Playing To Win (The York Bombers Book 2)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  She topped the pitchers off then carried them over to the bar, sitting them down in front of Jason. “On the house. The whole bill. For, you know, the mishap.”

  “Mishap?” Jason snorted and kept wiping at his jeans. He reached for the wet rag and ran it over his head, mussing his dark hair before tossing it to the bar. “That woman is a menace.”

  “She has her moments.”

  “Moments?” Jason finally looked up, his gaze skittering across her face before dropping to the filled pitchers. He paused, frowning, looked back up at her, then shook his head and looked away. “She’s insane.”

  Megan didn’t say anything—she couldn’t, not when her heart was jammed in her throat. For one brief second, shorter time than it took for her heart to skip a beat—she had thought Jason recognized her. But no, he didn’t. She really was a fool.

  He lifted the pitchers from the bar and turned away. Stopped, turned back, the frown still on his face as he looked at her again. Then he shook his head and walked away.

  Megan crossed her arms in front of her and glared at his back, her jaw clenched so hard that her back teeth ground together. Was he really that obtuse? She knew she looked different from that night at Calypso’s but not that different. Not really. How could he not recognize her?

  The air shifted around her and she realized an odd silence had settled over the bar. No, not the entire bar, just the table across the room, the one filled with Jason’s teammates. She looked over, noticed every single head turned in her direction, felt six sets of eyes focused on Jason.

  On her.

  She frowned, wondering what the hell was going on, caught Tyler’s gaze across the room. He smiled and nodded then looked at Jason. What was that all about? Did everyone else know? And oh God, what if they did?

  Heat filled her face, mortification running through her at the thought. She wanted to jump the bar and run out the door and never come back. It was bad enough that Jason didn’t know who she was, after everything they’d done, but for his teammates to know what was going on?

  It was almost too much.

  But she couldn’t move, she was frozen in place. Everything was frozen except her eyes as they moved back to Jason, watching him as he moved across the room.

  Watching as he stopped and turned back around, his head tilted to the side, that frown still on his face. He shook his head, his mouth forming around silent words as he turned around once more and took another step. One more.

  Then stopped and turned back, his eyes meeting hers. Megan dug her fingers into her arms, her lungs seizing as he just stood there, watching her with those glacier-blue eyes. Then his eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock.

  “Holy shit. Michelle!” A smile lit his face as he hurried back to the bar, beer sloshing over the rims of the pitchers and leaving a wet trail on the floor behind him. He sat the pitchers down and leaned across the bar, moving so fast Megan half-expected him to leap across it.

  Her heart slammed into her chest and she took a step toward him.

  Then she stopped. Just stood there, watching him, a hundred different emotions ripping through her.

  None of them the emotions she had expected to feel. Instead of joy, she felt impatience. Instead of happiness, she felt anger. Instead of excitement, she felt frustration. And above them all, she felt a deep sense of apathy, especially when she looked down and noticed the black cord hanging from around his neck—a black cord holding the disc from her bracelet.

  Love Fierce.

  A quirky gift from Haley to remind her that she was worth more. That she deserved better.

  “I can’t believe it’s you! I have been looking all over for you, going to Calypso’s each night, asking around. And holy shit, here you are!”

  “Yeah. Here I am.” Did he notice the flatness in her voice? Or the fact that she hadn’t really moved, except for that first brief step? No, he didn’t. He was still leaning across the bar, resting his weight on his elbows as he smiled at her.

  As he looked at her with those piercing eyes.

  “I had no idea you worked here. You should have told me—”

  “Wow. Really? I’ve been working here for almost a year. My parents own the place.”

  Some of the excitement in his eyes faded, replaced by a flash of confusion. “Oh. I, uh, didn’t realize that.” The words faded, drifting away into the silence surrounding them. His smile vanished, then reappeared once more, not quite as bright as before. “I probably should have realized that, huh? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. I know now. And I’m so happy to see you, Michelle—”

  “That’s not my name.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No.” Megan shifted, feeling her face heat as she looked away. “It’s Megan.”

