Delayed Call

by Toni Aleo

  Looking up, she saw her best friend and smiled. Mekena, like always, looked classically beautiful, covered head to toe in modest clothing. She was always so cute, while Brie tiptoed on the line between vagrant and dressed to the nines. There was no middle ground for her. At that moment, she was wearing jeans and a big Assassins sweatshirt. No one would see her but the team, and she just hadn’t had it in her to get ready that morning.

  “I just accused the guy that owns the little community that we’re looking into for Rodney of flirting with me, and then I told him to stay away from me.”

  Mekena blinked and then almost fell over laughing. “What is wrong with you? You’re more awkward than me!”

  Covering her face, Brie shook her head. “I don’t know. He has this deep, sexy voice, and it keeps getting deeper each time he talks. And then he has this laugh, and, yeah, I’m dumb and need to get laid.”

  Mekena choked. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re already texting Markus about it.”

  Slowly tucking her phone into her pocket, Mekena shook her head. “Never.”

  “Yeah, you’re a horrible best friend.”

  Mekena grinned. “Technically, this is a one-sided best friendship. I’m sure Avery would kill me if I gave her title away.”

  Brie rolled her eyes at the mention of Mekena’s other best friend, who lived in Florida. Mekena and Avery had been friends since college, which was only like two years ago, but still. “You can have more than one best friend, you weirdo.”

  “Oh, I’ll have to talk to Avery about that.” Mekena was extremely sweet and loyal. While Brie appreciated that, it kind of annoyed her. But then she felt pathetic. Why did she need a best friend? She had Rodney. She didn’t need anyone else. “But I do love you.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re upset.”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Brie shrugged. “I’m just stressed.”

  Reaching out, Mekena took her hand in hers. “I know, I’m sorry. We can be best friends.”

  Brie laughed. “I don’t want your pity best friendship! Also, do you know how pathetic we sound right now? We aren’t in high school.”

  Mekena nodded. “I know, but you know I’m here for you.”

  Brie squeezed her hand. “I know. Thank you.” Letting out a long, dramatic sigh, she smiled over at her best friend. “Hey, what are you doing after this?”

  Letting her head fall back, Mekena shook her head sadly. “Markus is making me take my cat to the vet.”

  “Is Mr. Right okay?”

  Mekena nodded. “Yes, but he isn’t losing weight anymore, and Markus says it’s my fault because I overfeed him when he isn’t looking.”

  Brie laughed. “Do you?”

  Mekena shrugged. “Maybe, but I can’t tell Markus that. He takes the cat on walks. He’ll kill me.”

  “You’re killing the cat.”

  “You’re my best friend, Brie, what the hell?

  “I thought this was a one-sided relationship?”

  “Only when Avery is around!” They both dissolved into laughter as Brie shook her head. Mekena, Markus, and their cat were a comedy hour, she swore. That damn cat had the personality of an old man and was the size of a cow. Markus was on a mission to get Mr. Right healthy, but Mekena couldn’t stop with the treats, which resulted in the cat almost mooing instead of meowing. “Anyway, ready to go downstairs?”

  Coming off the wall, Brie nodded her head just as she caught a glance of Jensen walking in from the outside. “Yes, but I gotta talk to Jensen first.”

  “Oh, why?” Mekena caught up with Brie as she headed toward him. “He is so hot.”

  “He is, you engaged person you, so eyes off,” she teased and Mekena laughed.

  “I know darn well that isn’t the person you want, but there’s the one you do.”

  Groaning when she saw Vaughn, Brie glared back at her. “Shut it, Preston.”

  Mekena snickered, but Brie ignored her as she stepped in front of Jensen, stopping his forward progress. “Whoa, Brie.”

  “Hey, Jensen.” She waved awkwardly and then smiled, hoping she didn’t come off too weird as she looked up into his gorgeous face. Jensen Monroe could honestly be a model. He had the jawline of a Calvin Klein poster boy, and his body was pure gold. But for some reason, she was more attracted to the douche canoe who was behind him. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted yesterday. I was upset and stressed, and I took it out on you.”

