Chapter Thirteen
Taylor didn't want him there. She wasn't obvious about it, not in front of her teammates, but Charles still got the message loud and clear. He could see it in the narrowed looks she shot his way; in the set of her shoulders and chin whenever he said something.
In the way she kept angling herself so Sammie, Shannon, and Dani were between them.
The small group stopped at a booth that was creating wax hands. Sammie moved closer, a wistful expression on her face as she watched one couple dip their joined hands into a large vat of wax. She turned back and smiled.
"Isn't that so sweet? I'd love to do something like that."
Shannon snorted. "You're one hand short, genius. You need to have a boyfriend first."
"I wasn't talking about me. I meant for Clare. I think it would be so sweet to have her hand cast in wax."
"You can't." Dani pointed toward an elegantly lettered sign. "Says you have to be at least five."
"Oh." Disappointment filled the woman's face as she looked down at the little girl resting on her hip. "Oh well, Boo. Guess we have to wait two years, don't we?"
"You can probably find something like that at a craft store. They have all sorts of things like that." Taylor's eyes narrowed when she realized everyone was watching her. "What?"
"And how exactly would you know anything about all that arts-and-crafts stuff?"
Taylor shrugged, the action causing a long hank of her silky hair to fall across her cheek. She brushed it away and grinned. "Not me. My mom and Aunt Emily did something like that when the twins were all born. It was kind of cute."
"If you say so." Shannon reached into her back pocket and pulled out a crumpled flyer. "It's almost time for the sword swallower. Who wants to go?"
"Count me out." Sammie shifted Clare on her hip. "I don't think that would be the best thing for Clare to see. Might give her nightmares."
"And it might not." Shannon shoved the crumpled sheet back into her pocket then looked at Charles with a teasing gleam in her eyes. "How about you, Chuck? Up to seeing some guy deep throat some swords with me?"
Charles opened his mouth to respond then promptly snapped it shut, not having any idea how to even answer. He didn't need to because the other three women jumped in, immediately giving Shannon a hard time. The other woman merely laughed and rolled her eyes.
"Guys, relax. I was only teasing."
"One of these days, your teasing is going to get you into so much trouble."
"Not hardly."
"Yeah, it is. Trust me." Dani grabbed her by the arm and started leading her away. "I'll go with this one and keep her under control. Where are you guys going to be so we can meet up later?"
"I think I'm going to go home. Clare's getting tired and I think my arm is falling asleep."
Taylor looked surprised but simply nodded. "And I drove with Sammie, so I guess I'm leaving, too."
Sammie turned, her dark mop of short curls bouncing as she shook her head. "You should stay here, Taylor. You haven't even had your mead yet."
"No, I'm good. We can—"
"I'll take you home." Charles tried to ignore the expression of panic that crossed Taylor's face when she looked at him. But the expression wasn't there for long, disappearing as soon as she blinked.
"I don't think—"
"That would be a great idea." Sammie shifted the little girl on her hip. "Tell Aunt Taylor goodbye, Boo."
Taylor shot an unreadable look at Sammie then leaned forward and ruffled the girl's hair. "Have fun, kiddo. Make sure you keep your mom on her toes."
"Gee, thanks. I'll remember that."
"So, LeBlanc. Does that mean you'll be around for a while?"
Taylor shot a quick look at Charles then sighed, the sound long and loud. "Yeah, I guess. We'll catch up later."
Dani and Shannon turned identical speculative glances in his direction. A sly smile crossed Shannon's face. "You need your head examined if you don't drag him home and—"
"Okay, enough. We're out of here." Dani dragged Shannon away, their laughter fading as they walked away. Charles shifted as heat washed over him. Not just the heat of embarrassment, but the heat of anticipation because that was exactly what he wanted to do: drag Taylor home.
He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and cleared his throat. "Remind me to make sure that woman never talks in front of a camera."
