“Bye, Viggo,” they cooed, their faces practically plastered to the screen as they watched him saunter back to the bathroom.
Reid swiveled the laptop away, cutting off their view of Viggo’s retreating backside. When his scowling face filled the screen, they started giggling.
“Sorry, big brother, but Viggo’s just too damn hot for his own good,” Avery declared.
“I know,” Aria agreed with a dreamy sigh. “That face—”
“Those eyes—”
“Those lips—”
“That hair—”
“That bod.”
The two sisters gave Reid a pleading look, their hands clasped together in supplication. “Oh, please, can we share him? Pretty pleeeaaase?”
“No. Hell, no.”
They heaved a sigh of disappointment, then stuck their tongues out at him. “Meanie.”
Reid grinned, shaking his head at them. “I’m disappointed in you two. I’ve seen puck bunnies show more self-control than you just did.”
They laughed unabashedly.
He swung his legs down from the desk. “I gotta go. You girls stay out of trouble.”
“That’s what we should be telling you,” Aria said half-seriously. “Have fun tonight.”
“But not too much fun,” Avery warned, wagging a finger at him. “Don’t forget you have a special someone waiting at home.”
Reid grinned. “I won’t forget, believe me.”
His sisters smiled and blew kisses at him before he signed off and closed his laptop.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in fitted designer suits with open-necked shirts, he and Viggo grabbed their wallets and headed from the room.
The others had talked about hitting a club after dinner, but all Reid planned to do was come back and call Nadia. He missed her like crazy and couldn’t wait to hear her voice again.
Just as they reached the door, his cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and looked at the screen, smiling when he saw his mother’s picture. He briefly considered letting the call roll to voice mail, then decided against it.
Four years ago when Arlene Holden was diagnosed with breast cancer, Reid had been in the thick of a grueling stretch of road games. His mother hadn’t wanted him to be distracted on the ice, so she’d instructed the family to withhold her diagnosis from him until the season was over. Thankfully Avery refused to honor such an outrageous request; she’d gone behind their mother’s back and broken the devastating news to Reid.
Since then he’d always answered the phone whenever his mother called because he knew it could be important, and he didn’t want to be the last to know if, God forbid, her cancer was out of remission.
Viggo glanced over his shoulder at Reid. “Coming?”
“Go ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.”
Viggo nodded and left.
Reid pressed the answer button and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hello, darling.” Her voice lacked its usual warmth and affection. “I just got off the phone with Avery. Is there something you’d like to share with me?”
Reid lifted his face toward the ceiling, closed his eyes as though steeling himself and then took a deep breath. He’d known, of course, that his mother would eventually find out about Nadia, and he was fine with that. He’d just hoped to delay this conversation a little longer. Because he already had an inkling of what she was going to say.
“As you know,” she continued when he didn’t speak, “I’ve been very busy preparing for the breast cancer charity gala. I’ve had my hands full chairing the committee, so I haven’t had time to keep up with the goings-on of your Instagram page. Imagine my surprise when I called Avery to see how her trip went, and during our conversation, she let it slip that you now have a girlfriend. And apparently I’m the last to know.”
“Not exactly,” Reid murmured, walking toward his bed. “I haven’t told Dad or Ry yet either.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It was.” Reid sat on the end of the bed and leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs as he smiled wryly into the phone. “Guess it didn’t work.”
At the other end of the line, there was a heavy moment of silence.
“I’m not amused, Reid,” his mother said, her voice several degrees frostier than before. “I thought your sister must have been mistaken about you having a girlfriend. So I hung up the phone and went to your Instagram page and…well, there she was. My son’s new woman.” Arlene paused. “She’s African American.”
“Yes, she is,” Reid said evenly. “Is that a problem?”
He could see his mother clearly, cool green eyes narrowed, lips pursed in displeasure. “I guess you really are your father’s son,” she said reproachfully.
It was a barbed reference to Roark Holden’s Vietnamese girlfriend, Hanh, who was now living with him.
“Apparently white women are no longer good enough for the Holden men,” his mother said with bitter sarcasm. “I suppose I should expect Ryder to run off and elope with a Latina next.”
Reid sighed. “C’mon, Mom. Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”
“Dramatic?” She was affronted. “You think I’m being dramatic?”
“A little, yeah.” He was striving for patience. Because this was his mother, the woman who’d given him everything, and he would never disrespect her.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to be in a serious relationship at this time?” she demanded. “You have so much at stake, Reid. So much riding on the line. Having a girlfriend is a distraction you don’t need.”
“That’s for me to—”
“You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. Is it really worth jeopardizing your dreams and goals for some girl you barely know?”
Reid frowned, clenching his jaw. “I’m not jeopardizing—”
“Do you remember Greta Culver?”
“…my— Who?”
