argument she'd made over the last week had long since faded, tattered by Anita's arguments and shredded by her own doubts.

  "Pam, what are you so afraid of?"

  "What if it doesn't work out?" The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them. Regret immediately filled her and she looked up, ready to make another excuse that would distract Anita from what she just said. But the expression on Anita's face rendered her speechless and she had to swallow against the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat.

  "What if it does?"

  "I don't have time for a relationship, Anita. This place is too important. Everything we've worked for—I can't give that up."

  "And nobody is asking you to." Anita slid her chair across the room and propped her arms on the desk. "But do you really want to give up the chance to see if there's anything between you and Bryan for this place? It's just a coffee shop, Pam."

  "But it's ours. We worked so hard to make it successful."

  "And is that success going to keep you warm at night? Is it going to sit on a beach with you and watch the sunset? Is it going to cuddle with you while you watch old movies on the television? No, it's not."

  "Maybe not but it'll provide the security I've always craved."

  "Life isn't just about security, Pam. At least, it shouldn't be, not if that security forces you to stop living." Anita snagged the ticket and pulled it toward her. Pamela made a grab for it but Anita slid her chair back, holding the ticket out of her reach.

  "What are you doing with that?"

  "I'm going to tear it up."

  "What? No!" Pamela pushed out of her chair and made a mad dash toward Anita. "Don't you dare!"

  "Why not? It's not like you're going to use it."

  "That doesn't mean you can just tear it up."