Sean lagged behind and had the Chinooks massage therapist work out the kinks in his lower back and rub out the pain in his shoulder from the hit Hutchison had put on him. By the time he got dressed in his tie and blazer and grabbed his coat, most of the boys had left the Scottrade Center. The sun had set over the Gateway Arch lit up in blue, and the temperature rolling off the Mississippi had dropped to forty-five degrees as he walked the two blocks to the hotel alone. The team wasn’t flying to Boston until the next morning, and Sean looked forward to room service and a good eight hours of sleep. As he entered the Hyatt, his phone vibrated with a text message from Lexie, letting him know that she’d sent him an updated memo and he should check his e-mail and get back to her “ASAP.” His back felt better and his shoulder wasn’t as sore, and the last thing he was going to do was read her damn memo and give himself brain damage. He hadn’t been able to get through the others she’d sent, and he’d rather stab himself in the head than read any more of her sections, subsections, and bullet points.
“Knox.”
Sean looked up at Lexie’s father standing by the bank of elevators. He returned his cell phone to his blazer pocket. “Hey, Coach.”
“What’s put that pained look on your face?” John asked as if he already knew the answer to his question.
“Your daughter and her memos.” The doors slid open and the two waited for a mother and three children to exit before they stepped inside.
“She gets that from her mother’s side. What floor?”
“Ten.”
The doors closed as John punched the ten and eighteen. “I never would have picked you for Lexie.” Sean looked across his shoulder at the older man. “It’s nothing personal, I never would have chosen a hockey player for Lexie. I would have chosen someone normal.”
“You don’t think hockey players are normal?”
He glanced at Sean. “You know the life. It can be hard on a family. I always thought Lexie should marry someone safe. Preferably a dentist. He’s home every night and our family gets a dental plan at a discount. And we need it. My son plays junior triple A and he’s only fifteen. You know he’s bound to lose a few teeth.” Both men almost cracked a smile. “I thought I had her convinced she needed a normal guy. Then she turns up on that damn TV show and ends up winning herself a husband.”
“Pete’s a jagwagon.” Compared to that guy, Sean probably didn’t look so bad right about now.
“Yeah. While she was picking out a wedding dress, I was picking out ways to kill him and get away with it.” The elevator stopped and number ten above the door blinked off. “For a person who likes detailed memos, she can be impulsive, and it gets her in trouble.”
The door slid open and guilt rushed in at Sean. “Good night, Coach,” he said, and stepped into the long hall.
John put a hand on the door to keep it open. “The other night at the Key, you didn’t come right out and say you love my daughter.”
Sean guessed they weren’t tabling the discussion and now was the time. He knew what John wanted to hear and thought of one of Lexie’s handy-dandy lists of pat answers. “The first time I saw her smile, I knew.” At least that’s what he thought it said. Then he swallowed past that lie and heard himself say, “I love her more with every breath, truly madly deeply.” Jesus, had he just quoted Savage Garden? He didn’t even like that damn song.
John’s brows pulled together across the creases in his forehead as if he was trying to figure out if he’d heard the lyrics and just couldn’t place them. Either that, or he was trying to figure out if Sean had turned into a girl. “That’s good,” he said, and stepped back further into the elevator. “That’s what a father needs to hear.” The doors slid shut on John’s puzzled face, and Sean felt heat rise up his neck and burn his cheeks.
He’d never quoted mushy love songs in his entire life, and he’d just poured out the most embarrassing sap to the person whose respect had slipped through his fingers. A man he’d admired growing up. A hockey legend, John “The Wall” Kowalsky.
He moved down the hall and pulled his key card out of his pocket. It was because he’d been rattled about the lie, he told himself as he unlocked the door and walked inside. If not for that, he never would have humiliated himself. If he wasn’t careful, he was afraid he’d go full Michael Bolton, or worse, Justin Bieber.
