Winning Hard

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Hurt, unexpected and unwelcome, flashed through him. For a brief second, he was the lonely, awkward kid again, uncomfortable and completely out of his league. Fiasco? Is that what she thought Thursday night had been? Then he realized she was talking about the news piece that had aired, not about what had happened between them.

  They hadn't talked about what happened between them at all. Should they? Should he bring it up? He hesitated then gave himself a mental shake as he made his decision: he'd take his cue from Taylor, and right now, she didn't seem to want to talk about it.

  "Well? Is it?"

  "No." Charles shook his head. "No, it won't be anything like what happened Thursday night. Trust me."

  "Trust you? After what happened?"

  "I had no control over it. And if I had known what was going to happen—"

  "You wouldn't have shown up at my place, right?"

  "What?"

  Taylor shook her head and looked away, suddenly focused on the smooth edge of her thumbnail. "Nothing."

  "We're talking about the news piece that aired, right?"

  Her gaze darted to his then slid away. "Yeah. Of course."

  "Okay. Because if we're talking about something else—"

  "There's nothing else to talk about."

  "Are you sure? Because I thought—"

  Taylor sliced her hand through the air with an impatient wave. "So what about the Banners?"

  "It's too late for next weekend, but we're talking about setting up a small demonstration. Maybe for the beginning of November."

  "What kind of demonstration?"

  "The Blades would play a quick scrimmage on the ice during one of the intermissions. We'd set up an autograph session afterward, try to tap into the Banners' market and increase interest."

  A thoughtful frown crossed Taylor's face. "A scrimmage? You mean, like the Mites do sometimes?"

  "Well, yeah. I guess. Something like that." Charles watched her, trying to gauge her thoughts on the idea. But her face was carefully blank—too blank. He held his breath, wondering what faults she might find with the idea.

  Another long minute stretched around them. Taylor's face relaxed as a gleam of interest flashed in her eyes. "I think that might be fun. Maybe. I mean, it certainly couldn't hurt, right?"

  It wasn't the most enthusiastic response, but he'd take it. Charles smiled and sat back. "Great. I'll call them on Monday and get things set up."

  "Why didn't you just set it up yesterday while you were talking to them?"

  "I wanted to run it by you first."

  "Why? It's not up to me. You're the PR Director or whatever."

  "Yeah. But you're the team Captain. I wanted to make sure I had your support first."

  "Why?"

  "Because whether you realize it or not, you have some influence over the ladies. If you decided to have a major attitude problem over this, it would have made my job a lot harder."

  "I don't have a major attitude."

  Charles laughed, the sound quick and deep. "The hell you don't. What about all the grief you gave me the last few weeks?"

  "That wasn't attitude."

  "What do you call it?"

  "I call it not liking being used. Me or my family. And that whole thing didn't exactly turn out great, did it?"

  His amusement quickly faded. "I told you, I had no control—"

  "Yeah. I know." Taylor leaned across the bench seat and grabbed her backpack. "Want to know what would be really impressive?"

  "What?"

  "Set up an exhibition game between the Blades and the Banners. Now that would be awesome."

  "I'm not sure—"

  "Yeah, I know. Whatever. Just an idea." She slid off the bench and tossed the backpack over her shoulder.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Home. I have stuff to do."

  "But we're still having lunch."

  "No we're not. See? Plates are empty."

  "That doesn't mean you have to run off. I thought we could—" His voice drifted off, the words dying in his throat at the questioning look on her face. He glanced away, cleared his throat, then looked back at Taylor. "Did you want to grab dinner tonight maybe?"

  "Can't. I'm babysitting the twins."

  "What about tomorrow?"

  "Can't do that either. A few of us are going to RennFest tomorrow." She hoisted the strap of the backpack higher on her shoulder then offered him a quick smile. "Thanks for lunch, Chuckie. I'll see later."

  Charles turned on the bench, stunned at her abrupt departure. What the hell had just happened? He thought about calling out to her but it was too late, she was already pushing her way through the diner doors.