  “Oh.” Jason moved back from the bar a few inches, still leaning over it but not quite as far. Megan didn’t miss the confusion that crossed his face as he watched her. “Is there some place we could go to talk?”

  Megan forced herself to shake her head, forced herself to glance at the necklace one more time, to remember the meaning behind the words and not give in. “No, I’m sorry. I’m working.”

  “Oh.” Jason glanced over his shoulder then looked back at her and lowered his voice. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me your real name?”

  “Why?” Megan lowered her own voice and stepped closer. “Because I’ve watched you come in here for the last year, almost every night. I’ve watched you sit right there in front of me and not once look at me. I’ve given you your check a hundred times and taken your money and not once did you ever look at me. Even when you were talking to me, you never looked at me. Even a few minutes ago, you didn’t notice me. Didn’t recognize me. You didn’t notice me until I changed the way I looked, became someone I wasn’t. Why would I give you my real name when you couldn’t be bothered with the real me?”

  “I—” Jason snapped his mouth closed, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he glanced over his shoulder. Megan followed his gaze, noticed that his teammates were still watching them. He turned back around, his eyes carefully blank, his expression a little hard when he looked at her.

  “So it was just a game? A joke? You were playing me?”

  No! Megan wanted to shout the word but forced herself to swallow it back. Her mind raced, searching for the right words, words that wouldn’t reveal too much. “It wasn’t a game, no. But when I realized you had no idea who I was, when you didn’t recognize me…”

  No, that wasn’t what she wanted to say. It revealed too much. But it was too late, she couldn’t stop now, couldn’t take the words back. “When you didn’t recognize me, had no clue who I was, I realized—”

  Megan stopped. That wasn’t what she wanted to say, either. She was making a mess of this, making things worse. She took a deep breath and looked away, dropped her gaze to his hands. Strong hands, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails, the backs lightly dusted with baby-fine hair. Memories of those hands against her body, so gentle and giving and tender, sent a wave of heat through her, pooled between her legs. She took another deep breath and moved her gaze again, focusing instead on one of the pitchers filled with amber liquid.

  “I deserve someone who wants to be with me. Who sees the real me, not someone who’s more interested in superficial appearances.” The last few words tumbled from her mouth, fast and soft, so soft she wondered if he even heard her. Jason was quiet for several long minutes. So quiet that she wondered if maybe he had walked away without her realizing it. She looked up and wished she hadn’t because he was looking at her now.

  A flash of hurt simmered in those clear blue eyes. He blinked and the emotion was gone, replaced by an icy hardness that sent a different kind of shiver through her. The muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his jaw, his lips pressed together in a thin line. His broad chest rose and fell with several deep breaths as he continued to watch her in the silence surrounding them.

  Was everyone watching? Had everyone heard? Megan cou
ldn’t tell, couldn’t tear her gaze from his to look around. Did it matter? No, not really. Not when he was looking at her like that, with those intense eyes filled with ice that froze her to the spot.

  He finally looked away, freeing her from his laser gaze. He took another deep breath, forced a laugh that sounded too cold, and shook his head before looking back at her.

  “Superficial? Yeah, sure. That’s damn funny because there was nothing fucking superficial about those two nights. At least, not on my part. I guess you were a different story, huh?”

  Megan opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, only that she needed to say something, to correct him, to tell him that wasn’t what she meant. But he waved her off with an angry slice of his hand through the air and walked away. He paused halfway to the door and looked over at the table filled with his teammates.

  “Jennifer, let’s go.”

  “But—”

  “Now. I’m out of here.” He didn’t wait for her, just kept walking. And all Megan could do was watch as he pushed through the heavy door, watch as the girl grabbed her jacket and scurried after him, pausing long enough to give Megan an odd look.

