“Tank? You okay?”
Mentally shaking off those thought, he nodded. “I’m fine. I should be asking you that question.”
RJ just shook his head. “I don’t think things are gonna be okay for a while.”
Tim hoped like hell RJ was wrong. If he wasn’t, Tim was worried RJ might never overcome this shit. He was about to say that out loud when Georgie walked up to his table, a grin on her face.
Tim’s gaze narrowed.
“Hey, Tank, I got a favor to ask.”
Three
Gabby opened the door to her apartment, juggling her purse, her tote, and the bag the doorman had given her.
He’d offered to bring it up for her, but she’d waved him off with a smile. And regretted it five feet from the desk. The damn thing was heavy, filled with cat food. She heaved a sigh of relief the second she dropped everything on her dining room table seconds after she opened the front door.
With a little groan, she kicked off her shoes and headed for the fridge. She so deserved the Flying Monkeys Chocolate Manifesto she had waiting. Downing a quarter of the bottle on her first sip, she came up for air for a second to head back to the living room, where she sank onto the couch. Seconds later, her lap was filled with twenty pounds of warm, purring, coal-black fur.
“Hey there, Princess. And how did you spend your day?”
The huge cat meowed at her, butting her head against Gabby’s chin and somehow managing to find a way to dig her claws into the places where it would hurt the most. Gabby grimaced but didn’t move, knowing if she did, Princess would jump down and glare at her from the floor, highly offended that Gabby had dared to pet her.
The former stray who Gabby had found cowering in a corner of her apartment’s underground garage one night about a year ago, her ear gnawed and her paw bleeding, had moved into Gabby’s house after she’d spent a small fortune to have the furball fixed up.
Of course, the damn cat thought she owned the place now, but that was okay. Gabby enjoyed the company.
“Bet you had a great day. Laid in the sun for hours. Not a care in the world. Probably didn’t even miss me, did you?”
As if she’d said something ridiculous, Princess gave her another haughty look before turning tail and jumping off her lap. She trotted off toward the kitchen then sat and looked over her shoulder at Gabby. Her gaze clearly demanded she be fed and now.
With an amused huff, Gabby pushed off the couch and served up supper for her furry overlord.
Leaning back against the counter, watching Princess scarf her dinner, she shook her head and took another sip of her beer. At the rate she was drinking, she’d be buzzed before she got any food in her and then she’d just sit down and inhale junk the rest of the night.
Which definitely wouldn’t be good for her dedication to being healthier this year.
“I’m sure you’ll be happy to know I got rid of Rich. You always thought he was a douchebag, didn’t you?”
Princess ignored her, happy to have been fed so she could now ignore the emotionally needy human who controlled the food. Gabby didn’t blame Princess. She wouldn’t want to listen to her whine, either.
Should’ve taken Tim up on his offer for dinner.
In the security and quiet of her apartment, she could allow herself to answer that truthfully.
“Wish I could have.”
Of all the things she wished she could do, Tim Stanton sat at the top of the list.
Shaking that thought out of her head before it could take hold, she sucked down the rest of her beer then headed to her bedroom for a shower. Dropping her clothes on the floor by her bed, she set the water temperature just shy of scalding then stepped under the spray and let it wash away the day. Wash away the stress left behind by her breakup with Rich. But it was going to take more than a twenty-minute shower to do that.
Back in her kitchen in tights, a cami, a slouchy fleece top that covered her ass, and thick socks, she opened the fridge, knowing she was about to be disappointed by the lack of anything resembling a decent meal.
Turning, she found Princess sitting on the counter, where she wasn’t supposed to be, watching her with haughty disdain.
“Don’t look at me like that. You got your dinner. I need to find mine. Guess it’s a phone call tonight.”
Tim’s mention earlier and RJ’s call looking for Tim had embedded it in her head and now the only thing she wanted right now was a meatloaf dinner from The Brig.
Well, not the only thing.
But since the only thing she could order over the phone was dinner, that’s what she did.
Flipping on the NHL Network while she waited, she braced for any mention of RJ, breathing easier only when the hosts signed off for the night. Getting up when she needed another beer, she glanced at the table where she’d set her tote with her laptop. She really should take a look at the social media postings for the rest of the week, make sure everything was ready to go.
She had only just opened her laptop when the doorman rang.
“You have a food delivery, Miss Mitchell. May I send him up?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Jamieson.”
“Of course. You have a good night, Miss Mitchell.”
Rifling through her purse for her wallet, she got out a tip for Shane, The Brig’s delivery guy, then headed for the door. The knock came seconds later.
“Hey, Sha—” Her mouth dropped open. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She wanted to take back her words immediately, but the man standing outside her door was definitely not Shane. No, Tim stood there, a half-assed grin on his lips and holding a bag she assumed held her food.
“Tell me how you’re really feeling, Gabs.” He held up the bag and shook it. “I believe you ordered dinner. Georgie asked me to deliver, since Shane was out and you’re on my way home.”
Still slightly stunned to see Tim standing at her door, Gabby shook her head.
“Excuse me?”
