The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance

by Colleen Charles

  My God, we match.

  Julia couldn’t keep herself from going there and wondered if Sue had coached him on what she’d be wearing as well. Jesus, could it all get any more obvious? He offered a smile as he took his seat across from her and ordered a local draft beer on tap from the waitress hovering at his elbow.

  “Hi there, I’m Andrew,” he said, extending his massive hand across the table.

  “Julia.” She smiled as she shook his hand, which was warm and inviting with just the right amount of pressure. Maybe there was hope.

  “Wow, Sue said you were a knockout. She wasn’t kidding.” Andrew’s compliment was followed by a low whistle.

  “Oh, thank you.” Julie blushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her red polished toes. She had heard it before, but growing up with brothers, she had been more likely to get teased and tormented about every little thing than to get any validation of her looks. Blake had loved to call her elephant ears and Brock had called her Pigeon due to her slightly inward toes. Thank God she’d outgrown that one before high school.

  “So, I hear from SueAnn you’ve lived here in Duluth your entire life,” Andrew commented. “I really like it here so far. The people are really warm and welcoming.”

  “Totally. That’s why I started my business here. I’d never dream of leaving.” It was hard to keep the passion out of her voice over her hometown and she didn’t even want to try. Duluth, Minnesota was a wonderful place to live and work. Her only complaint was the harsh winters and the cold wind and weather that blew in straight off the lake.

  Julia was glad that Andrew wasn’t firing questions at her like they were in some kind of crazy job interview. Dating had always sucked for her. If it wasn’t her own broken picker, it was her beefy and controlling older brothers jumping in to scare the shit out of any potential suitor who held real promise. They’d find something wrong with the guy and he’d bail. But now … Blake and Brock were married and starting their own families, so they’d backed off. A little. She probably used her family as an excuse, but her friends knew that her fledgling business was her life.

  “So, Sue said that you’re a major hockey fan.”

  “Yeah, I grew up in a small town and hockey was nearly the only entertainment we had. My brother, Blake Wales, played for UMD. He was a really great center and would have been drafted until he hurt his knee,” Julie sighed. “Career ending injury.”

  “That sucks,” Andrew nodded. “Do you like any other sports or are you just a die-hard hockey chick?”

  “Just hockey. I never got any of the other sports. Hockey just makes sense to me. And it’s such a rush to be outside in the winter air. You feel so free and alive.”

  Andrew rubbed his chin and started droning on about the Vikings. After a while, Julia tuned him out and glanced at the game behind his head. The Caribou were getting murdered. They only had ten shots on goal to the Red Wings twenty-five and they were losing the battle in the corners.

  Oh, Adam, where are you? Your team needs you, she thought as she bit into her mozzarella stick dripping in marinara.

  “So, do you have a favorite team?”

  “Of course, the Caribou. It’s where my brother would have played if he’d been drafted.”

  “Really? Even though they’re on a losing streak?”

  She glanced at him, only slightly forgiving his ignorance for underestimating her team. What kind of Minnesotan was this guy?

  “They’re struggling without Adam, but once he comes back…”

  “Spencer’s not coming back,” Andrew said with a shake of his head in the negative.

  “Oh, he will,” Julia argued.

  Douchebag. Now she just wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible.

  “What makes you so certain? With an ACL injury that bad, most are forced out of the game.”

  “He’ll find a way. He loves the game too much. Doesn’t care too much for the fame though.” Julia thought back to the one time Adam had skated on their family pond with her brother. Blake had been a freshman with a serious case of senior worship. Adam had thrown Blake a bone because coach had said he had promise. Adam Spencer had loved skating outside so much he’d bent down and kissed the surface of the ice.

  “You say that like you know him,” Andrew countered.

  “I know of him,” Julia replied. “He was a senior the year my brother made varsity as a freshman. I don’t know him well and I’m sure he wouldn’t know me if he saw me on the street.”

