All for You

by Moore, Heather B.

  “Someone crashed into me,” he said. “Hurt like a son of a b-beast.”

  “Oh, wow,” she said. “Was the other guy okay?”

  “Skated away just fine,” he said. “Didn’t even look back.”

  Lindsey frowned. “Skated?”

  “Hockey game,” he said. “I play for the Falcons. We were up against the Seattle Blacks last week, and—”

  Several things clicked into place in Lindsey’s mind. “Wait. You’re a pro hockey player?” She might be more apt to watch baseball, because, well, baseball players . . . but if Nelson was a pro hockey player, that explained so much. The body. The intensity of his gaze. The in-your-face personality. The . . .

  “Yeah. I’m a goaltender.”

  Okay, so from whatever little hockey Lindsey had seen—which amounted to part of the Stanley Cup if she happened to be at a sports grill—she knew the goaltender was the most important player on the team. And they got tons of action. Hit a lot too.

  “Are you having a conversation in your head?” he asked in that low tone of his.

  Nelson . . . Tyler Nelson . . . Lindsey was most definitely going to google this guy. It was kind of cool to meet a pro athlete—albeit an injured one. Although, looking at him, she had no doubt he’d recover just fine. He was built like an ox. In fact, the more she studied him, the more things she noticed. His nose must have been broken at least once. That explained the crooked part of his nose—which did nothing to take away from his handsomeness. And there was a scar at his temple, and another, smaller one below his lip. And . . .

  “Uh, Lindsey, are you okay?” He leaned close.

  Oh boy. He smelled like pine trees and rain. Which pretty much went perfectly with his murky eyes.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Why?”

  His lips curved, but his gaze searched hers. “You sort of checked out for a couple of minutes.”

  She blinked. “I did, didn’t I?” She leaned back in her chair to put a little more distance between them. Not that she wanted to, but she could think more clearly if she wasn’t noticing how his open collar revealed the base of his throat. Which was tanned just like the rest of him. He had to be from someplace warmer than Pine Valley.

  “Sorry. Don’t be offended. I used to check out like that all the time in school,” she said. “Had to work like crazy to stay attentive in law school since we were graded on lectures and not necessarily textbooks.”

  “Maybe you have ADD?” he said.

  Tyler Nelson was probably the most unique person she’d ever spoken to. “You know something about ADD?”

  He lifted one of his thick shoulders. “My little sister has it.”

  Nelson tried to answer the questions that Lindsey Gerber asked about his sister’s ADD. How they had gotten on this topic was a mystery to him, but he’d go with it. This woman had no idea who he was, and that was refreshing. And she wasn’t intimidated by his size, another bonus in his book. Of course, her “friend” had been a good-sized guy himself. He wondered how far their friendship status went.

  Not that it was any of Nelson’s business. Hel—er—heck, he wasn’t in Pine Valley to meet women. So he should probably be a good patient and head back to the bed and breakfast, where Maddy was sure to be waiting for him, to lead him through a round of Pilates or something.

  But he was really wondering what sort of perfume Lindsey Gerber wore, because he definitely liked the mellow, sweet smell. He also wanted to ask her how the heck she walked in those high heels of hers.

  “How old is Becca?” Lindsey asked.

  Oh, yeah, they were talking about his sister. “Twenty-six, or maybe twenty-seven . . . It’s just us since our mom passed away a few years ago.” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. His mom had been his biggest supporter, but cancer had done its damage. He really wanted to change the subject, but would it be rude? Besides, he wanted to know more about Lindsey. Or would it be too obvious that he was sort of . . . well, interested in her. Not interested like asking her out, but intrigued. Maybe it was because he was away from his usual routine and feeling out of sorts with the injury and everything?

  Someone came into the café, and Nelson waited until they went to the counter, then he said, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Her dark brows lifted, and her clear blue eyes focused on him. “Sure, I guess.”

  “What kind of perfume are you wearing?”

  He hadn’t expected her to flinch, then gather up her things as if she was going to leave.

