Callahan's eyes widened. "Me? You're joking, right?"
"I know you two don't like each other, but you laughed at her! That was . . . ." She shook her head and hugged herself. "That was unbelievably cruel. Even for you."
"Oriana." Mason stepped forward and slid his hands under her elbows, easing her arms apart. "It might have been cruel if he knew how she'd react. Or why it would bother her so much. But he doesn't."
Perron came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Talk to us, darlin'."
She opened her mouth, hesitating as she finally noticed Landon, standing there. The way she looked him over made him feel like an ant under a magnifying glass that a child might study or fry. "This is personal."
Leaving them alone to discuss this would be the decent thing to do. But Oriana had these three men and Silver had . . . just him. He gave Oriana a tight half-smile. "Not to be crude, but I really don't give a shit if it's 'personal'. Silver's hurting and I'm her friend."
Callahan snorted.
The muscles in Landon's forearms twitched. "Captain, I'm real close to making sure you're listed with an upper body injury. Due to a broken nose."
His Captain's eyes darkened. "Do I need to remind you you're a guest here?"
"So is Silver."
"All right! Enough!" Oriana dropped her head back and leaned on Mason. "Our father used to laugh at her. She'd do something girly, like scream at a spider or cry over a broken nail and he'd laugh. If his business partners were around he'd call her his silly little doll. And they'd laugh with him because she'd—she'd scream and ask him if he loved her at all and if he did why didn't he help her? I know it probably sounds stupid, but it got worse as she got older. Every time she came to him with a problem he'd make her tell him in front of other men and then he'd make a joke out of it. I asked him once why he did it . . . she was eleven and she'd just gotten her period. I never talked to her about it because . . . ." She made a face and focussed on her slippers. "I started mine after her. I never even thought about it. Anyway, he told me she needed to toughen up. What I didn't get is why she still went to him, even after he humiliated her . . . ."
"She wanted the man to act like a daddy," Perron said, softly. "She still does."
Landon's stomach twisted into a knot as tight as the fist pressed to his sides. He picture Silver, that beautiful woman, as a little girl, tiny, fragile. And alone.
"I'm going to see if she's okay." He sucked his teeth when Callahan stepped in front of him. "Try and stop me."
"That's not what I'm doing." Callahan closed his eyes and sighed. "Just tell her . . . tell her I'm sorry. I'd tell her myself, but I don't think she wants to see me right now."
"I'll tell her."
When he stopped by the door, he realized his hands were still fisted and forced them open. Unclenched his jaw. Relaxed his features so she wouldn't take one look at him and see the rage boiling within. The extreme reaction wouldn't make sense to most people, but all he kept thinking of was his dad, hugging Becky and treating her like she was special. Hell, he'd done the same for Landon. Granted, he'd gotten the men don't cry lecture, but as a little boy his tears had been kissed away as his father gently reminded him he wasn't a man yet.
Why couldn't someone have done that for Silver?
Composed as possible, Landon opened the door, prepared to do all the hugging and kissing needed to make things right. But the woman who faced him wasn't his sweet, vulnerable Silver. She was the closed off, untouchable Silver Delgado.
"Oh! I'm glad you came. I really didn't want to go back in there and deal with the drama to say goodbye." She wrinkled her nose in a way that seemed scripted and fake. "One thing I miss about Hollywood. It kept me too busy to come down for all the family mess. Maybe, if I don't cut it as the owner, I can go back."
"Mignonne." He reached out for her, but she skirted away and burrowed in her purse for a lollypop. His sleepy cock woke a little at her provocative sucking, but his concern kept his blood pumping in his heart and his head where it belonged. "Don't slip into some role and pretend it's all right. It's not all right."
"What's not all right?" Holding the lollypop in one hand, she licked her lips and gave him a slow once over. "Landon, you're a sweetheart, but you worry too much. My family's not like yours, but that's okay. And really, it could be worse. Look at me. I'm fine."
