WILD ZONE, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel

by Skye Jordan

  She’d been his rock too. Maybe more like a pebble, considering the amount of time he’d had with her. But he could clearly see she could have been the rock he’d always wanted in his life. And he’d fucked that up.

  Tate buckled, trying to cover with an elbow on the table to prop him up.

  “Talk to her again,” Quinn said. “She made peace with mom and me. Working our way back to a family won’t be easy, but she’s really trying. And I know she loves you.”

  Servers swept away dinner plates and replaced them with dessert, a key lime streusel. Individual circular delicacies with a graham cracker crust and a layer of key lime pie beneath a decadent layer of streusel drizzled with icing and topped with a lime wedge. And on the side of each plate a small, tented card stood beside the dessert.

  Tate’s name was hand lettered on the front of his. His heart jumped. Then he darted a look at the other cards to see if those were also named for their owner. But the others were blank.

  He darted a look at Quinn and she immediately answered his unspoken question. “I have no idea what those are.”

  People around the table picked up their cards and, delighted, read a handful of quotes about food. Some funny. Some simple truths. Nothing earth shattering. But somehow Tate knew his would mean something.

  “Read it,” Quinn urged softly.

  Tate’s walls crumbled away and emotions rose to the surface. He picked up the card and opened it.

  "Food is symbolic of love when words are inadequate." —A lan D. Wolfelt

  Without a word, Tate pushed his chair back and stood, starting for the kitchen. He needed her. He needed her in his life. He needed her to be his rock. He had no idea how he was going to make her see how desperately he needed her, wanted her, loved her, but he pushed through the doors to the kitchen in search of her.

  The sous chefs and service staff hummed through the space like bees. In comparison to the relaxed, light atmosphere in the dining room, this space seemed to be on fast forward. He scanned the space for her.

  One of the sous chefs caught his eyes. “Hello, sir.” He wiped his hands on his apron and faced Tate with a smile. “What can I do for you?”

  “Olivia. Where is she?”

  His smile faltered. “Oh, she, she had something important to take care of. She had to leave. I assure you we have everything under control—”

  “You’re doing a great job,” Tate interrupted. “Did she say where she was going or what she had to do?”

  “Oh no, sir. I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “As soon as she finished with dessert, she left.”

  17

  Olivia stared out at the tarmac, but she didn’t see it. All her focus was on the voice of Le Cordon Bleu’s financial aid coordinator in her ear.

  “I’m so sorry to hear you won’t be joining us,” Bijou said. “We miss you here. Albert and Fitz will be sad.”

  Olivia smiled. The classes and seminars she’d taken at the school had led to a lot of work for her. So she knew most of the staff personally, which was why Bijou was calling her on a Sunday after getting Olivia’s email.

  “I’m sad too. Very sad. But I’m sure another lucky person will benefit from the scholarship and I’ll continue to apply. Eventually—”

  “Actually, I talked to Lourdes last night after I got your email. She looked over the candidates again and didn’t feel any of them rose to the level of consideration necessary for her to take the scholarship from you. We can’t change the due dates or starting dates, but Lourdes has agreed to hold the scholarship for you if you can start in the next session and if you can secure the scholarship with your portion of the total within two weeks.”

  Olivia inhaled sharply. Heat burned along her ribs. Tears pushed to her eyes. “Oh my God.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Are you serious?”

  Bijou laughed. “Oui, mon cherie.”

  She closed her eyes and tears pushed past her lashes. “I can’t thank you enough. Please thank Lourdes for me. I promise you, you won’t regret it. I will make you all so proud.”

  “Oh, cherie,” she said with affection in her voice, “you already make us proud. Very proud.”

  Olivia disconnected and held the phone to her chest. Gratitude welled inside her until she ached with it.

  Her first thought was to call Tate and tell him.

  That dragged her down a little. Okay, a lot.

