“This is me.” I stop in front of the wide steps leading up to my front door.
His eyes widen. “No shit? Sorry, pardon my French.”
“No shit.”
He looks the building up and down with a smirk. “I had no idea Ryder lived in such a nice part of town. I have to give him shit about it the next time I see him.”
Men are weird. Why would anybody make fun of a person for living in a nice part of town? It seemed like all of them did a lot of ball-busting when they were together, come to think of it.
“I would invite you up, but …” I offer a shrug.
“No, I wouldn’t even think about it.” When I narrow my eyes, he laughs. “Okay, I would think about it, but it’s always up to you. Besides, it’s not like the night ended very romantically, and that was my fault. I would like to make it up to you, if you’d let me.”
“I think I could arrange that. What do you have in mind?”
He strokes his beard. “I have practice the next few nights actually.”
No surprise there. “If you want to make it up to me, let me come to one of the practices.”
“They’re open. You can come anytime you want.”
“I was led to believe only special girls make it to practices.”
He winks before taking my hand. “And who says you’re not special?”
I don’t pull away when he leans in to kiss my cheek—quite the opposite in fact. It’s sweet and gentle, and I can’t help but have a good feeling about him as a person in spite of what happened at the bar.
Though I’m very glad there’s no hope of this going anywhere just the same.
This is for work. Nothing more than that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I’m glad I thought to bring an actual jacket with me this time.” I shove my arms into it, wrapping it around myself. “It’s so cold in here.”
Darcy nods, smirking. “Honestly, after a few hours in here, it’s easy to forget what the weather is like outside. It’s eternally winter at hockey practice.” Her eyes dart back and forth, like she’s making sure nobody’s listening in on us. “So? How did your date go?”
“How did you even know—”
She waves a hand. “Please, there are no secrets on the team. He must’ve mentioned it to one of the guys, and word spreads fast. You know, they talk about us and make it sound like we’re a bunch of gossip addicts, but they’re just as bad.”
“It sure sounds that way.”
I guess it doesn’t matter either way. Though I do have to keep in mind that men consider very few things off the table when they’re together in that sort of environment. Especially once they hit the locker room.
With that in mind, I ask, “Do you ever feel self-conscious? Like you’re worried your secrets will be spilled since they’re all so close and share so much?”
Is it my imagination, or did her skin just go pale? Maybe it’s the harsh fluorescent lights.
“I wasn’t until now.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m just trying to get a sense of what it’s like to seriously date one of these guys.”
“I can tell you all about it.” Ginger plops down in a seat in front of us. Of course she does. It’s like she has a sixth sense. And she’s been buzzing around all throughout practice, checking in on one group after another.
It has to be exhausting for her. She can’t just sit and relax and watch her man play. Then again, how many practices can a girl sit through and actually pay full attention?
I have to play nice, so I pretend to be interested in what she has to offer. “I guess you guys have been together for a long time, huh?”
She counts on her fingers. “It’ll be three years next month actually. And we got engaged last month.”
“You come to every practice?”
She shakes her head, laughing. “God, no! I try to make one or two a week, just to show my support. I know it means a lot to him, like I have his back.”
I turn to Darcy. “What about you?”
“One or two a week, maybe. And I try to make it to every game, though sometimes, I have a ton of work to get through at home. I’m a teacher,” she explains, and I raise my eyebrows.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you before now. You know all about what I do, but I never asked what you do for a living.”
She only giggles. “You sort of got stolen from me by a certain player.”
Ginger nudges Darcy’s knee. “I see you’ve even brought tests and papers with you to grade.”
“That’s true,” Darcy admits. “I’ve brought work along to practices on more than one occasion. Sometimes, it’s just too quiet at home when he’s here.”
“I usually work better with a bit of background noise too.” I turn to Ginger again; if she insists on breaking into our conversation, I might as well learn what I can from her. “You said you know he likes to feel supported by you.”
She flutters her very long, very dark lashes. I almost want to ask if she wears a full face of makeup to every practice she attends, but something tells me I already know the answer. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it gives me an idea of how image-focused she is. “Sure, like what’s important to him is important to me.”
“I have to ask, is this reciprocated? Don’t get me wrong; I’m not going to analyze your relationship. I’m wanting to develop my main character, my hero, and I’m trying to get ideas of what other athletes think and do and say.”
Her mouth opens. Her mouth closes. “Now that you mention it, I’ve never really thought about it that way.”
I flinch, feeling guilty for prying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No, no,” she mumbles, waving her hands, staring off past Darcy and me. Like she’s trying to think of something. “It’s not that he doesn’t care. But this is a huge part of his life. It was before I met him, and it always will be.”
“I completely understand that. I was just explaining to Luke yesterday that—”
Her eyes light up, and she practically jumps on me. “How did it go? Did you two hit it off? Well, I guess you must have since you’re here.”