  Megan kept staring at the door for long minutes after they left, oblivious to everything around her. Wondering what she’d just done, wondering if she’d just made a horrible mistake.

  Or if the mistake had already been made weeks ago.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jason flew across the ice, turned backward, tapped his stick on the ice just before Aaron passed him the puck. He caught it with his blade, cradling it, gentle, so fucking gentle as moved toward the net. Left, right, left again before skating behind the net and coming up on the other side. He pulled back, ready to shoot, felt a heavy weight barrel into him. The shot went wide as his chest hit the pipes, dislodging the net. He hit the ice face-first, a heavy weight resting in the middle of his back.

  Jason grunted, threw the weight off and jumped to his feet. He tossed his stick and gloves to the ice, grabbed a fistful of jersey, and started swinging. Once, twice, his knuckles catching the side of the guy’s jaw, right below the helmet. He saw Aaron and Travis out of the corner of his eye, knew they were holding the other players back, maybe getting in a few swings of their own as Jason pulled back with his fist one more time.

  A blur of black and white rushed at him, hands grabbing his arms and pulling him back as shouts filled the arena. Jason clenched his jaw and shrugged the hands off, nodding, letting the refs know he got the message, he was done.

  He turned his head to the side and spit, then leaned down for his gloves and stick.

  “You worthless mother fucker.” He muttered the words under his breath, low enough that only the player from Hartford could hear him. The stupid son-of-a-bitch went after him again, just like Jason knew he would.

  But it was too late, the refs were already there and pulled him back, started moving him toward the sin bin. One of them looked over at Jason and made a quick motion of his head. “You too, Emory. Five minutes. Let’s go.”

  “Fucking son-of-a-bitch.” Jason muttered the words to himself, swallowing the urge to argue, knowing that arguing would only get him into more trouble. He reached up with one hand, readjusted his helmet, then headed toward the box.

  He dropped to the bench, reached for the bottle sitting to the side and shot a stream into his mouth and swished it around as he looked up at the giant screen. Anger swept through him when he saw how close he’d been to making the shot. If the stupid son-of-a-bitch in the next box over hadn’t tackled him from behind, the Bombers would be up by three now instead of just two.

  Jason leaned to the side and spit the water out, shot another stream into his mouth and swallowed. Yeah, he was pissed. Royally pissed. And not just because of the missed goal or the cheap shot from behind. Shit happened, all part of the game.

  His anger went deeper than that, back to almost two fucking weeks ago when he finally found Michelle. Except her name was Megan, and he didn’t find her—she’d been there all along. Right under his fucking nose.

  Her last words came back to him, too fucking clear in his memory, like she was standing right there next to him.

  I deserve someone who wants to be with me. Who sees the real me.

  What the fuck did that even mean? He did see the real her—all of her, every single inch. So okay, maybe he hadn’t noticed her before when she’d been working. Who the hell cared? He didn’t notice anyone, never paid that close attention to people, not unless he knew them. Or unless someone pointed them out to him. Fuck, he would have never noticed her at Calypso’s either, if Tyler hadn’t pointed her out.

  His gaze moved to the other end of the ice, away from the play he should be watching. He was still fucking pissed at Tyler. The damn goalie knew—had known all along—who Megan was, where she worked, where he could find her. And he never said a word. Not one single fucking word.

  Fucking asshole.

  Jason’s eyes darted to the screen, watching the seconds count down to the end of his penalty. He stood up, stick in hand, waiting for the door to open. His feet hit the ice and he was off, his eyes on the puck as he sped across the ice. Zach passed it across to Kyle, got into position as Jason skated past him. His eyes caught movement behind Zach, watched as one of the players from Hartford moved around the boards.

  Jason spun around, took off in the opposite direction, caught the guy in the chest with his shoulder and sent him flying just as Zach gained control of the puck and shot it toward the net. The horn sounded a split second before the puck crossed the line, signaling the end of the period.

  Fuck. That had been a close one. He saw the disappointment flash across Zach’s face, skated over to him and clapped him on the back. “Nice shot.”