  Charles watched her leave, wondering if he had missed something. Should he have brought up what happened between them? Is that why she had left so quickly? Did she really have plans, or was she just making excuses?

  If it had been any other woman, he would have known exactly what to say or do. How to romance and wine-and-dine and sweet talk her. But it wasn't any other woman—it was Taylor. And even now, even after being with her, she still managed to tie him up in knots and confuse the living hell out of him.

  He turned back around and signaled the waitress for the check, his mind sorting through options on how to deal with Taylor LeBlanc. He wanted to see her again. Be with her again. But he had no idea if Taylor was even interested. He had thought she was, but now he wasn't so sure.

  Then again, when it came to Taylor, he was never sure about anything.

  Chapter Twelve

  "So tell me about the hottie."

  Taylor slid a sideways glance at Sammie and pretended she had no idea what she was talking about. "What hottie?"

  "Don't play stupid. You know who—Clare, no, put that down." Sammie lunged two steps and grabbed the crumpled paper her daughter had picked up from the ground and was ready to put in her mouth. The toddler's face scrunched up in dismay and her wide hazel eyes filled with moisture. Sammie blew out a quick breath and rolled her eyes. "Don't even start, young lady. You're not fooling me at all."

  Clare's round face smoothed out as she studied her mother for a few long seconds. Then she blinked and looked away, her gaze already focusing on something else as she started walking again. Taylor caught up to the pair, laughing.

  "Don't encourage her. Honestly, she's going to be a drama queen when she gets older. I have no idea where she gets it from."

  Taylor raised her brows in amusement, earning her a half-hearted scowl from Sammie. "You don't? Really?"

  "Ha ha. I am not a drama queen. Not even close."

  "Maybe."

  "No maybe about it." Sammie kept her gaze on Clare as they moved through the crowds, side-stepping people dressed in costumes ranging from knights to wenches. One woman carrying a basket of lollipops stopped next to Clare with a wide smile on her face.

  "Well aren't you just the most adorable little thing?" The woman grabbed a lollipop from the basket and bent over, holding it out to Clare. The movement exposed an even larger portion of her abundant cleavage, drawing attention from others moving around them.

  "Oh, good Lord." Sammie muttered the words under her breath and stepped forward, accepting the lollipop from the woman. Taylor bit back a laugh as a blush stained Sammie's cheeks when the wench gave her a thorough head-to-toe look then offered her a bright smile.

  Sammie's blush deepened and she shook her head, grabbing Clare's hand and moving away from the woman after muttering something. Taylor caught up to them again, her laughter finally breaking free.

  "It's not funny. I think that's the most action I've gotten in two years. And oh, good Lord, were those things really real?"

  Taylor glanced over her shoulder, watching as the wench started flirting with two couples leaning against a tree. "Well, they're jiggling. Does that mean anything?"

  "Stop staring!" Sammie smacked her on the elbow and kept walking.

  "I wasn't staring! Well, okay, maybe a little. But how can you not, with the w
ay everyone is dressed? I mean, I know it's all part of the festivities and everything but still. That can't be comfortable, with everything hanging out like that."

  "Actually, it's not that bad." Sammie's eyes widened and she tossed a panic-stricken look at Taylor. "I mean—"

  "Oh no. You're not getting out of that one." Taylor grabbed Sammie's arm and steered her off the leaf-strewn dirt lane, out of the way of foot traffic. "Are you telling me you've actually dressed up like that?"

  "No. I mean, not really." Sammie squirmed then blew a dark curl off her forehead. "Okay, maybe once. In a totally different lifetime. And not as a wench. I was an elf."

  "A what?" Taylor could barely manage to get the words out because she was laughing so hard.

  "You heard me: an elf. An elven princess, to be exact. I even had this cool little bow I carried around."

  "You were an elf? Seriously?"

  "Yes. I mean, look at me." Sammie waved her free hand up and down, from the top of her curly dark hair to the toes of her dainty feet. "I made a perfect elf. Even my ears are pointy."

  "Your ears are not pointy."