  His lips quirked as he waved her off. “No worries. I’m glad you said something, though, since I felt like shit.”

  She smiled. “I figured you’re not a douche. So, yeah, sorry.”

  “No biggie. Are you all moved in?”

  “Not all the way, but I’m good.”

  “Okay, well, let us know if you need help.”

  When he said us, Brie’s eyes cut to Vaughn who was smiling smugly, watching her. With her eyes narrowing, she asked, “Why are you smiling at me?”

  His grin grew. “I’m waiting for my apology.”

  She glared. “Oh, you’ll be waiting a long time because there isn’t one for you.”

  “Why does he get one?”

  “Because he’s not a douche.”

  “Neither am I.”

  “Um, yes, you are. One hundred percent sure on that,” she said, turning to walk off.

  Though, she didn’t get far before he called to her. “You know nothing, Brie Soledad.”

  Looking over her shoulder, she scowled at him. “I will not applaud you on that Game of Thrones reference because you probably don’t even know you made it. You probably have SportsCenter on repeat.”

  He scoffed. “Oh, baby, I just so Ygritte-ed you.”

  She glared, though she was impressed. “You’re not cool.”

  “I’m so cool, I’m ice.” Jensen and Mekena both snorted with laughter, but Brie’s eyes stayed glued to Vaughn as his eyes burned into hers. Her body was hot, and her hands were shaking so badly that she tucked them into her sweatshirt as she held his heated gaze. She didn’t understand this stupid pull he had on her, but man, he was sexy. She loved the way his hair fell in his eyes and how his face was covered in a seemingly permanent five-o’clock shadow that should be illegal. No one should be able to be that gorgeous all rough-looking, but Vaughn did it with ease, and that annoyed the fuck out of her.

  Something insane.

  “You wish you were even an ounce as cool as me.”

  Lord, he was a cocky mother! Turning to face him, she held his gaze as her eyes were in such slits she was surprised she could see. “Obviously, I’m cooler because you made me Jon Snow. So, really, who’s the coolest?”

  “I think you’re both losers,” Jensen decided between his laughter.

  “Touché, Ms. Soledad.”

  His eyes darkened, and something about the way he said her name swirled desire deep in her gut. Her eyes were still narrowed, and she didn’t like that he loved the same show she did. Though, she was pretty sure the whole world loved the popular masterpiece. But one thing was for sure, she didn’t like Vaughn, not even a little bit.

  Not even kind of.

  Because of that, she made sure to be ready to interview him. She had spent most of the night and morning watching tapes and coming up with two questions that she was sure would stun him. After talking to most of the team, asking them about the game the following day and how they were ready to bounce back from the loss the night before, she was ready. It was an easy day for the most part because media day was mainly for the rest of the reporters, who asked more in-depth questions, while the interviews Brie was doing were for sound bites for the Assassins’ preshow the next day. She had two questions for each of the players, and while everyone else was nice and loved talking to her, she knew it was going to be complete hell with Vaughn. Yeah, they may have had that moment upstairs, but when he came through the doors, his brows were pressed together and he looked annoyed.

  But she was ready.


  His dark suit fit him like a glove, but his shoulders were so taut that the fabric was stretched to hell when he tucked his hands into his pockets as he came toward her, looking everywhere but at her. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Gladly.”

  He didn’t even look at her. She looked back to the cameraman, but they were messing with something and weren’t ready yet. Standing with her hand on the mic, she chanced a glance at him, but he still wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at his phone, typing violently with his jaw tense. She wasn’t sure what was wrong, and she absolutely hated that she wanted to know. She didn’t like this guy; it didn’t matter what was wrong. He probably had one of his hos cancel on him, and he was calling the next one. Maybe the second one was sick, and he had to call his third string.

  Poor Vaughn.

  Rolling her eyes, she let out a sigh as Travis held up his fingers, counting them down just as the questions came up that she needed to ask.

