“You don’t like it?” I said innocently. I’d poured him a glass of the cheapest, nastiest beer we had, not sure he’d notice, but he had.
His gray eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I’d like an IPA. Your best one on tap.”
“We only have one.”
“Then I’ll take that one.”
I gave him another glass and emptied his old one in the bar sink. I watched as he took a sip and smiled. I guess I’d done something right in his critical eyes.
“Better?”
“Yeah. I think that guy disturbs you more than you’ll admit.” He continued on with our original subject. He wasn’t easily distracted even by bad beer.
“How the fuck would you know that?”
“I just do.”
I rolled my eyes and confronted him with the one thing I’d been wondering since he stormed in the door. “I’ve worked here for two years and not once have you come in this bar. Why tonight? Are you stalking me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” His trademark scowl was back full force. I’d insulted him, and now I was insulted because he was insulted. Talk about twisted logic, but I couldn’t help it. Nothing this guy said or did brought out the best in me.
“Then why were you standing on the sidewalk staring in here?”
“I happened to walk by. I only live a few blocks away, remember? I saw that asshole pull you onto his lap, and I can’t stand by and watch someone be bullied. It’s not in my nature. I wasn’t raised like that.”
“I appreciate your stance on bullying.”
“It’s not a stance. It’s common decency.”
This man… Ugh. I wanted to strangle him or kick him in the nuts or fuck him senseless—and not necessarily in that order.
“Again, I appreciate your sentiment, but I can handle my own problems.”
He muttered something under his breath. I hated it when men acted as if they had to protect the little woman.
“What did you say?”
“I said, until you can’t.”
“Are you done with your beer?” I reached for the empty glass before he had a chance to answer.
“I’ll have another. In a clean frosted glass.”
With an annoyed sigh, I reached for a clean glass and filled it. “Here. That’ll be eight dollars.”
“I’d like to run a tab.”
“Fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other patrons to wait on.”
I strode across the room as if I hadn’t a care in the world. The couple at the back table wanted their bill, but the other three guys signaled for another round. I purposely avoided Steele for the next several minutes. After taking care of my current customers, I gathered up dirty glasses and wiped down tables, hoping Steele would get the message and leave.
When I turned back to the bar, his eyes were on me, and the heat in his gaze set my body on fire from the roots of my jet-black hair, thanks to my Native ancestors, to the tips of my hot-pink toenails, thanks to a dollar-store bottle of polish. He looked away quickly, having been caught in the act.
I marched to the bar and glared at him. “Were you ogling my ass?”
“Why not? You ogle mine.”
If the heat radiating off me was any judge, my face was bright red. “So what?” No use denying the truth.
“You admit it.” He nodded with a wicked grin on his face. Steele so rarely smiled, I was blown away by how much it changed him from a rigid asshole to a boy-next-door type.
“Hockey players have nice asses. Yours is no better than any other player’s.”
“Really? I’ve never caught you ogling Ziggy’s or Easton’s or Axel’s or Kaden’s.”
“Then you weren’t paying attention.”
His grin grew downright naughty, transforming him from boy next door to a male on the prowl. “Oh, I pay attention.” He leaned closer and, like a magnet, drew me in. We were inches apart, our eyes locked, our bodies hyperaware. He wanted me. I wanted him. If there hadn’t been patrons in this place, I’d have dragged him in the back office and made him forget his name and uniform number.
“Hey, Cin, can I get another beer over here?” shouted one of the guys across the room.
I jumped backward, slammed my hip into a beer fridge, and let out a yelp. Steele laughed, a loud from-deep-in-his-belly laugh. I liked the sound even though I was flustered and embarrassed.
I hurried to take care of my customer, tripping in the process and almost spilling his beer. I felt Steele’s eyes on me and invariably moaned. God, I wanted that man.
When I returned to the bar, he was still sitting there, looking quite at home and not in any hurry to leave. “Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Better things than trade wits and barbs with you? Hell no.”
I sighed.
“When do you get off work?”
“Midnight or when the last customer leaves, whichever comes first. We don’t stay open late on weekdays.”
He consulted his expensive watch. “Shit, it’s eleven.”
“Past your bedtime?”
“No, just surprised. Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“That’s up for debate.”
“You know, Cin, this is going to be interesting.”
“What is?”
“Us living together. Thank God I’ll be on road trips a lot.”
“You can say that again.” I had no idea which part of us living together he was referring to—my messiness, the attraction between us, or something entirely different. “So I have your blessing to stay?”
“I wouldn’t call it a blessing, more like a curse.”
I laughed. There was a sense of humor hiding under his stiff exterior. He sighed, as if he’d accepted his fate.
“But Ziggy has to go. The guy has no respect for anyone else. He’s a slob. He doesn’t understand my need for privacy. I won’t have wild parties in my house.”
“Our house.”
“Okay, our house.”
“Didn’t the coach want him to stay with you so you could set a good example and possibly turn him around?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Then why don’t you do that? You pride yourself on being a team player.”
“How do you know that?” He regarded me suspiciously, as if fearing I might’ve been stalking him.
