Powerplay

by Heather B. Moore

  “That one is from two years ago,” Jax said, his voice rumbling close to her. “We’d just completed the well, and the next morning as we were packing to head home, a fire swept through the village. Because of the well, we had water close at hand, so we were able to save the rest of the huts.”

  “Wow.” Meg turned to look at him.

  His gray eyes focused on her. “The bricks of the well might have blackened, but we didn’t replace them. It was a symbol, I told them. That their village was strong.”

  Meg’s throat felt tight. “Was everyone okay?”

  “Yeah.” Jax brushed his fingers against hers, and she linked them together.

  “When do you go over there?”

  “Every June after the Stanley Cup finals,” Jax said. “Some of the guys on the team have gone with me before. Rocco and Clint from Northbrook want to go with me next summer.”

  Meg nodded. “You’re amazing, Jax. This is amazing. What got you into digging wells in Africa?”

  The edges of his mouth lifted as he scanned the bricks. “My mom, actually. She forwarded me an email link from one of her friends who was sponsoring a fundraiser. My dad was out of town, so she asked me to go with her. It was my first year in the NHL, so I guess I was feeling generous with my new salary. I put in several thousand toward the company. The CEO was so impressed that he came up to me after the dinner and asked me to join his team the following summer.”

  “And you did?”

  He smiled. “Yep. I was hooked. But I found out that the original CEO was a bit shady with the donations, so I started my own outfit.”

  Meg turned again to the doorframe, still keeping ahold of Jax’s hand. “How many wells have you sponsored?”

  “Three hundred and five,” Jax said. “I’ve personally worked on about forty of them.”

  “That’s amazing.” And it was. Meg had never expected this from Jax . . . not that she didn’t think he was capable or compassionate, but it was a far cry from having a collection of sports cars or a luxury cabin. Maybe he had those too. But the bricks in front of her told a different story, a deeper story, of who Jax Emerson really was at his core. And it was beautiful.

  She blinked against the burning in her eyes and took a shallow breath that felt shaky. Why she was having this reaction, she didn’t know. Maybe it was because the man holding her hand with his rock-steady grasp had lit a flame of hope inside her: that of a new beginning.

  “I think this is my favorite room in your house,” she said.

  He chuckled. “You haven’t seen my bedroom yet.”

  Despite the heat spreading up her neck she looked up at him. “Why’s that? More bricks from Africa?”

  “Not exactly,” he said in a slow voice, his thumb skittering across her wrist. “Maybe we’ll save it for another time, though. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

  The heat in his gaze told her that he was definitely making a choice to be valiant. She wanted to kiss him for it. Instead, she took the out that he’d given her, the out that she needed too. Things were really new between them, and she didn’t want to get caught up in the physical stuff before she was sure. Before she knew he was sure.

  “Thanks for showing me your place,” she said in a quiet voice. “I love it.”

  One of his brows lifted, and his eyes flashed with amusement. “You do? Not too . . . dinky?”

  “Oh, forget I said anything,” she said with a laugh, and she tugged him out of the room by the hand. She needed to get moving, or she’d never leave.

  “You need to say goodbye to Sheriff, or he’ll feel left out,” Jax said.

  “Is he still awake?”

  “I don’t know if he ever truly sleeps,” Jax said.

  They veered into the kitchen, and Meg scratched the massive dog’s head. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff.” She could swear the dog understood what she’d said.

  “I’ll be back soon, Sheriff,” Jax told the dog. “Stay in your bed.”

  “Will he really stay?”

  “Until my truck starts up.”

  Meg smiled. “I don’t blame him.”

  Jax helped her with her coat, his fingers lingering at her neck. She wanted to turn around and wrap her arms around his neck. Pull him in for a kiss.

  Jax shrugged into his own coat, then grabbed his cell phone from the entryway table, where he’d left it. Next he typed in a code on a keypad next to the door to disable the alarm, then he opened it.

