“Tell us about what’s going on between you and Nate Rochester,” Sheila said, her eyes wide. “That was some fight between the two of you. Did you forget you’re on the same team?”
Jax chuckled, although it sounded hollow. “Things got heated up on all sides,” he said. “We had a bit of miscommunication earlier in the game, and well, we got it all worked out in the end.” There. That should satisfy her.
“Tell us about Rocco,” Sheila continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you guys be so gentlemanlike toward each other.”
Now, that was funny, and Jax’s laugh was genuine. “I think we’ve come to an understanding.” He shrugged. “We both play different games, but as long as the Flyers come out on top, I couldn’t be happier.”
It was time to go. He’d answered enough questions. “Thanks, Sheila.” A direct look at the camera, and he said, “Thanks, Chicago. This one was for you.”
Above the plexiglass some of the fans had lingered to listen in, and they cheered at his last pronouncement.
Sheila faced the camera for her wrap-up, and Jax skated over to where Meg and her grandma had come down the stands toward the bench. He moved out off the ice and across the divider to shake her grandma’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bailey.” The woman was tall, not as tall as Meg, but she had that stately presence that reminded him of Meg.
Her eyes crinkled with a smile. “Nice to meet you too, young man,” she said, giving his hand a firm shake. “But I’m not sure why you had to get a penalty. You could have let Nate take the fall for that move.”
Jax wanted to laugh. He guessed Mrs. Bailey to be in her seventies, yet here she was, taking him to task. “Nate and I have a complicated history. He decided to bring our, uh, personal issues onto the ice.”
He could feel Meg’s stare, and he thought he’d blown it.
“Well, my Meg tells me that you’re setting records left and right.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He felt gratified to see Meg’s cheeks pinken. What else had she told her grandma about him?
“Great game, Jax,” Meg said.
He sort of wished they were alone and didn’t have all these people around.
Nashelle moved a step down. “Yeah. That was some goal.”
He hadn’t even realized she was there. It seemed the other employees of Meg’s had left.
“Well, it is the boy’s job,” Mrs. Bailey said.
Jax held back a laugh. He hadn’t been called boy in a long time. Coming from Meg’s grandma, it was kind of endearing.
“Sometimes, though, no one scores,” Nashelle announced.
Mrs. Bailey turned to look at her fully. “Not when Jax is on their team. Did you watch their last game?”
“A couple of good games doesn’t represent the entire season,” Nashelle argued.
The two women began to debate, and Jax looked at Meg. Was she going to intervene? Apparently not. She just watched the two women with amusement.
“So what are you doing right now?” Jax asked in a low voice.
“Taking my grandma home,” Meg said, centering her gaze on him. The green of her eyes was darker with the black silk blouse she wore. A least she had a coat on tonight. “Then maybe I’ll do a little accounting.”
“Can it wait?”
“Taking my grandma home?”
“Your accounting.”
A smile touched her lips. “Maybe.”
“Wanna come to Lucas’s birthday gig with me tonight?”
At this, her brows rose. “Where is it?”
“At his house,” Jax said. “Totally low-key.”
“Low-key with a bunch of hockey players?”
Jax grinned. “We’ll stay an hour, tops. Then we can do something more . . . quiet.”
Was she blushing? He didn’t mind if she was.
“I won’t know anyone there,” she said. “Except for you. And if I go with you, won’t that sort of send a message that we’re, uh . . . together?”
“Would that be so bad?”
She was definitely blushing.
“Rocco’s coming too. He and Lucas played their first pro year together. And you sort of know Rocco,” Jax said. “Nate will be there, but you’re not going anywhere near him.”
Meg smirked. “I think that would be best for everyone.”
“Is that a yes?” Jax couldn’t hide the hope in his tone.
“How about I take my grandma home, then I’ll let you know about the party?”
Disappointment surged through Jax. This sounded like a delayed letdown.
“I can take Grandma home,” Nashelle said.
