Alex

by Sawyer Bennett

Page 16

  “Maybe,” I muse, my eyes searching Alex out again on the ice. “But, he hasn’t really given me any indication he’s interested. I mean…we actually didn’t start out on a great foot. Got into a couple of fights. ”

  “Kind of like the little boy who pulls on the girl’s pigtails because he likes her?”

  I laugh at that analogy, because it could have merit…I guess. But then again, I don’t want to have any expectations as to what may or may not be, so I play it down. “I think it’s solidly just a friendship at this point. We’ll just sort of play it by ear. ”

  “Well, if you two do hook up, we need to go out on a double date. Mike and I are the only married couple on the team without kids and we never really get to hang out with the others that much. ”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” I tell her, even though I think chances of that happening are slim to none. Alex just doesn’t seem like the type to double date. Hell, he doesn’t even seem like the type to date.

  There’s no doubt I’m attracted to Alex. I mean really, really attracted. Maybe this is nothing more than chemistry. Maybe if something happens, it’s going to be nothing more than a single sexual encounter.

  But that’s not my style. I’m a commitment, love and roses type of person. I mean, I don’t believe you have to be married or even be in love to have sex, but I do believe you need to have some strong feelings for the other person.

  I’m not sure what I feel for Alex. He captivates me in a way that I don’t recall Brandon ever doing. Wearing a blanket of loneliness and anger makes him seem vulnerable to me, and watching him open up a bit makes me all the more intrigued. Add to that, he is without a doubt the sexiest man I have ever known. Yeah, I just don’t know what I feel for him, but there’s something.

  The bigger question is…does he feel anything for me?

  Chapter 11

  Alex

  Shaking my head in consternation, I walk out toward the lobby of the practice rink because that’s where I told Sutton I’d meet her. Outside of having to chase Cassie off at the beginning of practice, I actually had a pretty good time out there. I’m not sure if it’s because Sutton was there watching me or the fact that Garrett was cracking joke after joke as we were waiting for the next drill. The dude has an endless supply of jokes that are dirty as hell and were only suitable to be told amongst a group of comedically immature guys. No matter if I try to stay aloof with him, he won’t let me. It’s like he refuses to let me be an ass, and God help me, I’m starting to like that about him.

  It’s actually the first practice session since I joined the Cold Fury that I can actually say I enjoyed, start to finish.

  What’s even more enjoyable is, as I step out into the lobby with my equipment bag over my shoulder, my eyes immediately zero in and lock on Sutton. She’s standing by the front glass door, her back to me, gazing outside. Dressed super casual in just T-shirt, jeans and black Converse, she looks young, fresh and adorable—actually edible.

  Adorably edible and my pounding pulse seems to agree.

  I start toward her because she’s like a light at the end of the tunnel, when something grabs hold of my arm. Looking around, I see Cassie standing there, gazing at me with heated eyes.

  “We need to talk,” she says with determination.

  I pull my arm away. “No, we really don’t. ”

  “What the f**k was that little stunt out there on the ice?”

  “You’re classy as ever,” I remark dryly, and turn to walk away.

  She grabs my arm again, her nails digging in. I arch an eyebrow up at her, my look giving her about two seconds to get off me. Luckily she takes heed, releasing me just as quickly.

  “Are you throwing me over for that girl?” she says loudly, nodding toward Sutton. I turn my gaze and follow Cassie’s stare. Sutton has overheard this little byplay and stares back at us, her face impassively serene despite being called out.

  Turning back to Cassie, I tell her quietly, hoping to bring the noise level down a bit, “I’m not throwing you over for her. I’m throwing you over for me. I’m just not interested anymore and the sooner you understand that, the sooner you’ll let this go. ”

  I give my back to Cassie without giving her a chance to respond. In three long strides, I reach Sutton and take her elbow, turning her toward the door. With my free hand, I push it open and usher her through it before me. She gives me no resistance, trusting in my direction.

  We step out into the midday sun, and I note there’s finally a crispness to the air that signifies that maybe fall has truly arrived.

  “So, is the life of a hockey star normally filled with stalker ex-girlfriends?” Sutton asks me as the door closes behind us.

  I turn to her with a grin. “I think it’s part of the standard résumé. And for the record, she was not my girlfriend. ”

  “What was she, then?” she asks me with complete confidence in her nosiness.

  I’m not sure she’ll like my answer but I give it. “She was a hookup. Nothing more. ”

  “Oh…okay,” Sutton says quickly and I’m pretty sure I just lost some brownie points with her.

  “Where’s your car?” I ask Sutton just to change the subject.

  “My car?”

  “Yeah…figured you could drive if you don’t mind. Mine is behind the complex in the players’ parking lot and yours is probably closer. ”

  “Okay,” she says hesitantly and takes off toward the parking lot. “But I have to warn you…it’s a little junky. I’m not sure a celebrity of your status should be seen in it. ”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” I tell her with a chuckle, although when she stops at a rusted-out bucket of a car to unlock the door, I’m not sure it will get us to our intended destination.