"Yeah, that would be a public relations nightmare for sure." Sammie smiled then leaned in close to Taylor and spoke, her words too low for him to hear. Whatever she said caused a faint blush to spread across Taylor's cheeks. Curiosity burned through him but he kept it in check, at least until Sammie walked away.
"What was that all about?"
"Hm?" Taylor glanced at him and quickly looked away with a shrug. "Nothing."
"Why don't I believe that?"
The flush on Taylor's cheeks deepened and she looked away. She shuffled her feet, kicking at some of the stray leaves littering the dirt path, then started walking away. Charles fell into step beside her, noticing the way she kept her gaze averted as they moved through the crowd.
"So. Did you want to get some mead? Or just walk around or—"
"Why are you here, Chuckie?"
His steps faltered. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I said. I know you didn't just happen to show up here. So why are you here?"
"Maybe I just wanted to come and people-watch."
"Yeah, right." Taylor stepped off the path, out of the flow of traffic, and leaned back against the trunk of an old gnarled tree. She crossed her arms in front of her, the action tugging the hem of the long-sleeved shirt up. Charles glanced down then looked away, trying to ignore the sight of firm flesh visible above the waistband of her loose jeans.
Taylor cocked a brow in his direction, impatience flaring in her eyes. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Why are you here?"
There was no sense in trying to convince her it was simply coincidence, not when she obviously knew better. He took a step closer, close enough that he could feel the heat of her body warming the air between them. He braced one hand against the trunk, just above her head, and leaned down so his face was mere inches from hers.
"Maybe I just wanted to see you."
Her eyes widened then just as quickly narrowed. "So you decided to follow me?"
Charles grinned and leaned a little closer. "Maybe."
"That's, uh—" Taylor shifted, her gaze darting to the side before meeting his. "That's a little stalkerish, don't you think?"
"No. Just determined."
"Why?"
"Because I figured this was the only way to see you."
"I saw you yesterday."
"Yeah. And you walked out like you couldn't get away fast enough."
"No I didn't. I just—" Her voice trailed off and she looked away again, frowning. Charles waited, wondering if she would duck under his arm and run away again. He held his breath, uncertainty eating at him until she finally looked back. The same uncertainty he felt glittered in her eyes as she watched him.
"So the other night wasn't just a thing?"
"A thing?"
"Yeah. Like, you know, a one-time-weak-moment thing."
"Is that what you want it to be?"
Taylor looked away again. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, growing a little redder with each passing second. His gaze drifted to her lower lip and he watched, enthralled, as she nibbled at the tender flesh. It would be so easy—so tempting—to close his mouth over hers. To nip her full lower lip. To show her exactly what he wanted.
But he didn't do any of that. He couldn’t, not yet. Not until she answered the question. "Well? Is it?"
She turned back to him, the vulnerability in her eyes hitting him with the force of a hard punch in the gut. "No. I'm not—I've never done the whole one-time thing."
Relief seared him, easing the ache in his chest. Not just relief, but something else, something he didn't
want to question just yet, let alone acknowledge. He grinned then brushed his mouth across hers, the lightest grazing of flesh against flesh. "Good."
He pushed away from her then reached down and wrapped his hand around hers. She tensed the slightest bit and Charles waited, wondering if maybe he had misunderstood, wondering if maybe she had meant she wasn't interested at all. But the tension left her and he swallowed a sigh of relief as her fingers finally curled around his. He tugged and led them back onto the path, falling into step with the throngs of merrymakers.
"So you said something about twins?"
"What?"
"Earlier. You said something about twins. Are they your cousins?"
"Yeah. And sisters." Taylor laughed and squeezed his hand when he stumbled. "Two sets of twins. My sisters, Mia and Cassie. They're eleven. And Aunt Emily and Uncle JP have twin girls, too. Madelina and Suzanne. They're both nine."
"Wow. I bet family dinners are a bit chaotic, huh? I take it twins run in the family?"
"Apparently."