He looked at her. Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Her clothes were all fresh and if she had a flaw he couldn't find it. The shiny shield she never held up to him was firmly in place. "Don't do this."
"This? Landon, think about it. You held me while I fell apart last night and I appreciate that, but I'm not as damaged as you think. We'll talk more later, but now . . . ." She checked her phone. "Uck, I have to hurry. See you at the game?"
No use in pushing any more. She wasn't ready to let him in. He nodded. "Sure. We can hang out in the bleachers."
She let out a light laugh that reverberated up his spine like a knife scratching porcelain. "Sloan didn't tell you? You've been cleared to play! I get to watch you between the pipes!"
"That's great." A shallow buzz of excitement rushed through him, diluted by the fact that holding him at arm's length wasn't enough. She was pushing him further and further away. "Maybe after we can—"
"You're going to the club tonight, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, I guess I'll see you there." Her mask slipped and she groaned. "My shoes—could you get them for me?"
He nodded and left the room, walked stiffly to the kitchen, and returned without a word to anyone. Not that anyone had tried to speak to him. He had a feeling they all knew who waited for him in that room.
After slipping into her shoes, Silver gave him a quick peck on the cheek. When their eyes met she tripped away from him. "I—I really appreciate everything."
Another vague nod. He had no idea what to say. This was goodbye.
But as he watched her from the front door, getting into her car and waving gaily at the shoddily hidden camera crew, something inside him snapped into place.
Not goodbye. Not for long. They were friends and that wasn't going to change.
This woman might be Silver Delgado. The actress. The infamous playgirl.
But she hadn't met Landon Bower. The man who played to win.
It was about time she did.
Chapter Seventeen
The Arena wasn't fancy, it didn't even have press boxes and only had a quarter of the seats the Delgado Forum held, but in 24 hours, they'd filled it. Every man, woman, and child stood as the local Canadian Idol finalist sang the anthem. Silver trembled with anticipation as she watched Landon take his place between those red metal bars. Sloan met his younger counterpart at center ice. The puck dropped. And all those big, strong bodies collided.
Silver leaned forward, restraining herself from pressing her face against the glass as the farm team—The Queen's Vipers, took control and plowed the net. A firm arm around her shoulder held her together as she cringed. Landon sprawled under a pile of bodies and lay on top of the puck for three long seconds. The ref blew the whistle.
"This wasn't a mistake, was it?" She tipped her head up to see Dean whose focus seemed on keeping her warm instead of on the ice where it belonged. "He's ready?"
"He's ready." Dean hugged her tight, then leaned down to whisper in her ear. "This isn't your baby out there. He's your friend and a full grown man who's dedicated his life to standing between those pipes. I understand your concern, but you need to know I wouldn't risk an asset to our team, or a man's career, to put on a show. The doctor checked him out. He's in good shape."
My friend. Do not forget. Must not forget. If she showed too much concern, people might wonder. "Looks like a lot of money to me, Dean. Maybe I'm not that good at numbers, and I'm woman enough to admit it. But I'll take your word for it."
Seconds later, she almost retracted her words. Carter, their cocky young forward, iced the puck. He won the faceoff, but almost put the puck in his own net
. The Viper's sharpshooter caught the rebound. Dominik knocked Landon over trying to cover the right side of the net.
Landon rose and gave him a hard shove. He gestured to the blue ice with his stick and waved his blocker in front of his face, shouting something she couldn't quite make out. Dominik shook his head and moved to skate away. Landon grabbed his arm.
"Shit." Silver pressed her hand to her throat and glanced over at the bench. The coach, Dean's brother Tim, called to the men, but Dominik and Landon ignored him. Someone had to do something. She turned to Dean. "Can't you—"
"Not my job, sweetheart." He nodded towards the rink. "But it's being taken care of."
Her lips curled as she watched Sloan get between the men. Both Landon and Dominik looked ready to start swinging and she secretly hoped they would, now that Sloan might catch a stray punch or two. But Dominik backed off after just a few words from Sloan and the game resumed without any further issues.