Both Jax and Meg looked at the woman in surprise.
But Mrs. Bailey didn’t seem put off by the idea. Maybe their debate had been healthy?
“Yeah,” Nashelle said. “While you two were in your starry-eyed tête-à-tête, I found out that Grandma quilts. I’ve been dying to learn the Dresden plate quilt block, and she knows how.”
Jax had no idea what a Dresden was, but right now he didn’t care.
“So go to a party with your boy,” Nashelle said in a mischievous tone. “Gran and I will be up late laboring over the art of quilting. Hand over your keys.”
Meg opened her mouth and closed it, then looked over at Jax.
“I can get you home. Whenever you want,” he added.
She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, but he could see the shift in her eyes. All arguments had faded.
“Okay,” she said, pulling out her car keys and handing them to Nashelle.
Rocco rode with them in Jax’s truck, and it was probably a good thing, because the intensity of Jax’s gaze on her earlier had made her wish she’d worn lightweight clothing. As it was, Meg shed her coat as soon as she climbed into the truck. Jax’s hair was still damp from his shower after the game, and he smelled like freshly showered man.
Rocco sat in the back and kept up the conversation.
Although Jax had been talkative around her grandma and Nashelle, now he’d gone quiet.
Rocco made it his business to quiz Meg about herself, which she didn’t mind, but he was really quite the interrogator.
“So you run this boutique, and you’re the sole owner?”
“Yes, it’s just me,” Meg said.
“What got you into the business?” Rocco continued. “Retail is all-consuming. Are you a workaholic?”
“I’ve always loved fashion and design, and well, it was a natural thing for me after I graduated.”
Rocco asked her where she went to school, then Jax interrupted. “Hang on, I’ve got to get gas.” The truck bumped over a curb and pulled into a gas station. “Didn’t know I was getting so low. Guess I’ve been distracted.”
“Yeah, you have,” Rocco said.
“Shut up.” Jax climbed out and shut the door.
Meg looked back at Rocco. Jax hadn’t sounded exactly pissed, but he hadn’t been pleasant either. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Uh, I shouldn’t say,” Rocco said. “I’m not getting in the middle of anything.”
“What do you mean?”
Rocco sighed. “He’s just being possessive.”
“About what?” Meg turned more so she could get a full view of Rocco.
He wore a baseball hat turned so the brim was behind his head, which made his face look even more square. He had those dark Italian eyes with amazing eyelashes.
“You.”
Meg frowned. “What about me?”
“He’s into you, that’s all I can say.”
A warm flutter erupted low in her belly. “And that makes him grumpy?”
“Ha. No.” Rocco leaned forward. “He doesn’t like me chatting you up.”
This surprised Meg. “But you guys are friends, and we’re just being, you know, friendly. Talking like normal people.”
“Right.” Rocco chuckled. “We know that, because we’re normal. But Jax isn’t normal. And I am a good-looking guy, right? I mean, you should see t
he ladies falling down at my feet.”
Meg laughed at that, and Rocco joined in, which of course was the exact moment Jax opened the driver’s door.
Meg immediately bit back her laugh, and Rocco said, “Got some gas?”
“Yep.” Jax didn’t look at either of them as he started the engine again.
The next few minutes were silent until Rocco filled that silence with reading texts from the group chat he called The Pit. It sounded like the Northbrook guys were reporting in on their games that night or commenting on each other’s. Most of it was ribbing and making fun of each other.
Soon even Jax had cracked a smile.
Meg relaxed a tad, but her pulse had begun to speed up as she thought about all Rocco told her. He’s just being possessive and he’s into you. So maybe the attention from Jax hadn’t been a strange fluke, and maybe he really did find her interesting.
“Wow,” Rocco said, looking up from his phone. “Lucas must make the big bucks.”
“Some guys like to show it a little more,” Jax said.
