by Clare James
“Shit,” I yelled, easing her hand down.
“Do you want to tell me what the hell that was all about, asshole?” she growled, getting right up in my face.
“I might remind you that you weren’t complaining at first,” I said in defense. Clearly, I didn’t think it through. Her violent hands and smart mouth seemed to bring out the worst in me.
“I had no idea what was going on at first,” Casey said, her voice pinched. “It took my brain a second to catch up.”
“Because your body liked what I was doing,” I said like the smug asshole she seemed to think I was.
Shut the fuck up, Daley.
Casey didn’t move. She didn’t alter her expression or say a word.
I wasn’t sure where all this shit was coming from. I knew I was getting defensive and that wasn’t going to help me or my cause. Still, in that moment, I wanted her to admit that she liked what I did to her. I needed her to. Maybe because I would kill to do it again.
“Are you sure you’re really not one of the girls?” I continued, simply to get a rise out of her.
“I’m sure,” she spit. “Sorry to disappoint. Must be a huge letdown to learn all women were not created to fulfill all your sick fantasies. We’re not all — what do you call them — your escorts or whores?”
There was that fire again.
“Neither,” I said, closing my eyes. It was make or break time. “Sometimes girls like to come over here to, ah.” I couldn’t finish the thought. This went so much easier in my head.
She flipped her wrist, her eyes burning into mine as she dared me say it.
“You know where I’m going with this,” I said. “I don’t pay them and it’s nothing illegal. Trust me, they are very happy participants.”
“I’m sure they are.” She rolled her eyes.
“And how do I know you’re legit?” I pressed.
“If I was coming here to seduce you, or whatever these girls come here to do, don’t you think I’d dress to impress? I’m not a supermodel, but I have more game than this.” She ran a hand along her crumpled sportswear.
Damn, if she only knew.
Chapter 13
SCRAP (n):
A news story that falls apart.
Casey
“I’m going to leave now,” I told Finn, beyond insulted that he thought I was some kind of hockey groupie. Then again, my reasoning for the unexpected visit was far from noble. I planned to trick him to get my story for crying out loud.
Even more mortifying was that I didn’t do anything to stop him when he touched me. I may have even leaned into it. Shit, shit, shit.
I had been with men before. Okay, two men. Compared to Finn, boys might be a more accurate term. My experience didn’t even come close to what just happened in the kitchen.
I’ll give you what you want.
His words played back in my head, causing my flesh to break out in goose bumps.
Finn opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then closed it again and nodded. My curiosity about those unsaid words would torment me for days.
What I did learn from the visit was that Finn Daley was your average, entitled, womanizing athlete. He probably quit the game to leave more time for partying and pussy. I had no doubt he was extremely talented in the latter.
Sadly, that story had been done to death. Sex lives of the rich and famous. There was nothing new or surprising here. He wasn’t married and didn’t have kids, so it would barely make a blip in the noise of the daily media. No, this was not the material great news stories were made of.
Still, after I left, I wasn’t sure what bothered me more, bailing on the story or bailing on Finn.
***
The days passed and I tried to get him out of my head. Of course, I couldn’t distract my body. It ached for him. His touch; his demands. The way he brought it to life, willing to do anything he asked.
After a particularly rough night, with virtually no sleep, I cursed wasting so much time on Finn Daley. I had to forget him and get moving on a new story.
At the station, my boss let me know about my shortcomings every chance he got.
“So how’s the reel coming along?” he asked last week. “Strange, I see you working and researching at all hours, but I have yet to see a story.”
“I’ll have something soon,” I told him.
“Doesn’t matter, really,” he said. “Not like I was expecting much.”
How I hated The Mole. Partly because he was right. I should’ve had something by now. Any reporter worth their salt would’ve had a catalog of stories.
“Hey, sunshine,” my brother greeted me when I made it down to the kitchen. He handed me a huge mug of coffee. I let it warm my hands and the aroma waken my senses.
“Morning,” I said, once I found my voice.
“What’s on the agenda today?” he asked.
“I think I’m going to go for a run. I need to clear the brain and come up with a new story. I’m running out of time.”
“What about Finn and the biggest sports mystery of the century? The story that was going to get you the Emmy?”
“It was a bust.” I said, feeling the heat in my cheeks.
Goddamn Finn Daley.
“What happened?”
I took a big gulp from my cup and waited for the caffeine to reach the bloodstream.
“Long story, but I wasn’t getting anywhere,” I finally said. “It was dead end after dead end.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you?” Zack asked.
“You should be happy. You didn’t even want me to go after this story.”
“Look, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. But I don’t want to see you give up either.”
He had a point, one I wasn’t ready to consider yet. Because despite my unexpected discovery about Finn’s sexual interests, I knew there was more to him and that his story was worth pursuing. But was I smart enough to figure it out? And even if I did, could I expose the secrets he was so intent on keeping? My stomach turned at the thought.