  But she ignored them, her eyes on the camera as she said, “I’m Brie Soledad, here with Vaughn Johansson. Thanks for doing this, Johansson.”

  “Anytime, Ms. Soledad.”

  His eyes met hers, and she was stunned for a moment. The brown of his eyes was usually so dark, but there were flecks of the most beautiful caramel at that moment. Swallowing hard, she looked at his nose, trying to remember her questions. She had worked on them all morning on the way to the compound. She was ready to impress. Why, she wasn’t sure, but she was!

  “The Blackhawks are playing some incredible hockey after a slow start, but they’re number one, while we’re trailing in the number two spot. These next two games are crucial to set the tone for the rest of the season. What is the plan going into the game tomorrow night at the United Center?”

  “Well, Ms. Soledad, it’s to go in there and win. We know what we need to do: we need to play a solid sixty minutes, get shots on goal, and watch our zone. From what I heard today, Monroe is getting the start. So we need to protect our goalie and give him a clear view so he can stop what he needs to. And we need to screen their goalie to get some pucks in the back of the net.”

  She nodded, though she was uneasy with the way his eyes stayed on hers. “Is that your plan?”

  His brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  “Is it your plan to play your average thirty-three minutes on ice, fully, and get as many shots as you can on goal?”

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “Have you worked on your shot? Because your wrister isn’t getting them in the way it usually does.”

  His eyes darkened. “Is that right, Ms. Soledad?”

  “It is, and our fan base, along with myself, we’re wondering what your plan is to get them in.”

  “Guess I’ll have to take a class from you, for starters, and maybe then I’ll score.”

  She’d wanted to fluster him, make him feel stupid the way he had her. But now, as they stared into each other’s eyes, she wasn’t sure who was flustering whom. “I think that would be a good segment right there, don’t you, boys? Brianna Soledad giving me lessons on my wrister?” Laughter rang loudly in his voice while Brie held his gaze. Looking back to her, he smiled. “Anytime you want to do that, let me know. I’ll be there.”

  For some reason, her lips stopped working as Vaughn turned and left the little interview room. Even a room over, she could hear his laughter, and she felt like a complete dumbass.

  That backfired like a motherfucker.

  “You didn’t ask any of our questions,” Travis said, and she nodded.

  “I wanted to ask something better.”

  “Well, that was worthless because we can’t use any of it.” Glancing away, she felt her tears burning her eyes. “Plus, everyone already beat him up about his wrister, and if you would have read our questions, you would have seen that.”

  Raising her head, she looked at the prompter and read what Travis had said.

  How do you feel about everyone saying your wrister is off?

  Great. Fucking great.

  It was off, but she didn’t want to be like everyone else and beat him up over it more. She had wanted to impress him a bit because she knew he was only off from trying to score so hard. She wanted him to say that, because that was good hockey talk. When a player was desperate, they got sloppy, and if she hadn’t known that before, she knew that now. She was the sloppy reporter, and because of that, she was now the douche.

  That didn’t sit well with her.

  At all.

  Even if she didn’t like him.

  At all…

  Holding his stick out, Vaughn flexed his wrist back and forth, moving the stick to make the blade go the way he wanted. As he looked down the shaft, his mind was full of all the questions all those reporters had kept asking.

  Do you feel your signature wrister isn’t your shot anymore?

  You haven’t scored on a wrister in seven games. What’s the problem?

  You were signed to this team because of your sick wrister. What is wrong?

  At first, he didn’t care; he wasn’t the least bit worried about his signature wrister. He was in a bit of a dry spell, scoring-wise, so when he was on the ice, he was just trying to get a goal. He didn’t care how it went in or what he had to do to get it in there, only that it went in, which is what he told most of the reporters during media day. But saying the same thing over and over again just sucked, and then he started to doubt himself. Which he did not like doing. He was always sure of himself—yeah, he didn’t think shit through—but in the end, he knew what he was doing.

