Shutout (The Renegades Series Book 5)

by Melody Heck Gatto

  The girl nodded and went right to making the sugary ice cream treat.

  “What are you drinking?” Hailee pointed to Dominic’s glass.

  “Death by Chocolate. And let me tell you, they weren’t kidding.” He moved in for another sip.

  “Yeah.” She took a seat on the stool beside him. “I go for the non-chocolaty ones. Birthday Cake is my favorite, but Tiramisu is good too, and Strawberry Shortcake.”

  “You sound like you come here often. So, do you, sweet-tart?” He licked his lips before taking another drink.

  “Do I what?” Doesn’t he know how to use a napkin, or his sleeve even? Anything would be better than his continuously teasing her by poking out that tongue.

  “Come here often?” He finished his pathetic attempt of a pick-up line, and it made her smile.

  “Actually, I do. It’s one of my favorite, or make that guilty, pleasure places. The cupcakes are divine, but the handspun milkshakes are addicting.” She sipped at her shake, well aware of how seductive her sucking on a straw probably looked. What was worse was the whipped cream that got on the side of her mouth. Instinctively she licked it off with her tongue instead of using a napkin, just what she had silently cursed him out for doing.

  “You have games this weekend?” She was not following their schedule; she didn’t need to be any closer to him than fate was making her.

  “No.” He put his drink down and raised an eyebrow. “Ironically, that’s sort of the reason why I asked you here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, besides getting to see your pretty face, that is. I missed you while we were away these past few days.” His eyes reflected a devilish look while his smile made her heart flutter. He was flirting with her again.

  She cleared her throat before she spoke. “How nice of you to say. Wasn’t there anyone in New York or Jersey to give you a lap dance?” Okay, maybe she lied about not keeping track of his schedule.

  “No, sweet-tart, my memories kept me warm at night, don’t you worry about that.” He winked at her; oh, how she hated that. She hated it so much that it made her insides warm. Maybe it wasn’t with hatred.

  “Good. Hang on to those, they’re all you’ll have now.” She winked back to be a smart-ass, but it seemed to affect him more playfully than she had planned.

  “Mmm-hmm, you’re quite the temptress aren’t you?” He pretend scowled at her.

  “Hardly.” She crossed her legs and propped her chin on her palm, innocently fluttering her eyelids.

  “Well, since you put it that way. Besides craving a cupcake, I wanted to see you because I really did miss you on our road trip. I felt this was a better way to see you than at the club.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

  “And, I had to ask you something.” He waved to the waitress. “But I really want that cupcake first. Can we get two Champagne Kisses cupcakes, please?”

  “Does someone have a favorite cupcake?”

  “Actually, I plan to work my way through the menu. But yeah, I kind of like this one.”

  Hailee took a large bite out of her cupcake as soon as it was set in front of her. It was sweet, delicious and decadent.

  “You have a little”—he motioned to her nose—“icing on your nose.”

  Her mouth was so full of delicious cake she almost didn’t care about what a mess she probably looked like. Not able to speak while she was eating the treat as though she hadn’t eaten in a month, she continued to stuff her face.

  “Well, I see you’re enjoying yourself, but I needed to ask you… The captain of the Renegades, Tyler Kidd, is getting married this weekend, on Saturday.”

  Tyler Kidd? Why is he even telling me this? What does it have to do with anything?

  “And I wondered if you’d be my date to the wedding?”

  She inhaled quickly at his words, and a crumb of cupcake slid down her throat and made her cough. His what?

  * * *

  “Ali, I have an emergency! I need your help, STAT!” Hailee’s hand trembled so bad that she dropped her phone onto the hardwood floor of her loft. “Oh shit!” Grabbing it up off the floor, she quickly looked it over for cracks before she turned on the speakerphone.

  “Hailee, are you okay? What was that crash?”

