Kitty Valentine Dates an Hockey Player

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Actually, yes. We’ve, uh, gone to her place since then. I didn’t think you’d want to hear …”

  I sincerely wish I could control my penchant for blushing. Like if a magical fairy came down from the heavens right this very minute, I wouldn’t even ask for a decent ending for my book, which is saying something since I’m at my wits’ end with it and I could use all the help I can get.

  No. I’d much rather be able to control my blushing. Especially right now, in this situation.

  “That’s nice of you. I mean, I didn’t hear anything that night, but if you think it’s a problem, I appreciate you being considerate.”

  His gaze flicks over me.

  Am I believable? Is he going to call me out? Oh, please, please, don’t let him pursue this. I don’t feel like talking about how I made no effort whatsoever to be quiet that night.

  Meanwhile, my cheeks are hotter than ever. If I heard her, he must’ve heard me. Is he going to be cool for once? Is he going to act like he didn’t hear? Or will he hint—or much worse—flat-out tell me he knows what I sound like when I orgasm?

  Maybe it was easier when we weren’t speaking to each other.

  “I’m glad we didn’t disturb you then.” He has a gleam in his eye, and I know he’s trying not to make fun of me. “So, you wouldn’t mind if we came back here then? We wouldn’t disturb you when you’re working?”

  “Please. I would welcome the disruption right now. I’m stuck, big time.”

  “Oh, really? You’re at that part now?”

  He really does know me well.

  “Maybe you should put your work aside for a while and get out. Get some air. It’s a beautiful day.”

  “Maybe,” I say with a shrug. I’m really not sure what I want to do right now between Luke, Matt, and my book. I decide to change the subject. “Hey, they’re playing a game tomorrow night. Wanna come? I could use some insight into game strategy.”

  That was a mistake. I can tell when his forehead crinkles again. “Um, I can’t make any promises. I might have another date.”

  “Of course. Have fun.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” He grins and whistles for Phoebe to follow him as he opens the door.

  I wish I could smile.

  I wish there weren’t this sense of something unspoken hanging between us, an invisible elephant in the hall. We can walk past it, slide around it, but it’s there. Still waiting to be acknowledged.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The energy is different this evening. I can feel it as soon as I walk through the doors and find a seat with the other girls, down by the Plexiglass.

  I know why it’s different too. Luke said his coach told the representatives that some of the players looked like they were ready to move up in the league, and they want to perform at their best.

  “This could be the night,” Darcy reminds me as I sit next to her.

  “I know. It’s amazing I got any sleep last night.”

  Granted, there were a few reasons why I tossed and turned. Luke and his future were definitely part of it.

  So was my complete ineptitude as a writer. Yes, I have writer’s block on where to go, on how to make things better. And wondering if I should come up with a new career.

  And then there was that tiny fact that there was a girl next door with Matt! I stared at the ceiling for half the night. At least, that’s how it feels right now, dragging my feet in spite of the excitement over the game.

  “I think this is it for Luke and Mark. I really do.” Darcy’s practically hugging herself; she’s so excited.

  “Let’s hope.” My fingers are crossed.

  It’s obvious from the second the puck hits the ice that the players know what’s at stake here. Immediately, bodies crash into bodies, sticks clashing. I wince when Luke takes a check from the other team’s center that sends him reeling back.

  “Holy cow,” I mutter. My heart’s in my throat. This is going to be a tough game.

  And it is. It’s violent, it’s hard, and the other team might even be playing dirty. I can’t count the number of times Darcy and the other girls scream at the referees for doing nothing about the repeated checks going on.

  “What, are they blind?” she shrieks, throwing her hands into the air.

  I’m right there with her. It’s like there was an agreement before the start of the game to look the other way.

  It’s taking a toll on the team, obviously. They’re playing tough but with the same sort of desperation I saw when they fell behind during the first game I came to. They’re making mistakes—even I can see that, and I’ve only just learned the game in the last few weeks. Missing passes and making errors.

  And they’re getting more aggressive with each minute. At least the refs aren’t calling them on it and ignoring the other team. It’s like they might as well not be out there.

  Luke is managing to keep his cool. He isn’t letting himself get pulled into a fight like he did before. Instead, he’s all over the ice, trying to pick up the slack. By the end of the first period, the game is tied at one apiece.

  “I have a bad feeling about this game.”

  Nobody hears me murmuring, which is probably for the best. I don’t want anybody to think I’m a spoilsport. But fists are bound to start flying soon, and it’s not going to be pretty.

  The second period isn’t much easier to watch than the first. The players are starting to get tired from all the aggressive, high-speed playing. I’d bet their frustration with the refs isn’t helping matters. It’s hard to do something right, to play by the rules, when the other team is doing whatever they want.

  The score is stuck at one goal each in the last few minutes of the second period. The goalies are working their butts off out there. My heart’s racing when a bunch of players pile up at our goal with the other team trying desperately to put the puck in the net.

  It’s such a relief when somebody knocks the puck away, bringing it around behind the net and waiting for another player to open up and take it farther down the ice.

  Mark’s about ready to take it.