  “Um, did I say something wrong?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, but shoved a notebook and her laptop into a bag on the other side of her chair, he said, “If that was way too personal, then forget I asked. I was just curious, but I’ll understand if you want to keep your secrets.”

  She turned to face him then, her cheeks an angry pink. “I’m not interested, Tyler Nelson. Not in you, or any other hunk of a man who happens to walk through that door.”

  He had no reply but only stared as she rose to her feet.

  “We’re finished here,” she continued, keeping her voice low, but Nelson had no doubt that the handful of people in the café could hear every single word. “Please don’t try to talk to me again, even if you see me.”

  Nelson pushed to his feet, and he guessed her to be about five foot eight without those heels of hers. With them on, she was nearly six feet. Which meant he still had a good five inches on her. “Look, I’m sorry. Believe me, I didn’t mean—”

  She moved past him, her arm brushing against his, and he stepped back to give her more room. It was a strange thing to watch her walk out of the café. A woman whom he’d barely met and had apologized to at least a dozen times.

  Nelson could feel the stares at his back, or were they glares? He was the outsider here, the interloper in Pine Valley. And he should probably make himself scarce. So he pulled out his wallet and left a five-dollar bill on the table. He left the café and found that Lindsey Gerber hadn’t made it too far down the street. Those heels couldn’t be the fastest transportation. And his da—dang knee was starting to act up.

  So Nelson slowed his step, since he was going in the same direction as Lindsey and he didn’t want her to think he was following her. She reached a corner, and good thing she didn’t turn around, because who knew what she’d do if she saw him a half block behind. Maybe she’d put those high heels to good use.

  As Nelson walked, he reviewed their entire conversation in his mind. She hadn’t seemed bothered by any of their bantering until he asked about her perfume. Maybe . . . he stopped as he reached the corner and waited for a car to pass. Maybe she thought he was coming onto her? That might explain it. Maybe she had a boyfriend—that Dawson guy—or she was one of those women who despised men. Nelson had met his share. But that didn’t explain her friendliness earlier, which had bordered on flirting.

  Nelson blew out a breath of frustration. He should probably ask his sister if there was some unwritten conversation code between men and women wherein the man didn’t ask certain questions. But if he did ask Becca such a question, she’d smell his motivations a mile away . . . or six hundred miles to be exact, since she lived in Portland. The bigger question was, did he have motivations? Had he been coming onto Lindsey Gerber?

  Sure, she was beautiful. Easy to talk to . . . until . . . But truth be told, she wasn’t really his type. He dated women who hung around the hockey arena. Women who were peppy, full of questions, laughing—giggling to be exact—at every word that fell from his mouth. Being a pro athlete sure made it easy to get a date. Of course the fact that he was twenty-nine and hadn’t been serious with anyone, unless he counted dating Suzanne his senior year in high school for an entire six months, probably indicated that he wasn’t the serious-relationship type.

  Yep. That was his record.

  Usually, he’d go out with a woman about three times, maybe four, before his interest waned. Maybe he was the one with ADD. Was it possible to have relationship ADD?
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br />   Lindsey was almost to the bed and breakfast, and he once again slowed his step as she entered the building. He wondered which room she was in. Maybe his same floor? Then he couldn’t help but run into her. What would she do then?

  Nelson decided to walk around the place and go in through the back door. Less chance of running into Maddy that way, because there was a good chance she’d be waiting in the small lobby for him. Not that he was avoiding his next phase of therapy . . . but he thought he’d at least shoot his sister a text.

  Once inside his room, he turned on his phone. Dozens of texts piled in, followed by several chimes indicating emails as well. He opened the first text strand, the one from the team. Coach had sent out the instructions, which amounted to a team meeting followed by a light workout that morning, because there was a game tonight. A game Nelson would be missing and Ben would be playing goaltender in.

  Nelson closed out the text strand before his mind went into that dark rabbit hole, and he opened up the next text—from his sister. Convenient. She was being rather sweet since his injury and texted him once or twice a day for updates.

