Eva smiled at her sister’s confidence in her, but as she stared out the windshield at the doors that led into the arena, she felt a tightness in her chest, a bubbling in her stomach. Walker was worse than a cranky toddler. He was a cranky man—impossible, pig-headed… and yeah. So damn sexy she could hardly concentrate on their work. Every time she sent him down the ice, she’d start imagining him naked, imagining what it would be like if those strong muscles were flexing and pumping like that for her, imagining how it would feel to run her tongue along the ridges of his rock-hard abs…
“Speak of the devil… isn’t that your man?” Marybeth nodded toward the passenger side window, and Eva whipped her head around to see. Through the white fog of Marybeth’s car exhaust, she saw Walker striding across the parking lot toward the rink, gear bag slung over his shoulder, a blue-and-silver Buffalo Tempest knit hat pulled down over his messy hair. The sun glinted off his dark shades, his breath puffing out in front of him—the man was a vision of utter hotness on an otherwise frigid morning. His very presence did more to wake up Eva’s body than the two cups of coffee she’d chugged earlier.
Not that Marybeth needed to know about that.
Marybeth leaned into Eva’s seat to get a closer look out the window. “So that’s Walker Dunn, huh?”
“The one and only,” Eva said, just as his head turned in their direction. She didn’t think he noticed her, though.
“Can we meet him?” Marybeth asked.
“Yeah, Mama!” Gracie exclaimed. “Can we meet the hockey man?”
“No,” Eva said. She turned to look at Gracie again. “I’m sorry. Mr. Dunn is kind of… he’s…” God, her brain was freezing up, and Walker was getting closer, and if either Marybeth or Gracie knocked on the window or opened the door, there was no way he wouldn’t see…
“He’s socially awkward,” Eva blurted out. “Issues. He has issues. Doesn’t like people. Um, people bothering him. He’s very… private.”
Oh my God, shut up!
Marybeth cracked up. “Nice save, and by the way, you are so full of it, and by the way, we are so talking about this later.”
Eva gritted her teeth, plastering on a smile. “There is nothing to talk about.”
“Maybe he wants to come with us to meet Santa,” Gracie offered.
“That’s very sweet of you,” Marybeth said. “But I think Mr. Dunn is busy working with Mommy today. Maybe another time.”
Over my dead body.
There would never be another time. The last thing she needed was Gracie getting her heart crushed just because Walker was in a shit mood or didn’t like kids.
A little stab of pain pricked her heart at the thought, but she shut it down. For one thing, she had no idea whether he liked kids. For all she knew, he might even have his own kids—kids that he loved and adored and spoiled rotten. And for another thing, it didn’t matter. Not a bit. Because no matter what her own ridiculous, cavewoman, purely physical feelings about Walker were, that had nothing to do with her daughter. She would never, ever expose Gracie to Walker, or to any hockey player for that matter.
“See you girls later,” Eva said, grabbing her bag from the floor and blowing kisses to them both. “Have fun with the elves!”
She flung herself out of the car, slammed the door shut behind her, and bolted for the entrance.
“Allow me,” a deep, gravelly voice called out from behind her. Of course it was him.
She stepped aside and let him grab the door, grateful that Marybeth was already zooming out of the lot.
“Carpool day?” he asked, following her line of sight.
“Something like that.”
“I could’ve picked you up, princess.”
She returned his teasing grin and walked through the doorway, ignoring the heat in her belly as her arm brushed against his stomach. God, he smelled delicious. Like soap and mint and wood smoke and—gah—man. Hot, impossibly sexy man.
“Then I’d have to tell you where I live,” she said, “and obviously that’s not happening.”
“Hmm. Afraid I might show up unannounced? Give the neighbors something to talk about?”
The door clicked shut behind them, and Eva picked up the pace, walking down the long corridor that led to the locker rooms. No way she’d let him see that blush on her face. No way she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d put it there.
Still, his legs were long and powerful, and he was already there, right behind her.
“Thanks for the offer,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. “But I don’t need a ride.”
“You don’t need a ride.” His voice was low and sexy, his breath hot on the back of her exposed neck. “But maybe you’d like it.”
“A… a ride?”
“Yes, Evangeline. A ride.” His scent enveloped her again, the warmth from his body radiating against her back.
She knew exactly what he was offering now, and it had nothing to do with carpooling. It was the first time he’d given her such an obvious entry, an invitation to pick up where they’d left off the other day.
“No friends today?” she asked, struggling to keep the tremble from her voice.
“Just us today, princess. Does that bother you?”
Eva shivered. Roscoe and Henny had shown up again last time, taking notes and cheering him on from the bench. Eva didn’t mind—she’d liked their camaraderie, their obvious concern for Walker. She wished they were here again now, but for totally different reasons.
She and Walker were alone here, this particular arena booked solely for them. With obligations to the rest of the team elsewhere in the city, McKellen and Gallagher had left Walker entirely in Eva’s hands. Which meant that if she went along with this right here, right now, no one would know. She could drop her bag, follow him into the locker room, strip off her clothes, let him wrap his big, strong hands around her hips and—
No. No way.