  Only one of the other team’s players has other ideas.

  Except something goes very wrong. There is still a tangle of players and sticks near the net.

  The result is an absolute nightmare. The other player knocks Mark down, and then he lands straight on his leg moments later.

  I swear, I hear a snap.

  “Oh my God!” I cover my mouth with my hands, jumping to my feet in horror.

  Everybody around me does the same thing. There are more than a few cries of dismay and shock from around the arena.

  That’s not what brings tears to my eyes though.

  It’s the sound of Mark groaning and grunting and almost screaming in agony out on the ice. He’s reaching for his leg, his face beet red, teeth bared.

  The coach bolts onto the ice along with the referees. Both teams mill around, watching, some of them turning away when they see the mangled mess that is Mark’s leg. The player who landed on him is nearby, and one glance tells me how horrified he is by what happened. He probably feels terrible about it. I know I would.

  Ginger’s in hysterics. The girls near her try to keep her calm, hugging her and stroking her hair, but there’s no easing her right now. I can’t blame her.

  Luke’s out there, lingering near Mark, giving the team doctors space, but watching just the same. He looks worried, putting it mildly. Even sick.

  He looks up into the stands, searching. He finds me. The slight shake of his head speaks volumes. Not that I necessarily needed that confirmation of things being very, very bad.

  I’m no doctor, but legs aren’t supposed to twist like Mark’s did. I can’t even look for too long, or I feel all dizzy and faint, and I don’t consider myself to have a weak stomach.

  There’s an announcement over the system, but I can hardly hear it. Not because of the noise from the other fans—in fact, the place has gone painfully silent. Who can cheer and have a conversation
and be obnoxious when someone is in agony?

  Ginger works her way down the row, followed by a couple of her close friends.

  “Where do you think she’s going?” I ask nobody in particular.

  “Probably to the locker room—or straight to the hospital. I mean, what can they do for him in the locker room? He’ll need an X-ray at the very least.” Darcy’s right. An X-ray is the very least of what he needs right now.

  And it’s not just his leg I’m thinking about. If he wants to move up as much as Luke does, this will kill him. Even if he heals up completely and quickly, he’ll probably have to wait until next season.

  “They can’t possibly play the rest of the game,” I whisper, looking back down to the ice.

  The teams have retreated to their benches to regroup.

  We’re sitting close to our team’s bench, and I can hear what’s going on down there. It’s not the coach talking to the players.

  It’s Luke. He’s stepping up, rallying them. “He’d want you all to keep playing as hard and as focused as you can. If he finds out we ended up losing this game after he played his guts out, he’ll never forgive us.”

  He points a finger at each of them. “And don’t think I won’t name names because I will. Even if his knee is completely fucked, you know he’ll kick the shit out of every one of you with his good leg the second he’s out of the hospital. So, get out there and play your best. Watch each other’s backs and remember all the time we’ve put in together.”

  It’s rousing. It’s inspiring. I would throw myself at him right here and now if we weren’t separated by rows of seats and, you know, in public and whatnot. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to get away from me.

  He scores within thirty seconds of the period starting. Then, Greg scores and then Mike. By the time it’s all over, the score is four to one, and the girls around me are weeping since this was all done for Mark. They managed to rally in spite of exhaustion and frustration and concern for their friend.

  I get why people are so passionate about sports. Why they treat it like it’s such a big deal, why they idolize the players. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a team so downtrodden, so near the point of snapping, come back to win in such definitive fashion.

  And I’m crying, too, since Luke managed to pull everybody together.

  But poor Mark.

  Luke doesn’t take long to come out of the locker room. His hair is wet, his clothes damp, like he put them straight on when he got out of the shower. “I’ve gotta get to the hospital.”

  “I know. I’ll come with you, if you want.”

  “No, no. It’s okay. We had those plans with Hayley and her boyfriend, remember?”

  Right. I completely forgot we were supposed to get together for dinner tonight. “I can come with you for a while. I don’t want you to have to go through this alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll have the rest of the team with me. It’ll probably be better for you girls to stay behind anyway. There’s gonna be a lot of us there.” He stops at the front door and kisses me, but he’s distracted. Distant.

  “Let me know how things go, please. I’ll be waiting by the phone.” Before putting him in a cab, I add, “And tell Ginger I said I hope things go okay.”

  He nods, giving me a meaningful look. “Yeah, we’ll see how long she sticks around after this.”

  Ouch. I didn’t even think about that. I’d defend her, but he knows her better than I do. Besides, he’s in a huge hurry.

  It’s not until he’s halfway down the block that I realize I forgot to congratulate him on the win.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “God, that sounds terrible.” Hayley’s looking pale by the time I finish describing what happened at the game. I can relate since even thinking about it turns my stomach.

  “I’m sure Luke wanted to meet you tonight. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the hospital. Everybody’s waiting there to hear how the surgery went.”

  She nods her head. “Of course. I’m sure he would’ve been there mentally even if he had come to dinner. Are you sure you don’t want to be there with him though?”

  “He insisted. Besides, there are just so many of them already—the team, I mean. I think most of the girls went home.”