  Hiked like a billy goat today, he texted her back. Finally got some decent food in me. But I think I pissed off a lawyer. Two, in fact.

  Becca must have been on her phone, because she replied right back. Wait. What? I thought you were in the sticks.

  Me too, Nelson wrote. Pine Valley has just enough people who need lawyers. They’ll probably sue because they have nothing else to do.

  Becca sent back a laughing-face emoji. Want me to come visit? We could paint the town. You know, show them how the Nelsons have fun.

  Nelson scoffed. I don’t know what you’re talking about, little sister. Besides, don’t you have some Barbies to play with or something?

  That’s right, big, tough brother, she wrote. I’m the one with the college degree, while you insist on chasing around a three-inch hockey puck every week.

  He chuckled. His sister knew how to throw down; it was kind of their thing. He crossed to the window that looked out into a wooded area. This town was full of pine trees. It wasn’t too hard to see where the name Pine Valley came from. When I’m retired in ten years and living the good life, you’ll still be paying off your student loans.

  Who says I haven’t paid them off yet? She wrote. Have you checked your money market account lately?

  You wouldn’t dare.

  Becca typed back the angel emoji.

  Yes, Becca was his financial planner. Made perfect sense when she got her business management degree followed by an MBA. Nelson wasn’t worried about his sister’s access to his accounts. She was the biggest tightwad he’d ever met. Well, except for him. She still wore sweats from her freshman year—in high school. Impressive.

  Pretty much anything decent she owned, Nelson had bought her.

  Another text buzzed on his phone. From Maddy. Pilates in 15.

  Ah. There it was. He typed back. Okay. Because really, there was no other choice. Coach had already drilled that into him. Nelson had to finish every bit of this program, or his position might be in jeopardy. Things with his team had been rocky the past year or so. Nelson felt like he only had two friends on the team, and not that he was looking for friendships among his teammates, but respect had been pretty thin too. He pulled his mind from that rabbit hole too.

  Hey, got a question, he wrote to Becca. I can’t explain much because I’m due for another torture session. But is it okay for a man to ask a woman what kind of perfume she’s wearing? I mean, in a way that’s not offensive?

  His phone rang. Becca was calling.

  “Is the answer really that complicated?” he asked his sister.

  “I need context,” she said, laughter in her voice.

  “I don’t have time,” he said. “Maddy’s waiting for me, and I need to shower first to thaw my frozen feet. You should see my boots, they’re covered in—”

  “Ty,” his sister cut in. She was the only who called him that. “Context, or I can’t help you. And I’m assuming you want help, or else you wouldn’t have asked me.”

  Nelson hesitated. Then he sat in the rocking chair—yep, there was a rocking chair in his room—and it creaked as if offended. “One of those lawyers I mentioned?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, one was a woman,” he said. “You know the type. All businesslike. Fancy suit. Opinionated. Wearing those high heels that have no right being counted as footwear.”

  “Stilettos?” Becca’s voice sounded very, very amused.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he said. “Long story short, because I really do have to go, I asked Lindsey what kind of perfume she was wearing. Because, you know, she smelled nice, and the more we talked, the more I wondered. So I didn’t see any harm in asking. But she about took my head off for one simple question.”

  Becca didn’t say anything.

  He heard a rustling sound, or was it scoffing? Whatever it was, it was a bit muffled. “Um, are you still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  She was . . . laughing. So hard that it sounded like she was having trouble breathing.

  “Should I call 9-1-1?” he deadpanned. “Maybe you need a breathing treatment?”

  She wheezed, then started laughing again.

  Nelson closed his eyes. “You’re not helping. At. All. I’m hanging up in five seconds if you don’t tell me what I f-freaking did wrong.”

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m really, really sorry.”

  She didn’t sound sorry.

  “I . . . I can’t get over the image of you asking a woman about her perfume. I mean, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were—”

  “Seriously, Becca?” he cut in. “Three seconds.”