“You said as much when we were hanging out for a week on Madrona Island.”
“First of all, we were not hanging out. You were an interloper in my beachfront rental, something that appears to be a habit with you.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Again, it’s a curse.”
I laughed again. He’d made me laugh more in a few short minutes than I’d found reason to laugh for the past week or so. Who’d have guessed Steele would be so amusing, even if some of my amusement happened to be at his expense. Regardless, he was being an amazingly good sport about it.
The last patrons in the bar signaled for their check. I rang them up and carried the check to them. They paid in cash, gathered their things, and walked out the door. Since it was almost eleven, I flipped the sign to Closed and locked the door behind them. I returned to my spot behind the bar. Steele was still nursing his beer.
“Are you going to want another or can I close out my register for the night?”
“I’m done.”
“I’ll let you out.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll wait for you, walk you home.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ve been walking home or riding the bus from this bar for a few years.”
“And you don’t need a babysitter. I know. But I’d like to stay if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. Too much.”
He chuckled and took a sip of what had to be a warm beer. I started my closing routine while he bent his head to study his phone. I cleaned the bar and closed out my books for the night while sneaking glances at Steele way too often. Most of the time, he was engrossed in his phone, but others I caught him watching me.<
br />
Finished with my tasks in about a half hour, I tossed the dirty bar towels into a bin under the bar, poured myself a glass of water, and leaned my elbows on the counter.
“About Ziggy. He needs you.”
Steele snorted in disbelief and shook his head. “He doesn’t need me. He needs a jailer or a nanny the size of a linebacker.”
“There’s more to Ziggy than you give him credit for. He’s actually scared shitless.”
“Ziggy? What the fuck for?”
“He’s scared he’s going to be kicked off the team permanently.”
“Then why doesn’t he change his destructive behavior?”
“Some people don’t know how to stop their destructive habits. He needs discipline, and you have loads of it.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Just spend some time getting to know the real Ziggy. You’ll be pleasantly surprised what’s hiding under the party-boy bullshit.”
“I know all I need to know.”
“Do you know about his family? How many siblings he has? What he does in his spare time when he’s not partying?”
“Uh, no.”
I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. Steele hopped off the counter and followed me. After locking up, we walked side by side toward the condo building.
“I appreciate your defending Ziggy, but I can only handle one chaotic mess in my condo, and he’s not it.”
He’d just called me a chaotic mess. I wanted to argue, but it was the truth. I was a chaotic mess even though I’d actually gotten my act together. He should’ve seen me a few years ago. Then he’d really have cause for alarm.
We were almost at the front door of the building when Steele turned abruptly, and I stopped six inches short of running into him. He grasped my shoulders in his big hands to steady me.
“Sorry, I thought I heard something.” His gray eyes flicked downward and settled on my lips. He licked his own, and I let my own gaze roam his face, strong and angular with a square jaw and deep-set, impenetrable gray eyes. He was the hottest guy I’d ever met.
He slid a hand up my neck and cupped my chin in his palm. My mouth dropped open as I zeroed in on his lips. I wanted him to kiss me. Needed it like I needed air to breathe.
He leaned closer, only a few inches away. I held my breath and waited for a glimpse of heaven on earth. I brought up one hand to thread it through his hair and hesitated.
His dark hair was perfect as usual, and his short beard was perfectly trimmed. Even in jeans, he was stylish, neat, and tidy. He spent a fortune on his clothes compared to my thrift-shop purchases. For the first time in a long time, I felt as if I didn’t measure up.
I backed away, and he dropped his arms to his sides as if he’d been burned.
“I’m so…sorry,” he stammered, blinking rapidly as if he’d lost his bearings. I’m guessing he had, because the Steele I knew didn’t do anything that wasn’t carefully planned out. And kissing me hadn’t been in his plans, of that I was certain.
Chapter Five
Roommate Woes
~~Steele~~
The next day I was early for the meeting I’d requested with the coach, so I waited outside his office. I’d called earlier and been told by his assistant he’d be available about two this afternoon. It was one forty-five when I arrived. I tried sitting in the chair across the hall but was too restless. Instead, I paced the hallway, going over what I was going to say and how I’d extract Ziggy from my condo and still retain my team-player status.
Cin was a bleeding heart to think that Ziggy had any substance to him. I prided myself on being perceptive, and I didn’t pick up on anything deeper from him than looking for his next score on and off the ice and next meal. The guy was an open book. He was what he was.
And Cin…
She was going to be the death of me.
I’d almost kissed her. WTF?
Why did I do that?
I knew why. Her lips had looked so soft, so pliant, so kissable, I had to have a taste. Then she’d jumped backward as if she’d rather be kissing her slobbery dog. Funny, she sure sent some mixed messages last night. She wanted to kiss me, then she didn’t. Or I wasn’t that great at reading her.
I should be grateful she’d come to her senses. I wish it’d been me doing so first. We’d entered the condo in an uncomfortable silence and quickly gone to our separate rooms. I hadn’t seen her at all today. I’d worked out all morning, and she was gone when I’d arrived after lunch with the guys.
