I woke a short time later to dark skies and my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. Without checking the text, my best guess was that one of the guys from the Breakers was trying to get ahold of me. The boys wanted me to celebrate our win with them, since we had a rare day off tomorrow. Problem was, I didn’t feel like it. Call me an old man, but already at thirty-three, I was tired of the bar scene. Shooting pool with a couple of the guys while drinking a few beers? Sure, count me in. Hanging out in a crowded bar, deflecting the multitude of drunk women trying to score a night with a hockey player? I’d take a pass.
As anyone could imagine, there were times in the not-so-distant past when I’d done the one-night thing. Even then I would have preferred a steady girl. Some of the guys didn’t even know the name of the girl they’d just done the horizontal mambo with. I remembered the names of every woman I’d ever slept with. The list wasn’t that long.
When my phone vibrated again, I rubbed my hands over my face and slowly came fully awake. Waking up wasn’t something I did gracefully. Eight Ball jumped off of my chest, landing gracefully in the middle of the coffee table where she proceeded to lick her lady bits. “Stop that.” I poked her with one finger and she tipped over, giving me the evil eye. We had a love/hate relationship. Anyone who’d ever had a cat understood how that worked.
My phone was set to vibrate until I either ignored or answered the text. On its third attempt at bullying me into reading my text, I dug it out of my pocket and looked at the screen.
Cage: Come to Chelsea’s. We’ve got 2 tables going.
Me: Nah. I’m relaxing with Eight Ball.
Cage: Well, at least I know you’re finally getting some pussy.
Dalton “Cage” Booker was our goalie. I’d only been playing with him for a few months, but we’d gotten to be pretty good friends. And he’d never missed an opportunity to make a crude joke. He had a mouth on him that often got him in trouble with his wife. If she saw half of the texts he sent me he’d be in for it, but for whatever reason, Cage and I had bonded. Probably because he was learning sign language from his wife, who taught special needs kids. Only our coach could sign with decent accuracy at this point.
Me: You know I could forward your texts to Karen, right? I’ve got her number right here at my fingertips.
Cage: Don’t do it, man. I take back the pussy comment.
Me: You are so whipped. It’s embarrassing.
Cage: Whatever. Come play pool. It’s not a meat market tonight. Our women are here. They’ll keep you safe.
I sighed, knowing I was going to give in. Chelsea’s was in Atlantic City, so it wouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes to drive back over that way. And with the wives and girlfriends there, the puck bunnies wouldn’t be so brazen in their attempts to lure us singles away.
Me: All right. I’ll be there in about half an hour.
Cage: Cool. See you soon, bud. I’ll have your beer waiting.
***
Chelsea’s was just a block away from the beach, which was evident by the cold breeze blowing down the road off the cold waters of the Atlantic. I wrapped my jacket tighter around me as I double-timed it to reach the warmth of the bar.
With Thanksgiving just weeks away, pilgrims and turkeys decorated the walls of the pub, not to mention the rather large cornucopia displayed on the hostess stand.
Heads turned when I let in a gush of cold air upon my arrival. The bartender made eye contact with me and nodded his head in the direction of the billiards room. I raised my hand in thanks and made my way through the throng of people waiting for drinks.
I had almost made it to the relative safety of my teammates before the first girl approached me. A leggy brunette. It still amazed me that women would approach me when they knew damn well that I wouldn’t talk to them.
I rarely spoke in public. My friends and family assured me that I only had a small hitch in my speech. When I asked them if they could tell I was deaf from hearing me talk, their answer was always, “Yes, but…” It was the “but” that kept me mostly silent.
When I’d first lost my hearing, I didn’t speak for almost a year. I was still in my red rage at the injustice of it all, and why speak if I couldn’t hear myself? After I’d gotten through the worst of it, I opened my mouth again, and sure enough there were people who’d made fun of the way I talked. That was it for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have felt that way. Those kinds of people could rot for all I cared now, but I still wasn’t going to put myself out there to be ridiculed by ignorant people for the sound of my hearing-impaired voice. No thank you. Maybe I was missing out on an opportunity to put some prejudices to rest, but I just wasn’t that guy.