"Good to know." This time it was Taylor who stumbled. Charles shot her a mischievous grin then led the way up the shadowed path toward the booths that sold alcohol. "Do they happen to play hockey, too?"
"A little. Mia and Suzanne are more into it than the other two, though."
"Well, I'm sure they're naturals. Kind of hard not to be, considering everyone in their family. Are they coming to the game next weekend?"
"Yup. Everyone's going to be there."
Charles glanced down at her, surprised at the sharp tension he heard in her voice. "You don't sound very excited."
Taylor's gaze dropped to her feet and she shrugged. "I am. It's just—"
"Just what?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm still a little disappointed, you know?"
"Why?"
"You know why. We had this discussion the other day."
He dropped her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. "It's the first season, Taylor. You've got to give it a chance. There's still plenty of time."
"But what if there's not? What if it totally bombs and completely sucks? What if the rumors are true and the league folds after the first few games?"
"Where in the hell did you hear that?"
"Oh please. We've been hearing that since the beginning."
"That's news to me. The league isn't going anywhere. The Blades aren't going anywhere."
"How can you be sure? You can't."
"You need to trust me, Taylor." He caught her gaze and held it, tried to force her to believe with nothing more than the strength of his own will. Hope flashed in her eyes, followed by disappointment.
"How do I know I can trust you, Chuckie?"
The words pierced him, as sharp and painful as if she had plunged a knife deep into his chest and twisted it. His body stiffened as a thousand different words and emotions flashed through him. Arguments. Comebacks. Reassurances.
Insecurities and doubts that made him feel like that awkward and inept kid from all those years ago.
Could Taylor see it? Sense it? No. She was already looking away, stepping closer to the counter to order. Still talking even though she wasn't looking at him, even though he wasn't really listening.
"I mean, are you even any good?"
Her final question penetrated the fog filling his mind. He stepped closer and frowned. "Any good?"
"Yeah." She looked over her shoulder at him as she pulled some bills from her back pocket. "I mean, you want me to trust you, but I don't even know if you're any good at what you do. I want to believe you are, or else Murph wouldn't have brought you on. But we thought the last guy was supposed to be good, too, and he's not around anymore."
She wasn't talking about trusting him, not personally. She was talking about trusting his marketing skills. An odd relief shot through him.
"I'm damn good at what I do, Taylor." He stopped her before she could pay for the drinks and pulled his own wallet out.
"Better than you were at playing hockey?"
Charles laughed, the sound rich and loud in the bustle surrounding them. He passed a few bills across the counter and accepted the two tall cups of mead, handing one to Taylor. He raised his own cup in a mock salute as he answered.
"A million times better."
Taylor watched him for a long minute, studying him so closely, he was tempted to fidget under her scrutiny. Then she smiled, her face lighting up as humor glittered in her eyes. She touched the rim of her cup against his.
"Well, that's something at least, right?"
Chapter Fourteen
Nerves fluttered in her stomach, making her fingers tremble and the breath hitch in her chest. It was stupid being nervous. But no matter how many times she told herself that, she couldn't stop the fluttering in her stomach.
Taylor finally jammed the key into the lock and turned it, then had to fight with it to get it back out as the door swung open. She glanced over her shoulder, a forced smile on her face as she looked at Chuckie. The smile died under the heat in his eyes as he watched her.
The fluttering in her stomach grew stronger. And God, this was so stupid. Why was she nervous? Chuckie was just being a gentleman by walking her to the door, that was all. It wasn't like he was going to jump her or anything.
Except maybe she wanted him to jump her. No, no maybe about it. That was exactly what she wanted. Or maybe she should take charge and jump him. It wasn't like they hadn't already been together. They had.
Except this felt different for some reason. It didn't make sense, and Taylor was afraid to examine the reasons why. It was just sex, right? Sex after a nice day spent together, drinking mead and eating renaissance junk food and making merry with all the other revelers.