  You’re such a dick. Why did I even bother coming on this stupid date? Oh yeah, that’s right. Sue insisted I needed to get out more, complete with designer outfit from her boutique.

  Andrew didn’t respond, which felt like a small victory for this tight-knit hockey community. One where outsiders weren’t always welcome. Especially, when they didn’t bleed the Caribou green and gold. Julia steered the conversation back to mundane small talk because she didn’t really want to hear any more of his opinions. She was over it all before it had even gotten started.

  Julia glanced up to the screen where a special broadcast had interrupted the game. The big screen images showed a wreck involving a semi and a Dodge pickup. Suddenly, his picture appeared to the left of the screen in a small outlined square. What the hell? Had Adam Spencer been involved in an accident?

  “Shoot! I’m so sorry. I forgot I was supposed to meet a client tonight about their barn conversion.”

  “Now?” His face turned down in a confused grimace. “It’s almost ten and you haven’t even finished your cheese sticks.”

  “Yeah, the client owns his own tech company and he works twenty-four seven since it’s a start up. I really have to go.” His face reflected his upset and understanding that she was feeding him a line of complete bullshit. He’d probably call Sue and tattle as soon as her back retreated out the front door.

  Andrew stood and gave her a quick hug in a last ditch effort to hang on. “Maybe, we can do this again—”

  “It was nice to meet you.” Julia cut him off as she grabbed her purse and started rummaging for her wallet.

  “No, I’ve got it,” he said as he put a hand over hers to stop her.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled as she turned toward the door. She had to get out of the restaurant so she could look up the accident details on her phone. And call Blake. She opened the door to her Ford Escape and tossed her purse on the center console. The iPhone felt like ice in her hand. She hit the button for Safari and quickly typed in Adam Spencer Car Accident.

  Nothing. Probably too soon for an online report.

  She turned the key in the ignition and hit the radio button, searching for KFAN, the local sports talk radio. The DJ was talking about the accident. It sounded bad and they didn’t know if Adam would even make it. Apparently, he’d been trying to drive from his farm to the neighboring property and he’d been drinking.

  She shook her head, unable to believe it. Drinking and driving was so not like him. That guy always seemed to have his shit together. His folks were pillars of the community before the tragedy. Julie wondered what might have prompted him to do something so rash, stupid and dangerous as to get behind the wheel of a truck while impaired.

  She reached a red light a block away from her hotel suite when they announced that Adam had been transported to Duluth General. The hospital was only a red light away from where she idled at the intersection. She sat and stared at the blue “H” sign, until honking notified her the light had turned green.

  Adam’s folks had been killed in a combine accident five years ago while she and her brothers were all in college. The scene was gruesome and the sorrow had ripped through their town and lasted for months. Gail and Jim Spencer had been beloved and had worked their farm for generations. Maybe Adam didn’t have anyone to sit with him. To care.

  Chapter 3

  Beep … beep … beep.

  The sound of the heart monitor echoed through the room, piercing his consciousness. Adam tried to pry open his heavy eyel
ids, but the pounding pain in his brain and limbs prevented him from moving. At all.

  He took inventory of his body and a small river of relief flowed when he found he could move his fingers and toes. At least he wasn’t paralyzed. The last thing he remembered was flinging Heather’s shit out onto the lawn of the farm. Pretty much everything else was a blur. He knew he’d been drinking and nothing good ever came from the intimate relationship of Adam Spencer and straight whiskey.

  He slowly raised his bruised hand to his forehead and hit the bandage above his right eye. There was a window in this private room, but the blinds were closed and it was gloomy. Blessedly dark. It had to be nighttime because the floodlights outside created dancing shadows across the grey walls of his room. As he continued taking stock of what he could see without moving his neck, his eyes darted over a shape outlined in the padded chair pushed into the corner.