That didn’t mean I didn’t have to deal with the puck bunnies, though. They liked the mystery of the Silent Defender, so I read the brunette’s hot pink lips as she spoke. “Hi, Magnus.” She mouthed her words very slowly and with deliberate enunciation.
I waved to her and tried to slip quickly past, but to no avail. She grabbed my arm and walked around me until we were almost chest to chest. “I’m Marci…Do…you…want…a…drink?” Her hands did some gesturing to herself and the bar. I had to hold back a chuckle.
I gave her my standard “no” look. It was a look that I hoped was polite enough but firm. I’d practiced it in the mirror until I felt I had it right. My head tilted, my eyebrows went up a bit, and I gave her half a smile as I shook my head.
Her lips tipped down, turning her smile into a slight frown. No matter how many times I was bothered by women, I still felt bad saying no. I was just about ready to give in to guilt and have a drink with her when Cage came bounding out of the back room.
His hands moved quickly as if he was signing to me. He wasn’t. God bless him, he was saving me from myself. Some of his hand movements made me want to laugh out loud. Most of them made no sense, but he did say something about an elephant and potato chips. I’d have to tell him about that later.
I signed back something nonsensical, shot off another wave to the puck bunny, and off we went to the pool room. Once I was surrounded by familiar people, I was able to relax. My teammates had become my safe haven. None of them would ever betray me. We all had each other’s backs.
Cage chose speaking out loud to me when we wouldn’t be overheard, since he was still learning sign language—although he was better at it than he thought. After taking a quick look around us, he good-naturedly started in on me. “You were going to buy that chick a drink, weren’t you?”
“No.”
“Yes you were. If I hadn’t saved your ass, you’d be sitting there smiling with the puck bunny du jour.”
“Maybe. I can’t help it.”
Karen, Cage’s wife, came up to us and pulled my chin around to see her speak. “Can’t help what?”
“Turning my no into a yes when a woman looks dejected. I’m a sap, I know it.”
She gave me a grin. “Well, I think it’s sweet. One of your best qualities. There’s nothing wrong with being a nice guy, you know. Not everyone’s like Cage used to be.”
I saw his body bristle out of the corner of my eye and looked his way.
“Hey, I’m still a bad-ass motherfu—” Karen clamped her hand over Cage’s mouth.
“Language.”
Caged smiled wide before he grabbed her hand and nipped her wrist. He signed to her. You like me bad.
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug as she admitted defeat. You’re right, I do, she signed back. Before excusing herself with another quick flourish of her hands, she placed a quick kiss on Cage’s lips. I watched her walk back to her seat, recognizing the woman sitting next to her. My body came to attention in an instant.
Jennie Fields again. “What’s she doing here?” I didn’t mind so much seeing her at the rink, but as attracted to her as I was, I could have done without seeing her outside of work.
“She and Karen met in the parking lot one day after a game and hit it off. She’s actually really nice, Mags. Maybe you could try talking to her sometime
instead of just shooting her dirty looks.”
“I don’t shoot her dirty looks. I think I treat her the nicest out of all the reporters.”
Cage laughed. “You may treat her the nicest, but that doesn’t mean you don’t shoot her dirty looks when she’s holding her recorder. You need to get over that, man. Especially with her. She just loves sports and writing. Besides that, she’s a good reporter. Respectful—not like a lot of the others.”
I knew he had a point. Just the same, though, I planned on staying in my comfort zone. “Nope. Still a reporter. One isn’t any different from another.”
Cage must have wanted some practice, because he began signing to me—slowly, but accurately. You’re wrong. Trust me, I understand being wrong. She wouldn’t trick you into getting your precious voice on a recorder. Seriously, man. Get over it already.
Cage thought it was ridiculous how strongly I felt about that. He’d told me more than once that if he were me, he’d just give a damn voice interview and get it over with. He possibly had a valid point, but it was my life, not his.