  Olivia collected her suitcase, moved to a corner chair in her gate area and curled up. Holding her phone close, she watched the jets take off and land and taxi. Carts and people trailed over the tarmac.

  Her life was on target once again. On an even better trajectory than when she’d come. Her cooking and catering skills had taken a leap in the right direction. She’d broken through that ugly barrier standing between her and her mother and sister, and they could start rebuilding. She’d get the money for school back from her mother in a few more days when she’d collected final payments from several clients, and Quinn had promised to get her mother to a business consultant even if she had to drag Teresa by the hair.

  Olivia had also fallen in love.

  And she had the broken heart to prove it.

  She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead to her knee.

  Maybe her life wasn’t aimed at that bulls-eye quite right after all.

  Tate wandered toward his gate with his duffle over his shoulder, his head down, reading a book on his phone, muttering to himself.

  When he nearly missed running into someone, he lowered his phone. “Fuck it.”

  He’d study on the plane.

  He wandered into the TSA pre-check line, and breezed through security. He loved flying out of Washington National. With only three wings in the main terminal, it was so much smaller and quieter than Dulles, and much easier to reach with Metro.

  He looked around for somewhere to eat. He was starving and he needed a drink. He’d barely eaten anything all day yesterday and hadn’t been able to work up an appetite for anything but Olivia today.

  Now, his body was demanding fuel. Tate wandered toward his gate, the very last in the terminal, checking menus of eateries as he passed. But he still couldn’t find anything that interested him.

  “Drink first,” he muttered to himself. Maybe that would help him relax. Then, maybe he could eat.

  He turned the corner in the last section of the terminal and found the American Tap Room. Tate found a table, dropped his duffle on a chair and sat. When a waitress came by he said, “Bring me your favorite beer on tap.”

  She grinned, nodded and moved to the bar.

  Tate planted his elbows on the table and rubbed his face with both hands. “Je suis désolé.” He knew his pronunciation sucked. He could only hope she appreciated the effort. “Je t'aime. “Je reste jusqu'à ce que vous voyez que vous pouvez me faire confiance.”

  “Here you go.” The waitresses voice brought his head up. “Devil’s Backbone.”

  He smirked. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  She moved on to the next table and Tate wrapped his hand around the cold glass and inhaled the rich scent. “Je reste jusqu'à ce que vous voyez…” His tongue got all tangled. “Goddamnit.”

  He lifted the glass to his lips, inhaled deeply and filled his mouth with the bold beer. As he set the drink down, he watched people wander past on their way to their gates. During a lull in foot traffic, his gaze moved deeper into the seating area of the gate beyond, which was empty, and the windows that looked out onto the tarmac.

  He wondered if Olivia was already back in Paris. Wondered how long it would be before she’d talk to him again. He’d texted and called her several times last night, but she’d never answered.

  Movement in the corner drew his gaze. Someone was sitting there, looking out the window. A little haven in a sea of strangers. When they left maybe he’d do the same until it was time to board.

  He took another drink of his beer, trying to relax. Trying to let things fall where they should instead of always forcing them. Acr
oss the way, the person stood and paced in front of the window. It was a woman and she was silhouetted against the bright sunlight outside.

  Tate sighed, thinking of Olivia. Of how badly he wanted to feel her in his arms. Of what a long road it could be back to trust between them.

  Behind him on the television, an ESPN sportscaster interviewed an athlete. Around him, people chatted or worked while waiting for their flight. But Tate was restless. Anxious to board his flight and get on with his life.

  He left a twenty on the table beneath his half empty beer and strolled into the aisle. Hudson News drew him. A magazine or a novel might keep his mind busy. He started that direction. The woman haunting the empty gate wandered back to her seat in the corner. Something about the way she curled her feet under her and dropped her head into her hands stopped Tate in his tracks.

  He couldn’t get a better look at her without walking into the darkened area, and the thought of interfering in her little haven pushed his feet toward Hudson News. But no magazine caught his interest. Every novel seemed too intense.