It took awhile, but eventually Silver found herself completely engaged in the game, no longer flinching when Landon fell, or smiling in satisfaction when Sloan's body was crushed against the boards. She whispered questions to Dean less and less frequently as the pieces of the game formed a complete picture in her mind. The intensity of each play sent her heart to pounding as though she was the one out there, flying across the ice as Scott did so effortlessly. Or Max who passed the puck with foresight and precision, resulting in rapid fire shots on net, and finally, the first goal.
The steady din from the bleachers erupted. Silver covered her ears and laughed as Dean grinned down at her. His eyes were wide and bright and the pure joy made him look younger somehow. He truly loved this game and for the first time she could see why. It was starting to grow on her too.
"So, we've got some good prospects out there? That kid who almost scored—"
Dean's brows shot up. "Kid? If you're talking about Hart, he's three years older than you are."
"I thought the guys on the farm team were younger than the guys on the team."
"No, that's the juniors. There are thirty year olds on the farm team. Some men spend their entire careers there. Hart's not ready for the NHL, but he's decent if we ever need to bring someone up." Dean pointed to another young man who managed to steal the puck from Dominik and dart between Carter and Max. "Collin Gail. He's eighteen, and he's got some growing to do, but I think he'll be our top scorer in a year or two."
"A year or two." Silver wrinkled her nose. "What good does that do us now?"
Before Dean could answer, she gasped and bunched her hand in his shirt. Collin feigned to the left, waited until Landon came out to meet him, and skidded to the right. Blasted a shot at the open net—
Landon dived and her mouth dropped open as he snatched the black blur out of thin air.
A gruff laugh at her side brought her head up as the crowd lost their freakin' minds. Dean was shaking his head. "Landon just robbed him. That was one hell of a save."
She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt as she rested her forehead against the glass and watched Landon stand. He looked right back at her as his defensemen hit his pads with their sticks, congratulating him. Even with the distance between them, she could make out his face, all shiny with sweat. And his beautiful grey eyes.
He winked.
Her heart sputtered and she forced herself to back away from the glass.
Friends. Just friends.
She hadn't acted like much of a friend this morning. It was just . . . uck, she couldn't say for sure, except over the past week it had gotten easier and easier to let her guard down with Landon. Which had been nice at first, but she finally saw how weak it made her. She was losing control of her emotions and almost falling apart in front of Sloan, of all people, told her enough was enough.
Not that she wanted to stop being friends with Landon. Only cool it down a bit before it turned into something more than either of them could handle. She liked Landon too much to let him get involved with a girl like her.
Dean touched her arm and bent down to be heard over the ruckus surrounding them in the in-between period rush for refreshments."Would you like a coffee?"
She shrugged. "How about a beer?"
He frowned and shook his head. "Coke?"
Frowning back, she jerked her chin up. "Why can't I have a beer?"
"You think it would be good for the press to see you drinking on the job, at a charity event?"
Gah, why does he have to be right all the time? "Diet Coke please."
His lips tilted up as he nodded and she blinked against the image of what those lips had done to her body. Might do again tonight if she let him. Which she really, really wanted to—after she figured a few things out about herself.
He must have read something in her expression, because he leaned over, his body language seeming carefully controlled, but his words anything but. "You have no idea what I want to do to you when you look at me like that."
Her breath hitched and she stared after him as he made his way through the throng and out of sight. The way he did that, switching from business partner, to Dom mode, to seducer and back made her head spin. If she let herself think about it, she might even admit—admit what? There was nothing to admit.
Still, she had fifteen minutes to kill.
The crowd had thinned in the stands, but they flooded the small concession area and stood in long lines outside the bathroom. Their urgency was contagious. None of them wanted to miss the puck dropping for second period and she found her own pace quickening to match those of the people around her. So many bodies in such a small space—the stadium was a third of the size of the Delgado Forum—made it stuffy and she felt a little claustrophoebic. She joined the crowd trickling out to the parking lot.
