One-Timer (The Baltimore Banners Book 9)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  “Look, they’re announcing the three stars.”

  “What? What stars?”

  “Of the game. Watch.”

  Cindy pointed to the ice. Now that Maggie was paying attention, she could hear the announcer saying something about stars and calling names. She didn’t recognize the first two, couldn’t even make the names out, but the third one she heard clearly: Dillon Frayser. She couldn’t help the little smile that spread across her face when he came out to the ice and skated in a small circle, the stick held high above his head. It was actually kind of cute.

  “Cool. Dillon’s the top star tonight.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “So does he get something for that?”

  “I have no idea.” Cindy tugged on her arm, leading her into the pushing throng making its way up the stairs. They reached the landing and made their way to the concourse, where Cindy pulled her closer to the wall, out of everyone’s way.

  “So now what?”

  “What do you mean, now what?”

  “Just what I said. Now what? You said Dillon said to meet him after the game. Where are we supposed to meet him?”

  A brief second of panic settled over Maggie. “I don’t know. Don’t you know?”

  “Why would I know?”

  “Because you’ve been to games before. Where do people go to meet the players?”

  “They don’t. At least, not normal people. I don’t think. Didn’t Dillon tell you where to go?”

  Maggie shook head even as her mind raced over everything Dillon had told her. Tickets at will-call. Meet after the game. Food. Study plans.

  Nope, nothing about where to go.

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Well let me see what else is in that envelope they gave you at will-call.”

  “It was just tickets. I think.” Maggie dug into the recesses of the battered cross-body bag, pulling it closer to her face so she could get a better view. She grabbed the small envelope and passed it to Cindy. “See? Just tickets.”

  Cindy pulled everything out of the envelope. A victorious smile spread across her face as she held something up in her hand. “Not just tickets. Come on.”

  Maggie followed her through the thinning crowd, letting Cindy do the talking as she approached someone who obviously worked at the arena. The man looked at whatever Cindy was holding, nodded, then pointed along the hallway stretched out before them as he spouted off directions. Maggie hoped Cindy had been paying attention because she only caught every other word the guy had said.

  “Are you sure we’re going to the right place?” Maggie asked several long minutes later as they stepped off an elevator and turned down another long hall. This one was nearly empty, their footfalls echoing off the concrete walls around them.

  “I’m positive. I think.”

  Three turns and two stops for directions later, they were finally shown into another large room. At least in this one, the concrete walls were decorated with two contrasting shades of blue. A large eagle with two hockey sticks crossed behind him took up most of the far wall. Several other people—women and one or two small children—milled around the room, talking to each other or standing off to the side.

  Maggie struggled with the urge to hide, especially as several pairs of eyes looked their way. She leaned in closer to Cindy, her voice pitched low when she spoke. “So where are we?”

  “I have no idea. I guess this is where the players meet whoever they’re meeting after the game.”

  Cindy was right. A few agonizing minutes later, the doors at the other end of the room opened and a stream of big men wearing suits and sporting a myriad of bruises walked through. Maggie took a hasty step back, bumping into Cindy. Her friend didn’t notice, not when she was too busy gaping. Maggie couldn’t blame her, not when she was pretty much doing the same thing.

  “I wish I was a sculptor because I would be in heaven right now. What am I saying? I am in heaven right now. Oh. My. God. They’re just…wow. Wow. I can’t even.”

  Maggie blinked, her mind embarrassingly blank. She knew exactly what Cindy met. These were the sweaty, barbaric men under those pads she had seen on the ice not that long ago? It didn’t make sense and for a dizzying minute, she thought that maybe they were in the wrong room.

  But they weren’t, because here came Dillon. At least, she thought it was Dillon. She squeezed her eyes closed then reopened them. Yes, it was definitely Dillon. But he looked…different.

  His thick hair was damp, like he had just gotten out of the shower. It was swept back off a broad forehead instead of hanging down like she was used to seeing, the ends curling past the collar of his suit jacket.

  That was another reason he looked so different: he was wearing a suit instead of the faded jeans and sweatshirt he usually wore. Yes, she had kind of seen him in a suit before. Last week, through her computer screen when they had that one call. But that had been just a brief glimpse and mostly from his shoulders up, nothing like now.

  Dillon Frayser definitely knew how to fill out a suit.

  She had no idea what kind of suit it was but there was no doubt that it was a designer label. Just like there was no doubt it had been tailored to fit him. Broad shoulders, lean waist, trim hips. Strong, muscular legs. How had she never noticed his build before?

  Because she hadn’t wanted to notice. Because he had always been dressed down whenever they met in person. Well, he wasn’t dressed down now.

  Maggie glanced down at her own outfit: bright blue and pink leggings; a long oversized gray sweater; furry black boots. And her bomber jacket. Her old, worn, vintage, brown bomber jacket, that didn’t even come close to matching anything she had on. Except her hair. And her eyes. Did that count?

  And cripes, what was with her? Since when did she worry about what she looked like? Never. Except for now. Because Dillon was walking toward them, a crooked grin deepening the dimple in his left cheek and making him look endearingly charming.

