Dirty Score, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel

by Skye Jordan

  But the cab was here, so she exhaled and tried to release the stress lying heavily in the pit of her stomach. Her mind veered back to Rafe. She was disappointed that he wasn’t coming, but after watching him leave the night before with Tate for an impromptu-but-mandatory night surrounded by quality booze and puck bunnies, she knew it was best. She gave the “love him while you can” method a go. But she hadn’t slept when she’d returned to the hotel. And she knew Rafe and Tate hadn’t returned until the early morning hours because she’d talked to Joe at two a.m. when he’d texted with Have you heard from the boys?

  She was doing the right thing, easing Rafe back where he belonged—out of her life and into his own. He’d played another great game, the perfect kick-start to the final playoffs. He should be out celebrating with his team, not acting like her security blanket.

  But as the taxi slid into place at the curb, Mia had to accept that the nerves strung tight across her shoulders wouldn’t be loosening up until she suffered through introductions at the party on her own and got a few drinks in her. Or maybe not until she’d moved into Danielle’s apartment. Or until she’d found her local grocery store, gym, gas station, and Starbucks.

  A young valet leaned in and smiled as he opened the door. “Here you go, miss. Do you need directions or recommendations tonight?”

  Yes, she needed step-by-step directions on how to go back in time and unsleep with a man. She also needed recommendations on how to find and live on a remote island where no one had ever heard of the game of hockey.

  “No,” she said, returning his smile, “thank you.”

  She gave the driver the address of the bar in Long Beach where the crew was meeting, then settled back in the seat.

  Before the valet had even closed the door, she was struck by how very different this situation was from the night before. Memories of her fairy-tale-like ride just twenty-four hours ago made a melancholy smile turn her lips.

  “Mia!” Rafe’s voice pulled her attention back just before the door closed on a click.

  She sat there a long second, unsure whether to respond or ignore him.

  Rafe made the decision for her when he opened the door, a look of complete confusion on his face. “What are you doing? I thought we were going together.”

  He was wearing what he usually wore into the stadium on game day—a charcoal-gray suit and a crisp white button-down, minus the tie. His freshly showered scent drifted in and teased Mia’s nose. And, damn, she hated seeing him so soon after a game. His hair was still wet, his face still flushed, his eyes still sparkling from all that adrenaline. Heat stirred between her legs.

  Dammit.

  “You must not have gotten my message.” She went for cool but not bitchy. “I said—”

  “Great game? Celebrate with the guys, I’m going to do the party on my own? Screw that.” He slid in beside her and closed the door. The driver peered over his shoulder, his dark eyes darting between them. “Go wherever she told you to go.”

  The driver cut a look at Mia. She sighed, nodded, and avoided talking to Rafe until they were on the road and the angry aura around him had simmered down a notch.

  “Thought you’d be in a pretty good mood tonight,” she said. “You kicked ass in the game.” She looked at the rasp above his left eye. The one he’d gotten from a header into the boards. A header that had cut off Mia’s air for long seconds until he stood up again. “You should probably put ice on that.”

  “I was going to grab some at your room,” he bit out, cutting her an angry look, “but you weren’t there.”

  “If you had read your messages,” she said trying to hold her own temper, “you would have known I wouldn’t be there.”

  “I didn’t check my messages because I was hustling to get ready so I wouldn’t make you late.”

  “Don’t take out your pissy mood on me. Dekker’s the one who slammed you into the boards.”

  “Dekker’s not the one who put me in this pissy mood.”

  “Why are you yelling at me?”

  “Because you just tried to ditch me, and you’ve ignored my texts all day when you’re the only thing I can think about.”

  He hooked a hand around her neck, pulled her in, and covered her mouth with his. An angry murmur vibrated in her throat, and she pushed a hand against his chest. Rafe broke the kiss and curled his fingers into her hair, making her gasp. Then kissed her again. Taking advantage of her parted lips, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, stealing her breath.