  And then Brie Soledad happened.

  He hadn’t expected that from her. He fully expected to go in there, get asked two whack-ass generic questions and then leave. Their little exchange in the concourse had been fun, witty, and he loved how quick on her feet she was. If she reported the way she went back and forth with him off camera, he’d never want to skip a media day ever. But when he went in there, he was pissed about everyone doubting him. And then it went to hell when he learned she thought the same. He could take a beating; that wasn’t it. Words didn’t bother him the way they did some because they were just words. Actions were what mattered to him. It was easy to do something or say something, but what mattered was how you acted after, and those reporters were nothing to him. They didn’t define his career. He did. The only people who mattered when it came to his career were him and Elli Adler.

  That was it.

  Yet, Brie’s words hurt.

  And that fucking sucked.

  Swallowing hard, he twisted his wrist, sniping the little sock ball toward the wall. It sent Tricksie into a frenzy as she rushed for it, bringing it back before dropping it and looking up at him, her little tail going wild.

  “Good girl.”

  Reaching for the sock with the blade, he did that over and over again as Tricksie continually fetched the makeshift puck for him. When Jensen came into the room, Vaughn saw him out of the corner of his eye as he held hold his phone out while he shot the puck toward the wall, Tricksie bringing it back for him. “Have you talked to Wren?”

  Still watching the puck, Vaughn nodded. “Yeah, she’ll be here around six to get baby girl.”

  “Okay, but did you talk to her?”

  “She made me do therapy this morning, which consisted of me asking her to marry me and driving her crazy. We didn’t talk about anything.”

  “You should stop that.”

  Vaughn scoffed, looking over at his friend who was standing with his arms over his chest. “You gonna beat me up if I don’t?”

  “Yes.”

  Vaughn laughed. “I needed that. Thanks.”

  “Really. Stop, I don’t like it.”

  Leaning on his stick, he looked over at Jensen and held his gaze. “Fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anytime. Now, why am I supposed to talk to the girl I’m not allowed to ask to marry me any longer?”

  “According to Elaina, she has a stomach bug.”

/>   Vaughn only blinked at the mention of Wren and Wells’s mom. “Okay?”

  “Okay. Then we should board Tricksie and maybe go over and bring her soup? Check in on her? Fuck, I don’t know, Vaughn. We are her family here, and we do nothing for her.”

  “Because she won’t let us, Jenny. Shit, I’ll call her.” Rolling his eyes, he pulled out his phone as Jensen yelled, “No, don’t!”

  Confused, Vaughn looked over at him. “What the hell do you want me to do?”

  “Don’t tell her I said anything. Or that I called Elaina.”

  “Anything else, Jennifer?”

  Shooting him a deadpan look, he bit out, “No, asshole.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered as he dialed Wren’s number.

  She answered on the fifth ring. “What?”

  “You sound like death.”

  “I feel like it. What do you want? I don’t have to be there till six.”

  “This is true, but I was calling to make sure we were good. But maybe I should board her?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Do you need soup?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Do you need me to come fluff your pillow?”

  “Fuck you once more.”

  “How about a little back rub?”

  “Good-bye, Vaughn, I’ll see you at six.”

  The line went dead. Looking over at Jensen, he shrugged. “She’s fine.”

  “She’s sick.”

  “Wren doesn’t get sick, and if she did, no one would know because she doesn’t let anyone do anything that involves her. I don’t even think Wells knows her middle name.”

  Jensen made a face. “They’re siblings.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re an idiot, and I think we should find a place to board Tricksie.”

  “You can, and then you can call Wren and tell her you did.”

  “No, it will piss her off.”

  “You’re right, and I’m not doing it. Plus, Tricksie doesn’t want to go anywhere but to Auntie Wrenny’s. Huh, baby girl?” When she barked happily, Vaughn looked back to Jensen. “See?”

  “She. Is. A. Dog.”

  Bark, bark!

  “She’s a person stuck in a dog body, thank you very much.”