Eva closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She let Walker’s words hang unanswered in the air behind her, refusing to turn around, refusing to acknowledge the sparks crackling between them. He was stripping her of all resistance. One more minute with him, one more utterance, one more breath and she might just give herself over completely.
But no matter how insanely attracted to him she felt, no matter how riled up he made her, Eva couldn’t allow herself to go there. There were walls around her heart for a reason, and she needed them to stay firmly in place.
“Playtime is over, forty-six,” she said, hefting her bag over her shoulder and pushing the locker room door open. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today, and the clock’s already ticking. I want you geared up and on the ice in ten, ready to work.”
She still couldn’t look at him. Not yet.
One heartbeat.
Grab me by the shoulders, Walker.
Two.
Spin me around.
Three.
Push me up against that wall. Hard.
Four.
And kiss me like you damn well mean it.
Five.
“Yes, ma’am,” Walker said, his voice back to neutral. “See you on the ice, princess.”
When Eva heard his footsteps heading down toward the men’s locker room, she blew out a breath and opened her eyes, turning to watch his retreating form.
Her sister was—as usual—right.
Eva was seriously crushing on the hockey man.
Chapter Ten
“Faster, forty-six. Push it. Push it. Push it!” Eva shouted across the rink, stopwatch in one hand, clipboard in the other, watching Walker zoom through the cones. He was skating with the stick and puck today, and doing a pretty kickass job. He’d made it through every drill she’d set up for him so far, no slip-ups, no complaints, and—despite the post-flirting awkwardness that was getting to be a regular thing with them—he seemed in good spirits.
Unfortunately, his times still weren’t where they needed to be. Getting closer, but not clo
se enough. He was nailing the moves she’d taught him, so in theory he should’ve been picking up more speed, but it just wasn’t happening.
“Clean up those edges and haul ass!” she shouted again. “Come on, forty-six! Show me what you’re made of!”
Walker pushed himself harder, racing down the rink toward the net, never letting the puck escape his control. In a move that happened so fast Eva didn’t even see it coming, he slapped the puck into the net.
“He shoots, he scores!” Walker raised both hands in the air, pumping his stick up and down. “And the crowd goes wild.”
Eva let out a whoop and skated over to him.
“Was that your version of wild?” Walker laughed. “We need to work on that.”
They fell into an easy glide, cooling down with a few laps around the rink.
“You ever been to a game?” he asked.
Eva’s stomach knotted up. “Not… not in years.”
“Guess we need to work on that, too. You should come with me some time. We can sit up in the exec suite, eat twenty dollar hotdogs, drink Roscoe and Henny under the table at the after party.”
Eva forced a smile, wishing she could say it sounded like fun. Wishing she could take him up on it. Wishing some part of her still liked hockey games.
As a kid, she’d loved going to the games with her father—high up in the cheap seats, the nosebleeds, they’d eat popcorn and cheer for the Tempest, going home hoarse and happy no matter who’d won. Marybeth had never liked going, so it became a tradition for Eva and her father alone, something that bonded them, just like her figure skating had.
But several years ago, Eva had gone to a game with her skating team as part of a fundraiser for Children’s Hospital—Buffalo Tempest versus the Seattle Vipers. With a flush of heat, she realized now that Walker must’ve been playing that night, but she didn’t know him then. After all, Walker wasn’t the one who’d talked her up at the after party. The one who’d said all the right things, made all the right moves. The one who was full of promises.
The one who didn’t show his true colors until the night Eva found out she was pregnant.
That guy played for the Vipers, but it didn’t matter. He’d ruined hockey for her. The games. The players. The only thing she trusted now was this job, and that was only because McKellen had put his money where his mouth was.
Trying to keep the mood light, Eva nudged Walker in the ribs. “I think you should focus less on hotdogs and more on your times.”
He skidded to a stop and looked at her full on. His face pinched with concern, with frustration. “You’re telling me I’m still not close? How is that even possible?”
“You’re closer, but you’ve still got a ways to go, Walker.” Eva resisted the urge to smooth the angry wrinkle between his eyes. “Hey. We’re only a few sessions in. We’ll get there.”
She held his gaze, willing him to believe it. Willing herself to believe it. Yeah, they still had weeks to work on it. But the prickly feeling in her gut told her that Walker was already pushing his limits on the ice.
“Walker, I need you to be honest with me about something,” she said. Walker nodded, and she pressed on. “How much pain are you in right now?”
He winced at her question as if the words themselves were the cause of the injury. “I made the shot. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Think you could make that shot in front of twenty thousand screaming fans, lights flashing everywhere you look, two or three guys on your ass and a goalie in front of the net?”
“You’re on my ass, princess. Might as well be three guys.” He skated away from her, heading back for the net and scooping up the puck.
She gave him space, hoping another shot at the net would calm him, open him up to talking about it. But instead of skating down the rink, he grabbed up his stuff and headed for the players’ bench.
Damn.
She followed him, stepping off the ice and straddling the wide mahogany bench so she could face him. Her knees brushed against his thigh, but he didn’t flinch.