  “Ali, I’m fine, well, kind of. Maybe. I don’t know. I need your help. I’m freaking out.” Why did I agree to go to the wedding with him? Why would I do that? How is going to a wedding with him, a romantic event, helping me?

  “Hailee, please tell me what’s going on. Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

  “He asked me to go to a wedding with him, and God only knows why, but I agreed! It’s the wedding of one of the Renegades — why would I say yes? And what am I going to wear?” Her voice trembled.

  “Hang on, let me get this clear. You are physically fine. You don’t need the cops or the paramedics. But you were invited to a wedding, by Dominic I assume, of one of his teammates.” Alison paused to catch her breath. “And you have nothing to wear. Did I get that right?”

  “Well, yeah. Can you get over here right away? I need a dress and the wedding is tomorrow.” The main source of her panic was that fact — the wedding was tomorrow. “Who gives a girl one day to prepare for a wedding?”

  “I think you’re overreacting. Give me five minutes.”

  Hailee paced the floor, while her heart raced. Why am I so nervous? Why did I say yes? She grabbed a glass of wine and walked the length of her loft. Stopping in front of one particular painting, she mindlessly looked at it. Then she really looked at it. It was the painting of her and Dominic on his motorcycle. She had painted this many times. It was one of her favorite memories. The sunset behind them was many beautiful colors, calm and exciting all at the same time, but most of all they were happy colors. The road in front of them exploded into various colors, all of hope, wonder and bliss.

  She said yes to the wedding because they had so much history, and it felt good to have him back in her life. Their past was calm, exciting and happy. Their future had been and still was full of hope, wonder, and not so much bliss but contentment. Even though she didn’t want to be his future, she did still want him in her life, otherwise she would’ve told him to hit the bricks that day he showed up in the club.

  It was Friday afternoon but somehow it only took Alison five minutes to get to Hailee’s loft. Alison rang the buzzer and Hailee met her downstairs at the door. Her breathing had evened out and her heart rate was back to normal. The wine may have had a part in that.

  “Well you don’t look panicked,” Alison said. She looped her arm around Hailee’s and walked her to the car.

  “I’m better now. Mini panic attack, but a little wine helped me think a bit clearer and it’s all good. But I do still need a dress.”

  “Well then, let’s go get our shop on.” Alison turned the music up and they sang the whole way to the mall. Alison was a fashionista in her own mind and always looked like she stepped out of a photo shoot. Hailee trusted her completely.

  Alison quickly went to one particular store that seemed only to have black or white clothes. Hailee grabbed a few dresses off the rack and each one looked terrible on her, like a little girl dressing up in her mom’s clothes. Nothing was her style and just looked odd with all her tattoos.

  She looked at herself in the mirror in only her bra and undies. These fancy dresses didn’t suit her. Her tattoos and violet hair clashed. Her stomach hurt. Maybe I should call Dominic and cancel.

  “Ali, I just don’t know. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the store for me.”

  “One more dress. For me, please? Trust me.” Alison handed her a black dress over the dressing room door.

  “One more, Alison. But that’s it. I’m over this. I don’t think this is going to work out.” She didn’t want to try one more dress on, but she had begged Ali to help her and she was. One more can’t hurt. Just one more. She pulled it off the hanger and slid it on. It seems to fit perfectly. She ran her hands down the dr
ess. At least it’s comfortable. Her tattoos showed but didn’t look bad with the black fabric.

  Opening the dressing room door, she said, “I don’t know, Ali. It feels good, but—”

  Alison was staring at her with her mouth gaping open. She slowly closed her lips and they formed the biggest, creepiest grin, like a Cheshire cat. As that grin slid across Alison’s lips, she said in a loud whisper, “Hailee,”—her eyes grew wide and full of sparkle—“That’s the one.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dominic

  Dom frowned as he rang the discolored and rusty buzzer. He’d been to this part of town only a few times, when he’d been to The Cat House. But this didn’t look like the type of place he thought that Hailee would live. He couldn’t understand. Not only was this a shitty neighborhood, like one of those areas that showed up on the nightly news, but her apartment was right above the damn strip club.