“Down, girl.” Darcy doesn’t look as amused as she’s trying to make herself sound. In fact, she looks disgusted. “It’s none of our business.”
“You’re right, of course,” Ginger says, looking crestfallen.
“We didn’t exactly not hit it off, if that helps.” I wink, and she brightens up.
Somebody calls her name, which is a relief. Something tells me it’s not just the players who are into gossip—I mean, am I not supposed to expect her to report to the other girls that Luke and I did go on a date and that it did go decently well? I have to make a mental note not to reveal too much in front of her—like, ever.
“Sorry about her.” Darcy’s watching the back of Ginger’s head. She sighs. “She’s cool and everything, but sometimes, she’s a bit much. Especially when you don’t know her and aren’t, like, used to her.”
“She immediately struck me as the queen bee of the group. Am I wrong about that?”
“Nope.” She taps the tip of her nose. “I mean, it’s not like we held an election or anything. She basically claimed the title for herself way back, years ago.”
“When she started dating Mark, I’m guessing?”
To my surprise, she pulls an incredulous face and shakes her head. “No, she’s been around longer than that.”
It takes me a second. A long second, to be honest. “Oh! You mean, she dated someone else from the team?” I ask in a whisper since it seems like I might be on the verge of hearing some drama.
Her smile fades. She blinks, staring at me. “Okay, I thought you were kidding, but it’s obvious you weren’t. I figured he told you!”
“Luke? She dated Luke?” Oh, gross. I don’t want to be the girl he rebounds to, though three years is a long rebound.
“No, Matt!”
And just like that, the needle s
cratches the record.
Say what now? “She dated Matt? Matt Ryder?” I manage to stop short of saying my Matt since he’s not my Matt.
Her head bobs up and down. “I figured he would’ve mentioned something about it. It was a big deal. I probably shouldn’t be the one to tell you about it. It was wrong of me to even bring it up, but I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s okay. And you’re right; we shouldn’t say anything more about it. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate it if he knew we were talking about it.”
Matt and Ginger. Matt and Ginger? In what universe does that even make sense? She seems like the exact opposite of the kind of person he would date.
Then again, what the heck do I know? He’s more and more of an enigma all the time. Just when I think I have him figured out, he throws me a curveball like this one.
Ginger. God, I can’t imagine they wouldn’t kill each other right off the bat. Their personalities are all wrong. And now, here’s Darcy, telling me it was a big deal. I wish I hadn’t stopped her.
“Can I tell you something else? It’s not about her and Matt, when they were together.”
“Okay …”
She practically whispers straight into my ear, “She must’ve asked every single person in the bar that night who you were and what was going on between you and Matt.”
I knew it. She was way too interested in me, way too bright and bubbly when Matt walked into the rink. “I doubt anybody knew anything.”
“No, they really didn’t.”
“Which makes sense since we’re neighbors. He’s just a friend doing another friend a favor.”
“Well, she sure didn’t see it that way. That’s just how she is. It doesn’t matter that she’s engaged to Mark. She thinks that Matt is still hers.”
Well, the girl has another thing coming if she thinks that’s true. He might not be mine, but he’s sure as hell not hers.
There’s a rush of heat in my chest, in my head, and I have to take a slow breath in through my nose and out through my mouth, like I’m on my yoga mat. Luckily, I’m well practiced in yoga. My body immediately responds to the change in my breathing. It’s like I’ve rewired my brain or something over the years.
And maybe once I get home and I have the chance to think it all over, I’ll be able to figure out why I had that reaction in the first place.
It’s not easy, getting through the rest of the night, asking questions and only half-listening to the answers. It’s not easy, paying attention to the activity on the ice either, not when my gaze keeps hitting the back of Ginger’s head over and over.
I wonder how long they dated. I wonder who ended it.
I wonder how long it took him to get over her.
Or if he’s over her at all.
CHAPTER NINE
“Oh my God. Please tell me you didn’t bring this up with him.”
It’s a miracle none of my eggs Benedict falls out of my mouth; Hayley surprises me so much. “Do I strike you as having lost my mind? Because, obviously, that’s what would have to happen for me to ever bring this up with him.”
“Good.” She pretends to wipe sweat off her forehead before going back to her egg-white omelet. “It’s none of your business.”
“Why are you telling me that? I know that. Jeez, it’s like you think I don’t have any tact at all.”
“No comment.”
“Which is in and of itself a comment, and you know it very well.”
“Whatever you say.”
She knows how crazy it makes me when she acts like this, all blithe and innocent. Like I’m the one with a problem while all she’s doing is sitting and eating her brunch.
“I wouldn’t know how to approach it with him anyway even if I did bring it up. Which I won’t,” I add when she glares at me. “I’m sorry, but you don’t think it’s the slightest bit interesting?”
“Absolutely not.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth. So what if he dated her?”
“You don’t get it.”
