They piled into the elevator, rode the short distance to the lobby, then emerged as one. Corbin was still in the center, still surrounded, like some kind of VIP surrounded by bodyguards. He almost laughed at the image, choked it back when they entered the bar.
Heads turned, eyes watching them. A dozen different stares were directed his way. Studying. Judging.
He stumbled to a stop, tried to back away. “This isn’t a good idea—”
“Fuck them.” Brendan’s loud voice cut through the whispers, silencing them. Several seconds went by, slow and agonizing. Heads turned away and conversations resumed, noisy against the background of music and clanking glasses. As if those few seconds of judgment had never existed.
Had Corbin simply imagined it? He didn’t think so, was sure he could still feel a few discreet stares directed his way. He took a deep breath and ignored them, the same way his teammates were doing as they moved toward the back corner of the bar.
This is when a few of the guys would leave. When they’d head to the bar and buy a round of drinks for the women sending interested glances their way. When they’d disappear, one by one, in search of company.
Only nobody got up to leave. Not a single man. Logan raised his hand, waving for one of the waitresses to come take their order. Corbin looked around, realized that somehow, he had been placed in the corner, just as Shane had said. Protected by his teammates, whether he wanted it or not.
Shane leaned over, a crooked grin curling the corner of his busted lip. “I told you. We’re sending a message. We’ve got your back. Now relax and have that beer. Things are going to work out. You’ll see.”
Would they? Corbin didn’t have Shane’s confidence. But for the first time in two weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope.
No, not the first time. The second time. The first had been Sunday night, with Lori.
With the woman he kept hurting, even when he didn’t mean to.
Chapter Sixteen
Corbin leaned his head against the leather-covered steering wheel and sucked in a deep breath. One more. Again, until he was in danger of hyperventilating.
Even that would be better than sitting here, with his stomach twisted in knots, ready to turn itself inside out.
He shouldn’t be here, should have never followed-through on the impulse. He should have stayed home, barricaded himself inside the bare apartment that was rapidly turning into a prison. There was a vast difference between going out for a beer with his team during their road trip and going out here, back in Baltimore. And there was definitely a huge difference between that and showing up here, at Lori’s house. Unexpected. Unannounced.
He didn’t even know if she was home, had no idea what her car looked like. So why was he here? Why had he given in to the sudden impulse to show up like this?
Because he wanted to see her. Needed to see her. It was irrational, this sudden urge. Only it wasn’t sudden, not when it had been tearing at him for the last week, ever since that night his teammates had dragged him from his room.
They’d been back in town for a few days, things slowly returning to a semblance of normalcy—whatever that was now. The tension that had gripped the team for the last few weeks was mostly gone. They were still on a losing streak, still struggling, still dealing with that frustration, with the anger and short tempers of the coaching staff. But the other tension—the suspicion, the wary glances, the feeling of an impending explosion looming on the horizon…that was gone.
No, not gone. Not entirely. He didn’t think it would ever be completely gone. But maybe, hopefully, the worst would be over.
He’d met with his attorney this afternoon, after practice. Had sat in stony silence as the older man had summarized the progress so far. They were close to an agreement and simply waiting on the final paperwork from the woman’s lawyer. A few signatures, an obscene amount of money, and it would be mostly over.
The money didn’t bother him, not really. With his salary and his investments, he didn’t need to worry about it. Those few years in Vegas had taught him a painful lesson about spending versus investing, one he hadn’t forgotten. No, it wasn’t the money that bothered him—it was the dizzying speed with which it had happened. Four weeks, when he had expected it to take much longer. Even his attorney had been a little surprised, although he’d tried to hide it.
That was why he’d come here tonight: to tell Lori. He wanted her to know. And then he wanted to apologize again, to ask her out to dinner to celebrate.
No, not to celebrate. There was nothing to celebrate, nothing to be happy about, even if this was almost over. It would never be completely over, never be completely behind him. There would always be people who remembered. Who would look at him and whisper behind their hands.
But maybe, just maybe, he could move past it. And maybe Lori wouldn’t mind being with him as he did.
That was the hope, anyway. That she’d say yes when he asked her out. That they could go on a real date, just the two of them. See if they could start over.
Start over? Corbin laughed. They had never started to begin with, because he’d always pushed her away, always stopped things before they could go anywhere.
Except that Sunday night, almost two weeks, when she had barged into his place. When he had been helpless to stop things—because he hadn’t wanted to.
Was he a fool for even coming here? Maybe. Probably. But he wouldn’t know, not for certain, not until he walked up to the door of her townhouse and knocked.
Which wouldn’t happen unless he got out of his car.
He took one last deep breath and opened the door, pushing out of the low-slung sports car with a small groan. Muscles stretched, burning after being cramped in such a small space for so long. His fault, for sitting out here. He was lucky one of the neighbors hadn’t noticed the strange car and called the police.
He pushed the thought away—that was the last thing he needed right now—and ran his hand over the thick sweater beneath his jacket, straightening the hem.
Wasting time. Procrastinating.