Eva ignored the heat between them. “Walker. Look at me. Please.”
After a beat, he finally acquiesced. The hurt in his eyes was so plain, it made her heart ache.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked softly.
“Trust me, princess.” Walker forced a laugh, pinning her again with a fiery glare. The hurt she’d seen in his eyes was hidden once again. “You really don’t want me to answer that.”
“Be serious. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”
Walker pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, but he nodded. “You’ve got eyes, Eva. You know what’s going on.”
“You’re in pain.”
“Does it matter? Pain or not, I need to get back on the team, or I’m kinda fucked.”
“Destroy your knee, and you’re totally fucked.”
Walker blew out a frustrated breath. “You don’t understand.”
“Understand what? You shut down every time I ask a question.” Eva yanked off her gloves and tossed them onto the bench, barely keeping her temper in check. No matter how much progress they made, she still felt Walker pushing back at every turn. He was resisting her, holding himself back, keeping her at arm’s length.
She wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t let her in.
“How bad do you want this, Walker? Honestly. How damn bad do you want this?”
Walker yanked off his helmet and shoved a hand though his messy hair. “What do you think, princess?”
“I don’t know what to think. From where I stand, I don’t see a guy who’s got his head in the game. I see a guy who’s going through the motions. Trying to prove something to everyone but himself.”
“You’re wrong, After School Special. Totally wrong.”
“And you’re full of shit, Brooding Alpha Male.” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “Why do you want back on the team?”
“Why do you think?”
“I have my theories, but I’d rather hear it from you.”
“It’s my job, Eva,” he said plainly. “My paycheck. My family depends on me, and letting them down is not an option.”
“Your… family?” Eva tried to swallow her shock. She’d always pictured him as an eternal bachelor who played hard and lived hard and had little time for anything else. It never occurred to her that he might be supporting other people.
Walker nodded, some of his hard edges softening as he continued. “Two brothers in college. My mom. She… Mom’s in a long-term care facility. Alzheimer’s. I mean, she’s still okay—she lives in her own apartment there—but she wanders at night. Gets confused sometimes—more and more lately. The docs thought it’d be best…” Walker trailed off.
Oh, no. Eva didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Sorry was such a tiny, pointless thing—a throwaway word that could never encapsulate all the things she was feeling for him in that moment. So instead she stayed silent and placed her hand on his knee, hoping it was enough.
This time, he did jump at her touch, but he didn’t pull away. To her surprise, he laughed.
“Oh, Mom would like you,” he said. “Always says I need a strong woman to straighten my ass out. Take up where she left off.”
“I think she did a pretty good job all on her own.”
Walker turned to look at her, the emotion in his eyes unreadable. He wasn’t shutting her out, exactly… more like weighing his options, trying to decide how much more he should say.
Eva understood. She was playing her cards close to the vest, too. Sharing too much, letting people in… it left you vulnerable. It was like giving someone the keys to your home, then leaving town for a year. You never knew when they might show up, let themselves in, and set the whole place on fire.
“I get it, Walker,” she said now. “You want to take care of your family, and hockey is the best way you know how.”
“It’s the only way, Eva. Mom can’t work. The boys need to finish their education�
�that’s non-negotiable. My old man split years ago—we didn’t even hear that he died until six months after they’d buried his sorry ass. I’m all they’ve got. And pro hockey? That is damn lucrative.”
Eva nodded. Walker was a talented player—nothing wrong with getting paid for that talent. But it wasn’t enough to keep him motivated. Not when he was looking at months of grueling work just to get back on the team—and there were no guarantees of that happening, anyway.
Committing to this had nothing to do with money. It had everything to do with passion.
If Walker’s heart wasn’t in this, if his blood didn’t run with the Tempest blue-and-silver, if his heart didn’t beat to the sound of skates pounding down the ice, then there wasn’t much more she or anyone else could do to get him through this recovery.
“Walker, I need to ask you this, and I need you to be completely straight with me. You mentioned your family, your job. But… do you even like hockey?”
He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment she wondered whether he’d even heard her. But then he swung his leg over the bench, straddling it so their knees touched. He leaned forward, so close she could see the flecks of blue in his gray eyes, the tiny scar along his jawline, just under the dark stubble.
The sound of her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears.
“First word,” he said. “Hockey. Nine months old.”
Eva laughed. “Please.”
“Swear to God,” he said.
“Sounds like something you tell the ESPN guys to make you more likable for the folks back home.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s also the truth.” Walker laughed softly, his voice warm and intimate in the cavernous arena. “Before my dad split, he used to watch the games, chant at the TV.” Walker pumped his fist. “Hock-ey, hock-ey, hock-ey. I picked it up from him, just started mimicking him one day. Couple years later, I inherited a pair of hand-me-down skates from my cousin. I was hooked. Mom started taking me to the rink at Delaware Park every weekend—she swears I skated better than I walked, despite my name.” Walker shook his head. “I miss those days sometimes, sure. But I never stopped loving hockey. Never stopped wanting to play.”
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