  "Sure they are. See?" She brushed the thick curls away from her face and turned her head to the side, exposing a perfectly normal-looking rounded ear.

  "Hmm. And how much alcohol had been involved?"

  Sammie let her hair drop back into place and shrugged. "I plead the fifth."

  "The fifth, huh? Of what? Tequila?"

  "Not funny." She bent down and picked up Clare, resting the toddler on her hip as they started walking again. "You hungry, Boo?"

  "Starving."

  "I wasn't talking to you."

  "I know. But I'm still starving. How about some steak-on-a-stake?"

  "I was thinking more along the lines of one of those soup bread bowls."

  Taylor glanced around then led the way to a row of rustic booths. "We can do both. And maybe some mead to wash it down with."

  "Sounds like a perfect plan." Sammie glanced at her watch as they got in line then frowned. "Where's Shannon and Dani? I thought they were going to meet us here."

  "They are. Probably stuck in traffic. You know how crazy it is trying to get into this place."

  "True. And it's perfect weather this weekend, too, which makes it even worse."

  Taylor nodded her agreement then looked around, studying the crowd gathered around them. She loved RennFest, always had. There was something about the atmosphere—the costumes, the make-believe, the revelry—that always made her feel lighter. Rejuvenated somehow. She didn't understand it and couldn't even begin to explain it, but she didn't need to—especially not here, where everyone was welcome to be themselves, and even encouraged to become someone different, at least for a little while.

  "So are you going to tell me about him?"

  Taylor paused her people-watching to glance at Sammie. "Who?"

  "The hottie. Our PR Director. Mr. Dawson."

  "Mr. Dawson?" Taylor laughed. "You mean Chuckie? Nothing to tell."

  "Really? Because I've seen the way he looks at you. I'm surprised the ice didn't melt at practice yesterday."

  Taylor pretended to study the hand-lettered menu board and prayed her face wasn't turning bright red. "Oh please. You're imagining things."

  "Like I'm imagining that blush on your face?"

  "Must be sunburn or something."

  "You're too funny. Now come on, fess up. What's going on?"

  "Nothing."

  "So nothing happened between you two?"

  "What? No. Of course not."

  "You sure about that?"

  "I would know, wouldn't I?"

  "Yeah. Unless you wanted to hide it. Which is fine if you did, as long you didn't hide it from me."

  "I'm not—"

  "Because you know I'm living my life through you, right? So if you have something exciting to share, you should really share it."

  Taylor hesitated, the urge to tell Sammie everything—well, almost everything—stronger than she had thought it would be. Something stopped her at the last minute, though. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to someone about it—it was that she couldn't. Not yet. She had no idea what was going on, or if anything really was going on. They'd slept together. Once. That didn't mean anything, especially since stupid Chuckie hadn't even brought it up. Did that mean he regretted it already? Had it been nothing more than a one-night stand?

  Maybe she should talk to Sammie about it, just to get her opinion. No, she couldn't. Not yet, not until she figured out what was going on. But knowing Sammie, she wouldn't let it drop, so Taylor had to find a way to change the subject.

  Easy enough.

  The line inched closer to the counter, but still far enough away that it would be a few minutes before it was their turn. Taylor brushed the hair out of her face then grinned at Sammie.

  "You don't have to live your life through me, you know. There's nothing stopping you from living your own."

  The smile on Sammie's face dimmed and she suddenly became preoccupied with smoothing her hand over Clare's thick brown hair. "It's a little different when you have a kid."

  "I know. But not impossible. And I know you've had guys ask you out."

  "It's not that easy—"

  "All you have to do is say yes. I can always watch Clare if your parents can't."

  "There hasn't been anyone I want to say yes to, so it's a moot point."

  "I call bull—" Taylor stopped, glanced down at Clare, and cleared her throat. "Baloney. What about that one teacher you were telling me about? Didn't you say he asked you out for coffee?"

  "Chris? Yes, he did. But I'm not interested. And that whole workplace romance thing isn't a good idea, anyway."