“Greta Culver. The girl who lived down the street from us for a few years before her family moved away. When you were ten years old, she had the biggest crush on you. She always seemed to know the precise moment you’d be arriving home from hockey practice, because she’d be waiting for you at the end of our driveway when we pulled up. I can still see her sitting on her bike with her long blond hair blowing in the breeze, chewing a wad of pink bubblegum with her mouth wide open.” Arlene chuckled at the memory. “One day when she was feeling particularly amorous, she hopped off her bike, ran up to the car and gave you the biggest hug ever. While you stood there with a panicked look on your face, Greta professed her undying love for you and declared that she was going to marry you someday. It was so adorable. You were tired, sweaty and hungry. But you patiently peeled her off you, took her by the shoulders and looked her solemnly in the eye. And do you remember what you said to her? I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday. You told her you weren’t getting married until you grew up and became a professional hockey player and won the Stanley Cup. Do you remember that?”
“Um…vaguely.” The corners of Reid’s mouth were twitching. “It’s a cute story, Mom, but—”
“It’s not just a story! It’s been your guiding principle, a philosophy you’ve lived by all your life!”
“Philosophy? Mom, I was ten years old.”
“Old enough to know what mattered the most to you. Hockey was your first love, darling. And it always will be.”
Reid frowned. Before he could respond, his phone beeped with an incoming text. He pulled it away from his ear to look at the screen.
Ur Holden us up, Logan’s message read. Ha ha. So clever.
Reid brought the phone back to his ear. He was more than ready to end this aggravating conversation. “Mom, I have to—”
“I don’t like what I’m hearing in your voice, Reid Tyler. I think that girl is already clouding your judgment, making you lose focus—”
“I haven’t lost focus,” Reid growled.
“Then end this relat
ionship before you do.”
Reid sighed harshly and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I appreciate your concern, Mom—”
“I love you, darling,” she said earnestly. “You know there isn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t do for you. You’re a wonderful son and a wonderful man, and one day you’re going to make some lucky woman a wonderful husband. But right now it’s better for you to focus on your career. Playing hockey is your passion, Reid. It’s what you do best, not relationships.”
Reid’s jaw flexed as his nostrils flared. “Look, I’m sorry you had to hear about Nadia from Avery instead of me. And I’m sorry you don’t approve of our relationship. But with all due respect, Mom, it’s not your decision to make. Nadia means a lot to me, and I enjoy having her in my life. So I have no intention of breaking up with her.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. His mother’s displeasure was palpable, all but oozing through the phone.
Finally she gave a heavy sigh of resignation. “It really pains me to say what I’m about to say, Reid. But you’re my son, and I know you better than you know yourself. And what I know is that you’re going to hurt that girl. Oh, you won’t intend to. But you will. In a moment of weakness, you’re going to forget that you’re trying to be a committed boyfriend. In the blink of an eye, you’re going to revert back to who and what you are: A good but flawed man.” She paused, her tone gentling. “It’s not your fault, darling. It’s in your DNA.”
Reid glared at the wall in front of him, his hand flexing into a tight fist. “My teammates are waiting for me. I have to go.”
“Sweetheart—”
He disconnected without another word. Then he just sat there, his jaw grinding hard as he tried to calm his nerves and rid his mind of his mother’s damning indictment.
That was one phone call he wished like hell he’d ignored.
19
Nadia wished she didn’t miss Reid so much.
She wished she didn’t catch herself daydreaming about him when she was supposed to be working. She wished she didn’t rush home to watch his games. She wished she didn’t have trouble falling asleep unless she was wearing his jersey. And she wished she didn’t find herself anxiously counting down the hours and days until he returned home.
She was truly pathetic, and Nelson made fun of her every chance he got.
Over the endless course of those ten days, she and Reid kept in touch via texts and phone calls. Despite the time zone differences and his hectic schedule, he called her every night and after every game when he got back to his hotel room. If Viggo was there, they limited their conversation to the game—what went right or what went wrong—and made small talk about her day. They saved the dirty talk for sexting.
Nadia always looked forward to hearing from Reid. She thoroughly enjoyed curling up in bed, turning off the lamp and letting his deep, velvety voice seduce her senses. Just the sound of it could bring her to orgasm—and frequently had.
Talking to him every day also helped ease her nagging fears about him meeting other women while he was on the road. By making time for her between games, practices and traveling, he must consider her more important than hooking up with random puck bunnies.
She clung to that belief like a lifeline.
* * *
The Rebels’ last road game was against Montreal.
It was brutal. None of the Rebels played well that night. Their chemistry was off, and they made stupid mistakes and racked up costly penalties that resulted in them getting blown out 6-1, their first loss of the season.
After the game, Nadia waited for Reid to call so she could commiserate with him and try to make him feel better about the crushing loss.
But his call never came.
Around eleven-thirty her time, she sent him a text: Rough night, huh? I’m here if u need to vent.
When he didn’t respond, she tried not to take it personal. She told herself that he and his teammates had probably spent half the night at some bar trying to drown their sorrows in booze. She reasoned that he probably hadn’t been in the mood to hear a pep talk from her, no matter how well meaning. She came up with all sorts of rationalizations to explain why he didn’t call her.
But nothing eased her mind.