And Rocco was right. They’d stopped at the end of a long driveway that led up to a sprawling two-story mansion. Garden lights edged the driveway, lighting the way, but parked cars blocked Jax from driving any further.
Lights blazed from the place, and as soon as Meg opened her door, she could hear the thumping music. She pulled her coat back on and buried her hands in her pockets. She had no idea what to expect, what sort of conversations she’d be a part of, or how she’d be introduced.
“Bones!” Rocco called out to a man who was heading up the porch, about to go inside the house. “How are you, my man?”
“They’re friends?” Meg asked Jax. He was back to his brooding self.
“Yeah. Bones played with the Steers before he was traded to the Flyers.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed, with how they played against each other tonight.”
“Yeah, well, most players are buddies off the ice,” Jax said. His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets too. “There’s some crappy stuff that goes on, though.”
“What’s up, Emerson?” the tall redhead said.
“Hey, Bones,” Jax said. “This is Meg.”
“Hi.” She held out her hand and shook Bones’s, which was like grasping the muscled shoulder of an ox.
“Where are you from, Meg?”
“Here.”
“Ah, homegrown. Nice, Jax.”
“Mind your own business,” Jax growled.
Bones and Rocco both laughed.
Meg couldn’t help but smile, because this was very, very interesting.
Rocco opened the door to the house and motioned for everyone to go in.
Meg walked in front of Jax and paused in the entryway. The place was massive, and stunning. Lights glowed everywhere, and the ceilings went on forever. Laughter and music came from the great room just beyond.
The guys shed their coats and tossed them on top of a growing pile in a side room off the entrance, so Meg did too. She’d worn her black silk shirt with herringbone-print pants tonight. Her hair was pulled up into a messy knot, and she’d worn dangling silver earrings. Perhaps too dressy for a bunch of athletes in jeans and T-shirts. But she couldn’t very well change now.
Bones and Rocco had already walked ahead of them, and Meg turned to Jax. He wore a frown, staring down at his phone.
“Everything okay?”
He looked up as if he’d forgotten she was standing there. Then his gaze made a slow perusal of her, from her hair to her heeled boots. How did he do that? Make her blush without a word?
“I had a meeting with the coach in the morning,” he said. “He wants to push it back until later in the day.”
She watched his gray eyes darken. “About your contract?”
“Yeah.”
She could practically feel the disappointment and frustration radiating from him. She stepped closer. “It’s not like he cancelled it. You’ll still know more of what’s going on tomorrow, just a few hours later.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” His voice was lower and softer, and his gray eyes moved over her face. He lifted a hand and lifted a tendril of her hair from her cheek. “Maybe we should leave. I don’t feel like good company right now.”
He was stressed, and she got that. He’d had a great game, and he had a great career, but if he felt he was bought and paid for, no wonder he wasn’t in the mood to socialize.
“Let’s stay for a few minutes,” she said. “We’re already here. Tell Lucas happy birthday at least.”
He hesitated, then nodded. Together they walked into the main room. A giant big-screen television was on, showing some football game. A table to the side was covered in pizza, chips, and beer. People were everywhere: on the couches, sitting on the floor, perched on stools or chairs. The hockey players, plus plenty of women.
It took a quick glance for Meg to know that she was not like any of the women in their fan jerseys, high ponytails, tight jeans, heavy makeup, and pouty smiles. But she’d just deal with it. After all, she’d practically talked Jax into it.
And they got plenty of attention. Meg would never be able to remember the names of everyone he introduced her to, men and women alike. Most of the guys also had nicknames—it was a thing in sports, she quickly learned.
Nate was across the room, sitting at a card table with a woman on his lap. She had her arms looped around his neck, a hundred percent focused on Nate instead of the card game he was playing. Nate didn’t seem to mind, though.
Meg looked away quickly before their gazes could connect. If Jax was fine with being in the same house as Nate, she would be too. Meg refocused on the conversation Jax was having with Corbie—one of his Flyers teammates. They were talking about football, of all things.