  Mia’s frustration melted in the heat, and she tightened her fingers in his shirt. Rafe hummed into her mouth, the sound hungry and pained as he took the kiss deeper. Then he tipped his head and cradled hers in the crook of his elbow. His other arm slipped around her waist and tightened.

  His heart thundered beneath her palm. His tongue warmed her mouth. Mia wanted to drown in him. Wanted to beg him to make her world stop spinning out of control.

  He broke the kiss and dropped his forehead against her shoulder while he gasped for air.

  When he didn’t speak, Mia eased her hold on his neck. “I need to make a good first impression on these people. You know, pretend I’m stable. Someone with a normal life who will be dependable and predictable. Not someone who does rash, risky things that disrupt everyone around me. And as volatile as you and I have been lately, I thought it would be better for us to retreat back into our own lives. We have to do it soon anyway.”

  “The reason we are so volatile is because we’re always worried about Tate finding out.” He lifted a hand to her face and cupped it. “This is the perfect opportunity for us to be together without anyone watching. Just be ourselves with each other without worries we’ll be seen or word will get back to Tate.”

  That might or might not be true, she didn’t know. It all depended on how closely this group followed hockey. “You make it sound like we haven’t already known each other for twenty years.”

  “What is wrong with you tonight? Why are you so angry?”

  Mia’s patience snapped. “Because I’m leaving you in a couple of days. Because I have to learn how to live without you in my life all over again.” She hadn’t meant to yell, but her words reverberated in the cab, and the driver cast frightened looks in the rearview mirror. “I shouldn’t have come. I should have known I couldn’t keep things casual with you. Why couldn’t you have been an asshole after we slept together the first time? Why do you have to be so, so, so damn you?”

  She looked out the side window, and the streetlights and taillights blurred in the tears filling her eyes. Which, of course made her angry. “Damn you,” she said with less force as she wiped at her eyes. “Now you’re going to make my mascara smear.”

  Rafe swallowed her in a hug, pulling her into his body and pressing his face to her hair. “Stop,” he murmured, holding her tight. “Stop, Mia. I’m right here.”

  But he wouldn’t be right there for long, and the realization turned her into a freaking faucet. And even though she tried to push Rafe away, he held tight, reassuring her with a patient, warm voice. “Shhh, I know this is hard. I know you’re scared. It’s going to be okay, baby. It’s going to be better than okay. They’re going to love you. You’re going to love them. Shhh…”

  When she quieted, he loosened his hold but didn’t let go. Pulling back, he used one hand to wipe at her tears. “Let’s just be Mia and Rafe tonight. Put hockey and Tate and Joe in the closet. I want to meet the people you’re going to work with, hear about your job, watch you make new friends.” He combed his fingers into her hair and let them sift through. “I’m not gonna lie, I don’t want you across the country from me, Mia, but I know you can’t do what you want to do in DC. And I really do want you to be happy and successful.”

  She sighed and broke eye contact, focusing on the buttons of his shirt.

  “What do you say?” he asked, his rough fingers skimming across her cheek. “Just a night out? You and me, being you and me?”

  The thought of having him by her side
did settle her nerves a little. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Okay.”

  He kissed her forehead and sat back against the seat, pulling her with him. “You look gorgeous.”

  She huffed a laugh. “Thank you.”

  “Tell me about your meeting with Silver. Joe told me a little bit. What did you think? How did you feel?”

  That was a bit of a double-edged sword considering it brought up the memory of him bailing for a party with Tate. The fact that he couldn’t have done anything different without going against his coach’s orders and his owner’s expectations or raising suspicion about their relationship didn’t ease Mia’s hurt or disappointment.

  “It’s moot,” she said. “He’s got a year left in his contract with the firm designing and manufacturing the team’s current retail jerseys. He was excited about mine, loved all the industry data I came with, said he wants to meet again closer to the time his contract expires, but a year is a long time. A lot can happen in a year. Who knows what the market will do, what he’ll want, where the team will be, where the industry will be.” She shook her head and shrugged. “It may be a good idea, but unless I’m ready to run with it in the moment, there’s no point pitching it. And I’m miles away from being able to run with it.”