  “I’m just fucked,” he muttered to himself, leaving with nothing but two bottles of water.

  Before he knew it, he was wandering into the empty gate area. And halfway to the window, his feet stopped dead again. The woman’s chin rested on her bent knee, where she stared out the window. Now, he could see better and familiarity zinged down his spine.

  “Olivia?” He thought the word more than spoke it, but she responded, glancing toward him.

  Olivia.

  His heart rate spiked. His stomach flipped.

  Ah, fuck, he wasn’t ready. Je…something. Je suis…something.

  She twisted in her seat to face him. “H-hi.” Her gaze darted behind him, then around the gate, as if that would explain his presence. “What… Oh.” Some excitement or shock or something seemed to leak from her demeanor. “You must be headed to Ontario.”

  He shook his head, but his feet carried him straight to her. She’d been crying. Her eyes were swollen and red. Her cheeks botchy. Her hair was up in a messy bun.

  She looked vulnerable and sad.

  His heart surged. He dropped his duffle and lowered to a crouch in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

  Her gaze darted away and she shook her head. With her legs still curled under her, she was tucked into a safe little cocoon. She looked young and fresh but…

  “She’s just a little lost.”

  Quinn’s words floated into his head and he knew in that moment, she’d been right. Olivia, for all her strength, her ambition, her drive, was also a little lost. Which was exactly how Tate felt right now.

  “I, um…” she sniffled. “Missed my flight.”

  Suddenly, Tate couldn’t think of what to say. Didn’t know where to start. He put the water bottles on the floor and clasped one hand over her thigh, the other over her bare foot.

  “Did everything go okay yesterday?” Her eyes lifted to his. “After I left? The guys I was working with were really experienced. I knew they could handle plating desserts. I talked to mom this morning. She said you told her it was a record-breaking—”

  He cupped her face and leaned in, kissing her. After a second, Olivia sighed and a little whimper carried from her throat. He pulled back, met her eyes and found tears sliding down her cheeks.

  “Baby, I’m sorry.” He wiped at her tears and she curled her hands around his wrists, the move so sweet, he felt his love for her blossom in his chest. He kissed her again, gentler. Sweeter. He felt the moment Olivia let go of her barriers, leaning into the kiss with a moan of relief. Tate opened to her and she responded. Just like that, they were in sync. They were connected. They were communicating.

  He pulled back and stroked the stray strands of hair away from her face. “I have so much to say, but I wasn’t expecting to see you for at least another ten, twelve hours. Now my head’s all jumbled and I can’t think.”

  Her brow pulled. “What?” She looked around again. “Aren’t you going to Ontario?”

  He laughed, lowered to his knees and pulled her into his arms. She locked her arms around his neck and buried her face against his throat with another whimper that tugged at his heart.

  “No,” he said, holding her tight. “I cancelled Ontario. I’m on my way to Paris.”

  She gasped and pulled back. “What?”

  He exhaled. So much to say. But his brain was floating on a rush of endorphins that made thinking extremely difficult. “I canceled Ontario. I want to spend the rest of the summer getting to know you. I want to spend the next few months showing you who I am. I’m going to earn your trust back, Liv.” He pulled his ticket from his pocket and pushed it into her hands. “One way ticket, baby. I’m not coming back until we are as solid as granite.”

  “Oh my God…”

  More tears spilled. He couldn’t tell if they were happy tears or sad tears or frustrated tears, but it didn’t matter. Nothing would change his plans of spending the rest of his free time proving to her that they were meant to be together.

  “Did you get another flight?” he asked. “What time does it leave? Maybe I can change flights.”

  “No.” She wiped at her face and laughed. “I didn’t really miss my flight. I mean I did, but not by accident. I was here, ready. Everyone boarded, but I couldn’t make myself move. I couldn’t make myself get on the plane, so I didn’t bother rescheduling.”

  “Baby, why?”

  “I didn’t want to leave you.”