His roomie, Adam Larson, sat on one of the queen-sized beds with his feet crossed, watching television. The goalie glanced at Sean as he took off his coat and tossed it on the back of a desk chair. “Your cheeks are red. You must have been outside. Colder than a penguin’s balls out there.”
“Yeah.” That was it. He loosened his tie, and his phone vibrated in the pocket of his blazer. He pulled it out and read another text from Lexie.
The Gettin’ Hitched reunion show is taping the day after you play the Kings in LA. The producers asked if you were coming with me.
Sean wrote, You told them no. Right? He buttoned the collar of his shirt and removed his tie and blazer.
Not exactly, she answered back.
What exactly did you tell them? He tossed his cell phone on the nightstand and tossed his garment bag on the bed.
She took a few moments to answer. I informed them that you’d consider it.
Of course she had. She was as pushy as her mutt. If he wasn’t careful, in her memo under public displays of devotion she’d write, “carries purse and buys tampons.”
Inform them that I considered it and said no. I’m not going to appear anywhere near that show. He pushed send and thought that was the end of the subject. Apparently, he was wrong. Two days later, he agreed to meet her at a trendy bar in Post Alley. She sat at a pub table and he had to push his way through a crowd of hipsters in skinny jeans and heavy beards, baggy plaid, colored tights and combat boots.
“Hello.” Not to be outdone by her surroundings, she wore ripped jeans, Nirvana T-shirt, and black leather jacket. She’d pulled her hair back, and she stood to greet him and offered her cheek for a kiss.
“Hello, baby,” he said above the noisy bar, and lowered his face to her dark red lips. Her mouth opened below his, as if she might have something to say. He took advantage of her parted lips and gave her a wet kiss. A publicly acceptable kiss that hinted at the kind of pleasure they enjoyed in private. He slid his hand up her back, under her leather jacket, and pressed her breasts against the front of his hooded sweatshirt. He wanted to catch her off guard and rattle her. He hadn’t planned on being rattled himself, instantly frustrated by the thick clothing that separated her naked breasts from his bare chest.
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes filled with surprise and a hint of sultry frustration. At least that’s what he liked to believe. He’d hate to think he was the only one feeling like they should move the party of two a few blocks away to his condo and get reacquainted.
He stepped back, and his hands fell to his sides. That kind of thinking was crazy. That kind of thinking led to doing, and doing led to more problems. Problems he didn’t need.
“This is my friend Marie,” Lexie introduced him to the other woman sitting at the pub table. “Marie, this is Sean.”
Lexie slid into a chair and Marie stood, or hopped down really. She was short, had dark hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail, and wore black glasses with little rhinestones at the corners. While Lexie wore hipster chic like a fashion choice, Marie’s Doc Martens, plaid skirt, and “Feminist As Fuck” T-shirt were clearly a lifestyle. She wore no makeup except deep red lipstick, and still managed to look cute as hell, in a feminist-as-fuck sort of way.
“Hello, Sean.” She shook his hand, and he noticed the crease between her blue eyes as if she was sizing him up in case she might have to kick his ass. Funny given that she was about five feet, two inches and weighed next to nothing.
“Marie drove me to the dock the night we took off in the Sea Hopper.”
Ah. The driver of the clown car. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She let go of his hand. �
��Thank you, Sean.” She retook her seat and he turned toward the bar and signaled a waitress. “What are you ladies drinking?”
Lexie took the last sip from her cocktail glass. “Golden Shower.” She smiled like she was going to enjoy hearing him order up one of those.
Marie held up a frosty mug and grinned. “Horny White Girl.”
Jesus. Within seconds a waitress stood in front of him with a big smile on her pretty face. If it wasn’t for the nose ring and lip piercings, and of course if he wasn’t pretending to be Lexie’s boyfriend, he might have seen if he could get more than a smile from her.
“Hello, Sean,” she said, and took a small notepad from her apron pocket. “I’m a huge Chinooks fan and was at the Anaheim game the other night. You guys are looking good this year.”
