One-Timer (The Baltimore Banners Book 9)

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One-Timer (The Baltimore Banners Book 9) Page 6

by Lisa B. Kamps


  “Well go ahead and take it. It’s not going to bite.”

  Easy for her to say. Dillon grunted then reached for it, tugging it closer. He took a deep breath and fought the urge to close his eyes. It was just one test. His first since they started the tutoring sessions two weeks ago. It didn’t mean anything—

  Air escaped him in a rush when he saw the grade, the numbers written in a tiny and oddly neat scrawl. He couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Really? Are you serious? I did that well?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”

  Okay, so maybe a seventy-eight wasn’t the greatest score. But at least he hadn’t failed. He said as much, only to have her raise her brows at him. He shrugged and looked over the answers, his eyes searching out the wrong ones. “Well, at least I know where my weak spots are and what I need to focus on.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean, maybe?”

  Maggie leaned back in the chair and reached for her drink, then frowned when she realized it was empty. She placed the cup to the side and turned in her seat, reaching for the pocket of the leather coat hanging over the back of the chair. A fuzzy head poked out with a tiny squeak before disappearing back inside, a treat held between its tiny paws.

  “How do you get away with bringing that rat in here? Don’t they say anything to you?”

  “For the thousandth time, Slinky is not a rat. And she doesn’t bother anyone so nobody says anything.”

  “She bit my ear off!”

  Maggie rolled her eyes then brushed a few strands of hair from her face. Today was the first time he’d seen her wear her hair down. It was longer than he thought, hanging in loosely-tousled waves. The dark brown strands looked thick and soft, shiny with highlights that almost glowed under the lights of the coffee shop.

  Maggie looked back at him and he looked away, worried he had been caught staring. And why was he even staring? There was nothing to stare at. Not really. Okay, so maybe she was cuter than he first thought. That meant nothing. Maggie was his tutor, that was it. They had nothing in common. In fact, he was pretty sure she didn’t even like him that much, because she always seemed to be a little standoffish around him. Which made him wonder why she hadn’t brought up that stupid conversation from last week. He was sure she would have jumped all over him for that—

  Long fingers snapped in front of his nose. He jerked back and frowned as Maggie stared at him. “Did you even hear what I just said?”

  “Sorry, no. I was thinking.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine.” She leaned back and reached for the empty cup then rolled her eyes and put it down. “I said that yes, we know what we need to focus on now. But you’re trying to cram a refresher and a full semester plus lab work into one day a week for a few short months and this is just the very beginning. I’m worried that we’re not going to get everything covered that you need in time.”

  “I can do it.”

  “It’s insane. If I had realized this is what we were going to be doing, instead of just some basic tutoring, I don’t think I would have taken the job.”

  The bottom of Dillon’s stomach opened up, letting in a freezing blast of air. There was no way she could back out now. No way. He leaned across the table, his gaze focused on her. “This is just the first test. I’m going to do this, and you’re not backing out.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I don’t care. This is what you agreed to. Once I get back into the swing of things, we can go even faster. I told you, it’s been awhile since I’ve been in school. I just need to get my feet back under me. And we’ve been busy—”

  “But aren’t you going to be busy from now until whenever?”

  Dillon waved away her concern. “I told you, I’m getting back into the swing of things. It’ll be easier to manage from here on out. Besides, the All-Star break is coming up this weekend. After tonight’s game, I’ll have a few days with nothing else to do but study.”

  Maggie didn’t look convinced. In fact, she looked she was ready to argue with him. He pushed away from the table, reaching for her empty cup.

  “I’ll get you another drink—”

  “I don’t need another drink.”

  “Well I do, so I’ll get you one, too. We’ve got another twenty minutes left before I have to leave so just get out whatever else we need to go over next so we can do this thing.” He walked away before she could complain. Or tell him no. Or try to argue with him again.

  Except she didn’t really argue. In fact, she was actually pretty decent. A little odd around the edges maybe, like she wasn’t sure how to act around people all the time. But he could relate to that. He always used to feel like the oddball, especially growing up. He was the geeky kid who loved science and studying and sports—not exactly a real common combination. His teammates would tease him about having his nose in a book, and his chess club friends never understood his burning need to be on the ice. If he hadn’t been drafted, he’d have his degree and be working in the field right now, and probably playing pick-up hockey in a beer league somewhere.

  But it hadn’t worked out that way and he had been drafted—and he hadn’t looked back since. He attacked his work on the ice with the same focus and intensity that he had used to attack his studies.

  It was just a damn shame that he had let his brain get a little rusty. No, that wasn’t quite true. The shame was that he had waited two years to take the final course he needed.

  Well, he was rectifying that now. And with luck—and help from Maggie—he’d be able to surprise his mom this summer. Now he just needed to convince Maggie that he could keep up the pace and that he wasn’t really an idiot.

  He grabbed the two new drinks and turned, heading back to the table. Something made him pause, he wasn’t sure why. His gaze drifted over to Maggie and he just stood there for a minute, watching her.

  Did she feel as out of place as he always did when he was growing up? If she did, she hid it well. Or maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see.