  The cold air sent a shiver through Meg. Jax led her to the driver’s side of the truck. “You’re sitting by me,” he said, and Meg’s heart nearly melted.

  She gave him the address to her grandma’s, and when he put it into his phone, she could see that he had dozens of text messages.

  “You’re a popular guy,” she mused.

  He shook his head as he scrolled through a couple of the texts, then shoved the phone into his coat pocket. “It’s just The Pit. Rocco outed me.”

  “With what?”

  Jax backed out of his driveway and pulled onto the street before answering her. “Told the guys that I brought a lady friend to Lucas’s party.”

  Meg couldn’t read his tone, and she could only see his profile. Obviously Rocco had been referring to her.

  “Did you want to keep whatever’s going on between us a secret?” She had to ask, and maybe it was bold of her, but she wasn’t sure how things worked with dating a pro athlete.

  Jax glanced over at her. “Why would you say that?”

  She looked away from his piercing gaze. Someone had to watch the road. “I don’t know. Everything about you is different . . . I’m feeling a bit out of my element here. I mean, you’re younger than me, and it was impossible not to notice the women at the party. The type who hang around your teammates. They’re gorgeous and outgoing, and they know everything about the game and—”

  “Stop,” Jax said, grabbing her hand. “Believe me, they’re all the same. Like cardboard cutouts. I don’t want the same. Can you trust me on this?”

  Meg nodded, her throat feeling tight. “Okay.” Her voice came out small.

  “Rocco can go overboard sometimes with his comments,” Jax continued. “I didn’t mean for you to think I was upset about the guys knowing about you.”

  This was good, right?

  “I just don’t think you are their business, except for them to know you’re off-limits.” Jax made the next turn, but kept ahold of her hand. “It might be a while before I feel like sharing you, though.”

  She laughed. “What do you mean?”

  “You know, like going to those joint couple things?” He slowed at a light and leaned close to her, then pressed his mouth against her temple. “Do you have any obnoxious friends I need to worry about?”

  “Not unless you count Nashelle,” Meg said.

  Jax groaned, and that made her laugh again.

  “Yeah, she’s unique, but honestly, we’ve become friends over the months of working together,” Meg said. “Especially when the friends I had while dating Blaine drifted to his side. Turns out he’s more charming and entertaining than me.”

  “Let him keep them,” Jax said, his voice rumbling against her ear as he pressed another kiss against the edge of her jaw.

  “You’re kind of sweet, you know that?”

  “So I’ve heard,” he said in a dry tone.

  When they arrived at her grandma’s, several lights inside the house were still on. “Looks like she waited up.”

  “Does she do that a lot?”

  “Um, no,” Meg said. “But I’ve never gone out with a Chicago Flyer before.”

  Jax chuckled. “Guess I’d better walk you to the doorstep then.”

  Meg had no doubt he would have anyway. He opened his door, then slid out and extended his hand. When she slid to the ground, he didn’t move back, didn’t release her hand.

  “Do you think she’s watching out the window?” he asked, sliding both hands around her back and pulling her toward him. “Because if she is, I�
��d better kiss you here.”

  She couldn’t stop the smile spreading to her face. “Jax—”

  His mouth claimed hers, and she closed her eyes and kissed him back, breathing in everything about him. His scent, his taste, the scruff of his beard, the warmth of his body against hers . . . She pulled him even closer.

  Jax might have said that the day of the accident was his lucky day, but she was pretty sure it was her lucky day. After she had found out he was okay, of course.

  When he drew away, it was all too soon, but she was pretty sure her grandma had heard the truck, so it was also a good thing.

  “Good luck tomorrow with your coach,” she told Jax. “Call me after?”

  His gaze soaked her in. “Okay.” Then he pulled her into a fierce hug.

  Meg hung onto him. She wished she could help him in some way. When he released her, it was like he’d drawn all her warmth from her. They walked to the porch hand in hand.

  “Good night, Meg,” he said with glance at the door. Then he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “Good night, Jax,” she whispered back.

