Roughing (Ottawa Titans Book 1)

by Sarah Hegger

  The Humane Society had called in a panic asking her to help them sift through applications. She’d used her lunch break to drive out there and pick them up. If it were up to her, she’d take all the dogs, all the time. This way she could still help the puppies out.

  Now the women’s auxiliary was deadlocked over baked versus knitted goods at their stall for the high school fundraiser. Libby Singer had threatened to resign her presidency, for the eighth time this year and it was only March, and current treasurer Elene Clemmens had her foot in Libby’s back, shoving her out of the president’s chair. Auxiliary members hovered between those two camps, many changing sides. Elizabeth had managed to get the rock and the hard place talking to each other, and tensions had eased somewhat.

  To top off a fantastic day, Jane had stomped into the kitchen as Elizabeth was sliding dinner into the oven for them.

  “You need to cover for me.” In a poured-on dress that left nothing to the imagination and glaring at her from between road markings of black liner, Jane had stormed into the kitchen and struck a defiant pose. “My friends and I are going downtown for a pub crawl.”

  If Mom were here, she’d handle her gently but firmly. “Janey, you’re not old enough to drink and none of your friends have their full license yet. If they’re caught drinking, you know what the repercussions will be.”

  “I have a fake ID.” Jane looked at her as if her head might explode. “And we won’t get caught. We’ll take an Uber.”

  Even as she said the words, Elizabeth braced for the hideous fallout. “I’m sorry, Janey, but I’m not going to cover for you. I’d be worried sick about you, and if anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”

  Jane’s eyes narrowed like a striking viper’s. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulled her lips back in a snarl. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. You’re not fucking Mom.”

  “No, I’m not Mom.” She refused to rise to the bait being doublehanded about. “But just because Mom’s not here, doesn’t mean we can do what we want.”

  “I’m eighteen. Nobody can tell me what to do,” Jane bellowed.

  “And the drinking age is nineteen.” Elizabeth put the salad in the fridge. “I’m not telling Dad you’re with me.”

  “Jesus, Elizabeth. Were you always so fucking lame?”

  She probably was. She set the timer for the oven to turn itself off, because nobody would bother if she didn’t. “And don’t you have school tomorrow anyway?”

  “I’m going!” Jane stormed out of the house, slamming the door hard enough to make the windowpanes rattle.

  Elizabeth finished making dinner for her father and left it on the counter. She also left a note telling him Jane was out with her friends. She tried to introduce her concerns around Jane’s plans without being alarmist. Dad wouldn’t listen anyway, but she had to try.

  That done, she had a date with Haagen Dazs Belgian Chocolate and the adoption applications for the Humane Society.

  Jane worried her. Even before Mom had left, Jane had been doing pretty much as she wanted. Dad left it to Elizabeth to try to check the runaway train of teen willfulness that was Jane Margaret Rogers.

  In her car, she put in a call to Mountain Vista.

  “Elizabeth,” Carol sounded tinny over the Bluetooth connection. “How are you? Busy as ever?”

  She went with her standard response. “It keeps me out of trouble.”

  “And us grateful,” Carol said. As director of the retirement center, Carol was always scrambling for volunteers. “Are we seeing you tomorrow?”

  Every Thursday evening for drama night. “Yup.”

  “Elizabeth.” Carol sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, we couldn’t do drama night without you, but isn’t there some stud whose libido you should be torturing?”

  If only. Not since Peter anyway. Peter had been a nice guy but there had been no libido torturing for either of them. “You know me, a sucker for a show tune.”

  “Ha!” Carol snorted. “You’re a pushover and we all take shameless advantage of you.”

  Carol said much the same most times they talked. “Anyway, I called for an update on the new bus.”

  “About that.” Carol sighed. “So far, we’ve raised seventy-eight dollars and twenty-five cents.”

  Elizabeth waved to the Jessop family in the car next to her. Three of the four boys were on Chris’s hockey team. She rolled down her window and mouthed, “Hockey forms,” to Debbie Jessop.