Deep down, I didn’t want that to stop me. Phil didn’t know his head from his ass. But if I didn’t move fast, I’d be stuck working as a Sports Girl and wearing tight T-shirts until my boobs began to sag. And that was too fucking depressing.
The truth was, Finn didn’t mean anything to me. Plus, this was in the public’s interest. After all, they financed his posh lifestyle, allowing him to live like a king for the rest of his days. Didn’t they have a right to know why he hung it up? Didn’t he owe an explanation to the people who essentially paid him?
My only answer to those questions was: maybe.
The bigger problem was that I wasn’t sure I could be alone in a room with him. I’m not ashamed to admit, the man did something to me. Nor was I too proud to say, I’d give almost anything to have him do it again.
After I had my morning coffee and pity party, I headed out for a run.
There was a nip in the air, but I was fine in running pants, pullover, and neck gaiter. This was a town of runners. You could pick any weekend and have your choice of 5Ks and 10Ks; half-marathons, triathlons, or fulls. And around the river, it was just a way of life. Long run on Saturday mornings, boating in the afternoon, and drinks at one of the local watering holes.
I tended to stay away from the bars. In college they were usually just a place to find your next hookup. Down here, they were full of old people trying to do the same thing, and that was just sad. But I guess I couldn’t pity people getting more action than I was.
It had me thinking about just how long ago it had been. Six, seven, shit, eight months? No wonder I was so obsessed with Finn Daley. I wasn’t necessarily attracted to him. I was just horny.
That had to be it. And I knew just the remedy.
A night out.
I picked up my speed, feeling light and quick. I’d definitely made progress in the past few months of my daily runs.
With Imagine Dragons in my ears, I pounded the pavement to th
e deep bass.
I made my way through the little village that grew sleepier with each passing month. The pumpkins and gourds were on display in front of the little shops and restaurants. The surrounding trees held onto only a handful of leaves.
The cool air burned a little as my breath grew more ragged, so I pulled up my scarf. All my senses muted. I heard nothing but my music and breath, felt nothing other than the burn of my legs as I pushed my speed, and saw nothing except for the small patch of asphalt directly in front of me. So when he came barreling in my direction at top speed, I didn’t see it coming. Until the impact.
His body hit mine so hard, I felt it in my teeth.
Chapter 14
Finn
Anchor/Kiki Stuart: And you’re telling us that after all of that, the two of you became friends?
Finn Daley: Crazy, but true. At least for a while.
Despite the urges — and I mean serious urges — to contact Casey, I didn’t. I left her alone. She wasn’t buying my explanation for what happened. Not like I expected her to. She was a very smart girl.
At least I thought she was. Until I saw her again; then I had serious doubts.
I missed Nate’s last game, so we decided to watch the highlights together on my DVR. I’m sure Nate really had no interest. He lived it just the night before, but he indulged me. After dealing with my shit for so many years, he could recognize my patterns and he knew when I needed a pick me up. I wouldn’t say I was sinking again, but I would say I was a little down and definitely not up for putting on one of my many disguises to go out on the town.
Hitting play on the DVR, I was set to fast forward through the commercials and bypass all the local commentary when I saw her. I was immediately reminded of myself. Because no matter how incredibly hot she looked all done up, I knew it was a cover.
There on my screen were the same dark hair and eyes; the same pouty lips; the same kiss-my-ass attitude. But she was primped up to look like Barbie’s brunette friend — downright sultry with smoky eyes and shiny lips. Though when she smiled into the camera, it was unfamiliar. Not that I was an expert on Casey Scott, but every one of her expressions had been burned into my brain. This was not one of them.
“What the fuck?” My thoughts finally reached my mouth.
Not only was this the girl I molested at my home, it was also the girl who was at the arena that night. How did I not see it before?
“I know, dude,” Nate said. “All the guys are crazy for this one.” He laughed, shaking his head.
The thought of the guys talking smack about her in the locker room made me want to hit something. Instead, I tried to quiet my mind. I had to find out what Nate knew about her.
“The best part,” he continued. “She won’t give them the time of day. Zack wanted me to look after her, but that girl can fend for herself.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah, don’t you?” Nate said. “She’s Zack’s little sister.”
“How did you know that?”
“Shit, I’m surprised he didn’t warn you, of all people, off of her. Once she got the job as the hockey Sports Girl, Zack pulled me aside and asked that I keep a lookout for her. Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t have agreed. I’d like a little piece of her—”
“Stop,” I spit. “Just stop.”
“Geez,” he said. “You’re really off kilter, aren’t you? What’s going on?”
I raked my fingers through my hair and didn’t say a word.
“Oh, shit,” Nate said under his breath before his booming laugh shook the couch. “She’s the one, isn’t she? Of course you’d fall for the hot new Sports Girl. Couldn’t be a quiet, studious type who stays under the radar, could it?”
“That’s exactly what I thought she was,” I told him. “This Sports Girl shit is new to me. She lied. Said she was a writer. Journalism, I think.”