  “You wouldn’t be if you—” Rafe started.

  “Don’t, Rafe. Don’t throw money at me.”

  “I’m not throwing it. I’m offering it. I’ll invest, we can make it a loan, do it however you need to do it to make you comfortable with taking it. I just want to see you break that damn glass ceiling—”

  “And I want to do this myself.” She pulled back to meet his eyes. “Why don’t any of you understand why it’s important to me to do it on my own? You and Tate and Joe have been there for me my whole life. You’ve all been constant safety nets. You said you wanted that meeting last night so I could have something of my own. This”—she pointed to the floor of the cab—“this is my own. This job. This career. Whatever I make out of it. This is mine. If I take money from any of you, no matter what you call it, I’m giving you a piece of my success, and I’ve done that all my life. You and Tate made your success on your talent and your hard work. I just want to do the same.”

  Rafe exhaled and pressed his lips together.

  “It may not happen fast enough for you,” she said, “but it will happen.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  For the rest of the drive, he kept her close, and they talked about the game. About strategy they planned to try next game. Revisited their plans for the following day.

  When a natural lull slipped into their conversation, Mia looked out the window.

  “Nothing happened last night,” Rafe said softly. “At the party, I mean.”

  She nodded, and another lull fell.

  “Did Tate see anyone he was interested in?” she asked.

  “He talked to a lot of women. At least a freaking dozen hit on him. Another half dozen offered to blow him in the parking—” He stopped short, then swore.

  A huff of laughter escaped Mia. “Which means two dozen hit on you and a dozen offered to—”

  “It doesn’t matter how many women do or offer anything. Because just like Tate, I wasn’t interested in any of them.”

  But Mia knew all about Rafe’s lifestyle. And she wasn’t naïve enough to think it would turn on a dime because of her. Not when she lived across the country. But the thought of him with another woman would completely snap the last fiber of sanity holding Mia together, so she pushed it out of her mind.

  They turned off the freeway to signs signaling Long Beach. Then the taxi slowed in front of a nondescript six-foot-high ivy hedge running over a hundred feet along the road bordering the ocean. Only one door led through the vine wall, and it was closed. No sign marked the property. The area was definitely commercial, with other shops and restaurants lining both sides of Highway One, but…

  The taxi driver stopped and tapped the meter. “Cash or credit?”

  Rafe pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Credit.”

  “Are you sure we’re at the right place?” she asked the driver.

  “Sullivan’s,” he said, casually tossing a gesture toward the unmarked property. “Right there.”

  While Rafe paid, Mia stepped out and looked around. The fog was still out over the ocean and a soft, heavenly salty breeze whispered over her skin. Rafe came around the car to her side, and the taxi started down the quiet road. The two of them stood there in the night bathed by the sound of ocean waves in the distance and laughter drifting from behind the ivy privacy barrier.

  Mia took a deep breath and let it out, but nerves still buzzed in her belly. Then Rafe’s hand encircled hers, warm and gentle. She looked up at him and found him smiling.

  “Welcome to your future, beautiful. Seems pretty damn nice so far.”

  Mia filled with so much love, the words almost spilled out. Giddiness replaced her unease. Gripping his lapels, she pushed to her toes, leaned into him, and kissed him. “That’s for chasing me down and being here with me.”

  His fingers skimmed her face, his eyes warm and serious. “I could say the same.”

  They kissed, and Mia felt that familiar shift inside her again. One that was happening far too often. She lowered and stepped toward the mysterious door. The handle turned easily enough in Rafe’s hand, and he stepped aside, letting Mia go ahead.

  Passing through the door felt a little like stepping into another world. White lights were strung between trees and poles. Lanterns lit each patio table. A large outdoor fireplace roared with crackling wood. Waves washed the moonlit beach beyond the restaurant, which sat on a cliff.