After a restless night, she got up the next morning and threw herself into housework to take her mind off Reid. She washed two loads of laundry, mopped the kitchen floor and cleaned the fridge while Nelson was out covering a college football game.
Reid was due home that day, but her excitement over seeing him was tempered by a growing premonition that something was wrong. He’d gone radio silent on her. No calls or texts.
Nothing.
As the day dragged on and her phone remained silent, her anxiety level ratcheted up until she couldn’t take it anymore. She turned on the hockey channel to make sure the Rebels hadn’t perished in a freak plane crash. Then she marched to her bedroom, powered on her laptop and pulled up the gossip blog that had outed her and Reid a few weeks ago.
Her heart stopped.
There, on the front page, was a photo of Reid cozied up with another woman in a bar.
The gorgeous brunette was sitting on his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck and her busty cleavage thrust into his face. He was grinning harder than a birthday boy in a whorehouse.
The headline above the photo declared: O Canada! Holden Samples Local Flavor After Blowout Loss To Canadiens.
A hot wave of nausea hit Nadia. It felt as if the contents of her stomach were surging up to her throat. She choked down the bile, the horrible taste burning her throat.
Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe she was just an overfriendly fan.
She scanned the short caption accompanying the picture. Once she read the words “hockey hunk and mystery babe were seen leaving the bar together,” she recoiled from the screen, slamming her laptop closed.
How could she have been so fucking stupid? she thought, blinking rapidly as tears scalded her eyes. How could she have been gullible enough to believe that a manwhore like Reid Holden would ever change for her?
She had no one but herself to blame. She’d let down her guard, ignoring the voice of reason that warned her Reid was no different from other jocks. Even though she knew on some level that he couldn’t be trusted, she’d thrown caution to the wind and let herself fall for him. She’d even bared her soul to him, telling him her most painful secrets, sharing her heart’s deepest wounds.
And he’d played her for a damn fool, humiliating her for all the world to see.
She was still reeling with pain and fury when his call finally came an hour later. She sucked in a shaky breath, composing herself as well as she could before she answered in a cool monotone, “Hello.”
“Hey, baby.”
She hated the way her treacherous pulse skipped at the endearment.
“Sorry for not calling you sooner,” he went on. “My battery died and I couldn’t find my charger.”
Nadia rolled her eyes. The “dead phone” excuse was the oldest one in the book.
“I’m calling from the plane,” he told her. “Our flight out of Montreal was delayed because of bad weather. We should be landing in about half an hour.”
She smirked. “I’m sure the delay gave you more time to sample the local flavor.”
“Local flavor?” He sounded bewildered. “What’re you talking about?”
Fury fired through her veins. “Cut the crap, Reid. I saw the picture.”
“What picture?”
“The one with your face practically buried in some woman’s tits!”
Silence.
When he spoke, his voice was low and strained. “I know it probably looked bad—”
“No probably about it. It did look bad.” She sneered. “But I guess boys will be boys, right?”
“Nothing happened, Nadia.”
She snorted derisively. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
“Yes, because it’s
true.”
“Give me a fucking break, Reid.”
“Look, this isn’t a good time,” he gritted out. “We’ll talk when I get to your place.”
“No, we won’t. I don’t want you anywhere near me!”
He exhaled a harsh breath. “Hold on.”
She heard rustling in the background and pictured him marching down the aisle past his teammates to duck into the bathroom. She fumed while she waited for him to come back on the line. It seemed an eternity before he did.
“Listen, baby. I know the picture upset you, but nothing happened between me and that woman.”
“I don’t believe you,” Nadia hissed furiously. “Not only were you grinning from ear to ear while she was sitting on your lap, but you also left the bar with her. Am I supposed to believe you didn’t screw her last night?”
“I didn’t,” he insisted.
“Then why the hell did you leave with her?”
“The bar was in a seedy part of town. She’d called a cab, so she asked me to walk her outside and wait with her.”
“How chivalrous of you,” Nadia jeered mockingly.
“That’s all that happened. Did she ask me to go home with her? Yes. But I turned her down, Nadia. I put her in the cab and that was it.”
“Yeah, right.”
He let out a frustrated groan. “C’mon, Nadia. Don’t do this.”
“I didn’t do a fucking thing!” she cried. “You did!”
“I didn’t sleep with her, dammit!”
“I don’t believe you!” Her throat felt raw, burning with unshed tears. “You told me to trust you, remember? You promised you wouldn’t hurt me.”
He groaned raggedly. “Please, baby. Nothing happened. You have to believe me!”
“Why, Reid? Why should I believe a damn word that comes out of your mouth?”
“Because I’m telling the truth! And I don’t wanna lose you!”
She sneered. “Guess you should have thought of that before you let that bitch give you a fucking lap dance.”
He made a harsh sound in his throat. “Just let me come over and explain.”
“What else is there to explain? A picture’s worth a thousand words, and that picture told me all I need to know about you and what you obviously think of me.”
Wicked Games (Denver Rebels) Page 28