I’d changed clothes and hurried to the SHAC for my appointment with Gorst. Getting out from under my responsibility as Ziggy’s caretaker was my number one priority. Once that was taken care of, next week’s training camp would consume all my mental, physical, and emotional energy. I didn’t need or want a woman muddying the waters. I was one of those hockey players who avoided women for the most part during the season. I might have a stress-relieving one-night stand once in a while, but that was it.
Then again, that was always it.
I hadn’t found a woman who intrigued me enough to pursue her for more than a week, then I was done because relationships were messy and unpredictable, two things I avoided at all costs.
Coach Gorst interrupted my replay of last night by opening the door and inviting me in his office.
I followed him inside and nodded to team captain Isaac “Ice” Wolfe sitting in one of the office chairs. The team owner, Ethan Parker, sat across from him. I shook Mr. Parker’s hand. Rookie training camp had already started, and they appeared to be discussing some of the rookies. I was transported back to a year ago, when I was one of those guys fighting for a coveted spot on an NHL team, the culmination of a lifetime of hard work and blind dedication.
I wondered what rookies were impressing them this year. What guys would be wide-eyed on the first day of training camp as their idols skated onto the ice around them? Our team didn’t have a lot of space this year for rookies. After winning the Cup over a year ago, a lot of players had retired and opened up slots for me and my fellow Puck Brothers. This year’s crop of rookies wouldn’t be so fortunate, assuming we all competed and kept our current positions or moved up.
I expected Mr. Parker and Ice to leave, but they settled in for the long haul.
“Steele, how are you?” Gorst grinned, genuinely happy to see me. I had a good relationship with the coach. I prided myself on being the model player, never causing problems, always putting in 110 percent, and being a good teammate. Gorst appreciated my efforts.
“Have a seat.” Ice gestured to the empty chair next to him.
I sat down and cleared my throat while they watched me with interest.
“What’s on your mind?” Gorst said.
“It’s about Ziggy and Cave.”
“Ah. How are things going with them?”
“That’s the problem. They’re not going well. Ziggy is not the guy I’d have chosen for a roommate, and Cave might as well live there. He’s constantly underfoot.”
“I’m not surprised, but we appreciate your willingness to take one for the team.”
I wasn’t taking one for the team, or anyone else for that matter. I’d been tricked and coerced into this unfavorable living arrangement, and somehow I had to convince them to see my point of view.
Ice studied me for a moment as if carefully considering his words. “Those guys got suspended from the team when we needed them most last year. They let the team down. Kaden came to his senses and grew up, but Ziggy and Cave haven’t changed their behavior. I thought the suspension would’ve been a wake-up call, but it wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“And we need them, Steele. We need them to be one-hundred-percent dedicated to this team,” Ice said.
“I understand.”
Mr. Parker had been quietly thoughtful up to this point. He sat up straighter and looked me in the eye. His gaze was a weird combo of kindness and calculation. “This team has a lot invested in Ziggy and Cave. We have high expectati
ons for both of them. Ziggy played his rookie year like the next coming of Wayne Gretsky, but it’s been all downhill since. You are my model team player, and I’m counting on you to help us out.”
The model team player?
That was a huge compliment coming from Mr. Parker. I’d only been with the Sockeyes a year, and there were plenty of other guys who deserved that title, but he’d picked me. I was flattered beyond belief, and his words had the desired effect.
“I’ll do my best, sir.” I almost looked around the room to see who had spoken.
“Good.” Ethan winked at me and stood. Excusing himself, he left the room.
Gorst stood, effectively excusing Ice and me. “Later, gentlemen. I have to meet with my staff.”
Ice followed me out the door, and I had the distinct feeling he wanted to talk further. With a sigh, I accepted my fate. I had to get through this season, sign a new contract, and then buy my own place. Never again would I be stuck rooming with people who didn’t respect my boundaries.
“I appreciate what you’re doing,” Ice said as we walked down the hallway toward the players’ lounge.
“Thanks.” Bitterness crept into my tone, even as I tried to bite it back.
Ice wasn’t put off. In fact, he chuckled. “I wouldn’t want Ziggy or Cave for roommates. I get it.”
“If it was both of them, I’d be living in a hotel.”
“Yeah, rooming with Cave would be above and beyond the call of duty.”
I cringed. Jasper “Caveman” Flint, shortened to Cave, had earned his nickname. He was a slob with zero manners and no limits on what he’d say and do. Strangely, women were drawn to him more than any other guy on the team. My theory was that they had a Beauty and the Beast fetish or something. Cave was the first guy on the team to drop his gloves. He was known for his toughness and raw talent. He was our first-line left winger.
“You’re like me, Steele. You’re a private guy, and you’re not into socializing a lot. I’m going to challenge you to stretch your comfort zone and find ways to become Ziggy’s friend. I have a hunch he could use a loyal friend, not just partying buddies.”
I shrugged, not willing to commit to something like that.
Icing: A Seattle Sockeyes Puck Brothers Novel (The Scoring Series Book 4) Page 4