“So…trying to get educated made you feel stupid?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Not like that. It’s just—sometimes the guys can joke a little too much. I didn’t want to get teased.”
“Wow. Okay. So, you’re saying your teammates are all a bunch of dumb jocks?”
“What? No way. They’re not dumb at all.”
“Then why would they tease you?”
“Because that’s what we do. Tease each other.”
“So instead of being teased, you just threw this into the trash and got drunk instead?”
“That’s not what I said. You’re twisting everything around.”
“No, that’s pretty much what you said.” Maggie bit the inside of her cheek, trying to tamp down the spurt of irrational anger. What did it matter to her anyway? It didn’t. Or at least, it shouldn’t.
Which was one more reason why this was never going to work. For some reason, the man across from her pushed all the wrong buttons and she had no idea why. Maybe she really should talk to Cindy and let her friend analyze her.
And cripes, she was in bigger trouble than she first thought if she was even thinking about doing that.
“Listen, I’m sorry. It was stupid. And immature. I know that. But I need help with this.”
“Why? I mean, why are you even taking this course? You don’t need chemistry to bat a ball across the ice.”
“It’s a puck.”
“What?”
“And we don’t ‘bat it around’. We use sticks to shoot and pass.”
“Whatever. I mean, what difference does it make?”
“What difference?” Dillon’s eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed in disbelief. Part of her wanted to laugh at the expression on his face. She curled her hand into a fist and dug her nails into her palm so she wouldn’t do just that. “Don’t you know anything about hockey at all?”
“No, and I don’t need to. And you haven’t answered my question: why do you even want to take this course? It’s obvious you don’t want to, just like it’s obvious you don’t know anything about chemistry.”
“I know more than you think I do.”
Maggie nodded toward the blank paper. “Not based on that, you don’t.”
“It’s been a few years since I’ve been in school. And chemistry was never my best subject, which is why I kept putting it off. But now I need it.”
“Why?”
“It’s the last course I need for my degree.”
“Your degree?” Was he actually trying to tell her he was one course shy of a degree? He had to be teasing her. Only he looked serious. And almost a little frantic.
She rolled her eyes and reached for the glass of tea. “Then take art appreciation or theater study or something easy that won’t tax your brain. The last time I checked, you didn’t chem for a degree in liberal arts or Phys Ed or whatever it is you’re going for.”
“I’m going for my BS in Environmental Science.”
Maggie choked on the swallow of tea. She made a frantic grab for the napkin and held it to her mouth, turning her head as she coughed and saying a silent prayer of thanks that tea didn’t spew from her mouth. She coughed a few more times then sucked in a deep breath of air before looking across the table. Dillon watched her, his brows lowered in a frown even as smug satisfaction glowed in the hazel depths of his eyes.
“You’re—” She cleared her throat and wished her voice wasn’t quite so hoarse. “You’re doing what?”
“You heard me.”
Yes, she heard him. She just couldn’t believe him. She cleared her throat one more time and watched him. “Environmental Science?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
Yes. But no way was she going to tell him that. “You expect me to believe you’re going for a degree in the sciences but you don’t do chemistry?”
“I do chemistry. Just not as well as I need to. And I told you, it’s been a few years. I need a refresher so I can finish this last course.”
“But why?”
“Because—” Dillon lowered his gaze to his folded hands and shifted on the bench, a small flush coloring his cheeks. Maggie narrowed her eyes, wondering why he suddenly seemed awkwardly shy and embarrassed. She almost didn’t want to ask. Almost. But she hated mysteries.
“Because why?”
He shrugged, still not looking at her. “I promised my mom after I got drafted that I’d still get my degree. She turns fifty this summer and I want to surprise her with it.”
Something shifted inside her, creating a warmth in her stomach that grew and spread throughout her body. Not just warm—dangerous. Cripes. No. No, no, no. She was not getting the warm fuzzies from his words. She couldn’t be, she wouldn’t allow it.
Maggie reached for the tea, hoping to tamp down the warmth with some of the cold beverage. But her glass was nearly empty, with no more than a quick sip left in the bottom. She gulped it down, opening her mouth wider to get some of the ice into her mouth. Maybe ice would help. It certainly couldn’t hurt—
Dillon leaned across the table and rested his hand on her arm. His warm, large hand, with long, strong fingers. She glanced down at his hand, the heat of it too warm through the sleeve of her sweatshirt, then looked up at him.
Hazel eyes fixed on her, specks of green and gold and brown holding her gaze, mesmerizing her. Then he grinned, a simple boyish grin that brought out his dimples.
“So will you help me keep the promise to my mom?”
Maggie bit down on the ice but it was too late. She had been suckered in by boyish dimples and mesmerizing eyes—and by the sincerity in his voice as he spoke about a son’s promise to his mother.
Maggie swallowed the ice then leaned back, unable to look away from his eyes.
“Oh cripes.”