  She was hunched over the table, the man-eating ferret resting on her shoulder, its pointy nose poking around her hair. She absently brushed the hair away from the ferret and leaned closer to whatever she was reading in that battered text book in front of her. Knowing his luck, she was probably trying to pick the next hardest chapter, just to see how he would hold up under the pressure. He knew she didn’t think he was very smart.

  Maybe that was the wrong word. Yes, it was definitely the wrong word. Dillon didn’t think she was the kind of person to judge someone else’s intelligence. He had no doubt, however, that she had something against his occupation. The way her mouth curled into a sneer and her eyes narrowed whenever she said ‘jock’ was a pretty big clue. So what did she have against jocks?

  Well, it didn’t take a genius to figure that part out. At least, in general.

  Which just made him wonder again why she hadn’t said anything about his ruse last week. It hadn’t been one of his brighter moves and he still wished he could take it back. He could have found something better to tell Harland. But he froze, which was completely unlike him. And instead of calling him out on it, she’d actually called him hot. Granted, she was comparing him to Harland, but still.

  So why hadn’t she said anything about it yet?

  He moved to the table and placed her chai tea latte in front of her, then used his free hand to spin the other chair around backwards. He straddled it and took a sip of his own coffee, watching the silly ferret nibble on her hair.

  “Aren’t you afraid that thing will chomp your ear off?”

  “Hm?” Maggie looked up, that faraway expression in her eyes. She blinked then turned her head, a smile brightening her face as she rubbed noses with the ferret. “I told you, Slinky is harmless.”

  “Yeah? Tell that to my ear. And my lip. I think it’s still swollen.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Was it his imagination, or did a small flush spread across her cheeks? S
he looked away and reached for the cup in front of her. “Don’t be such a baby. Your mouth looks fine to me.”

  Yes, that was definitely a blush turning her cheeks pink. And yes, she had been looking at his mouth. Why did that fact send a little jolt of awareness through him?

  “I’m not a baby. Trust me, I’ve had worse happen on the ice.”

  “Sounds lovely. And totally barbaric.”

  “It’s not barbaric.”

  “Yeah, okay. If you say so.” She took another sip then placed her cup down. “I think we need to double-up. As much as you’re able to, anyway. I think that’s the only way—”

  “You should come to the game tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You heard me. Come to the game. Then you’ll see that it’s not barbaric. And that I really do work.”

  “Thanks, but no. I have things to do—”

  “Like what?”

  She rolled her eyes but the pink on her cheeks deepened. “Like your lesson plan, for one. Lab reports. I want to run some analyses and get caught up—”

  “Sounds boring.”

  “It’s not boring. It’s what I do. And I like what I do.”

  “Is that all you do?”

  “What?”

  “Is that all you do? Just work?”

  “No, of course not. Don’t be silly. I do things.” The words came out a little too forceful, a little too light. And she wouldn’t meet his gaze, looking instead at the pages of the text book in front of her. The fingers of her right hand played with the edges of the pages, fanning them up and down so they made little whooshing noises.

  “Good. Then come to the game tonight.”

  “I can’t—”

  “I’ll get two tickets for you and leave them at will-call, that way you can bring a friend.” Not a boyfriend, he hoped.

  And where the hell had thought come from? Shit. From nowhere good, that was where. He took a quick swallow of his coffee then bit back a gasp as the hot liquid seared his throat. Did she notice? No, thankfully, because she was still staring at the book.

  “Well, Cindy would probably like it…” Her voice trailed off, like she was actually thinking about it. Or maybe trying to convince herself. Dillon leaned forward and grinned, wanting to take advantage of her hesitation.

  “Good. Two tickets at will-call. Bring Cindy.” Whoever the hell that was. “After the game, we can go grab a bite to eat or something.”

  Her head shot up, her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Was she looking for an out? Or just trying to understand his sudden offer? He was almost tempted to have her explain it to him if she ever figured it out, because he sure as hell didn’t know where the offer had come from.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Nothing to think about.” Dillon stood up and grabbed his jacket, shrugging into it with one smooth move. “I’ll be starving and you need to eat, too. We can take care of that while you go over everything you want me to do during the break. It’s perfect multi-tasking.”

  “Oh. Multi-tasking. Yeah, okay.”

  Was that disappointment he heard in her voice? Why would she be disappointed? No, he was probably reading into things too much. He grabbed his books and papers and shoved them into his own backpack, then picked up his coffee.

  “Puck drop is at seven, but you should probably get there earlier. You can watch us warm up. Don’t forget, will-call.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Will-call. See you tonight.” Dillon slung the bag over his shoulder and walked away, resisting the urge to whistle. Why the hell would he be whistling? There was nothing to get excited about. His tutor was coming to his game, to watch him play. To see that he really did work. Nothing to read into there.

  That didn’t stop him from grinning as he left the coffee shop.

  Chapter Nine

  Cindy bounced in the seat next to her, a wide smile on her face and excitement dancing her eyes. “This is so freaking exciting. Don’t you think?”

  Maggie murmured a noncommittal reply, one Cindy would never hear, not with all the noise around them. ‘Exciting’ wasn’t the word Maggie would use, not really. Crowded, yes. Loud, yes. Overstimulating and noisy and claustrophobic and suffocating and deafening. Yes, to all of those. But exciting?