“Thanks. Hope you can make it to every game. We love to hear our fans getting rowdy.”
“What can I get for you tonight?”
“I’ll have an Amstel.” He motioned toward the table with his hand.
“Sean!” Lexie called out. “No.”
“I’ve got this one, babe. My girl would love another Golden Shower.” He waved in Marie’s direction. “And our friend is down for another Horny White Girl?”
“Can I interest you in truffle popcorn or chicken and lamb skewers?”
“None for me.” He turned toward the women. “Are you ladies interested in food?” They shook their heads and ducked their faces. “Is something wrong?”
Lexie said something he didn’t quite catch. He took the chair next to her and leaned in. “What?”
“This is a Lemon Drop and Marie is drinking Diet Coke.” She looked up at him. “We were joking!” Her cheeks were a nice scarlet color, and bright red rose up Marie’s neck.
“You should have told me!”
“I tried!”
He looked from one to the other and started to chuckle. Laughter from deep in his chest built and rose, rocked him back in his chair, drawing the attention of people around them.
The whispers of “It’s Sean Knox and Lexie” rose and grew louder until their table was surrounded. Just as Marie’s Horny White Girl arrived, she grabbed her leather backpack and said, “I’m out of here.”
“We’ll talk later,” Lexie told her friend as she slid her hand in his, resting on the table. It was for show. All for show, and he brushed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles.
“We’re happy in love, now,” Lexie answered a question thrown at them. “But yes, running from my wedding to Pete was scary as heck. I wasn’t sure what would happen. Only that I couldn’t marry one man when I loved another. I was anxious and frightened and uncertain what the future looked like for me and Sean.” Lord, she was a good liar. She gazed up at him, looking like she’d fallen so hard for him, it had turned her soft in the head. She was such a good actress; if he didn’t know better, he’d fall for it, too. “Then I saw him at the end of the dock, and I knew.”
The look bothered him more than the lie. Maybe because he couldn’t recall a woman looking at him like she was so deep in love she’d never find her way out. He’d had his share of girlfriends, and none had looked at him like that. Not even after he’d coughed up expensive gifts.
A question got lobbed at Sean and he pulled his gaze from Lexie. “Pardon me?”
“Didn’t it trouble you to see her in a wedding dress meant for another man?”
“No. I’m secure enough not to get bothered over a dress.” Which was true. He recalled her rolling around in that ridiculous dress, then buttons pinging around the fuselage as he ripped it down the back. “But I did have trouble getting her out of that damn dress.” He held up his free hand. “My fingers were too big for all those slippery buttons.”
“He says such romantic things to me.” The smile at the corners of her lips dipped a bit and she squeezed his hand. “Just last night, he told me he wished he could reach up into the sky and pull out the brightest star just for me.”
Jesus. She’d obviously OD’d on romantic quotes. She was making him look like he was soft in the head, too. A real lovesick wimp.
“I told him I don’t need stars. Just him to stand under them with me forever.”
“Ahh,” a few women sighed.
“And—”
“Baby.” He lowered his face and silenced her with a soft kiss. His hand slid up her arm to the back of her neck. “You’ll ruin my reputation in the league,” he whispered across her lips. She opened her mouth as if to respond, and he silenced her with a kiss, because God knew what she might say next. A long, deep kiss that tasted of lemon and sugar. A kiss that was meant to suck the breath from her lungs and give her something to think about besides those damn romantic sayings she’d probably found in an Internet meme. A kiss meant to slip inside and heat up the pit of her stomach, to make her heart beat a little faster, and leave her wanting more.
When the kiss ended, she opened her eyes wide and licked her lips. She wasn’t the only one heated up and wanting more. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, and he once again took her soft hand in his. They wove their way through the bar and out onto the street. Inky patches of overcast sky hid the stars she’d said he wanted to pull out just for her. A thick chill hung just above freezing and seeped through the weave of Sean’s hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Damp air clung to his cheeks and exposed neck and nipped at the tips of his ears.
