“Fuck, Elizabeth.” His hands start moving faster than I thought possible, proving that he just might need me, too.
Later, I’m curled up against his chest, happier than it feels I should be, when a loud, blaring noise starts going off.
“Shit!”
I scramble off the bed and run toward the kitchen. My casserole! Smoke is wisping out of the top of the oven. I yank the door open, reach in, and without thinking, grab the glass dish.
“Fuck!” I scream, dropping it. It hits the door and I jump out of the way just in time to avoid burning my feet, too.
“Damn it, Elizabeth.” A naked Marc grabs my throbbing hands and takes me over to the sink to hold them under cold water. His thumbs rub my wrists in efforts to help soothe me. “I don’t think you hurt yourself too badly,” he adds in a softer tone.
I glance away, mostly because he’s naked and I’m naked and our dinner is burnt to a crisp on the floor, my oven door is open while it’s still on, and on top of that, my icing has probably gone dry.
“Don’t worry about all of that. Keep your hands under the water.” He disappears to my bedroom, returns wearing his jeans, and is holding his shirt in his hands. He sets the shirt on the table, turns off my oven, and picks up the mess. Then, he turns off the water, gently dries my hands, and slips his shirt over my body. “What’s your backup plan for dinner?”
“I don’t have one.” I walk over to where he placed the casserole. How in the hell am I going to get that mess out of the dish? I think it’s baked-in forever.
“Maybe we should just eat cake?”
I frown and glance at it. “It’s not finished, and the point of this disaster,” I wave at the blackened dish, “is so the stupid athlete can eat something healthy.”
“How are you cranky after great sex?”
I hold up my hands and nod toward our ruined dinner. It wouldn’t irk my nerves so much if he wasn’t grinning like a goofball. “Why are you smiling? Why were you late? And why’d you have to distract me?”
Marc steps closer to me, grabbing my hips, and yanking my body against him. Bye bye attitude. “I’m smiling because you look thoroughly fucked and you’re in my shirt. I wasn’t late because we never set an exact time. And if memory serves, you’re the one who jumped me, Elizabeth. Now what do you have to say?”
“That I’m hungry and it’s your fault. Everything else is frozen.”
“Then today must be my cheat day. I’ll run out and pick us something up.”
“Want me to ride with you?”
“No, stay and work on your cake.” He must see the dip of my lips because he hooks an arm around my shoulders and walks me to the bedroom. “Or, you can ride with me. Whatever you want. Either way, I need my shirt back.”
We begin to change, and I ask, “How was the road trip?” even though I know the answer.
“Fine. How did it go with Stella and Stephanie?”
Ah, yes. When he asked, I refused to tell him because I wanted to tease him in person. I smile as I face him and shimmy into my jeans now that my top half is clothed. “I think I’ve found the way to Stella’s heart.”
His eyes widen and his mouth parts. “What? Tell me.”
“She loves sweets and went nuts when I told her we were baking a cake. She didn’t care for the decorating part, but she babbled to me almost as much as Stephanie once we started mixing the ingredients together.”
“Next time I see her, I’ll make sure to bring her a cookie. Maybe then, she’ll finally warm up to me.”
“Maybe,” I agree, deciding to leave out that she’s picky about her cookies. If he brings her the wrong kind, she won’t like him any more than she does now.
A few minutes later, we’re in his truck after I placed an order at Bagels and Butts with the address in his GPS because I really do suck at giving directions. I’ve been hoping he wouldn’t bring up the looming holiday, but he does.
“What are you planning to do for Christmas?”
“Nothing. You?”
“Nothing?” he parrots in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to see Scotty and Sylvia and the girls? Do something with them?”
I look out the window. “No,” I answer quietly. If I all of a sudden started showing up and bringing the girls their gifts myself, they would probably wonder why. They’re used to the routine I’ve imposed on them, and why should we change that now? Marc reaches over, unbuckles my seatbelt, and grabs my thigh to pull me over to the middle seat. He hooks his arm around my neck. Why’d we have to have this conversation anyway?
“Why not?” His question is hesitant. Curious. But close to being inaudible as if he knows I’m too close to turning myself off.
“I haven’t spent Christmas with anyone since he died. Can we please not get into this?”
He glances down at me. Whatever he sees must make him think that we can get into this. “But you’re learning how to move forward, right? Why can’t that extend to this? You can’t tell me they wouldn’t love to spend the holiday with you.”
What Marc doesn’t understand is that it’s completely different. There’s baby steps in learning how to move forward, in letting a man distract me enough that I seem to be doing it a little at a time without really realizing it, and in taking active steps in repairing what damage has been done and reversing the choices I made after his death and continue to make. Does he want to freak me out again? God, just when I think I’m doing okay and have a handle on this, I realize I don’t. Everything is out of control despite how much I’m trying to control it all.
All those choices? They haven’t disappeared! They aren’t going away! Some of them are irreparable for better or for worse! I’m going to continue making some of them!
Pissed off and wound tight with too many emotions, I ignore what he said completely and ask him a question instead. “What are you doing? Is your dad coming to see you?”
Marc tenses next to me. “No.”