  Then again, maybe he didn’t really know Hailee anymore. His focus moved to the bouquet of flowers he’d brought her. Does she still like pink carnations? Of course she does; it doesn’t mean she isn’t the same Hailee just because she looks like a rock star, a fucking hot as hell rock star.

  A familiar heat flooded his stomach. This was supposed to be a friendly date; he needed his body to cooperate. That would be easier said than done. Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Yes?” He missed her voice, he didn’t want to, but he did; it was soft and kind. He missed a lot of things about her. What a dumb ass move it had been on his part scaring her away. He’d let his manly ego get in the way of them and what they wanted as a couple. His fatal mistake was using the phrase I want to take care of you.

  That’s what the men in his life did; they took care of their families. The women never asked for or wanted a career; they were happy being stay at home moms. His mom had never worked outside the home, and neither did either of his sisters. They raised his niece and nephews.

  At the time, he’d just assumed Hailee might eventually want the same thing, and being able to take care of his girl was something that made him proud. She would never want for anything; he would be able to provide everything she could imagine.

  She was an amazing artist and she would do great things with her talent. He always knew that and still did. He only wanted to support her. Of course he knew not every woman wanted to be a stay at home wife and mother, but he hadn’t made himself clear enough, and not saying those words was something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he’d get another chance to explain himself. “Hello?”

  He cleared his throat. Why am I nervous? “Hailee, it’s me, Dom.”

  “I’ll buzz you in, c’mon up.” She was off as quick as she answered and the door buzzed loudly.

  This was a new chapter in his life, it had to be. It was now or never. Now let’s just hope she feels the same way. Hockey wasn’t enough anymore; he needed something else in his life. He needed her.

  He opened up the rusty door and stepped into a dingy hallway. The walls were discolored with dirt, and the floor, littered with crumpled up papers and old newspapers, could use a good sweeping. Looking at the dilapidated stairs, his blood began to heat. She shouldn’t have to live in a place like this. He could afford to put her up in a nice apartment, or they could share some place. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  A door at the top of the steps opened, and her beautiful face poked out. She wore a smile, but it looked forced. Maybe she was as nervous as he was.

  “Up here.”

  His mind was making up all kinds of trashy scenarios of what her apartment would look like. If the hallway gave any indication, he’d be willing to sweep her off her feet and take her away to a luxury apartment, and obviously, he was more than willing to share his. But he was pleasantly surprised as he entered her loft.

  The large space looked as though it ran the length of the building, and it was bright and clean, with white walls and plenty of lighting. Her furniture was arranged in one part of the open area, almost blocking sections off to make rooms out of this big open space.

  Canvases and the smell of fresh paint caught his eye and senses. There was an illuminated section in the corner where her paintings hung, as well as easels holding canvases with work in progress on them. It didn’t go unnoticed that some of the paintings displayed on the wall were ones she had painted of them, or just him, back in Ontario.

  “Have a seat,” she called from behind a door that he assumed was the bathroom.

  Her brown leather couch appeared cracked and worn, but it was soft to the touch. He sank down as the seat conformed to his body; admittedly, he didn’t hate it. Glancing over at her makeshift mini gallery, he wanted to take a look at her new paintings; the older ones he had burned in his memory. Nice to see he wasn’t the only one who thought about that time in their lives. That little bit of information gave him hope.

  “Hey,” Hailee said as she emerged from the bathroom.

  Dom ran his hand across his chin to make sure he wasn’t drooling. She looked gorgeous. “Damn,” he mumbled.

  “Huh? Did you say something?” She crossed the room to the kitchen area.

  “Hailee, you look amazing.” The black dress she wore fell almost to her knees. The top had spaghetti straps and was pleated or something, but it hung nicely to still show her figure but not accent her breasts. All the cleavage was left to his imagination. A sparkly belt separated the top and bottom half, which clung perfectly to her every curve, and the fabric moved with her. It was a nice dress for a party, classy and yet sexy as hell.