All she had to do was turn around, pull him inside, and kiss him. Press her body tight against his and let him know she wanted him. Easy enough, right? She shouldn't have any problems at all.
Except she couldn't even get her fingers to stop trembling long enough to get the stupid key out of the door. Taylor muttered under her breath and wiggled the key, trying to yank it out. She heard a soft chuckle behind her then jumped when Chuckie's hand closed over hers.
"Here, let me."
She stepped back, embarrassment sweeping over her as Chuckie eased the key from the lock with one smooth move. Great. Now she felt like an even bigger idiot.
He placed the keys into her hand then leaned against the door jamb, making no move to enter the apartment. She propped the door open with the toe of her shoe and tried to act sophisticated and worldly.
"You want to come in or something?" Or something? So much for sophisticated. What was wrong with her? This was Chuckie, for crying out loud. She shouldn't be this nervous or awkwardly shy around him.
Except he wasn't just Chuckie. Not anymore. Not after the other night. Not after today. The man in front of her bore no resemblance to the boy she remembered. Tall, broad. Lean and muscled. Dark hair, his strong jaw covered with the shadow of soft whiskers. And those eyes, so clear and deep a blue, filled with something close to amusement as he watched her.
And oh hell, who was she kidding? She hadn't thought of him as that annoying boy since after the first day she had seen him at practice. But something had changed in the last few days, something she didn't understand.
And she suddenly felt out of her league. Almost…intimidated.
Impatience swept through her. All she had to do was close the distance between them and kiss him. She wanted to. And she was pretty sure he wanted her to, as well. She could see it in the heat swirling beneath the amusement in his eyes as he watched her. So what was stopping her? Why was this so hard?
Her fingers tightened around the keys in her hand, the edges digging into the flesh of her palm as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Well? Do you?"
One corner of his mouth tilted up in a dangerous grin as he finally stepped past her. "How can I turn down an invitation like that?"
She frowned, wondering if
he was making fun of her, then closed the door with a soft click. "You don't have to, you know."
Chuckie turned to face her, his body suddenly too close. "Don't have to what?"
"Uh, come in. If you don't want to, I mean."
"I'm already in."
"Yeah. I know. I just meant—if you didn't want to, you don't—" The rest of the words died in her throat as he stepped closer. Too close—yet not close enough. Nowhere near close enough. All she had to do was reach out and wrap her fist in his shirt, tug him a little bit closer, and kiss him. It should be easy enough to do. He was standing right there, within her reach.
But she couldn't do it and she didn't know why. It was all she could do to pull air into her lungs, to force herself to breathe so she wouldn't be quite so lightheaded.
"You look like you're about two seconds away from panicking."
Indignation shot through her, momentarily freeing her from the strange paralysis. "What? I do not! I never panic. I can't believe—"
"Taylor?" Chuckie's voice was deep and warm, almost too tantalizing to resist.
"Yeah?"
"Just do it."
And oh God, did he know what she wanted to do? But how? How could he tell? And did she really care?
No, not when he looked at her that way, with hunger flaring in the depths of those ocean blue eyes. She hesitated, but only for a second. Then she was reaching for him, the keys falling from her hand and hitting the floor with a loud jangle.
Her mouth crashed against his, hot and wet with hungry desperation. A part of her wondered at the desperation, questioned the wisdom of letting him know how much she wanted him. Then Chuckie's mouth opened under hers and she didn't care about anything except the heavy need sweeping over her.
She fisted her hands in the hem of his shirt and dragged it up, her knuckles grazing the hot flesh of smooth abs and broad chest. He groaned, the sound filled with need and hunger. It unleashed something inside her, freeing her.
Taylor broke the kiss long enough to pull the shirt over his head, then dragged her mouth along the side of his jaw. His hands tightened around her waist then slid down to cup her ass, holding her close as he rocked against her. Fire unfurled deep in her belly as she felt the hard length of his erection press against her and she suddenly wanted more.
Winning Hard Page 10