Know what, Booker? Until you understand what it is to be ridiculed for something beyond your control, keep your opinions to yourself. From the look he gave me, I knew he only got half of what I was saying, but it was enough. His hands raised in surrender, and he went back to speaking out loud.
“I do know what it’s like for people to think the worst of you when it’s not true, but this is different. I realize you feel strongly about it, but your speech is just not that big of a deal.” He clapped me on the back. “But whatever you want, man. Come on, let’s grab another beer.”
I went with him back out to the bar, only to be assaulted by yet another puck bunny looking to get laid. Since I was in a foul mood, I cut her off at the pass. Out loud. “Not tonight, but thanks.”
Her mouth made an O in surprise. “You spoke to me. Oh, my God. You sound so cute. Like a child.”
And that was why I almost never spoke out loud. People were strange—me included, I supposed.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of beer, pool, and sneaked looks at Jennie. I never did talk to her, and after a few cups of coffee, I called it a night and made my way back home. Such was my life as I knew it lately.
Chapter 3
I was in the locker room after winning an intense back-and-forth game against the Rangers when I saw her again. My eyes seemed to seek her out of their own accord. I couldn’t say why. Nothing had changed. I still dreamed of her, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a reporter. Maybe Cage’s words still floated around in my head. Perhaps it was time to give up my voice, so to speak. Or not.
You going to talk to her, dickhead?
Cage’s signing was almost perfect these days. He was a quick learner. Instead of snapping back with a quirky retort, I simply gave him the universal signal of fuck you. In my peripheral vision, I saw Jennie laugh. My head spun her way, but as soon as our eyes locked, her gaze drifted to the right, and she lifted her hand held recorder closer to our captain as his interview moved along.
Giving Cage a bone, I signed back to him. She is pretty cute, isn’t she?
I’ve always liked the buxom ones, you know that. Of course my eyes are only for Karen now.
Cage had liked many, many different kinds of women in the past, but he was absolutely a one-woman man now. If I was in a snarky mood, I would have reminded him of how whipped he was, but Cage liked to think he was still the tough badass he’d been before Karen tamed him. I’d let him have that for now.
You really think she’s different, huh?
I do. Why don’t you come over to our house tomorrow night after the game? Jennie will be there. Jaromir will be too.
Jaromir Novak was a newbie. He’d just come up from our AHL team and was earning more and more respect with each game he played in the big league. He was a twenty-one-year-old kid from the Czech Republic and his English was minimal, but he was learning fast. Another stray Karen’s taking under her wing?
You know it. She’s already invited him to Thanksgiving dinner.
Of course she had. That was the kind of woman Karen was. Cage had hit the mother lode when she’d chosen him. Part of me was envious and part of me thanked God that I didn’t have anyone to answer to. Except maybe Eight Ball.
So how about it? Stop over tomorrow and play nice with the reporter.
It was an intriguing idea, and with the new kid there I’d have an extra buffer between me and Jennie. Yeah, okay.
***
Cage and Karen shared my love of the shore and lived just on the other end of the island. With no sun-seekers clogging up the roads, it took me mere minutes to drive there. I parked my four-day-old, black Chevy Silverado behind an ancient, beat-up Buick that sported more rust than anything else. Since it was the only other car on the street, I assumed it was Novak’s, but damn, surely he could afford a car that had actual paint on it.
I hurried up the stairs to the front porch, pulling my jacket tight as I did. To my dismay the air smelled of snow. Up to six inches were predicted, and I was not looking forward to it. Snow was a nasty four-letter word to me. I’d spent the better part of my childhood shoveling that crap, and I didn’t think it was fair that I should have to clean it up at the beach. Admittedly, my shoveling would be minimal since I’d had the foresight to buy a second-story condo, but even an inch of snow was too much in my opinion.
Before I could knock on the door, it opened with a heavenly gust of heated air. I high-tailed my frozen butt inside, pressing a kiss to Karen’s cheek in the process. “Temperature’s really dropping. The snow will be here within the hour, I’ll bet.”