Her gaze caught Rocco’s from a few feet away. He grinned, then lifted his beer as if to toast her. She smiled and shook her head.
“You should check it out,” Corbie said. “It’s pretty cool.”
“Okay,” Jax said.
What was he agreeing to?
She followed the guys up the stairs and walked into a huge arcade room. “Wow.”
Corbie laughed. “I could live here all day. Lucas has all the oldies.”
Meg looked around. Some of the arcade games she’d played as a kid with her brother. She wandered the room. The lighting was dim, but the arcade games were all plugged in and glowing their iridescent colors, as if she was being beckoned toward them.
“Do we need quarters?” she asked.
“No,” Corbie said. “That’s the beauty of it.” He sat down at a racing game and selected a track. Soon he was driving through a forest on a winding road.
Jax stopped at a pinball machine and pulled back the lever. A metal ball went flying, and he began to work the controls to keep the ball from sinking into a hole.
Meg headed for the Pac-Man machine. She’d been pretty good at it once, years and years ago. She selected one player, then began. The first few rounds were easy and slow, but then the flashing ghosts caught up with her. “Stupid game,” she muttered.
“What’s stupid?” Jax asked.
She hadn’t even noticed him leaving his game and coming to watch her. She glanced at him, then said, “The controller keeps sticking.”
His mouth curved. “Let me try.”
So she took a step back and folded her arms.
Jax cleared the next level easily, then started on the next one.
“Do you want any drinks?” Corbie said. “I’m going back down.”
“I’m good,” Jax said.
“Me too,” Meg added.
Then they were alone, but Jax was solely focused on capturing tiny cherries and bananas.
“How are you doing it?” she asked. “I swear the controller is off.”
“It’s an art, I guess,” Jax said, glancing over at her with a smile.
It was really good to see him relaxed and smiling.
The board switched to a higher level, one
that Meg was pretty sure she’d never reached in her life.
“Here, let me show you,” Jax said.
He backed up so she could take the controller, then he moved behind her and rested his hand on top of hers. “It’s all in the wrist movement.”
“Right,” Meg deadpanned.
“I’m serious,” Jax said, his warm breath against her neck now, because he was standing rather close.
His large hand completely encompassed hers, and as the cheerful electronic music started up, he moved even closer so that now his chest was pressed against her back. “Relax,” he said, “And don’t think about the ghosts.”
His breath tickled her neck, and she felt like laughing.
But she was trying to make a valiant effort to get through the dots on the screen. Jax was definitely doing all the work, but it was an eye opener to feel how fast and smoothly his hand and wrist moved. He rested his left hand on the other side of her, against the Pac-Man machine, so now she was cocooned between his arms.
Somehow he was still able to play, and play effectively. Meg watched in fascination as the board cleared and the next level loaded. She was breathless. From playing Pac-Man? “I don’t think I can handle playing the next level,” she said. “My heart rate is going crazy.”
“Mine too,” Jax’s voice rumbled next to her ear.
Her eyes slid shut. She wanted to lean back, feel both of his arms wrap around her. Breathe him in.
The electronic music chimed, signaling that the Pac-Man had been caught by a ghost. Meg opened her eyes. The screen flashed Game Over. “What happened?”
“We lost.”
But Jax didn’t move, didn’t pull back, and Meg’s heart rate only increased. And she was pretty sure she could feel his heart thumping just as fast.
“Jax, I have to tell you something,” she whispered.
“Hmm?” His tone was a delicious rumble.
She rotated slowly. Jax still didn’t move back, so when she’d fully turned, they were inches away from each other. The heat of his gaze spread across her skin, pooling in her belly.
“You’re the most insecure, secure person I know.”
His brows tugged together. “What do you mean?”
“You’re an amazing hockey player,” she said, resting a hand on his chest, “yet you think the technicalities of a contract can invalidate your career.”
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