Chapter Six
Dillon’s phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him enough that he actually jumped and nearly bumped into Harland. He ignored Harland’s dirty look and muttered an apology then moved the overnight bag to his left hand so he could pull the phone out. He looked at the screen then slowed his steps, waiting until Harland was a few feet ahead of him before answering the call. Maggie’s face filled the rectangular screen, her eyes looking at something he couldn’t see.
“Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” He moved the phone to eye level. “Can you see me okay?”
Her eyes met his then darted away as a frown creased her face. She pushed the hair out of her face then leaned off-screen, disappearing for a second. “Yeah. This is weird. I’ve never done this before. So. Are you ready?”
“Um—” Dillon stepped to the side of the hallway, out of everyone’s way—and out of everyone’s hearing. “Not yet. It’s too early, we just got here.”
“But you said to call you at two. It’s two now.”
“No, it’s two where you are. We’re in a different time zone.” She glanced at her watch and frowned, the expression almost cute on the small screen in front of him. Somebody bumped him from behind and he glanced over at their new back-up goalie, Corbin Gautier. Corbin muttered an apology, the words softly accented, and moved away.
“Did you hear me?”
Dillon moved closer to the wall then looked back at the screen. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said you didn’t tell me about the time change. Where are you?”
“We’re out in Arizona.”
“Oh. I didn’t think you had a game tonight.”
“We don’t.”
“Oh.” She shifted, moving off screen again. He caught a glimpse of a battered text book before she shifted and pushed her glasses up with the end of a pencil. “Okay. So whenever you’re ready—”
“Um, can I call you back? Now’s really not a good time.”
She frowned again, the lines across her forehead deepening. “Dillon, I told you I don’t have the patience to be—”
“We just got here.” He cut her off before she could get started. “I mean, literally.
I’m not even in my room yet. See?”
He turned the phone around and scanned the hallway, ignoring the comments and questions from his teammates as they moved past him. He flipped the phone around in time to catch her smiling and felt himself smiling in return. The smile didn’t really make her look younger, but it did something to her. A glow, that was it. There was actually a little glow around her with the smile.
Or maybe it was just the reflection of the light behind her and the fact that he hadn’t slept much.
“Are those your teammates?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. I’m impressed. Cindy’s going to be upset she missed that. Are they really in suits?”
“Hey, I’m in a suit, too.” Did he really say that? He sounded like a little kid. It didn’t help that she actually laughed at him. He started to roll his eyes—at her reaction, at his own juvenile stupidity—then caught himself at the last minute when he realized she’d be able to see.
“So why are you wearing a suit?”
“Because we have a dress code. Listen, can I call you back in a few minutes? As soon as I get settled into the room.” And find a place to hide in private since he was rooming with Derek Caulton. But maybe that would work in his favor, since Derek usually took a long nap whenever they checked into a new place, or disappeared to call his girlfriend.
“How about I just call you back in a few hours?”
“No. No, I’m good. Just a few minutes, really.”
“A few minutes, hm?”
“Well, maybe more like fifteen. But no longer than that.”
“Should I watch the clock and time you?”
“That would be funny if I didn’t know you were being serious.”
Maggie laughed, the sound surprising him and bringing a smile to his own face. “The clock’s ticking. Mr. Jock. I’ll talk to you in fifteen minutes.”
The screen went dark before Dillon could say goodbye. He didn’t understand the disappointment that went through him so he shrugged it off, blaming it on lack of sleep and jetlag. There wasn’t time to do anything more than that, not if he wanted to get into the room and get changed and get settled so he could call her back in fifteen minutes.
No, make that fourteen. And there was no doubt in his mind that she really would be watching the clock.
He shoved the phone back into his pocket then checked his room number. Room 3114, just a few doors down. Derek was probably already inside, getting ready to nap or disappear—and Dillon really hoped it would be the latter.
He slid the keycard into the lock then eased the door open, not wanting to disturb Derek if he was getting ready for a nap. He stopped a few feet inside the room, the door slamming shut behind him when he saw Harland standing in the middle of the room.
“What are you doing here?”
“Thanks for warm welcome, asshole. What the hell?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Not really. “I thought I was rooming with Derek.”
“He switched, wanted to room with Mat instead. You got a problem with that?”
“No. Uh, no, not at all.” Dillon bent down to retrieve his bag then moved to the far bed, his mind hurriedly going through excuses to get rid of Harland. There was no way he’d be able to focus on studying with the other man in the room. Not just from embarrassment; part of him didn’t want Harland to know about Maggie. Not just because she was his tutor. No, it went beyond that. Dillon just wasn’t sure how far beyond—or why.
He pulled the tie from around his neck then moved to the closet and shrugged out of his suit coat. Harland didn’t move, just kept watching him with an expression Dillon couldn’t read and didn’t understand. Then he laughed, the sound almost forced.
“Get changed so we can go out, find some fun.”
“Uh, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. I, uh, have some things to do.” Like find a quiet place to call Maggie back. Maybe he should just go to the lobby and look for a quiet place there. Yeah, because nobody would notice him sitting there with a text book open in front of him as he took notes and asked questions.