  He winked, and then he set off down the porch.

  She watched him reach his truck before she turned to unlock the door. Finding the door unlocked, she pushed it open.

  Sure enough, there was her grandma, sitting at the kitchen table. Eyes as wide as saucers.

  “It’s late, Grandma,” Meg said, shutting the door behind her as the truck pulled away.

  “I didn’t know if you were coming home or if you had your house key, since you gave your car keys to Nashelle. She said she’d pick you up for work tomorrow since she still has your car.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Meg said. “I should have arranged things better.”

  “What are your plans with that boy?”

  Meg was surprised at this question, but maybe her grandma was overtired. Meg shrugged out of her coat. “I like him, and he seems to like me. But I don’t know beyond that.”

  “I like him too.” Grandma stood, using the table to steady herself. “But you need to be careful with your heart. He lives in a different world than you.”

  “I know,” Meg said with a sigh. Even her grandma had noticed. “Thanks for making sure I could get into the house okay.”

  Grandma patted her arm. “Good night, dear.”

  Meg should be exhausted, but as she lay in bed, her mind whirled with all that had happened between her and Jax that night. The invitation to the party. Being introduced to his teammates. Their kissing in the arcade. The tour of his house. Her heart rate wouldn’t slow, because she realized that she’d allowed her heart to open more than she had thought possible.

  Jax wore a suit not because he thought he needed to impress the coach—that was done with goals in the game—but because he was fully prepared to walk away from the team. And a suit would tell Coach Lindon that he meant business.

  Yet sitting outside the stadium with his truck idling two minutes before the meeting was supposed to start was an indication that Jax was more nervous than expected.

  The anger had long since left, now replaced by a dull dread in his gut.

  He wanted to dial back time to last night. When he’d been with Meg and been able to lose himself in her for a short time. She wasn’t flighty, she wasn’t after his money, she wasn’t trying to impress every guy on the team . . . and that was just part of the reason he liked her. She was also quiet and comfortable, and he was more himself with her than he’d been with any other woman.

  He’d seen the genuine admiration in her eyes when she’d looked at the pictures of his charity organization. He also loved that she was her own business owner and was independent. She was also compassionate toward her grandma.

  One minute. Jax needed to go.

  He climbed out of the truck, locked it, and headed into the arena. Coach Lindon’s office door was open, but the man was on the phone.

  Jax hovered in the hallway, waiting for the call to end, but he couldn’t help overhearing the one-sided conversation.

  “I don’t want him distracted by a lawsuit,” Lindon said.

  Was the conversation about him? Jax moved to the doorway, and Lindon looked up.

  “I’ll call you back,” Lindon said into the phone, then hung up.

  “What was that about?” Jax asked, folding his arms.

  Coach Lindon was a big guy, though a cancer scare the year before had made him lose some weight rapidly. The guy was a smaller version of his former self, but his blue eyes could still be cold and merciless.

  “Have a seat, Jax,” Coach said. “I was talking to your dad, so you can follow up with him later.”

  “Who’s my dad suing now?” Jax asked. For Todd Emerson, lawsuits were a monthly thing. He was always buying and selling businesses and using lawsuits to move along the process at a faster clip.

  “Discuss it with your dad,” Coach said, his tone clipped. Defensive. “What’s this meeting about?”

  Clearly Coach hadn’t missed Jax’s attire, because the guy’s posture had stiffened and his ice-blue eyes had grown wary.

  Jax settled into the seat opposite of Coach. “I thought I’d do you the service of talking to you in person before I get my lawyer involved.”

  Lindon’s eyes narrowed.

  Jax rested his folded hands on the desk. “I know about the donations from my dad, and I know that he bribed you to put me on the team. Before you say anything, I’m willing to leave quietly, if only to keep my dad out of jail. And possibly you.”

  With every sentence, Lindon’s face grew redder.

  “And,” Jax said, holding up a hand to stop Coach from interrupting, “I’m looking to trade before the February deadline. Then, once I’m playing for my new team, I’m going to sue my father to teach him a lesson.”