The sun blinded her as she stepped past the heavy metal doors. She fetched her sunglasses from her purse and slipped them on. A thin cloud of smoke hovered over the small group of smokers and she held her breath before she was tempted to take a whiff. Smoking was the only bad habits she'd managed to ditch before it did any serious damage, but sometimes she still got cravings. And stifling the urge to smoke brought on worse urges.
She'd almost reached the corner of the building, past the stands set up for donations and the area where children were getting their faces painted and taking pictures with the teams' mascots, when she spotted a familiar face. Dean's daughter, Jami, snuggled up on a bench at the edge of a line of evergreens with a man big enough to be a member of one of the teams. Silver was pretty sure he wasn't a Cobra. They passed a cigarette—no, a joint—back and forth between them and Jami giggled as the man cupped his hand around his mouth and blew smoke into her face.
None of your business, Silver. She's an adult.
Which was true. But she was also doing drugs way too close to where kids could see her and Silver was responsible for the event. Maybe if she put it the right way . . .
Squaring her shoulders, she approached the pair. "Hey, Jami! I'm glad to see you here. It's really nice of you to show support for your father. But if you're going to get high, you need to do it somewhere else."
Jami giggled again. "Why? We're fine here, thank you very much."
"There are families here."
"Yeah, way over there." Jami pointed towards the front of the building. "We're not bothering anyone."
So much for being nice. "You're bothering me. Either put it out or leave."
The man took the joint from Jami and notched it on the edge of the bench before she could protest. He smirked at Silver. "Better?"
"Yes. Thank you." Something about the way the man looked at her made her nervous. It was like he had a secret he was just dying to share with her. And it wasn't anything good. She formed her lips into a neutral smile and stuck her hand out. "We haven't met. I'm Silver Delgado. Are you on one of the teams?"
He let out a dry laugh as he shook her hand. "No. I'm a bartender. The name's Ford."
"A pleasure." She tried to sound sincere, but he laughed again in a way
that made it obvious she hadn't succeeded. "So, are you and Jami—"
"He's my boyfriend, so hands off." Jami draped herself over Ford and glared at Silver. "I've heard about you. Apparently you went through the whole team before you left for Hollywood. And now that you're back, you're starting over at the top. Does my dad know what a slut you are?"
Aww, how sweet. Stoned out of your freakin' mind and still looking out for daddy. Silver shrugged. "It's not exactly a secret. You want to know what happened the night we met?"
"Eww!" Jami hid her face in her boyfriend's leather jacket. "Seriously, just go away."
"Glad to," Silver said. She slid her sunglasses down a bit and kept her eyes on Jami until the girl sighed and lifted her head. "But just a friendly piece of advice before I go. You fucking reek. You might want to make yourself scarce before your father gets wind of you."
"Ha ha." Jami flipped her the bird, then stood and dragged Ford to his feet. "Come on. I don't want to deal with my dad's fuck friend anymore."
Ford tucked Jami against his side and nodded to Silver. "Until next time."
Silver watched them walk away and rubbed her arms as a chill crawled over her flesh like a thousand icy little worms. Apparently, Jami was going through one of those phases, and since she'd gone through a few herself, she refused to judge. But that guy was bad fucking news.
Tell her father. Let him deal with it.
Yeah, not likely. She hadn't stooped to the level of rat just yet. But Jami's words reminded her that Landon probably wasn't the only one she should cool it with. Dean really didn't know much about her. He knew her as a businesswoman and as a sub. And she wasn't really either of those.
Was she?
Spinning around, she decided she'd had enough 'fresh' air and headed back to the stadium. A horde of toddlers surrounded her and she froze, scared to step on one of them. An older kid, maybe seven or eight, stared at her with something like hero worship. She stared back and stuttered when he held out a Dartmouth Cobra cap.
Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) Page 19