Karen took my black peacoat from me and hung it in the closet. She rubbed my hands between hers, offering blessed warmth. “How can someone who makes their living on the ice be so cold all the time?”
“No idea, but I’ll be glad when summer’s back.”
“Me too. Go warm up by the fire, and I’ll have Cage bring you a beer.”
Sounded like a plan to me. I made my way over to the fire, carefully stepping around Cage and Karen’s two daughters, who were playing an intense game of Candy Land. “Hey, ladies.”
One pair of soulful, brown eyes looked up at me, along with a pair of bright baby blues. The Bookers had adopted the two girls before they left California, when Cage played for the San Diego Scorpions. Ebony was as dark as her name, with short curly hair sporting purple barrettes. Her sister, Penny, was obviously of Irish decent with red hair and freckles scattered adoringly across her pale skin. And they were inseparable.
If I remembered correctly, Ebony was eight and Penny was five. Hi, Magnus. Cage had told me Ebony had been working on signing my name for a week.
“That’s really great, Eb. Good work.” I gave her a high five and turned to wave to Penny. She was a shy one, and if I had my guess, she was going to be a heartbreaker with the way she peeked up at me from under her lashes with a bashful smile breaking over her face. There was just something about that kid.
“Who’s winning?”
I waited for a second as Ebony tilted Penny’s head up and pointed to me. She repeated what she’d said, making sure to look at me. “Ebony’s winning. She’s really good at Candy Land. Sometimes I win, though.”
We chatted for a couple more minutes before Cage came in, handing me a beer. Bending low, he placed a kiss on each girl’s head. Cage kissing his two little girls was something a lot of people wouldn’t be able to picture, but he was a natural. “I’m stealing Mags away now, girls. You can go watch a movie in our room if you want to.”
Both kids sprang up before being brought to a halt. “Clean this up first. You know the rules.” With smiles from each of them, they nodded, cleaned up the game, and waved to me as they bounded up the stairs.
I still can’t believe you’re such a good father. Doesn’t fit the mold, you know?
He punched me in the arm like I knew he would. Sure it does. I’m the best at everything I do.
Of course you are. What was I thinking?
My steps faltered as we made our way into the kitchen. Karen and Jennie were cooking together at the counter. Jennie looked sweet in a holiday apron. It was green with two gingerbread men on it, one missing a chunk of his butt, saying “My butt hurts,” and another a chunk of his ear saying “What?”
What was it about this woman that made me react as I did? It was confounding. Simply being around her gave me a jolt. When I’d first experienced the phenomenon, I figured it would go away. I’d met other women who I thought were gorgeous, but they didn’t affect me in the same way. Maybe a jab of lust if I’d gone too long without, but Jennie—I didn’t know—it was so much more than that. I’d much prefer if it went away.
Jesus, does she ever not look good? Of course, I was signing with Cage.
Do you really have to sign all night? I doubt she’s wired…
Fine. But could you do me a favor first? Could you drop something by her so she’ll bend over and pick it up? I gotta see that ass.
Cage laughed and shook his head. You have it bad for this woman. Why not go for it? Give her a chance?
We’ll see. I risked a look at Jennie and caught a faint blush on her cheeks as she stood there looking at me. She forced a small smile and turned her attention back to the vegetables she was chopping to go with dip that already filled a bowl in the center of the serving plate.
So here went nothing. “Hi, Jennie.”
Before she could respond, Jaromir walked in from the direction of the garage with a six-pack of Molson. “Here is beer. Hi, Magnus. Sorry it took me long time. Beer was behind the food.” He set the drinks down on the counter and then stood behind Jennie while he reached around her to snag a carrot. His face was inches from hers, and I saw him whisper something to her, although I didn’t know what. I didn’t care for the action. Nor did I enjoy it when she laughed, but I did like it when she batted at his hand and moved slightly away from him.
Silent Defender (Boardwalk Breakers Book 1) Page 2