  Lindon jumped to his feet. “You’re as crazy as your dad.”

  Jax rose much more slowly. “Just answer me one thing, Lindon. If my dad hadn’t flashed his giant wallet in front of your nose, would you have offered me?”

  The way the man visibly flinched was Jax’s answer, and the only answer he needed. He hadn’t expected this meeting to be so short. But now it was over.

  Everything else would be handled through lawyers.

  Jax shoved back his chair and walked out of the office. He pushed through the arena doors, then pulled out his cell phone. His first call was to Scott. “You’re fired.”

  His second call was to a lawyer he’d worked with off and on. “I need to meet with you as soon as possible.”

  Griffin’s tone was equally brusque. “I have a four o’clock opening if I reschedule a couple of things.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  The guy worked around the clock, one reason Jax liked him.

  His third call went out on his Bluetooth while he was driving back home. “Rocco. Your team looking for a left wing?”

  Rocco cut to the chase. “You’re looking to trade, Jax?”

  “I am,” Jax said. “Thought I’d put my feelers out.”

  “What about your girl in Chicago?” Rocco pressed. “Is she going to follow you?”

  “I couldn’t say; everything’s a bit premature in that department,” Jax said. Thoughts of living in a different city as Meg did a weird twist to his insides.

  “Uh-huh,” Rocco deadpanned. “Mind if I throw it out to The Pit? St. Louis is all shaken up, and Clint’s starting to click with everyone on his team.”

  Jax doubted that. He’d heard enough of Clint’s worries to know that it would take several months for most of the teammates to accept a rookie player. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got some things to get taken care of, but I’m fine with you starting the conversation. You never know who’s heard something.”

  “Okay, man,” Rocco said. “And hey, can I ask why you’re going to trade?”

  Jax drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited at a light. “It’s complicated.”

  Rocco chuckled. “I’m Italian.”

 
“Right.” So Jax told Rocco. Almost everything that he’d told Meg. About finding out that his dad had donated the same amount as his contract every year. How he’d been so pissed that he’d walked right in front of a moving car, which Meg had been driving. About his meeting a few minutes ago with Lindon. And how he’d just fired his agent.

  Rocco released a low whistle. “When you shake things up, you explode them, man.”

  “Yeah, well, hopefully my career won’t be defined by a contract when all is said and done.” Huh. He’d just quoted Meg.

  “You’re the Jax Emerson. You’re on your way to the Hall of Fame, and I’m not saying that lightly.” Rocco scoffed. “I wish I could have seen Lindon’s face. What color was it?”

  “Red,” Jax said, feeling a smile surface. “Closer to purple maybe.”

  Rocco laughed.

  Jax’s smile did break through then.

  “Wow, Lindon is the biggest hard-butt in the NHL, yet you made him bluster.”

  “Yeah.” Jax shook his head. “But remember who my dad is.”

  “We all know who your dad is,” Rocco said. “Bless his filthy rich, misguided heart.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” Jax pulled into the driveway of his house. More accurately, his parents’ house. He’d detoured, and now he didn’t know if coming here was a good idea. His dad might not even be at home.

  “When are you going to talk to him?”

  Jax punched the garage door opener, and one of the three garages opened. Yep. There was his dad’s Mercedes. “As soon as I hang up with you.”

  When Jax hung up with Rocco, he sat for a few moments, fiddling with his phone. Rocco threw out a text to The Pit. Hey guys, time to rally and help a brother out. Jax is looking to trade. He’ll give you details later, but what’s the word on the street? Who’s looking?

  Declan answered first. Wow. Sorry, man, if condolences are in order. I’ll discreetly ask around.

  Next Clint replied. Want me to talk to my agent?

  Yes, please, Jax wrote. Ask him if he wants to rep another hockey player.

  The Pit continued, bouncing back and forth, with everyone chiming in except for Zane. He was probably traveling or catching up on sleep.