“Like what?”
“Just things.”
“Really? What’s with you? I thought you were going to stop being so intense all the time.”
“I’m not intense. I just have things to do.” Dillon moved back to the bed and reached for his overnight bag, digging for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He snuck a glance at his watch. Ten minutes. He could do this, he just had to move a little quicker. And get rid of Harland.
Except Harland was still standing there, watching him. And frowning.
“You in a hurry to get somewhere?”
“What? No, of course not. What makes you think that?”
“Because you keep looking at your watch and acting like you’re not in a hurry—which makes you look sneaky, by the way.”
“I’m not sneaking—”
“Good. Then tell me what you’re up to.”
“I’m not up to anything. I told you, I just have things to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like nothing.”
“Yeah, that’s what I call sneaky. Come on, out with it. What are you hiding?”
Dillon shrugged out of the dress shirt and yanked on the t-shirt, his mind still searching for an excuse to give Harland. Which was stupid. So stupid. Why did he have to give Harland an excuse for anything? He didn’t.
Except Harland had been acting different lately, too moody and preoccupied and upset. Yeah, he’d been trying to hide it but he wasn’t very successful at it. And he kept standing there, just watching Dillon. Like he was waiting, like he knew Dillon was hiding something.
Or maybe he just had a guilty conscience.
“I’m not hiding anything. I just—I need to make a phone call, that’s all.” Dillon gave him a pointed look. “In private.”
“In private? Oh, this could be good. Who are you calling?”
“That’s not your business.”
“Let me guess: a sex line. Or one of those hook-up places here in town. Our little boy is getting adventurous, huh?”
“What? No. Hell no. Are you out of your mind? I would never—”
Harland laughed, cutting him off. “I was just kidding you. I know you wouldn’t. But maybe you should. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so uptight.”
“Seriously? What is wrong with you? I’m not uptight. Or tense. And I can’t believe you’d—”
“Then who are you calling?”
“None of your business.” And why was Harland even pushing? This wasn’t like him. Yes, he could be obnoxious—painfully so, sometimes. But he’d gotten worse the last month, like something else was going on. Like he was trying to prove he could be more obnoxious and an even bigger ass than anyone ever gave him credit for.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to hide something.”
“And if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were deliberately pissing people off. What the hell’s your problem lately?”
Harland stepped back, almost like Dillon had physically punched him. A painful expression crossed his face, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. He forced a smile and shrugged, Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky once more.
“You’re reading too much into things. There’s nothing wrong with me. You, on the other hand, are hiding something.”
“I’m not hiding anything.” Dillon glanced at his watch and winced. Three more minutes. There was no way he was going to make it in time.
“Yeah you are. Out with it. What’s going on that makes you keep looking at your watch?”
“I told you, I just need to make a phone call. That’s it.”
“And you need to make it in private?”
“Yeah, that was the idea.”
“Then why didn’t you just ask me to leave?”
Dillon narrowed his eyes and stared at Harland. “Okay, fine. Leave.”
“Not a chance. Not until you tell me who you’re calling.”
“Fucking shit,
Harland. Really? What the hell?”
“Ooo. Language. Now you really have me curious.” Harland sat on the edge of his bed and leaned forward, his hands clasped between his legs. “Go ahead, make your call. I won’t stop you. Then we can get out of here and do something fun.”
“I’m not making any calls while you’re here.”
“See? You’re hiding something. Curiouser and curiouser.”
“Why do you have to be such an ass?”
“Because that’s how I roll.”
Dillon opened his mouth, ready to tell Harland the truth. What would it hurt if he admitted he had hired a tutor? That he was trying to finish his degree? He wouldn’t be the first player to do that, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. Sure, he’d probably get some teasing because of it. That shouldn’t be a problem, not with the amount of teasing everyone dished out—and received in return. It was part of life, part of being a member of the team.
But the words wouldn’t come. At least, not the words he had planned to say. His mouth opened and he heard himself talking…and inwardly winced at the words that came out.
“I was going to call my girlfriend. Happy now?”
Harland straightened, his eyes widening in surprise. “Girlfriend?”
Dillon looked away, heat filling his face. “Uh, yeah.”
“Since when do you have a girlfriend? You didn’t have one last week when we went out.”
“Uh—” Dillon swallowed, his mind reeling. “We, uh, just started seeing each other.”
Not exactly a lie. But certainly not the truth, either. And Dillon didn’t understand the look on Harland’s face. Serious, thoughtful. Stunned. And maybe even a little hurt. Or betrayed. No, he must be reading too much into things, or seeing things through a guilty conscience. Why the hell would Harland be hurt or betrayed? That made no sense.
And of course his phone chose that exact moment to ring. Of course it did, because that was just the way his luck was running right now. He glanced at the screen, already knowing who it was without looking.
One-Timer (The Baltimore Banners Book 9) Page 4