Tim’s grin widened. “Not that hard to figure out. Georgie knows we’re friends. Or whatever.” One broad shoulder lifted. “And I practically live around the corner. Besides, I don’t usually tell Georgie no. I’m pretty sure she could take me.”
As her shock at seeing Tim at her door began to fade, Gabby realized she wasn’t unhappy to see him. Far from it, if she was honest. Her heart rate began to race, and she had to swallow hard because Tim was standing just outside her door, so close to being inside her apartment that all she had to do was reach for his hand and tug him inside.
What she’d do with him then was something she couldn’t allow herself to think about, because if she did…
“Gabby? You want your food? You don’t have tip me, you know.”
His flip comment about the tip finally nudged her out of her head. “Of course. Sorry. Thanks.” She took the bag from his hand but didn’t move to close the door. She didn’t want to shut him out and she didn’t want to eat alone tonight. It was just too quiet in her apartment, even with the TV on.
Before he could leave, she blurted out, “Do you want to come in?”
She caught his surprise in the lift of his eyebrows a second before he brought it back into line and nodded.
“Sure.” He held up his other hand and the bag she hadn’t noticed before. “I’ve got dessert, if you’re interested. I’ll share.”
Swallowing hard, she nearly choked on her tongue. Was he offering himself up on a platter, covered in hot fudge and whipped cream? Because if he was, she’d definitely be okay with that. The fact that she’d never thought about Rich naked and covered in sticky, sugary treats should’ve been a huge, flashing red warning sign.
Since it wasn’t, she nodded and waved him inside. The second he crossed the threshold, she gave herself permission to ignore the little voice in her head that kept saying this was a bad idea. That she’d made a huge mistake.
Because even if she had, at this very moment, she didn’t give a damn. She wanted to talk to someone. Anyone.
Fine. So what if she did?
Closing the door behind him, she flashed a little smile then nodded toward the living area.
“I was just finishing some work.”
“Do you work through every meal?”
The look he gave her made her stomach twist into a little knot. He looked concerned, like he actually cared that she spent way too much time working. Rich had taken her long hours in stride, for the most part. Unless they’d impacted him in some way. Then he made sure she knew just how much of an inconvenience they were. Rich really was a dick.
Too bad you’re just figuring that out now.
“Not every meal, no.” Just most of them. “Sometimes, I actually get a lot more work done here than I do at the office. Too many interruptions there.”
Setting the food on the table in front of the couch, she motioned for him to take a seat then headed for the kitchen for plates and utensils.
“You want something to dri—Oh!”
She’d turned to call over her shoulder only to find Tim had followed her and now stood only inches away. Making her open-concept kitchen seem really, really tight at the moment. And making it hard for her to breathe normally.
“Sure. Water’s fine unless you’ve got beer. I could go for a beer.”
“Guess it’s your lucky night.”
Even before the words left her lips, she wanted to take them back. She totally sounded like she was flirting with him. Did he think she was flirting with him? She met his gaze and found him smiling at her. Ruefully. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking and was totally amused by her.
Lifting her eyebrows, she silently dared him to say something. This man was smarter than she usually gave men credit for being. But this was Tim. Tim wasn’t just any other man. At least not to her.
“I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
She had to bite her tongue against the urge to actually flirt with him. To be the kind of woman who grinned up at him and told him she’d give him whatever he wanted.
Biting back a sigh, she turned to the fridge. “You want dark or light?”
“What are my choices?”
Behind her, she felt him move closer, sending her blood racing through her veins.
“Damn. Didn’t realize you were a beer connoisseur.” His breath brushed against her neck, raising gooseflesh. Damn him. “How many kinds do you have in there?”
“A few. I prefer chocolate porters, but I’ve got a couple different IPAs for my brothers if you’re not into dark beer.”
“I’ll split a porter with you. Your choice.”
She didn’t question him. A lot of the guys barely touched alcohol during the season. She hadn’t known Tim was one of them. Then again, she didn’t know all there was to know about him.
And you’re not going to, either.
She told her inner bitch to shut the fuck up and got a bottle out of the fridge. After she poured them each a glass, she led him back to the living room and sat on the couch, expecting him to take the chair across. Instead, he sat at the other end of the couch.
Close enough for her to touch. And she wanted to touch him. Which she couldn’t do. Wouldn’t do. No matter how much she wanted to.
“You gonna eat?” He pointed to the bag she’d put on the table in front of the couch. “Don’t let it get cold. Especially if you’ve got Georgie’s meatloaf in there. She makes the best damn meatloaf I’ve ever tasted.”
“Better than your own mother’s?”
She’d meant it as a tease, a nothing little comment to lighten the mood. But something crossed his expression, too quick for her to figure out what it was before it was gone. Something to do with his mom? He didn’t talk much about his family, but she knew he had a good relationship with his mom and sister. She also knew he had a not-so-good relationship with his dad. She wanted him to talk to her. Wanted him to confide in her.
That’s exactly what you shouldn’t want.
“My mom’s a good cook,” he finally said, “but she hates having to do it because my dad’s an asshole who criticizes everything she does.”