“Are you going to see him?”
“No.”
“Why not? Maybe you should see him. You can’t tell me he wouldn’t love to spend the holiday with you,” I spit his words back at him.
Marc removes his arm from around my neck. “You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, Elizabeth.”
“No, I wouldn’t because you want me to spill everything about my horrible life to you when I know nothing about you!” The truth comes out of my mouth in a shout before I can think twice about it. “You want me to fix my broken life when you obviously have issues, too!”
We’re in the parking lot of the restaurant now. Marc throws his truck in park and gets out without saying a word. The headlights of his truck illuminate a rigid back. He’s definitely uncomfortable when it comes to his father. Something obviously happened for him to be at odds with the man who raised him.
He can’t expect that we’re only going to discuss my issues. Yeah, they might be able to link around the earth once or twice, but that doesn’t mean he’s free from sharing, either. Oh god. What if I’ve become some sort of project he wants to fix?
No, that doesn’t seem right.
But why wouldn’t he want to talk about himself?
I don’t know any actual details about him. I know he’s Canadian. His father raised him. He’s hot. He’s good in bed. He knows how to cheer a person up. He can swoop in and calm me down, bring me down to earth, and lift the weight of my guilt and grief. He likes to smile. He plays hockey. He loves kids. He likes for everyone to think he’s always fine.
That’s all I have!
That’s practically nothing compared to what he knows about me!
My body slides to the passenger seat and I buckle up as I see him returning with our food. I’m not even hungry anymore. Roger never had any problems telling me things. Then again, I didn’t have any trouble opening up to him either. My biggest problem back then was convincing my parents to come to our wedding.
The cab of the truck is exploding with silence. I don’t like it. I
can’t decide if I’m still pissed or now worried and annoyed because I’m worried. By the time he pulls into my driveway, I decide I’m pissed. It’s been so fucking hard to give him a chance, and he’s going to clam up like he has?
“Well, it was nice to see you,” I start before he can put the truck in park. “But I’m tired and have a kitchen to clean and an early start tomorrow, so I’ll just see you later.” I hop out of the truck, run inside, and lean against the door—waiting for something.
The moment I hear his truck pull away is the moment I realize that I didn’t want him to leave and I was waiting for him to come inside.
“Sir, I can wait on you,” I hear my co-worker, Darlene, say while I focus on finishing the transaction for my own customer.
“That’s okay.”
My head snaps up because there is only one person in this world with a voice like that. There Marc is, stepping aside so the woman next in line can go ahead of him. What is he doing here? How did he even know which bank I work at? My customer turns his head and says, “Hey, you’re Marc Polinski!”
I tune out as they talk about hockey and try to hurry up to get Marc’s fan out of here. “Sir, you’re all finished,” I say a bit too loudly to garner his attention. The second he steps away, Marc is in front of me. “What are you doing here?” I hiss.
“You’re wearing lipstick.”
What? What does that have to do with anything? “I’m at work.” Which is the only reason I’ll put on lipstick. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry.” He starts to say something else, but I interrupt him.
“While I appreciate the sentiment, why couldn’t this have waited? I’m at work, Marc. Imagine me surprising you in the middle of practice and forcing you to talk to me over something that isn’t an emergency.” When his brows pinch together, I know he’s understanding what I’m saying.
“Lizzy?”
My back straightens as I turn in my chair to face my boss, Mr. Walker.
“Is Mr. Polinski giving you trouble?”
Everyone who works here would know if Marc had an account here, and since he’s made a point to speak to me, then obviously something more is happening. What irks me is that apparently everyone knows Marc!
“Not at all,” I answer. “He just...” Damn it, I don’t have a good excuse for him being here.
“I forgot something at her house and just stopped by to get her key.”
What in the hell did he just say?
Mr. Walker’s eyes widen. Everyone in this branch knows I stick to myself. They speculate about me becoming an old cat lady. They know I don’t date. They don’t think I have any family because I have zero pictures at my desk unlike the rest of them. They don’t realize I’m tied to Scott Boyd of the Carolina Rebels. Now, Marc is in here and has basically told my boss that not only are we an item, but he was recently at my house, left something there, and needs to pick it up!
What in the hell? Now, they’re going to think I’m dating Marc Polinski and start wondering how in the hell I pulled that off because what in the world would a guy like him see in the old cat lady in training? They really get to me sometimes, like today, especially since I don’t even like cats!
“Would you mind if I spoke to Elizabeth privately for a moment?” Marc asks Mr. Walker.
Mr. Walker looks to me as if asking me for permission, but he’s the boss. “Sure. Take your time.”