  Debbie nodded, waved, and they both drove on.

  She turned her attention back to Carol. “Somebody donated a quarter?”

  “They told me every drop counts,” Carol said. “And they’re not wrong.”

  At this rate the retirement village would have its new bus by the time she took up residence there. “All right then.” Elizabeth turned into her street. “I’ll put my thinking cap on.”

  The residents really needed this new bus to get to their shopping days, and for excursions out of the center. The old one was on its last legs and had never had enough space to meet the senior’s needs.

  “I’d appreciate that,” Carol said. “I don’t know what the residents would do without you.”

  Walking everywhere seemed a certainty. “You won’t have to find out,” she said.

  She hadn’t meant to get dragged into fundraising for the new bus, like she hadn’t meant for Thursday night drama club to become a regular thing.

  Drama club had started as Christmas caroling two years ago. Somehow their caroling group had been persuaded to come back for New Year, and then Perry Staven’s birthday the following Thursday. At which stage most of the other carolers had seen the pattern and dropped out, leaving her and Leonard Smytkowski. As a child, he’d been in the New York Ballet’s Nutcracker Suite for three years running and liked nothing more than to “immerse himself in the glory of the theatre.”

  Which reminded her she needed to have the script for South Pacific copied, because Leonard’s idea of glorious immersion didn’t include the grunt work.

  Chris never got why Elizabeth enjoyed working at Mountain Vista, but both Elizabeth’s sets of grandparents had died before she’d gotten to know them. She loved hearing the resident’s stories, and spending time with them. They were a charming mixture of wisdom, fragility, and past giving a crap. Some residents, mostly those in pain, could run the gamut from crotchety to mean, but they didn’t bother her. Most had earned the right to a little bad temper.

  Elizabeth turned into her condo parking lot and stopped. “Damn it!”

  A red minivan in Elizabeth’s spot meant Bonnie from 4B had her boyfriend over for the night.

  “Once.” Elizabeth glared at the minivan. “I said you could park there once.”

  She idled behind Bonnie’s minivan, trying to work up the righteous indignation to get Bonnie to move her car.

  Nope. She didn’t have it in her. A request to move the car would result in a debate, possibly tears on Bonnie’s part and belligerence from Randy.

  Elizabeth parked in a visitor’s space and grabbed the box of sign-up sheets to Chris’s team from her backseat. Once she was done with the adoption applications, she could start getting the team paperwork together. It didn’t matter how many times you told parents they needed to sign the waiver, there was still the chase to get it done. As a cop, Chris didn’t have the time.

  Also, and more to the point, Chris lacked the patience with the parents, but she was great with the kids, and Chris’s kids needed the team.

  Rounding the corner from visitor’s parking, she saw Sam sitting on the stairs leading to her condo. She stopped and her blood pressure shot up.

  “No.” She shook her head because her hands were too full for appropriate hand gestures. “Whatever you’re doing here, and whatever it is you want, the answer is no.”

  “Lizzie.” Sam stood and spread his arms wide. Dressed in jeans and a Nike sweatshirt beneath his open coat, he looked well. Delicious. Better than he had the last time she’d s
een him. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

  “I don’t need to.” She climbed the few steps separating them and sidled past him. “My mother hasn’t called, which means your mother is fine. We’re done.”

  “Where’s your car?” He took the box of signups from her.

  After a brief tussle, Elizabeth let him have it. “Parked around the side.”

  “But isn’t that your spot?” Sam jerked his thumb at Bonnie’s minivan.

  She wasn’t getting into it with him. She wasn’t getting into anything with him. “Yup.”

  “Why are they parked in your spot?”

  Elizabeth dug her key from her purse. “Go away, Sam.”

  “I will, if you tell me why someone else is parked in your spot.”

  “Why do you care?” Elizabeth turned the key. It jammed in the lock and stuck. “Damn it!”

  “I don’t care.” Sam shouldered her out of the way, tucked the box beneath his arm and took the key. “But if it was me parked in your spot, you’d have keyed my door by now.”