Her breath stuck in her throat as she waited for him to continue. She didn’t want to say something stupid and make him to stop.
“You’re not eating.”
Blinking at his comment, she automatically moved to open the bag and retrieve her meal before she realized that’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do. She almost stuck her tongue out at him for good measure. Instead, she took the top off her dinner and began to eat, hoping he’d continue.
“My sister’s a different story,” he said when she’d shoved a forkful of food in her mouth. “She loves to cook. Made most of the meals when I still lived at home.”
As she swallowed a bite of the best damn meatloaf in the city, her mind raced to find a question that would keep him talking.
“How’s Sunny? Did she decide what she’s going to do? She graduated last year, right?”
“Yeah, she did. She’s still working for the vet’s office. She loves animals. I want her to go to college, get a vet-tech degree, or go for a business degree and open her own pet store. I don’t care. I just want her to have a degree. So she can get out.”
She considered her next question carefully, went back and forth a few times before finally deciding to just ask.
“You and your dad still don’t get along, do you?”
At first, she thought he wouldn’t answer. And maybe that would’ve been the smart thing. Because she had a gut feeling this conversation could become more than either one of them had anticipated.
Or maybe Tim needed someone to talk to. And maybe she didn’t want to be alone tonight. Rich’s reaction to their breakup had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. She’d told the doorman not to admit Rich if he showed up, but she still had niggling worries that he’d find a way in. That he wouldn’t just fade away into the background like other exes.
“That’s kind of an understatement.”
The hard edge underlying Tim’s tone made her wanted him to talk. She wanted him to talk to her.
For several long seconds, she wasn’t sure he would. He went silent, his gaze never leaving hers. Then he shifted deeper into the couch and the tension in her muscles relaxed, just a little.
“We don’t get along, but it’s more than a personality conflict. My dad’s an insecure asshole who takes out his frustrations on the only people in the world who make excuses for him. When I was younger, I didn’t know any better. My mom’s a peacemaker, you know? Always trying to smooth things over. But as I got older, and realized he was a complete and utter prick, it got harder to keep my mouth shut. I couldn’t respect a man who had no respect for anyone, and he demanded it whether he’d earned it or not.”
She took a second to pick her next words carefully. They’d never really talked about this part of his life, though she’d known from RJ that Tim and his dad didn’t get along.
“Sounds like a tough way to grow up.”
He shrugged, his gaze never leaving hers. “It was all I knew until I was about five when my mom signed me up for hockey. My dad played in high school and a few beer leagues after. He’s a carpenter, builds houses, which is a tough job in Michigan. Good pay but the window to get the job done is only a few months out of the year. Most winters, he’s gone for weeks on jobs elsewhere.”
“So he was gone a lot.”
“Not enough, if you ask me. My mom’s a medical transcriptionist so she works at home. It gave her time to run my ass around when I first started playing and then when I was playing every weekend and practicing every morning and after school. Before I signed with Barrie.”
Not that she’d ever tell him, but she knew a lot about his career. She wouldn’t say she’d made a hobby of it, but she ran PR for the team and he was part of the team. If maybe she paid a little more attention to his background than any of the other players, well, no one needed to know.
“You played y
our entire junior career in Barrie, right?”
His look made her wonder if he suspected her, but finally, he nodded. “Yeah. I loved it up there, was sorry to leave when I got drafted by the Colonials and sent to Reading.”
He smiled and every feminine sensor in her body went on high alert. They were heading into dangerous territory when she got tongue-tied. It rarely happened. Her entire career was based on her ability to speak and to do it well. When a man tied her tongue in knots…yeah, that was a problem.
“But I’ve grown to love it here, too. A lot different than where I grew up.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out the name of his hometown but stopped before she could.
“Do you miss your home?”
“I miss my mom and sister. I keep trying to get them to move out here with me but…” He sighed and shook his head. “She won’t leave him. And I just don’t get it.”
“Is he physically abusive?”
Tim’s gaze darkened but he shook his head. “If he’d ever hit them, I would’ve beat him until he couldn’t move. And then I would’ve had the bastard put in jail. Even though my mom would’ve begged me not to.”
Her chest tight, she had to know. “Did he hit you?”
Tim’s immediate dismissal rang true. “No. He’s a bully and a coward. All his shit is head games. He’s just a shit human. Which you’d never know by being a casual friend.”
“And your mom…”
“Doesn’t believe in divorce.” His words sounded forced through gritted teeth. “She’s stubborn and still believes she married a decent man who needs her. I’ve been fighting this battle with her for years. She won’t leave him. My sister won’t leave my mom alone. And the vicious circle continues.”
“I’m sorry.” Before she realized she was going to do it, she reached out along the back of the sofa and put her hand over his, squeezing. “I can’t imagine. My parents—”
“Are the ultimate perfect parents. I know.”
She released his hand before she could entwine her fingers with his, which was exactly what she wanted to do. “Oh, they’re not perfect. If my mom ever heard anyone call her perfect, she’d show them just how wrong they were. But they’re good people. They try to make the right decisions. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t. But they always try.”
Hard Lines & Goal Lines (Fast Ice Book 2) Page 5