  No, not really.

  She wasn’t used to crowds, not like this. Filled study halls in the auditorium, absolutely. But it was quieter there, any conversations completed in hushed whispers. This was not quiet. And every conversation around her seemed to be screamed, each person shouting louder than the next just to be heard.

  Maggie had always known she was an introvert—she had just never realized how much of one until tonight. How did Dillon do this, every night? Or almost every night? She couldn’t even imagine. And it wasn’t just the noise and the crowds and the lights and…and everything else. It was the actual game itself, too.

  Cindy had shared what little knowledge she had with her. The game was played in three twenty-minute periods, with a fifteen-minute intermission in between each period. Each team had a goalie—who even Maggie knew was the guy wearing all the gear in front of the funny looking net. They also had five other players on the ice. Cindy had explained their positions but Maggie couldn’t keep it straight. All she had really been able to follow is that one team tried to get a black slab of rubber—the puck—into the other team’s net, and vice versa.

  Maggie glanced up at the large score board suspended over the ice. Right now, the Banners were doing a better job of doing what they were supposed to do, because they were winning by two points. And she didn’t care what Cindy said, the periods were way longer than twenty minutes. If they wouldn’t keep stopping the game to do silly things like fight or send people to the holding area a few seats to the left of where they were sitting, it would go much faster.

  Because when they were actually playing, the game definitely moved fast. So fast, in fact, that she had trouble keeping an eye on that rubber thing. Cindy kept nudging her and pointing, usually in the opposite direction of wherever Maggie was looking.

  Like right now. Maggie was trying to figure out why two guys on the ice to their right seemed to be getting into a shoving match. Nobody else seemed to be worried about them, not even Cindy. She poked Maggie in the side and pointed to their left.

  “There’s Dillon. See? He’s going for the puck.”

  Maggie turned her head and pushed the glasses up her nose. She had to crane her neck because the huge sheets of plexiglass right in front of them were in her way. “How can you tell?”

  “Because he’s skating after the puck, that’s why.”

  “No. I mean, how can you tell it’s Dillon?”

  “Ohmygod. Seriously? His name is on the back of his jersey. And his number. See that big forty-three? That’s Dillon.”

  “Oh.” Now she just felt silly, because she was pretty sure Cindy had pointed that out once already. But how was she supposed to remember? They all looked the same, dressed in those bulky pads with their helmets on. Maggie squinted and almost pressed her face against the sheet of plexiglass to see—only everyone had moved again and she was having trouble following them.

  “Here they come!” Cindy jumped to her feet just as a loud crash thundered directly in front of Maggie. She squealed and sat back as the heavy sheet of glass wobbled in its metal frame. Two bodies were pressed against the glass, their faces only inches from hers. Maggie’s eyes widened as she recognized Dillon’s face right in front of her. His brows were pulled low over his eyes, an expression of fierce concentration and mind-startling intensity on his face as he did something below the waist-high wall in front of them. She sat, frozen, as the player behind Dillon kept shoving him against the small wall, pushing his face against the glass.

  The two disappeared almost as quickly as they appeared, skating off in the other direction with Dillon in the lead. Cindy’s hand latched onto her arm and pulled her to a standing position. Maggie came to her feet, afraid her frien
d would draw blood if she didn’t. Everyone around them screamed, louder than before, as Dillon raced toward the net. He made two funny turns and did something with the stick in his hand. A loud horn sounded, drowning out the scream and cheers. Then Dillon raised his hands in the air and skated away from the net on one knee as a few of his teammates hurried over and pounded on his back with their gloved fists.

  “Did you see that? That was great! Did you see it?”

  “No.” Maggie shook her head, knowing something important had happened but not knowing what. Cindy rolled her eyes then pointed to the giant scoreboard above them.

  “Dillon just scored. See? It’s his second one tonight!”

  Maggie focused on the giant screen, her eyes following each little move as it played overhead in slow motion. Okay, so it helped a little having it on the bigger screen. And slower. But she still didn’t see exactly what Dillon had done.

  She frowned and started to sit back down but Cindy grabbed her arm again and made her stand. Players moved to the middle of the ice, almost directly across from them, and lined up to do something. The ref—even Maggie could tell the guy in stripes was the ref—stood between the two teams, looking small and insignificant among all those bigger bodies. He dropped the puck in between two players, there was a momentary explosion of action, then another horn sounded, longer this time. The players left the ice, heading back to the boxes they had come from.

  Maggie looked around, wondering what she had missed. “What happened?”

  “That’s it. The game’s over.”

  “It is? But they were getting ready to do something.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The game’s over. See?” Cindy pointed to something on the scoreboard but Maggie didn’t know what. And she didn’t want to ask because that would only make her feel stupid again and she hated feeling stupid.

  Someone jostled her from behind, pushing her. Maggie tossed a dirty look over her shoulder as Cindy tugged her toward the end of the row. She had no idea why the guy behind her was in such a hurry because there was a line of people waiting to climb the steps and there was nowhere for them to go.

 

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