  And totally out of her reach.

  Out of her reach? Maggie gave her head a hard shake. What was she even thinking? Nonsense, that was what. Cindy’s excitement and silly words must have gone to her head for her to even be thinking what she was thinking. Dillon was a jock. Her student, if she wanted to get technical. And her boss, if she wanted to get even more technical, since he was paying her to tutor him. They had nothing in common and never would. She was being the worst kind of fool.

  “Hey. You found it.” Dillon stopped in front of her. Like, right in front of her. So close in front of her that she could feel the heat from his body and see the small cut on his jaw. Maggie stepped back, straight into Cindy.

  “Yeah. Yes. We found it. Uh, this is my friend. Cindy.”

  “Hi Cindy. Nice to meet you.” Dillon extended his hand, taking Cindy’s smaller one in his. A breathy squeal escaped her friend. Maggie shoved a quick elbow into her side and tried to give her a dirty look. It didn’t matter because Cindy wasn’t paying any attention to her.

  Maggie couldn’t exactly blame her.

  Dillon’s gaze slid over to Maggie and he grinned even wider. “Did you enjoy your first hockey game?”

  “Yeah. I think. I mean, I didn’t understand anything I was watching but it was fun.” Great, now she sounded like a gushing idiot. “You scored. That was good.”

  He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. Or maybe it was just Maggie who was warm. And why wouldn’t she be, bundled up in a baggy bulky sweater and heavy leather coat?

  “Yeah, that was good. So, you guys ready to go grab something to eat? I thought we could—”

  “Hey Frayser, aren’t you going to introduce me?” Another player came up next to them and tossed his arm around Dillon’s shoulders. Maggie didn’t miss the way Dillon tensed, or the slight grimace that crossed his face. She tilted her head and studied the other player.

  About Dillon’s height, maybe just a smidge shorter. A little leaner but still built, if the way the suit
clung to him was any indication. Dark blonde hair, longer in the front so it nearly hung in his eyes. Light brown eyes, a little too laughing. Wide smile, almost a little too forced. Maggie narrowed her eyes, studying him. There was something about him, almost like he was putting on a show or playing a part. And he looked familiar for some reason—

  “Hey. I know you. We talked on the phone, didn’t we?”

  Now she knew why he looked familiar. Her eyes darted to Dillon, wondering if he was as uncomfortable as she was. After all, he had introduced her as his girlfriend. Maybe the guy wouldn’t say anything. Maybe that embarrassing conversation wouldn’t even come up again.

  “What was your name again?”

  Dillon moved away from the other guy and stepped closer to Maggie. He hesitated for a brief second then draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her stiff body closer. No, this couldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t—

  “This is my girlfriend. Maggie. Maggie, this is Harland. Don’t believe anything he says.”

  Maggie’s mouth opened but no sound came out. How could it, when all coherent thought flew from her mind? But she didn’t need to say anything, not when Cindy was standing next to her, squealing with excitement.

  Maggie narrowed her eyes and glared at her former best friend. It didn’t matter because Cindy wasn’t paying any attention. She was too busy hopping up and down, clapping her hands together with glee.

  Chapter Ten

  Dillon pulled the car into the small parking lot where Maggie pointed. He had barely put it into Park when her hand reached for the door handle.

  “I had fun. Thanks.” Her words were rushed, a little breathless. Like she was in a hurry to escape at the earliest opportunity. Had the night been that bad? He didn’t think so. At least, not for him. And he thought she had had fun, too. Well, once they were alone, that was. It had been easy to sense her discomfort at the arena and he couldn’t blame her for that. Hell, he’d been uncomfortable, too. Him and his fucking mouth. But he had wanted to stop Harland before he got started and couldn’t think of a better way to do it.

  Too bad there had been a lull in the conversation and half the team had heard him introduce Maggie as his girlfriend. Or was it? Part of him still wondered why he had chosen that moment to say it. Coincidence? He didn’t want to think too closely about it.

  “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  Maggie’s head swung around, causing several thick strands of hair to fall into her face. She pushed them away and shook her head, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. That’s what gentlemen do.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue, just turned off the car and got out. A blast of icy wind blew beneath his wool coat as he hurried around to the passenger side. Maggie was faster than he was, because she was already climbing out and closing the door. He didn’t say anything, just followed her up the narrow sidewalk to the old brick building ahead of them. Or maybe chased would be a better description, as fast as she was walking.

  He tried to convince himself it was because of the biting wind and cold air, and not because she was trying to get away from him.

  “Are these dorms?”

  “No. We’re, uh, actually off campus right now. Not by much, though. These are apartments. Such as they are.” The last words were muttered. The only reason he heard them was because a gust of wind caught them and sent them back to him.

  She hurried up the front steps, the soles of her fuzzy black boots soundless against the concrete. Her hand reached for the door handle and she hesitated, letting it drop to her side as she turned to face him. Her gaze met his then dropped to the ground between them.

  “I, uh, I really did have fun. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” And shit, that sounded so lame. He cleared his throat and reached around her, pulling the door open for her. His arm brushed against hers and he felt her stiffen.