  “Okay, okay.” She took a great gulp of air. “I think it’s kind of . . . sweet. But apparently, she thought you were trying to pick up on her or something.”

  He knew it. He didn’t need to ask his sister after all. He should have just gone with his gut. She was having way too much fun with this.

  “What did she say?” she asked, obviously using a great deal of control to form her words.

  Well, Nelson had already come this far. “We were having a totally normal conversation until I asked her. Then she got mad and told me not to speak to her again. Which normally wouldn’t be a problem, but we’re staying at the same bed and breakfast.”

  When Becca went quiet again, she wasn’t laughing.

  “Sis?”

  “Um, she sounds like she has some issues.”

  “Issues?” Nelson asked. “Like what?”

  Becca released a sigh. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask her. Which isn’t going to happen by the sound of it. But I think she’s been jaded, or she’s been jilted, or whatever.”

  “Another guy?”

  “Yeah, but there’s probably more to the story,” she said. “Women in her profession, heck, in any high-profile profession, get a lot of crap. Mostly from men. Coming onto them. She probably thought you were just another jerk trying to pick her up.”

  Nelson was the one who went quiet this time. And he couldn’t believe he was about to ask his sister this . . . “What if I did want to, uh, get to know her better?”

  “I think this one’s out of your league, bro,” she said. “Sorry to give you the bad news. But for your sake, you should respect her wishes. You know, take the rejection like a man and move on.”

  “Huh,” Nelson said. “But what if—”

  “Ty,” Becca cut in. “Unless she approaches you or talks to you first, respect her wishes. That’s all I can tell you. Anything you try will just backfire. Remember, she’s a lawyer, and I’m pretty sure that not even you could charm a woman like her who’s made up her mind.”

  “Of course I’ll respect her wishes,” Nelson said. “I just don’t know why women have to be such a mystery.”

  “Maybe I will come to Pine Valley,” Becca said. “If only to catch a glimpse of the woman who’s befuddled my b
ig, tough brother.”

  “Funny,” Nelson said. “I’m curious, that’s all. Nothing more. I mean, I met her like an hour ago, and we only talked for about twenty minutes. So there’s no befuddlement going on here.”

  “Uh-huh,” Becca mused.

  Three minutes later, Nelson had hung up with Becca, nowhere nearer understanding what had set Lindsey off. Yeah, so maybe it was a little flirtatious to ask her about her perfume, but it was also a simple question. Completely innocent. It wasn’t like he was interested in a woman like Lindsey. All sophisticated, long legs, sharp tongue, blue, blue eyes, and heels that could impale a man’s heart.

  Lindsey really should have taken Dawson up on his offer to help her move into the office. He said he’d be done with court that afternoon, but like the stubborn person she was, she’d been carrying in file boxes one at a time into her newly leased office space. She’d been at it for two hours, and she was sweaty, tired, and grumpy.

  Her breakfast had long since worn off, and her feet killed. Yeah, she’d changed out of her suit and heels into some jeans and tennis shoes. Good thing, because her T-shirt was dirty, and she’d snagged her jeans on a low protruding nail on the wall and ripped a small hole. She didn’t know why in the world there was a nail that low on the wall, but Dawson wasn’t here to ask.

  She peeked into his office. It was neat and orderly, much like Dawson himself. Lindsey prided herself in being organized too, but her emotions were all over the place, to say the least. Case in point . . . when she’d practically taken off Tyler Nelson’s head at the café. He’d asked her about her perfume, and . . . something inside her snapped. Hard. She knew Nelson wasn’t like Paul or other jerks she’d met. It had been fun to talk to Mr. Pro Hockey Player. He’d been quite entertaining. And yeah, she’d gotten the vibe that he was checking her out. But not a creepy vibe.

  So why had she freaked out?

  Well, she knew why. Paul’s antics and threats had made her overly defensive. And that last week hadn’t been easy. Still, she could keep her cool in a courtroom full of witnesses and jury members who were analyzing her every move. Yet a handful of hours ago, she’d lost it.