  Damn lock slid back as if it hadn’t spent the last three months jamming for her. “Bonnie’s a single mother, and Randy is the best boyfriend she’s had in a while. He’s good to her.”

  Smirking, Sam opened her door and motioned her to precede him. “Of course.”

  “You’re not coming in.” Elizabeth barred his path. “And what does of course mean anyway?”

  “Busy Lizzie’s bleeding heart to the rescue.” Sam sidestepped her. “This won’t take long.”

  She didn’t have a bleeding heart, but life had been really shitty for Bonnie with her ex, and Randy—parking stealing aside—took care of Bonnie and her four-year-old twins. Bonnie certainly didn’t need an uptight, picky neighbor getting in her face. It took a couple of minutes extra—tops—to walk from visitor’s parking to her door.

  Of more immediate concern was Sam’s intrusion in her space. He took up too much real estate and her condo felt too small to contain him. As much as she wanted him gone, that set to his jaw said he wouldn’t be going before he said his piece, and she certainly couldn’t pick up all six three, two hundred and ten pounds of him and toss him out.

  So what if she had his stats memorized, most of greater Ottawa did and he didn’t need to know that.

  Slipping out of his coat, he looked around him. “This is nice.”

  Elizabeth snatched his coat off the back of her couch where he’d tossed it and hung it by the door. Her condo was nice. It was her space, handpicked by her to make her feel as if she was in her own private oasis. Neutral walls, and hardwood floors gave the condo an elegant feel. Elizabeth had scattered brightly patterned green accents throughout, with a bit of over the top here and there.

  “I actually came by to thank you for yesterday.” Sam put the box of forms on the kitchen counter.

  Now she knew he wanted something, and it was a big enough favor he was prepared to kiss ass, her ass at that, to get it. She folded her arms and stared at him. “Uh-huh?”

  “Mom called me this morning and she’s staying in Europe.” He held out his hand. “We did good work there.”

  Elizabeth eyed his outstretched hand. If she took that, he’d take a mile. No way. “How long have we known each other, Sam?”

  “Since we were babies.” His expression grew guarded.

  A pain in her ass, but never stupid, he knew when to get wary. “In all that time have we ever worked well together?”

  “Well, th—”

  “Sam!”

  “Okay, we suck at teamwork.” He realized his mistake and tried to backtrack. “Or we did until yesterday.”

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “Try again.”

  He met her stare, challenge glittering in his blue eyes. “I’m here to express my gratitude?”

  Like hell. She snorted.

  “Bury the hatchet?”

  “In my back?”

  “Talk about old times?”

  “I don’t want blood on my walls.”

  “Kindle an old flame?”

  She mimed dry heaving.

  “Okay.” Sam held up his hands. “I’m here to ask you for a favor.”

  “Ah hah!” Now that had the ring of truth to it and Elizabeth walked into the kitchen. She grabbed her ice cream and a spoon and sat down by her island, facing him. “What do you want?”

  “Is that Haagen Dasz?” Sam zeroed in on her ice cream.

  Elizabeth dug her spoon in and popped it in her mouth. All that rich chocolatey bitter and sweet creaminess exploded on her tongue. “Is there any other type of ice cream?”

  Sam studied her mouth, then rounded the island, grabbed himself a spoon from the drawer and sat beside her. He wagged his fingers for the carton.

  Elizabeth glared, and then handed it over.

  He slid a full spoon into his mouth, closed his eyes and groaned. “That is the bomb, right there.”

  “Yup.” Elizabeth reclaimed her ice cream. Sam’s mouth was hard like the rest of his face, but when he smiled it spread wide and surprised you with its warmth. “Get to it, Stone. I’m tired, I’ve had a shitty day, and I’ve got a life to live.”

  “Your shitty day have anything to do with whoever stole your parking space?” He jerked his head in that direction.

  His sable hair caught the light and looked soft and silky. It was so unfair how men got the hair and the eyelashes. Especially unfair when that man was Sam. She should have shaved his head when they were kids.