  “Except Ginger.”

  “I guess.” All I can do is think about what Luke said. She wants to be married to a big leaguer, and Mark was on his way up. But what if he never plays again? What does that mean? “Anyway, he texted before I left home to say the surgery was going okay, according to updates through some app they use at the hospital now. But it won’t be over for another hour or two.”

  “Damn. That doesn’t sound like something a person can easily bounce back from.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  And she didn’t see it. I can’t bring myself to think about it anymore. I don’t want Hayley’s boyfriend to have a bad impression of the girl who puked in the middle of dinner because she couldn’t stop thinking about a guy’s leg turned the wrong way.

  Hayley’s facing the restaurant’s front door. When her face lights up, I know a certain special someone has arrived. She waves him over, and I swear, I’ve never seen her like this. Her eyes are so bright, her smile just a quarter inch away from being downright goofy. If that.

  She’s in love. Really and truly.

  “Hey you,” she greets a tall blond man who could easily be on the cover of a magazine.

  He’s basically her male equivalent, meaning I don’t know whether to salivate or fall at his feet or what. His tan is deeply impressive. He has the body of somebody who plays sports—at least for fun. Is it wrong that I want to ask if he surfs out in California? Surely, not everybody surfs out there.

  His blue eyes sparkle when he looks down at her, his hands cupping her shoulders. The way he smiles at her! It’s like she’s the only person in the world.

  All of a sudden, I feel sort of bad for being here.

  “Hey you,” he whispers before kissing her forehead.

  A forehead kiss. Oh my God. That’s the swoonworthiest of all kisses. Does he know what he’s doing to my romantic heart?

  Finally, he notices me. Not that I’m about to complain. “Sorry! She tends to take up all the space in my brain whenever I see her. Nicholas Donnelly.” He extends a hand to shake, his smile warm and charming.

  “Kitty Valentine.”

  “Hayley has told me a lot about you.” He glances at her and then at me again.

  “I promise, none of it is true.”

  Hayley snorts. “What if I told him you’re the best writer in the world?”

  “The world? What about the entire galaxy?”

  Nicholas laughs. “She said you were modest too. About as modest as she is, if I remember correctly.” His mouth screws up in a knowing smirk when he turns to her.

  “I didn’t say any such thing!” She swats him with her napkin, giggling helplessly. “You’ve been here ten seconds, and you’re stirring up trouble already.”

  He grins my way from across the table. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  Can he tell me a secret? We’ve known each other less than half a minute, and I didn’t know his last name until just now. The playfulness in his smile, in his voice, makes me want to play along though. That, and knowing how much Hayley cares about him.

  “Of course. I love secrets.”

  “I’ve read all of your books over the last several weeks.”

  My jaw makes a clunking sound when it hits the table. Or is that in my head?

  Even Hayley looks surprised. “You have? When have you had time for that?”

  “I made the time.” He looks pained though when he turns back to me. “Is that okay? Do you mind? It’s just that Hayley told me so much about you and talks about you all the time, so I figured I should get an idea for myself of what you write.”

  “Wow. I bet you thought it was juvenile compared to the work you do every day.”

  “Juvenile? Hell no!” He stares at me l
ike he doesn’t quite believe it. “No, that was the last word on my mind. You rekindled my love of reading. I was always a bookworm when I was a kid, but I haven’t had a lot of time for pleasure reading over the last … ten years or so.” He and Hayley share a knowing laugh.

  “So, you enjoyed yourself?” This is so awkward. So painfully awkward. Not because he was kind enough to read my work, but because we’re sitting here and talking about it. I have to fight the impulse to cringe.

  “I’ll be honest.” He folds his hands on the table, meeting me head-on with a blank expression but it doesn’t last long. He winks, followed by a slow smile. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t like your books. I wouldn’t have kept buying them either.”

  That’s a relief, but I’m still in shock. “You didn’t buy them all, did you? No way.”

  “Yes way.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Check it out.”

  Sure enough, there’s a photo of a stack of books on what’s obviously a hotel room nightstand. Nobody would decorate their actual bedroom like that.

  “Wow. You are dedicated.” I’m at a loss for words after that, so I decide on, “Thank you.”

  “Thank you. Like I said, I feel like reading again just because I like it. Not because I have to.”

  Hayley shrugs, leaning against him. He drapes an arm around her shoulders. “What can I say? The man goes above and beyond.”

  “It means a lot to me to get to know somebody who’s so important to Hayley.” He says it like it’s the simplest, most commonsense thing in the world. He did it because he knew it would matter to her.

  Dang it. I’m not going to lie. If I hadn’t liked him coming out of this dinner, it might’ve made things easier for me. Sure, I want Hayley to be happy. I want her to have everything she wants.

  But I want the man she chooses to be right for her. To be a good, stand-up sort of guy. She needs that, and she deserves it.

  If he rubbed me the wrong way, if he seemed too smug or a little dismissive, or if he didn’t smile graciously at the server when he ordered a bottle of wine, I could’ve hoped she would see the truth about him being wrong and rested easy, knowing she wasn’t moving to California anytime soon.