“She didn’t lie,” Nate said. “She is a writer. Zack told me that the only reason she took the job was to get her foot in the door. She wants to be a serious reporter.”
“A reporter?” I asked. “That’s really interesting.”
I dropped it with Nate for the time being. But whenever her face graced the screen — and fuck, it sure as hell graced it — I burned a little.
No, innocent Casey wasn’t one of Gina’s girls, but she sure the hell knew about me. She was far enough into the hockey season that she’d know how my world worked and the unsavory ways of those in the public eye.
I had dodged reporters and paparazzi for over six months now and only recently had I felt they were losing interest. She’d better not jeopardize that for me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized our meetings couldn’t have been a coincidence. Maybe that little snake planned it. Maybe she planned the whole damn thing. I’d just have to stay away. Get her out of my head for good.
Nate left and I did the only thing, other than sex, that could remotely calm me down. I went for a run. It didn’t help. My mind ran wild and I couldn’t make sense of anything, no matter how hard I tried.
How in the hell could it be that the only two women who had turned my head in the last six months would turn out to be the same person?
The disturbing thought tormented me with each stride.
Chapter 15
GLITCH (n):
A mishap, error, or malfunction.
Casey
One minute I was in the air, feet flipped out from under me. The next, I’m sprawled out on the ground, cushioned in an enormous mass of muscular arms and chest and legs.
Zing.
I knew it was him, even before seeing his face. My body remembered his touch. My brain remembered the danger. I swept my bangs to the side, took a deep breath, and looked up at his face. He was flushed and breathing hard. It got worse when I shifted on top of him. I tried to push myself off, but he locked me in as I rolled. Now on his chest, my breasts pushed into his pecs, and our centers aligned perfectly. I pushed again and this time I noticed his eyes twinkle just as I did. He tightened his grip along my waist, his hands alarmingly close to my ass.
Oh my effing God. I was growing warm and wet. And fucksticks, he knew it.
“Let me up.” I slapped his chest.
“Why? So you can really get run over in traffic this time?”
Confused, I looked at him again.
“You didn’t even realize it, did you?”
“I was fine.” I lied. “I saw the car.”
“Truck,” he corrected. “And you didn’t. You were off in la la land running where you please, expecting people to move out of the way for you. That’s what you’re used to, isn’t it?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I said, the heat of the words matching the heat of my body. Hell, it felt fantastic.
“You,” he said. “And the way you steamroll over people to get what you want.”
“Are you high?”
“No, but I have become enlightened. Actually, I watched you on TV last night.”
“And?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were an aspiring reporter?” He rolled us over onto the grass now, focusing on me for what I could only assume was an answer. “Or a KXAA Sports Girl for that matter?”
He’d been asking about me, thinking about me. I wonder if he dreamt of me the way I did of him.
“Maybe for the same reason why you didn’t initially tell me you regularly open your doors to bed hockey groupies.”
His eyes burned and he gripped his hand tighter on my hip.
I liked it.
I liked it so much.
“You really have been spying on me,” he accused, releasing me so we could both sit up.
“Aren’t we full of ourselves,” I said, quickly finding a way to spin my story. “I haven’t been spying on you. I’m just getting a lay of the land. Learning who’s who in hockey.”
“Right,” he scoffed.
“It’s called reeeee-search.” I drew out the word. “And P.S., you’re old news.” He looked pa
ined when I said it, but I ignored my involuntary wince and went on. “After I found out you knew my brother, well, I was thinking maybe you could help with a few things. A girl has to work her sources wherever she finds them.”
“Why didn’t you just come out and ask?”
Yes, he was buying it.
“That’s exactly what I was trying to do before you went all Fifty Shades on me.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Let’s just say, if I knew you were a pervy old man who beckoned young women to his home to get his freak on, I would’ve reconsidered riding by your place.”
“Okay, maybe I deserve that. But I couldn’t have helped anyway. My career is dead and I only hang out with one person from the team. Everyone else kept their distance when I left.”
I was trying to keep out of the story, remain optimistic. But my heart tugged at his words. I couldn’t help feeling that whatever caused his retirement crushed him in the process.
“Can I ask you something straight up?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Ever since I got into hockey, people have always wanted something from me. Always looked out for their own interests instead of mine.”
Killing me here.
“I’m sorry,” I told him, unable to come up with anything better.
“Because of it, I’ve become paranoid at times. Always thinking the worst of people. I guess that’s why I thought Gina sent you. Just someone else who was trying to get something from me.”
“Well, not to get off topic here, but it seems that day you were all about taking.” I raised my eyebrows. I felt bad, but he wouldn’t convince me he was a victim when it came to women.
“I was just trying to teach you a lesson,” he said.
“By giving me an orgasm? Good one.”
“If I recall, you got close, but I never sealed the deal.”
“Oh, I recall.” I shoved him. “You asshole. That was all part of the plan?”
He smirked.