He gave himself a mental shake then headed up the walkway, the heels of his dress shoes scraping against concrete. He reached out, ready to press the doorbell, then hesitated. What if she wasn’t home? The lights were on but that didn’t mean she was there. Worse, what if she was home but didn’t want to see him?
“Calice!” He swore to himself then pressed the doorbell, listening to the muted buzzing on the other side of the door. Then he waited. And waited some more. Pressed it one more time. She wasn’t home, he should turn around and leave and—
The door opened and Corbin nearly doubled-over with the force of the breath leaving him. A man stood there, staring at him through dark, speculative eyes. Not as tall as Corbin, not as wide…but still a threat. Thick dark hair, carelessly tousled, fell over the man’s wide forehead. The chiseled face staring back at him was so unlike his own. Not a single scar marred the perfect features. No scars, no crooked nose. No hint that the mouth had ever been split or bloodied.
Corbin hated him on sight. Wanted to mar the perfection of the man’s face.
Wanted to turn around and pretend he had never knocked on the door.
He started to do just that when the man stepped back and opened the door wider. His mouth curled into a sly smile as he called over his shoulder. “Lori, you may want to come down here before you have a bloodbath on your hands. Because I am not cleaning it up.”
Corbin’s frown turned into a scowl when he realized the other man’s meaning. Did this…le colice de con…actually think he was a match for Corbin? No, not even close.
Not physically.
But he was the one inside Lori’s house, not Corbin.
The man turned back, his dark brows raised in subtle amusement. “You might as well come inside. If you’re going to entertain ideas about kicking my ass, it would be better if you did it without the whole world watching.” He paused, his mouth finally curling in a wide smile. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you
.”
Corbin glared at the man, tempted to accept his challenge and prove him wrong. He finally stepped inside, pausing in the entryway to look around as the man closed the door behind them.
The entranceway opened into a large living room, filled with overstuffed furniture in bright, cheery colors. Art work hung on the walls, along with framed pictures arranged in clusters. Warm, homey. Welcoming.
A thousand times more welcoming than his own place.
But he didn’t care about the bright colors or cozy comfort. What he cared about was the man who casually made his way through the living room. Like he knew his way around Lori’s place. Like he’d been here before.
Many times before.
“Care for anything to drink?” Even the question was casual, as if he was used to playing host to guests in Lori’s house. Corbin clenched his jaw and shook his head, wondering why he was still standing here. He should leave. He had no business being here, not when it was clear that Lori had company.
Company that obviously didn’t include him.
“Lori, sweetheart. Get a move on.”
Sweetheart? What the fuck? Anger coursed through him, followed by hurt and betrayal. If Lori was involved with this man, why had she been with him last Sunday night? Or was that why her response to his single text the following evening had been so simple? So accepting? Because she knew there would be no more nights together, because she was already seeing someone else?
“Lori, sweetheart. If you love me at all, you really need to get down here. Pronto.”
No. It was too much. Corbin shook his head, stepped back and blindly searched for the doorknob with one groping hand while the other curled into a tight fist. He should have never come here, should have never stepped foot inside once the door had been opened.
The sound of footsteps echoed from upstairs. Sharp at first, then muffled as they moved from a hard floor to the thicker carpet covering the stairs. Corbin looked over, watched as black boots came into view. One step, two. The top of the boots stopped just below Lori’s knees. Another step and he could see the black leggings covering her thighs, clinging to firm curves. Another step and another, revealing the hem of a long gray sweater that fell past her hips.
“Don’t get your panties in a wad, I’m coming. What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought we still had time before we had to leave—”
Lori halted on the third step from the bottom, her hand reaching out for the railing. Pale skin pulled tight across her knuckles as she looked first at Corbin then at the other man, then back again.
Corbin’s hand finally closed over the doorknob. All he had to do was turn it. Twist it in his hand and open the door, then he could leave. But the damn thing wouldn’t move, no matter how many times he tried turning it.
Lori hurried down the last few steps, her gaze never leaving his. Then she frowned and turned toward the other man, who was leaning against the wall with a bottle of beer carelessly hanging from his hand.
“Daniel Edwards, you’re an ass.”
Corbin finally got the knob to cooperate, finally jerked the door open. But Lori was suddenly beside him, her hand wrapped around his arm, holding him in place.
And choking on her laughter.
It was too much. A litany of French swearing fell from his mouth, peppered with more colorful English choices that could leave no doubt as to what he was saying. Frustration ate at him, made worse when he saw Lori biting her lip.
Worse still when the other man doubled over in laughter.
“What the fuck?” Yes, that was definitely English. And for some reason, it made the other man laugh even harder.
Corbin stared at him, then finally looked at Lori, some of his anger and frustration melting away, replaced by confusion. She tugged on his arm, leading him into the living room, not stopping until they were close to the other man.
Dangerously close. One quick swing would take care of everything. It would stop the man’s laughter and remove the knowing smirk from his perfect face. But Corbin didn’t take the swing. He couldn’t, not with Lori standing between them, almost like she knew what he wanted to do.
No, she was the one who swung instead, punching the other man in the shoulder. But there was no power to it, no strength behind it. It was simply a playful punch, nothing more. “You are such an ass. How could you even do that?”