Really? This is the same man who is a stickler if we’re late from lunch but he’s telling Marc to take his time talking to me? It takes all of my adult-like characteristics not to grumble as I stand and meet Marc around front. He takes my hand to lead me outside to his truck. He leans against it and pulls me to lean against him. I try to remember my anger and hurt from last night. I definitely keep in mind what he just said inside. Therefore, my body is stiff and my arms are folded over my chest.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You have that look in your eyes like you’re panicking and you’re pissed. I didn’t think about the implications of coming here, only that I didn’t want to wait all damn day to see you and tell you what I needed to say. I’m sorry for coming and for leaving last night. I knew I’d have to open up to you at some point, but I wasn’t expecting the intro to happen like that or so soon. I wasn’t prepared. Things with my dad have been on a need-to-know basis, Elizabeth, and I don’t like talking about it. That’s pretty much all I can say right now. Want to come over tonight? I can tell you a little more, but I won’t tell you everything. I’m not comfortable with that yet.” He flexes his fingers on my hips when I don’t answer right away. “Will you?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. He doesn’t need to know that I gave in the moment he apologized because I can’t seem to help myself where he’s concerned. “Be sure to cook me something good. What time?”
“Whenever you want to come over.” He leans down and kisses me. This one seems different than the rest we’ve had. The softness and slowness isn’t unusual, but there’s an added tenderness and it’s like I can feel his regret over last night in his kiss. “You forgive me?” he murmurs against my mouth.
I nod. After a moment of hesitation, I add, “Despite what I do or say, always follow after me, Marc.”
His grin pops onto his face. “Oh, don’t worry. I knew before I left that I would be coming back. I followed you. It just took some time.”
WHEN I GET to the practice arena, I see Brayden talking to some young guy and overhear him offering his place as somewhere to stay. Must be a new guy. He looks familiar, but I can’t for the life of me think of his name.
“What’s up, Marco?” Noah says from the locker next to me.
“Nothing much.”
He starts laughing, which confuses me. “Did you decide to start wearing lipstick without bothering to learn how to put it on correctly?”
“Fuck.” I grab a towel and start wiping my mouth. Pink marks are left behind. That explains why the security guards either gave me an odd look or smirked at me on my way in. “I stopped to see Elizabeth, who apparently only wears lipstick when she goes to work.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Why didn’t Lizzy tell you she left lipstick smeared all over your face?”
That’s a good question. Maybe it was payback for barging into her work. Maybe she just thought it would be funny. I don’t know, but I’ll find out later.
“Who’s the new guy?”
“That’s Z.”
“Thanks for the helpful info, Rams.” I slap him upside the back of his head and grin when he glares at me.
He lowers his voice. “Lowe was traded for him. His name is Zane Landry.”
That’s when it clicks. He’s a twenty-one-year-old defenseman. There’s no doubt in my mind that the Rebels wanted him for two reasons. He may be young, but he’s known for being fast and he’s got good instincts. I think he’ll be a good addition to our team.
Coach Mike comes in to introduce Z to everyone and then tells us to be on the ice in ten minutes. Today is going to be a full one. There’s practice, we’ll watch tapes for the game tomorrow, and working out. They’ll probably play around with some of the defensive pairings to see who Z will work best with. Jimmy played with Reid most of the time, but he sometimes played with Ian, too. It just depends. Then, I have to go home, cook dinner, and talk about my father. The last person I talked about my father with was my agent, who helps me keep things under wraps.
I wasn’t going to leave Elizabeth’s last night, but I needed time to figure out my next step and I knew if I went inside, she was going to decide what it would be for me. There was no way I could’ve held back had I gone inside. Just thinking about talking to her tonight makes me want to drag her to the trampoline park and jump instead. Having fun is always better than being serious. I should know. It’s how I’ve coped my entire life. Elizabeth is making me be too serious too often and I’m not so sure I like it.
However, I don�
��t think I care enough when compared to how much I like her.
Damn woman.
Damn myself because I honestly don’t care. She can take what she wants, she can demand what she wants, she can do whatever she wants, she can change me into a different person for all I care, and I won’t mind at all as long as she’s keeping me around.
“How’s Lizzy?”
I glance at Scotty while we watch a group of guys take their turns at doing drills. “What do you mean?” Shouldn’t he know?
His eyes narrow. “I tried calling her last night. No answer. Tried calling this morning. No answer. Lizzy ignores Sylvia; she doesn’t ignore me.”
“I don’t know why she’s not answering your calls.” Our argument wouldn’t be a reason why. “Were you calling about Christmas or something? Maybe that’s why.”
“She told you about that?”
Okay, so I get that Elizabeth is who she is with them, but she isn’t that person with me, and I wish Scott would understand that. Just like I’m not the same person with her as I am with him. His disbelieving questions over what she’s discussed with me are starting to piss me off. How much of it has to do with her and how much of it has to do with me?
“Why are you always so fucking surprised she’s talking to me? Does Sylvia talk to you?”
“That’s not the same thing,” he interrupts.
I skate away because it is the same thing and he’s pissed me off. For the rest of the day, I stay extremely focused and don’t talk to anyone unless I have to. When I get home, I tidy up, take a nap, and then get started on dinner, trying to let what Scotty said go. I have a different set of problems to deal with.
There’s a knock on the door and I shout, “Come in!”
I hear the door open and close, hear her set her purse and keys down on the end table in the living room, and then her soft footsteps. I glance over my shoulder as I give the hearty pasta one last stir. She already has a frown on her face. What the fuck?
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks with a curious tone.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You always look relaxed and you don’t look relaxed at all right now.”
Because It's You (Carolina Rebels Book 2) Page 9