  “Are you really that uncomfortable around me?”

  Her head shot up, a frown on her face. “What?”

  “Are you really that uncomfortable around me?”

  “No. Of course not.” She made a little noise, something like a laugh—except it was forced. Maybe she realized how it sounded because she sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just—no, you don’t make me uncomfortable. Really.”

  “Then why were practically jumping out of the car before I even pulled in? And just now, when I accidentally touched you. You got all stiff.”

  “I—” She sighed again and looked away. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other then ran a hand through her hair, making it even messier than when the wind caught it. “I’m not really uncomfortable. I just—I’m not sure how to act around you. Or anyone I don’t really know.”

  He would have believed her if she had managed to look at him when she said it. But she was still looking down at the concrete pad that passed for a small porch, her feet shuffling beneath her. Dillon sighed and pulled open the door.

  “Okay. Well. I guess it’s goodnight then, huh?”

  “Yeah. I guess.” She glanced up at him then looked back down, not making a move to go through the door.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” She turned and moved past him. He almost reached for her, stopping her. Why? Because he was stupid, that was why. Maybe she sensed that because she stopped, an odd expression on her face. Confusion. Hesitation. Uncertainty.

  “Oh. We, uh, we never went over the schedule for the next few days.”

  Shit. She was right, they hadn’t. They had talked about a lot of things the last two hours while they were eating, but not about schedules or studying or assignments.

  “Did you want me to call you in the morning?”

  “Okay. I guess. Or, um, you could just come up and we can go over it now. I mean, since you’re here. If you want.”

  A grin spread across his face. It must have surprised her because she stepped back, her eyes going wide. “I mean to just go over the schedule.”

  Her words didn’t make any sense at first. Why would she repeat herself like that? He had heard her the first time. Then his brain kicked in and he realized what she meant. His grin disappeared. “I didn’t think you meant anything else.”

  “Oh. Okay. Good.” She hesitated, like she wanted to say something else. But she didn’t, just turned around and walked through the door. He followed her as she made her way up to the second floor, her hand digging inside the worn messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

  “I hope you’re not expecting much because it’s only a studio. That’s all I really need right now. Mostly.” She tried putting the key into the lock, missing twice before she finally opened the door.

  “Your friend Cindy doesn’t room with you?”

  “No, she lives across the hall.” Maggie pointed behind him without looking, and he was pretty sure she muttered the word ‘traitor’ before she walked into her apartment. He bit back another grin, remembering Maggie’s look of surprise when her friend had insisted on going home instead of joining them for dinner. He was smart enough not to say anything as he followed her inside.

  Maggie turned on the light then stepped to the side, dropping the messenger bag on the desk chair. She shrugged out of the jacket and turned back to him, like she was waiting for him to make a comment about something.

  Dillon looked around, taking in the area with one slow glance. For a studio, it wasn’t too bad. Not cluttered and cramped like his old dorm room from years ago. The kitchen area—a basic refrigerator and stove, sink, single counter, a few cabinets—took up the far wall. A double bed was pushed against the right wall, precisely between two other doors. Probably a closet and the bathroom. The bed was partially hidden by a decorative screen. He tried to pretend he didn’t see the frilly comforter or throw pillows, or the small pile of clothes tossed on the foot of the bed.

  A large desk was pushed against the wall to his left, where Maggie was standing. The desk looked like it was close to collapsing
under the combined weight of a computer and laptop and assorted text books and binders. Another stack of books and papers rested against the leg of the desk, threatening to topple over at the slightest provocation. A large combination bulletin board and white board hung on the wall behind the desk, crammed with more papers and neatly scrawled notes.

  His gaze scanned the room once more and he frowned. No television or entertainment center anywhere, just a small bookshelf stuffed with books next to the largest beanbag chair he had ever seen. And next to that, shoved against the wall like it had been placed there as an afterthought, was a small table with two folding chairs…and a chessboard.

  He turned back to Maggie and grinned. “You play chess?”

  “Sometimes. I usually can’t find anyone to play with me so…” She shrugged and moved to the side, stepping away from the large cage behind her. Dillon leaned forward then rolled his eyes when he realized what it was: a deluxe wire condo for her pet rat.

  “Well, if you ever want to play, let me know.”

  Her head swiveled toward him so fast he worried she might get whiplash. Her eyes widened, disbelief clear in their warm depths. “You play chess?”

  “Yeah. I was actually in the chess club in high school.”

  “You? In chess club?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Actually, yeah. It does.” Her honest answer surprised him because he had expected her to pretend it didn’t and say no, to make up some other answer or comment.

  “So why does that surprise you?”

  “Because you’re a jock.” She turned away and leaned over the cage, whispering something in a low voice as she dropped a few treats into the top. “Jocks aren’t into intellectual pursuits.”

  “Wow. A bit judgmental, aren’t you? And maybe even a bit snobbish.”

  “Snobbish? Me?” She spun around to face him, her voice a disbelieving squeak.

  “Yeah. You.”

  “Whatever.” She turned away from him, busying herself with digging through one of the stacks teetering on the edge of her desk.