  “Yeah, you too. You’re like a fucking tank out here tonight.”

  Jason grinned, a quick one that faded away as they made their way through the tunnel for the second intermission. “Yeah, guess so.”

  He kept his speed up during the third period, his aggressive play earning him a nod from Coach Torresi. He’d even scored late in the third. So did Zach, sneaking one in just before the final buzzer.

  But Harland was still on a dry streak. The poor guy couldn’t catch a break, no matter what he did. And he looked miserable, like he was beating himself up every spare second.

  Jason climbed on board the bus and made his way to the back. He tossed his bag onto the small luggage rack then dropped into the seat beside Harland. “Are you going to be like this the entire ride back? Because if you are, I don’t want to sit next to you.”

  Harland looked up, frowning. He shook his head, no doubt ready to tell Jason to get lost. Too fucking bad. The man needed some ribbing, needed someone to take his mind off all the shit he was going through. And if Jason was giving Harland shit, that meant he wouldn’t have time to think about his own shit.

  Zach and Tyler took the seats in front of them. The look on Harland’s face was almost laughable. Yeah, the guy needed a distraction, big time. “You’re jinxed.”

  Harland shot him a dirty look. “What?”

  “You heard me. You’re jinxed. You can’t score to save your life.”

  Harland shook his head and looked back out the window just as Zach turned in his seat and leaned over the back. “Yeah, man. Something is definitely going on with you. You’re cursed.”

  “Fucking shit guys. Would you knock it off? I don’t need to hear this shit, okay? It’s just a dry spell. Not a jinx or curse, so just knock it off.” He turned back to the window, trying to ignore them. Tyler leaned over, his dark gaze steady and intense as he watched Harland. Jason curled his hand into a fist then flattened it against his leg, resisting the urge to slug the goalie. Yeah, he was still pissed at him.

  “You’re trying too hard.”

  Harland turned around, pinned Tyler with an angry glare. Maybe Jason wasn’t the only one who wanted to slug Tyler. “What do you mean, I’m trying too hard?”

  T
yler shrugged. “Just what I said. You’re trying too hard. You tense up right before you shoot. Always. You’re trying too hard.”

  Jason and Zach both stared at Tyler, then started laughing.

  “Bullshit. There’s no such thing as trying too hard.”

  “Yeah man.” Zach rolled his eyes and nudged Tyler with his elbow, hard enough that the other man bumped into the window. “He’s cursed. Has been since last year. His game’s gone to shit.”

  “Yeah. So all you have to do is tell us why your game went to shit, and the curse will be gone.” Jason leaned in closer, not quite smiling. That’s what they all wanted to know: why Harland had imploded last year, why he’d been sent back down. But Harland wasn’t talking, no matter how many times they asked him.

  Jason elbowed him in the side. “Come on. Time to come clean. What happened last year?’

  “Let it go.”

  “You know what they say. Confession is good for the soul.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Touchy, touchy.” Jason laughed then settled more comfortably into his seat. Harland glanced around, no doubt wondering if it was too late to change seats.

  “Fine, don’t tell us.” Zach leaned even further over his own seat, a glint in his eyes. “Tell us about your baby mama. You guys together?”

  Jason didn’t miss the flash in Harland’s eyes, the way his body tensed just a little. “Why do you care?”

  “Because man, if you’re not, I wouldn’t mind—”

  Harland’s hand shot out, grabbed Zach’s tie and yanked. “You stay the fuck away from her.”

  “Whoa. Fine. Whatever.” Zach held his hands up, all teasing gone from his eyes. “I was only messing with you. Fuck. I wouldn’t make a play for her. None of us would. You know that.”

  Jason shot Zach a look that let him know how stupid a stunt that had been. Joking or not, he should have known better, especially with the way Harland had been so moody lately. He leaned closer, nudged Harland in the side. “Seriously, though, what’s the story? You guys together or what?”