  “It runs fine,” she assures me, the look on my face undoubtedly giving away my concern. “We can take your car if you’re worried about it. ”

  “I’m definitely not worried,” I tell her as I walk to the passenger door and wait for her to unlock it. She shoots me a grin, unlocks the driver’s door with a key, and then climbs in to reach the passenger lock. Good Lord, it doesn’t even have automatic locks. I didn’t know cars this old still existed.

  I’m not even sure what type of car this is, but it’s small so I have to fold my frame practically in half to get in the seat after I toss my equipment bag in the back. Despite the car probably being made several decades ago, it’s very clean and well kept on the inside.

  When Sutton turns the ignition, the engine sputters to life and gives a lusty purr. She turns to me and grins. “Let me guess…you probably drive a sports car, right? Red, maybe convertible, goes from zero to sixty in about three seconds flat?”

  “You so have me pegged wrong,” I tell her with a mock glare. “I drive a used Suburban. While it’s not as old as this bucket, it’s got its share of miles on it. ”

  “Wow,” she says, like I just told her the most amazing thing in the world, and puts her car in drive. “Consider me impressed. ”

  “Why does that impress you?”

  “Well, because I just placed an unfair stereotype on you. I just assumed all wealthy sports stars spent money like it was going out of style. ”

  I can’t help the bark of laughter that pops out. “It would probably surprise you, then, to learn I live in a small apartment and I hoard my money, although I do have an addiction to large flat-screen TVs. ”

  “Definitely busting my stereotype,” she agrees. “So why the obsessive saving of money?”

  “So I have something to fall back on when I’m done playing hockey. I don’t know anything else. ”

  “And just how long do you think you’ll be playing hockey?”

  Turning to look at her while she drives, I notice that the side view of her face is just as beautiful as the front view. Her long, red hair is hanging loosely with a slight wave to it, setting off the sparkle to her eyes, which reflect the brillian
t flecks of green from the sun angling in through the windshield. I notice for the first time that she has a tiny sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She fascinates me like no other person I’ve met, and that scares me just a bit. It excites me too.

  The answer to her question should be easy, but it’s really not. I decide to lay it out honestly to her. “Just a few weeks ago, I was on the verge of quitting. I didn’t like the team pushing me…attempting to mold me into something I wasn’t. I didn’t love the game enough to let them do that to me. ”

  “And now?” she asks quietly, shooting me a quick glance before putting her eyes back on the road.

  “Now? I’m looking at the game a bit differently,” I admit to her.

  “Why is that?”

  Her voice is so soothing, I absolutely want to capitulate to her. Rather than hide my feelings like I normally do, I want to tell her everything.

  Well, almost everything. There are some things I’d never be able to share with her.

  “Because you’ve made me look at things in a different light,” I tell her, and her head spins to meet my look. She stares at me a moment longer than what’s safe before she turns back to look at the road.

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asks with a soft smile on her face. I have the unbearable urge to reach my fingertips out and trace them along her jaw but I resist. She’d probably slap me if I tried that.

  “Good, I think. I’m still testing the waters, so to speak. ”

  Sutton turns into a parking lot that houses a cheap strip mall. She pulls in front of an Indian cuisine restaurant and turns the car off. Turning to look at me, she says, “Whether you dip a toe in or jump in headfirst, I’m glad you’re testing the waters. Experiencing new things, growing from that experience…I’m glad to see you trying that. ”

  She looks at me with warmth and even a bit of understanding. Yes, she understands something about me when I’m not even sure I understand much. It’s like she is wise beyond her years and I feel like she could threaten to crumble the very platform that I’ve built my entire knowledge of the world upon. It’s a scary prospect, but one that I find challenging in a good way.

  Taking my silence as a hint that the conversation is over, she turns briefly to look at the restaurant, then back to me. “I hope you like Indian. ”

  I don’t even spare the restaurant a glance. “Thank you…for taking the time to try to get to know me. And I think maybe for getting me when I’m not sure I even get myself. ”

  She sucks in a small breath and her eyes go wide over my proclamation. Then she smiles at me, and it is filled with care and understanding. I want to f**king kiss her so bad, my chest aches, but it’s not the time…it’s not the place. I wonder if it ever will be.

  “Come on, let’s eat,” I tell her as I open the passenger door and pour myself out of the little seat.

  After we’re seated in a booth and have placed our orders, Sutton turns all business on me, which is fine. After reading the binder of information she gave me, I’m actually feeling pretty excited about this project. Mainly because I’ll be working in close proximity to Sutton, which is a schmucky thing to admit, but I’m also excited about the prospect of helping kids who may have suffered some of the same stuff I went through. Just being able to give them an outlet for help is beyond thrilling to me, because I always felt so trapped and helpless while I was growing up.

  “Did you finish reading all of the materials?”

  “Yup. And while I have no other programs to compare it to, the California program is very impressive. I’m not even sure we’d have to modify it that much, assuming all of the information about addiction is accurate. That’s your expertise, though. ”