  Oh, that’s right, she had.

  She smirked and pushed him the ice cream. “Nah, that’s just the cherry on top.”

  He looked at her. Sam did a great look. It silently demanded you tell him stuff.

  Elizabeth resisted for thirty seconds, and then caved. “Car belongs to Bonnie, my downstairs neighbor. When her boyfriend comes around, he uses her spot and she takes mine.”

  “And you let her?” Sam gaped.

  “I let her once.” Okay and then there had been the time Randy broke his finger. “Okay twice she asked, and I said yes. Now she doesn’t ask anymore.”

  Sam shook his head. “So tell her to move her car.”

  “She’s a single mother.”

  “And?”

  Damn he could gnaw a thing to death. “It’s not easy to raise two little boys without support.”

  “I get that Lizster, got all the love in the world for a single mother, but what does that have to do with her taking your parking?”

  They could go back and forth all night with this. “Because I’m tired, all right. I haven’t had the best day and all I want to do is eat my ice cream in peace, put on some TV and relax.”

  “No date?” His eyes gleamed. “No Lizzie getting busy?”

  “Ugh.” She snatched her ice cream back. “You’re so annoying.” Which raised another point. “And didn’t you hear the part about me wanting to eat my ice cream and relax. Alone.”

  “I heard you.” He grinned, his annoying smug, too charming grin. “But I’m ignoring that. Back to the neighbor.”

  “No, I don’t want to talk about that.” She shoved her mouth full of ice cream.

  Sam snagged her carton. “Then I’ll talk.” He winked. “I’ll even get to the point.”

  She rolled her eyes because words were wasted on him.

  “You know I got suspended?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, there’s a chance I can get that suspension lifted. If I toe the line and play nice.” Sam shifted his gaze to the side. His tell for when he wasn’t giving her the entire truth.

  She poked his shoulder with her spoon. “You’re not telling me something.”

  “I’m telling you everything.” He ostentatiously brushed the spot where her spoon had left a small mark on his shirt.

  “Nope.” Elizabeth dug out more ice cream and ate it. Keeping her gaze on his, she shook her head slowly.

  Sam scowled, as he made up his mind whether to come clean with her or not. If he did or not wo
uld tell her how important this favor was to him.

  He opened his mouth and shut it again. Then took a deep breath. “Okay I’ll tell you, but this is not public knowledge and I don’t want it getting that way.”

  She crossed her heart with her spoon. They may hate each other but she wouldn’t blab his secrets. She liked his mother. And her mother loved his mother and the whole thing would get nasty.

  “My team is pissed at me.” He clenched his jaw. “They are talking about not renewing my contract.”

  That did surprise her. Since the day he’d stepped on the ice, teams had been chasing Sam. Girls too. Except for her. “Are they threatening to trade you?”

  Sam cleared his throat and grabbed the ice cream. “My agent says interest is low.”

  Elizabeth let that sink in. Sam lived and breathed hockey, and he was incredible at it. She couldn’t believe somebody wouldn’t want him. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “The pictures you took yesterday.” He lost all cockiness and met her gaze. “Everybody liked them. They want to see more of them and if they do, it would go a long way to reassuring everyone I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Have you?” She really doubted that.

  Sam smirked. “You know me better than that.”

  “So you want me to take more pictures with you?”

  “Partly.” He side-eyed again. “Maybe also you could let me hang out with you. Doing the things you do. Being all fucking saintly and everything.”

  The insult was too old to hurt. “So, you want us to pretend to hang out and be friends?”

  “And.” He took a breath. “They might have assumed we were more than friends.”

  It was her turn to gape. “Why would they assume that, Sam?”

  She’d kill him if he had said something.

  Sam took out his phone and thumbed it open. He showed her a picture of the two of them.

  Elizabeth looked at it and looked at it again. It did, sort of, look like they were more than they were. Maybe even a bit couply. Somebody pass the eye bleach.

  “I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend.” She handed his phone back to him. “One, because I’m not that good of an actor, and two because I already have someone in my life.”