“It’s clear I don’t.” She puts down her knife and fork in favor of turning her full attention to me, and I sort of wish she hadn’t. She’s hitting me with that penetrating glare of hers, and it makes my skin crawl.
I heave a heavy sigh, very dramatic, though not even that can properly convey how mixed up I feel. “Obviously, things didn’t go well.”
“Obviously.”
“And he feels like he can’t or shouldn’t say anything about his former relationship with Ginger.”
“Or that he doesn’t need to,” she points out. “That’s very possible too. Because he doesn’t have to say anything. He doesn’t owe you an explanation, and you don’t owe him one for anybody you date either.”
“I realize that. It’s just that … I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.” I ball up a fist and press it against my sternum. “In here. Something feels off in here.”
“It could be gas.”
“Oh my God.”
She snorts. “Maybe you just want something to be off. Maybe you want there to be some drama you can jump into and involve yourself in.”
I can’t help but pout at the top of her head, which is all I can see as she digs back into her brunch. It’s not Matt I’m pouting over either. “What did I do to make you mad at me?”
Her head snaps up. “I’m not mad at you.”
“You’re not in a good mood with me. How come? Did I do something wrong? Or is there something you want to tell me that I haven’t given you the chance to tell me yet?”
Ever since I found out after the fact that she was dating somebody at work—somebody she should not have been dating—I’ve tried to be more aware of what’s going on in her world. I can’t imagine how difficult it is to be friends with me. I know I’m not a bad person, but I can be a little much. A little too dramatic, a little too wrapped up in my work and my personal drama.
The least I can do is try to be here for her if she needs me.
I can tell when she lifts a shoulder and spears a piece of turkey sausage without meeting my gaze that there is something going on. “Honestly, it doesn’t have to do with you. I’m just in a mood.”
“What is it? The whole point of us getting together when we can manage it is to talk things out, right? To keep up with each other? That’s a two-way street, babe.”
She offers a faint smile, but I can sense her hesitation. “You’re right. I guess it’s easier to sit and listen than to bring up my own problems. Not really problems. That’s not what I mean.” She puts her head in her hands, which is awkward since she’s holding her silverware.
This is new. Hayley is probably the most confident, competent, put-together person I know. Seeing her like this is like seeing the Pope light up a cigarette and walk into a strip joint. It would never happen. At least, I hope not.
Yet here she is, looking more rattled than I’ve seen her since …
“Are you seeing somebody? Or thinking about it?”
From my vantage point, I can see her forehead crinkle, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “If I was?”
“Well, I would hope he was the right person for you. I would hope you were happy. I would hope there weren’t any complications.” I have to tread carefully around that one since I don’t want her thinking I’m harping on her for past mistakes.
“We’re already seeing each other.” She finally drops her hands, deflating. “Sort of. Sleeping together when we can. I don’t even know if he wants to see me more seriously. I don’t know if he thinks about me that way.”
“Hayley, wake up. You know how dazzling you are. You have to.”
“It’s not about that. I know I could probably hook up with just about anybody I set my sights on. I’m not trying to brag.”
“Trust me, I get it.”
“But this isn’t like that. He’s … interesting. Fascinating. We can just sit and talk for ages.”
“So, it is someone from work.” I try to kee
p my expression neutral along with my tone of voice. I don’t want her thinking I’m getting judgmental.
“He flew in from the LA office a couple of weeks ago. Another associate, just like me, not a boss or an assistant. We’re on the same level.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“And he’s just … awesome.” This time, she covers her face with her hands, but at least her hands are empty now.
I can hear her giggling from behind her palms. It makes me giggle too. “Are you serious? You’re smitten with him!”
“Honestly?” She peeks at me from between two fingers. “I don’t think I’ve felt this way about anybody since college. Like that giddy, breathless feeling. Like I’m always super aware of where he is, what he’s doing. When I hear his voice out in the hallway, coming my way, my heart skips a beat, and I don’t know what to do. I get all flustered, but I’m also so happy because he’s there.”
“You realize this is totally adorable, right?”
She groans, throwing her head back. “It doesn’t feel adorable.”
“How does it feel?”
She waves her hands around, trying to find a word. “Confusing. Mixed up. Concerning.”
“Why concerning?”
“This is me! I don’t get this way over men. Not ever. If I like somebody, I find out if he likes me, and I go for it. Granted, it’s been a while, but that’s how it used to go.”
I have to sit back and think this over. We’ve known each other a long time, and I’ve seen her date quite a few men over the years. She literally has her pick of anybody she wants, being the total package she is. Yet over the last several years, her focus has been solely on her career—and rightly so.
“I guess that means this one is special.”
She blinks hard. “That’s all you have for me? He’s special? I know he’s special. He’s incredible and brilliant and funny and kind. He’s everything I want, wrapped up in one delicious package.”
Kitty Valentine Dates an Hockey Player Page 6