“Are you planning on going to the Biscuit in the Basket fund-raiser?” she asked. Multicolored lights from storefronts shone in her blond hair and on the side of her face.
He’d heard something about the fund-raiser but hadn’t given it much thought. “Maybe.”
“All the money goes to youth hockey, but it’s a strictly twenty-one-and-older event. There’s lots of booze and gambling.”
He wouldn’t mind playing poker with the guys.
“I’ll get the tickets. It’ll be a good place for us to be seen together.”
Of course. They needed to be seen together. That shouldn’t bother him, but for some reason it did. “Where are you parked?”
“Parking lot down a block.” She dropped her hand from his and shoved it into her pocket. “Do you need a ride?”
“No. I jogged here.” The cool night air chilled his palm where it had pressed into hers. “I’ll jog back.”
“In this weather?”
“It’s only a mile or so.” He stuck his hands in his sweatshirt pocket. “I still get lost in this city, and it’s actually easier for me to get around on foot.”
They moved past a seafood restaurant and a coffee shop.
She looked up at him and her shoulder bumped his arm. “I could show you around.” She thought a moment. “Have you been to the Chihuly Garden? It’s by the Key and your apartment.”
“No. I really haven’t had a lot of time since I was traded.”
Her lips pursed as she paused in thought, and he wondered if she was trying to drive him crazy. “We’re limited this time of year,” she said, as if they’d still be pretend dating. “And I refuse to have anything to do with the zoo. Captivity is sad and mean.”
He could suggest a Woo-Hoo Tutu, but thought better of it.
“I help raise money for the endangered species, but that doesn’t mean I approve of warehousing animals. It’s just wrong.”
He didn’t like cruelty to animals as much as anyone, but he wasn’t opposed to a fur rug beneath his feet.
He grabbed her elbow and walked to the curb. He looked one way and then the other, then stepped into the street between a Prius and a micro car.
“The producers of Gettin’ Hitched contacted me today.”
He looked down the street at a headlight in the distance as she threaded her arm through his and hurried beside him. “They offered to move the taping to the Fairmont here in Seattle.”
“Still not interested.”
She cozied up to his side, and a lock of her hair rested on his shoulder. “They even moved the day to make it convenient for yo
u.”
He looked down at her, getting all snug against him in order to warm him up. “I’m not getting anywhere near that drama.”
“It’ll be painless.”
“That’s what you said before.”
“That wasn’t my fault. It’s hard to find reliable leakers these days.” She shook her head and stepped up onto the curb beside him. “Please say you’ll come to the taping. Yum Yum and I could really use your support.”
They moved into the dark parking lot. “Sorry, you and your little dog are on your own with this one.” He was a nice guy, but he had his limits. He wasn’t nice enough to appear on that stupid show.
“The other girls are going to gang up on us. They can be really mean.”
They moved into the pitchy darkness between two cars, and he glanced down into the smooth shadows of her pretty face. She was a hell of a lot stronger than she appeared at first. More determined, too. “I put my money on you and your dog. You’re smarter than all those girls put together.”
She shook her head and pulled her keys from her pocket. “They’re going to ask me questions about you and that picture taken outside the Harbor Inn.” The car behind her made two beeps and the lights flashed twice as the locks popped up. “Personal questions that are going to make me look bad.”
“What happened that night is no one’s business but ours.” He didn’t need to see her face clearly to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I had a good time. You had a good time. No one was hurt.”
“How can you say that? My business suffered.”
“Your business suffered the second you decided to run from the Fairmont. Don’t get it twisted.”
“I’m not. That shouldn’t have happened.”
But it did.
“They’re going to try and make me look skanky. I’m not like that. That night was . . . was . . .” She struggled for words.
The Art of Running in Heels Page 17