  His eyes must be deceiving him. A woman was curled up under a white cotton hospital blanket with only one side of her face exposed. But her hair. Glorious waves of auburn silk flowed over the arm of the chair with the tips almost touching the tile below. He’d know that hair anywhere. He remembered the first time he’d seen it. The day her girlish giggles had pealed out over the snow covered pond as she twirled by him on her white figure skates and that mass of thick hair had spun around her shoulders from underneath her hat.

  What was she doing here? He hadn’t seen her since Roger Daughtry’s kegger at the Alpha Nu Omega frat party right before college graduation. And the NHL draft when his entire life had changed. He could still remember how her clothes had clung to her new woman’s body. The halter top had hugged her full breasts and tiny waist. Not to mention the tight skinny jeans on her round ass. Blake’s sister was all grown up. The lust had hit him. Hard.

  Inappropriate and pathetic though it was, he’d spent the entire night in her space, wanting to be close to her. Talk to her. But Julia Wales was so far above his dipshit jock ass, she could take flight like a jet and soar that far above him.

  “They call that out punting your coverage, moron,” Jeff’s voice had spoiled the fantasy he’d been having of Julia splayed out on his bed. Naked and attentive to his every whim. Every desire.

  “I know,” he’d sighed as he ran his fingers through his thick head of wavy hair that never quite kept to its original style. “She’s breathtaking. There’s something about her and I want to push her up against the nearest wall and …”

  “Like the pathetic loser you are,” Jeff had just continued laughing at his expense. “You better talk to her before she leaves. She’s looking for her jacket right now.”

  “I can’t,” he’d whispered. “She’s Blake’s sister. Off limits.”

  But Julia was here now and for the life of him, he had no idea why. They’d never shared more than a few sentences in all the years they’d known each other.

  Julia’s eyes fluttered open as she heard him start to move.

  “Hi,” she whispered as she brought her hands up to rub the sleep from her eyes. As she did so, the blanket fell down around her hips, revealing the layered lace top she was wearing. It had shifted with sleep and a dangerous amount of cleavage was exposed. If it wasn’t for the damn pounding in his head, he’d enjoy the view a lot more.

  “Hi, yourself.” He stared. He just couldn’t help himself. Adam wanted to ask her what the hell she was doing in his hospital room, but he waited. Waited for her to explain.

  Julia jumped to her feet, the cotton blanket landing in a pool of white at her stiletto clad feet. Where the hell had she been dressed like that? Some party?

  “I’m sorry … I thought … your folks. I thought you might be alone. How silly of me.” Her face turned red, and she seemed acutely embarrassed as her hands flew through the air as she stammered. Damn cute. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman so flustered around him.

  “I’m sure Heather’s on her way,” she whispered as she started toward the door. “I’m so sorry I bothered you, Adam.”

  “Don’t go.”

  Adam’s softly spoken plea stopped Julia dead in her tracks. The only sign that she’d heard him was a slight gasp of breath that softened her rigid back. And that ass. Jesus. This woman was just as spectacular from the back as she was from the front. Just like in college.

  Thank God he was in excruciating pain and he welcomed it. Felt it completely. Fully. Because it was the only damn thing keeping him from doing or saying something completely inappropriate.

  The sound of Heather’s voice jolted him out of his haze of lust over the alluring Julia Wales. “I’m his fiancée. I have to see him right now.”

  Heather’s shrill voice pierced the stillness of the hallway. It had to be after visiting hours. Leave it to her to make a scene. Why hadn’t he noticed her selfish flair for the dramatic before? Because he was blinded by her fake smile, fake personality, and knockout blonde beauty.

  He inhaled and steeled his resolve for what was about to come. What he deserved for thinking he wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone like her.

  “Who are you?” Heather breezed through the door and stopped about two feet in front of Julia, who was trying to escape the room. Escape the drama. Escape him.

  But she wasn’t the one he wanted gone.

  “I was just leaving.” Julia ignored Heather’s glare as the other woman sized her up with her cerulean blue eyes.

  Adam watched her slip from the room and his life. With class. He’d probably never see her again. Now why did that thought hurt more than the thought of the bitch standing beside his bed and her betrayal?