  "It's just for coffee. You should go. You might have fun."

  "No, I think I'll pass."

  "You know you're going to have to start dating eventually. You can't just shut yourself off from everything. It's been two years—"

  "Taylor, I know you mean well, but it's not going to happen. I'm not ready. I'm not interested. And I already have a full life." Sammie leaned down and pressed a quick kiss against her daughter's forehead. "I have Clare. I have teaching. And I have the Blades and you guys. I don't need anything else."

  Taylor wanted to argue but she knew better. This wasn't the first time they had had this conversation, and it wouldn't be the last. Taylor just wanted her friend to be happy—and pining over her ex-husband wasn't making her happy. She just wished there was something else she could do to help Sammie move forward.

  They finally reached the counter and placed their orders, then stepped to the side to wait. A few minutes later, Taylor was balancing the overloaded tray as she followed Sammie through the crowd toward an empty table.

  "Did you want to go get your mead?"

  "No, I'll wait until after we eat. I don't feel like waiting in another line while my food gets cold." Taylor placed the tray on the table then swung her leg over the side of the bench. Sammie settled Clare next to her then dug into the large crossbody bag and pulled out a small sippy cup. She poured some juice into the cup, recapped it, then handed it to Clare as Taylor divided the plates between them.

  "Are you getting nervous about next Saturday?"

  Taylor looked up, surprised to see a faint hint of anxiety in Sammie's deep brown eyes. "Nervous? Not really. Why? Are you?"

  "Maybe. A little. I don't really know what to expect, you know?"

  "Just keep reminding yourself it's nothing more than a game."

  "Easier said than done." Sammie ripped a piece from the bread bowl, dragged it through the stew, then popped into her mouth.

  "Why? You've played in games before."

  "Yeah, but not like this. I was just playing in a co-ed beer league. No pressure. This is an actual game. In front of paying spectators."

  "True." Taylor tipped her head to the side and bit off a piece of the thinly-sliced steak that had been speared on a skewer. It was well-done and not as seasoned as she normall
y liked, but it was still good. She swallowed and reached for the cup of soda and took a quick sip. "But you can't think of it that way. Besides, you won't even notice the crowd once the game starts. It just kind of fades into the background."

  "Hmm." Sammie didn't look like she believed her but she didn't say anything else, just helped Clare with a few bites of her own food.

  "What do you think about the idea of everyone going out after Saturday's game? As a celebration kind of thing."

  "What if we lose?"

  "Oh geez. Wait to think positive, Reigler. Of course we're going to win."

  "Spoken like a true pro."

  "Not hardly." Not even close. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Taylor pushed the morose thought away and forced a grin to her face. "And even if something happens and we don't win, I think we should still go out. Like a bonding thing."

  "Sounds like a plan to me. I'll make sure my parents can take Clare home after the game." Sammie glanced down at her daughter then frowned and grabbed a napkin to wipe the girl's chubby fingers. She looked back at Taylor with the same frown on her face.

  "What?"

  "You have steak sauce dribbling down your chin."

  "Do I? Gah." Taylor reached for a napkin then froze at the voices behind her. She knew all three of them, but it was only one that sent something like panic shooting through her.

  She spun around on the bench, a napkin clutched in one hand and her half-eaten steak-on-a-stake clutched in the other. Shannon Wiley and Dani Baldwin slid to a stop next to their table, but Taylor wasn't paying any attention to them.

  It was the man behind them that caught her eye. Tall, lean, wearing faded denim jeans and a long-sleeve Henley shirt, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. Dark stubble covered his sculpted jaw. The corner of his mouth curled up in a dangerous grin and his ocean blue eyes sparkled with humor as he looked at her.

  Shannon dropped to the bench next to Taylor and reached around her, stealing Taylor's soda. She took a long sip, belched the tiniest bit, then hooked a thumb over her shoulder towards Chuckie.

  "Look who we found walking around." Shannon took another long sip through the straw then leaned forward, her brows lowered over her brown eyes as she studied Taylor. "Did you know you've got sauce all over your chin?"