  Mia felt like she’d walked into a fairy tale.

  “There she is.” The excited female voice drew Mia’s attention. Cynthia rushed over to her, arms outstretched, her dark face glowing with a gorgeous smile. “Mia.”

  She wrapped Mia in her arms, and they hugged tight, rocking back and forth.

  “Oh my God,” Mia said, “you got rid of your dreads.” She pulled back and looked at her friend again. Her black hair, once held in carefully tended dreadlocks to her shoulders, was now a frisky, cropped headful of tiny coils. “God, I love it. You look beautiful.”

  She laughed. “So do you. It’s so good to see you. I’m so excited you’re here.” Releasing her, Cynthia slid her hand down Mia’s arm and tugged her forward. “Let me introduce you— Aaron,” she yelled across the patio filled with people. “Mia’s here.”

  Mia swore every head turned. She experienced a millisecond of oh shit, until everyone smiled, raised whatever they were drinking, and shouted boisterous rounds of “Mia!”

  She was laughing when she reached for Rafe. He was standing back, hands in his pants pockets. And when she hooked her hand through his elbow and met his eyes, she found him smiling. His expression filled with a sweet, raw, real joy. Joy that she was the center of attention.

  “Come on. Let me introduce you,” she said. “Cynthia, this is one of my best friends in the world, Rafe.”

  Rafe offered his hand and a genuine greeting.

  “Rafe,” Cynthia said, “you have good taste in friends.”

  “And I have good taste in designers.” The man who came to Cynthia’s side was white, in his midthirties, good-looking, and gregariously friendly. He offered his hand to Mia first, then Rafe. “Aaron. So glad you could make it.”

  The gate behind them opened, drawing Aaron’s and Cynthia’s gazes. Mia turned to a well-dressed older couple arriving to a cheering crowd.

  “Wouldn’t you know it?” Aaron said to Cynthia, grinning. “Just like Tony and Martha to steal the limelight.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Mia and Rafe. “It’s the producer and his wife. Let me just give Tony the costume costs of this episode, and I’ll be right back with you.”

  “Of course,” Mia said.

  Aaron gripped her shoulders, gave her a little shake, and said, “So glad to have
you, Mia.”

  A laugh of surprise popped out of her, making Aaron smile. He released her, told them to help themselves to anything, mingle, and he’d find them again, then moved on.

  Cynthia took over, sliding her arm through Mia’s and staying close by her side as she walked her through the patio, all while Rafe hung back. But every time she turned to look for him, he was right there with a reassuring smile.

  Mia had lost count of how many people Cynthia introduced her to when she finally stopped and tugged on her friend’s arm. “Uncle. I’m never going to remember everyone’s name, let alone their faces and their positions. I’ve hit my threshold.”

  Cynthia laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just so excited. You’re going to love it here, Mia.”

  She smiled and nodded, sure Cynthia would have been right if it hadn’t been for the man standing behind her. The man she reached back for now. The man who easily wrapped her hand in his like he’d done it a million times, threaded their fingers and gave her a squeeze of reassurance. If it weren’t for Rafe, Mia might have been able to be very happy here. And maybe, in time, she still would be.

  “Well, it just so happens this is the perfect place to end our tour,” Cynthia said, wandering toward one of the most boisterous tables on the patio. There were four men sitting in chairs and four women either in chairs or on the men’s laps. One of the men and a couple of the women looked familiar, but the only one she could pin down was the golden-haired beauty closest to Mia. A woman who was either Giselle Diamond, the newest breakout country music mogul, or her twin. Cynthia put her hand on one of the men’s shoulders and grinned at Mia. “I call this the Los Angeles-is-for-beautiful-people table.”

  While Mia agreed wholeheartedly, the group at the table erupted in guffaws and snark. Various items were thrown in Cynthia’s direction, making her squeal, and laughter erupted from everyone in a thirty-foot radius.