  “Oh, thanks.” She looked at her bare arms. “Do you think they’ll mind all my tattoos?”

  Oh damn, she is adorable. Absolutely adorable. Dom crossed the room and met her by the kitchen counter. “Not at all.” He pointed to his neck and pulled the collar of his shirt down a little, exposing some of his ink. “Paige knows about all mine, and I think she secretly likes them.” Dom winked for good measure.

  “You would think that.” Hailee slowly moved away from him. Was I that intimidating? I thought that was pretty smooth. Her eyes slid over him, from his tailored suit jacket down to his designer leather shoes. “You look pretty good yourself.”

  Dom brushed at the sleeves of his suit jacket. “Yeah, I do clean up pretty nice, don’t I? Here,”—he handed her the flowers—“I brought you pink carnations. I hope you still like them.”

  “Oh, wow. Well, thank you, of course I do. I’m surprised you remembered.” Hailee turned her back to him and filled a vase up with water. All he could do was stare at her tattoos. He was frozen where he stood as he looked her over, seeing them clearly for the first time. Butterflies started on her neck, under her hair, and cascaded down her arm, the colorful wings ending where they wrapped around her wrist. Flowers and stardust were intricately placed around the butterflies like a vibrant puzzle. He couldn’t make out the words that were inked on her bicep, but she had something on the inside of the other bicep as well. Her shoulder blades were decorated with pink carnations that crept to the center of her back, where a single shining star sat. It was accented with white ink to make it almost appear as if it were glowing.

  He didn’t even get to look at what was on the backs of her legs before her voice interrupted him.

  “Ahem.” She cleared her throat loudly.

  He’d been so busy studying her tatts he’d missed that she was talking to him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I asked if you’d like something to drink? I think it’s a little too early to leave just yet.”

  “Oh yeah, just some water is fine. Thanks.” He waited for her to grab two bottles of water out of the refrigerator before he took them out of her hands. “I’ll carry them. Want to sit down for a little while?” He had no idea what they were going to talk about, but it would be best to get the awkwardness out of the way early.

  “I guess.” She led him back to the couch before taking a bottle from him, cracking it open, and t
aking a long drink of water.

  Dom couldn’t help himself; he sat staring again. Her eye makeup was more dramatic then he had ever seen, and the purple hair was still at odds with his memories of her. More of her tattoos demanded his attention, rosebuds artfully wrapped around her wrist.

  “Do you always stare at your dates? Because it’s quite rude.” She tried to keep a straight face, but he could see a smile fought to take over.

  She was still the sweet girl with a flair for sarcasm that he remembered. “Sweet-tart, you know I’m a lot of things, but I’m not rude. The hair color is throwing me; I’m just not used to it, that’s all. And the tattoos…” She flinched a little at his words. Sweet-tart was his pet name for her, since Valentine was her last name — like Valentine’s Day — he always told her she was his sweet-tart, like the candy.

  Her eyebrows tilted inward at his words. “What about my tattoos?”

  “They’re stunning. Every single one looks perfect on you.”

  “Oh, well thank you.” A tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks, and he had to smile.

  “Did you really think that I, of all people, was going to criticize them?” He chuckled. He’d gotten his first tattoo while they were still together, his last name along his collarbone: ZANETTI.

  “No.” She looked away and stared at her bottle.

  “I understand. You get used to the stares. I don’t let it bother me anymore. I just can’t get over how good they look on you.”

  “You haven’t even seen them all yet…” Her voice trailed off as if she didn’t mean for that to be said out loud.

  “What was that?” he asked with a grin, even though he’d heard every word. The thought of what he wasn’t seeing made him strain against his slacks.

  “Nothing.” She looked at the clock.

  “So, how long have you been in Pittsburgh?”

  “Three years.”

  “I heard you were accepted to art school.”