  His heart split wide open. He pulled her back to him and wrapped her tight. “Shit, I love you so fucking much, Liv. Wait, wait.” he pulled back, squeezing his eyes shut to pull up the memory. Then opened his eyes and held her gaze. “Je t'aime. That’s all I got. I would have had more if I’d had some time to study on the plane.”

  She laughed, nodded. “I love you, too. And I’ve been sitting here for an hour trying to figure out what to do and what to say to fix—”

  “There’s nothing to fix.” He pulled back and kissed her forehead. “We just need time to get to know each other. And we have months to do that now.” Guilt seeped in. “I’m so sorry about school, Liv. I can’t even believe—”

  “It’s okay.” She shook her head. “It turned out okay.”

  “No. You’re going and I’m paying for it. I can’t tell you how many people raved about you last night. We can argue all you want about the bill, but I’m—”

  “No. You’re not,” she said with that steel streak of hers. Then her lips turned in a little grin. “I am going, but you’re not paying for it because you don’t need to. They’re letting me keep the scholarship. I just have to start next term.”

  “When is that?”

  “Three months.”

  The smile that took over his face sank all the way to his core.

  “Well, then, baby,” he cupped her face. “Let’s go sync our tickets. Because we’ve got nothing but you, me, time and Paris in our immediate future. How does that sound?”

  She kissed him, long and sweet. And her blue eyes sparkled when she met his gaze. “Ça sonne comme le ciel.”

  He grinned and pulled her close, squeezing his eyes closed and absorbing all the joy and love she’d brought to his life. “Sounds like heaven to me, too.”

  Dear Reader

  Thank you for reading Wild Zone.

  I had fun challenging Tate’s saint with Olivia’s free spirit. I think they are good for each other, forcing them both to embrace parts of themselves they otherwise wouldn’t have faced. I hope you enjoyed their story!

  This edition of Wild Zone includes a bonus book — RECKLESS, the first book in my Renegades series. If you haven’t read the Renegades yet, I hope you’ll give it a try. If you’ve read and loved the Renegades, you might enjoy rereading this New York Times bestseller again!

  Read on!

  Books in the Rough Riders’ Hockey Series:

  Quick Trick

  Hot Puck

  Dirty Score

 
Wild Zone

  Keep up to date on all my new releases by signing up for my newsletter here: http://bit.ly/2bGqJhG

  Until next time, happy reading!

  ~ Skye

  About the Author

  Skye’s New York Times bestselling novels are all about enjoying that little wild streak we all have, but probably don’t let out often enough. About those fantasies we usually don’t get the opportunity to indulge. About stretching limits, checking out the dark side, playing naughty and maybe even acting a little wicked. They’re about escape and fun and pleasure and romance. And, yes, even love, because Skye is ultimately a happily ever after kinda gal.

  Skye is a California native recently transplanted to the East Coast and living in Alexandria, Virginia, just outside Washington DC with her husband of 25 years. She has two grown daughters in college in Colorado and Oregon. In her free time she’s always taking classes and attending seminars. She’s currently loving mosaics, sculling, writing retreats, watercolor, pastry and cooking classes and knitting.

  Make sure you sign up for her newsletter to get the first news of her upcoming releases, giveaways, freebies and more! http://bit.ly/2bGqJhG

  You can find Skye online here:

  @Skye_Jordan

  SkyeJordanAuthor

  www.SkyeJordanAuthor.com

  Skye@SkyeJordanAuthor.com

  Also by Skye Jordan

  RECKLESS, Renegades Book 1

  REBEL, Renegades Book 2

  RICOCHET, Renegades Book 3

  RUMOR, Renegades Book 4

  RELENTLESS, Renegades 5

  RENDEZVOUS, Renegades 6

  FORBIDDEN FLING, Wildwood Book 1

  WILD KISSES, Wildwood Book 2

  QUICK TRICK, Rough Riders Hockey Book 1