  “Adam…”

  Heather tried to take his hand and he snatched it away, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. Only a perverse curiosity to hear what lame excuse she’d come up with, coupled with an inability to think straight due to the pain kept him from tossing her out into the hallway on her skinny ass.

  “Please what? But then, I already know. You thought when you walked in here, I’d be so overwrought from the accident, my injury, or both that I’d need you. Want you. Hold you. I’ve got news for you, Heather.” He narrowed his eyes at her round ones. The blue orbs pooled with tears. Another attempt at her fake bullshit to pull at his heart strings. But his heart was dead. Dead to her.

  “Wha … what?”

  “I hate you.” He held his tone steady. Poisonous. Lethal. “Get the hell out of this hospital room. I never want to see you or my cock sucking brother again. If you ever contact me, in any way, you’ll regret it.”

  Tears streamed down her face as she stared at him in shock. He glared back at her and held his body motionless until she turned and pranced from the room, wiggling her backside. For that, if nothing else, he cursed. Typical Heather. Trying to manipulate him to the bitter end. Only one good thing had come out of this whole sordid mess. From this day forward, Adam Spencer would recognize a whore when he saw her.

  Adam clamped his eyes shut until he heard the swish of the door closing behind her. Closing the door on the idyllic future, he’d imagined. The problem with the fantasy is that the reality hadn’t even come close to living up. He covered his face with his hands, trying to rub the shame and humiliation from his eyes. From his heart. From his soul.

  His hand snaked out to grab the remote from the wheeled table. Feeling completely defeated, Adam flipped on the TV. The wreck was being discussed on almost every news channel he came across. So much for ESPN to carry him away from reality.

  A nurse came in to check his vitals.

  “What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

  “I’ve paged the doctor so he should be here soon,” she chastised. “You were lucky you weren’t seriously injured or killed. No broken bones, no internal injuries. You’re just bruised and battered which will heal in a few weeks. What’s your pain level?”

  “A hundred and two.”

  She smiled and pushed some meds into his I.V. “This should help. Just hit the buzzer if you need anything
before the doctor arrives. You should be able to go home in the morning.”

  Chapter 4

  “I can probably argue this down to a misdemeanor but that’s going to take time,” Adam’s agent, Harold Tucker sat next to his hospital bed wearing his famous ‘you’ve seriously fucked up again’ expression. “And money.”

  Adam squeezed his eyes shut against the waves of embarrassment. Harry had been his agent since he was drafted and this was the first time they’d had this type of uncomfortable conversation.

  “I know,” Adam sighed as he opened his lids to find Harry staring down at him with empathy instead of censure. “I guess I’m lucky I was injured so I didn’t have to face the humiliation of the Nick Nolte mugshot and fingerprinting by Duluth’s finest.”

  Harry snapped his briefcase shut after collecting some signatures. “I took care of it. You won’t even have to go to the station. Since the semi driver wasn’t injured, this is a civil case.”

  “He’s suing me then?” Adam questioned. “I realize I should never have gotten behind the wheel even to drive one farm over but isn’t he just out a new truck and a load of corn? Things covered by commercial insurance?”

  Harry took his reading glasses off and shoved them in his interior jacket pocket as he speared Adam with a stern look. “Doesn’t matter. You’re rich. He’s not. Welcome to the world of professional hockey, my boy. Add to it all the fact that you were drinking and I have a huge mess to clean up as well as a PR nightmare. Maybe I can get the public to feel sorry for you because of …”

  Harry waved his hand to Adam’s legs underneath the sheet.

  “What?”

  “The injury.”

  Adam looked away. Sick and damn tired of being reminded that he didn’t play in the NHL anymore. “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “No, I’m not playing on people’s sympathies about my career. Even to avoid a payday for The Jolly Green Giant.”

  “Don’t let anyone else but me hear you talk like that, Adam,” Harry chided. “I’m in your corner. Other people … they tend to like to beat a man when he’s down.”