“Me? I didn’t do anything.” The ass nodded in Corbin’s direction. “He’s the one who was jumping to conclusions. Serves him right for even thinking that way.”
Corbin frowned, his gaze bouncing between the two of them. Lori’s hand drifted from his arm, down to his hand. But instead of letting go, she threaded her fingers with his and squeezed.
“Corbin, this is Danny Edwards. He works with me. And he’s one of my best friends.”
“Yes. Stress definitely on the friends bit.” Danny held out his hand, his gaze too direct, silently daring Corbin not to accept it. He hesitated then finally reached out, surprised at the man’s strong grip. Surprised when the man refused to let go. Instead, he leaned toward him, his smile widening as he looked Corbin up and down.
“Lori and I happen to have the same taste in men.”
Chapter Seventeen
Another beer was placed in front of him, the sides of the heavy mug frosted, the head smooth and creamy. Corbin looked up in surprise, then lifted the mug he was still nursing. “I’m still drinking this one.”
“Then drink a little faster. You don’t want it to go to waste.”
“I shouldn’t—”
“Drink.” Danny nodded at the fresh mug then leaned back in the chair. “I’d hate for my money to be wasted.”
Corbin frowned, wondering what the other man meant. Oh, that was right. Danny was insisting on buying the drinks tonight—for Lori and him. Although Lori didn’t seem to be drinking anything other than iced tea, so maybe that didn’t count.
“I told you, I can pay for my own drinks. And yours. Hell, I can pay for everybody’s.”
Danny laughed, making him wonder what was so funny. “Yeah, you could. But I’m treating tonight. It’s the least I can do, considering how well you handled everything.”
“No.” Lori leaned forward, her lips curved in a delicate smile. “It’s the least you can do for pulling that stunt. You’re lucky I didn’t slug you myself.”
“If I remember correctly, sweetheart, you did.”
Lori laughed, the sound light and musical. Soft—like her mouth. She had such soft lips. Warm and smooth. Lips that made a man forget—
Corbin frowned. Lips that made a man forget what? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t need to, knew it would come to him. He slid his chair to the side and draped his arm around Lori’s shoulder, pulling her close. She turned her head to the side, her eyes widening a fraction of an inch as he tilted his head toward her.
“I love your mouth. Did you know that?” Then he claimed her lips with his, the kiss soft and warm. Gentle. And over too soon because she pulled away, laughing.
“Okay, no more beer for you. I think you’ve had enough.” She tugged the half-empty mug from his hand and slid it across the table, toward Danny and his friends. Corbin ignored their laughter, his gaze focused solely on Lori.
“I have not had enough. Nowhere near enough, eh? Not ever.” And shit, he needed to stop, before she thought he was talking about something besides the beer. Although she was probably right about that. How many of the liter mugs had been passed his way? Five? Six? Between the beer and the few shots that had been shoved into his hand, he had lost count.
Probably not the smartest thing to do, but it had been easy. Too easy. He was comfortable here, relaxed in a way he hadn’t been relaxed since his return to Baltimore. Since before then, even. Lori was with him. Danny and his friends were easy to talk to. And nobody in the bar stared at him. Nobody was watching or judging.
Even the bar itself made him comfortable. Not dark and loud like a cavernous nightclub, with lights flashing bright enough to blind you,
and music blaring so loud it was impossible to talk to the person standing right next to you. Here, the lights were dim—but not so dim you couldn’t see. Music drifted through the sound system, loud enough to enjoy but low enough that it didn’t interfere with conversation. There was even a small dance floor in the corner, but nobody was using it right now.
Maybe, if the right song came on, he’d ask Lori to dance. He’d get a chance to pull her into his arms and hold her close. To tilt his head toward hers, to feel the silky softness of her honey blonde hair brush against his skin. To feel the weight of her breasts pressed—
He cleared his throat and pushed the thoughts from his mind. His cock had been standing at half-mast all night, just from being next to Lori. He didn’t need it to jump to full attention—especially not when her friend was watching him, like he knew exactly what kind of battle Corbin was currently waging against his own body.
Danny lifted a mug in a mock salute, his brows shooting up with just a hint of amusement. “Down, boy.”
Corbin glared, his face heating when he realized Lori was watching them. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” He mumbled the answer, slid down in his seat and tried to nonchalantly adjust positions so his cock wasn’t straining against the zipper of his trousers.
“Why don’t I believe that?”
“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Your boy’s telling the truth.” Danny gave her a smile and a big wink, then turned that same smile toward him. “I have to give you credit, though.”
“Me? Why?”
“For not slugging me when you thought Lori and I were together. For not wiping your hand on your leg then slugging me when you realized I was gay. For agreeing to come here.”
Corbin frowned, wondering if maybe the alcohol had muddled his mind more than he thought. “What’s wrong with this place? And why would I slug you? I mean, yeah. When I thought you and Lori were—you know. I wanted to. I really wanted to.”
Game Misconduct: A Baltimore Banners Hockey Romance (The Baltimore Banners Book 11) Page 12