Why did he have to be so attractive? And why did he know what to say at the right moment? As much as he ticks her off, there is something about him that she’s drawn to, making her come back for more.
Ty’s hand is warm and soothing, erasing the sorrow she felt moments before.
“Elle?” says a voice, startling her thoughts. She pulls her hand from under Ty’s as though reacting to a hot stove and looks up to see Robyn. Of all people to run into, how can she hide the fact that she is sitting with Ty Caldwell?
“Hi,” she answers sheepishly.
“I thought it was you!” Robyn exclaims in her loud, energized voice. “You’re trying to hide from us aren’t you?” She giggles. “You’re really good at keeping a secret,” she says with a wink. “Hello, there!” Robyn extends her hand. “You’re Ty Caldwell! A pleasure to meet you. You can’t fool me anymore. But don’t worry, if you want it to be a secret, I won’t say anything.”
“We don’t want everyone to know,” Ty says. “We wouldn’t want the press to get hold of the story and blow it up to something it isn’t.” He clenches his teeth. “Would we, Elle?”
Eileen taps her foot against his leg, giving him a wide-eyed look. What’s in it for him?
Robyn makes eye contact with both of them. “You make an adorable couple, by the way. Picture perfect if you ask me. Well, I’ll see you later. Bye.” She waves at Eileen and walks away from their table with a spring in her step.
Eileen responds with a forced smile. How can she cover up being spotted with Ty? She cringes at the thought of going to the rink and having Robyn press her for more questions, insisting on juicy gossip.
Ty looks at Eileen. “You don’t need it to be a secret.”
“There’s no secret,” she says, squeezing her straw to her mouth.
“Good, I’m glad you feel the same way,” he says. “When’s our next date?”
“Date? There is no date.”
“Come on now, we’re on a date.”
“This is a meeting,” she reminds him, putting down her glass and scooping her rice. She can’t let his blue eyes talk her into something she may regret, so she looks away for a second to snap back into reality.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“We can’t do this.... We’re not dating. It wouldn’t be right.”
Ty sits up straighter, takes his glass in his hand, and washes down a bite. “What would you consider right? ’Cause this isn’t wrong, Elle. I don’t see why we can’t call this a date.” He takes another bite.
“It’s not. Can we please move on?” Eileen asks, scooping a bite into her mouth.
“Ty Caldwell? I’m a huge fan,” a girl shrieks, leaning forward to reveal her cleavage under her tight V-neck T-shirt.
“Oh, yeah?” he asks, sitting back in the booth, looking more relaxed by the hour.
“Yeah!” She giggles. “I usually sit behind the penalty box. I’ve waved to you a few times.”
Ty laughs. “When I’m playing, my head’s in the game.”
“I’ve noticed! Are you able to sign this card?” she asks, handing him his hockey card.
“Oh, wow, look at this,” Ty says, flashing the card at Eileen. “Haven’t seen this one before.”
“It’s the best one!” the girl gushes, bouncing side to side.
Eileen rolls her eyes at the girl’s breasts popping up from her shirt.
Ty picks up the pen. “Do you always carry hockey cards in your purse?”
“Not always. I knew I’d see you one day,” she coos. “Besides, I’ve waited for you after a game, but I never see you.”
Ty just nods and is relieved when she says, “Oh, no! I’ve got a Sharpie!” She hands him a mini marker.
“Thanks! So who do I make it out to?” Ty asks.
“Baby.”
Ty chuckles. “Baby? Really? Come on, what’s your name?” He taps the marker against the table waiting for an answer.
“Everyone calls me Baby.”
“Oh, yeah? All right then.” Ty takes one last look at the card before penning his name.
Baby leans into the table and says, “You’re so lucky.”
Eileen tries not to laugh at the girl’s flirtatious way. She watches him hand over the O-Pee-Chee card as though it’s something he will miss.
Is she lucky because she’s with Ty? Or is she lucky because she’s working with the Warriors?
“Can I give you something else to sign?” Baby asks.
“Sure. What is it?” Ty asks.
“My shirt.”
“Okay, where?”
Eileen’s eyes widen. Baby’s white T-shirt has a print on the front and thankfully for that, the placement is limited.
“Right here.” She points to her boob. Ty does what’s requested of him.
The waiter picks up their dishes. When they are left alone for a mere thirty seconds, Ty asks, “So do you think Baby loves the game as much as you do?”
Eileen bursts out laughing and picks up her drink. “She loves you more than the game.”
He’s quick to reply. “She thinks she does.” He holds a smirk and then takes the last sip from his glass. “So, Elle, where do you stand in all of this?”
“What do you mean?” Eileen asks.
“Us,” he states as though she is supposed to know what he’s talking about.
After a brief moment of their eyes holding a stare, Ty continues, “I don’t want to keep pressuring you, but I feel something about us . . . you . . .” He pauses and then sadly asks, “Is there someone else you’re interested in on the team?”
The waiter drops off the bill.
Eileen holds her fingers to her forehead, her elbow resting on the table. “What are you talking about? There is no one. I’m not interested in any one of them, or you for that matter. I’m strictly business.” She puts her hand down, cupping the edge of the table. “Don’t be getting all obsessed now.”
“I’m not!”
“Good. Don’t you have anything better to do than to pester me about my life?”
He stares at her for what feels like a long time. When he doesn’t respond, Eileen pulls out her wallet and throws down enough cash to pay for her meal, a tip, and a little extra to cover Ty’s. “Are we done here? I have to get up early.”
He puts down a couple of bills, shoos her money back to her. “There’s enough there,” he says.
“It’s not a date,” she mutters as they scoot out of the booth, heading for the exit. He walks her to the parking lot to find her car.
“This your car?” Ty asks as she stops in front of her Mini. The sky has turned to dusk, making the keyed marks vanish—thankfully, since she doesn’t feel like sharing the threats with him tonight. If anyone is going to know about it, it will be her uncle. She’s going to have to deal with this on her own.
Eileen nods and unlocks her car.
“It’s a small car for someone with a big attitude.”
“You are not impressing me, Caldwell,” she says, opening her door.
“You want me to impress you?” he asks, leaning into her. His nose skims the side of her mouth. A sudden heat flushes her cheeks, and all she can think about are his wide, kissable lips on her mouth. She closes her eyes as she feels the gentle brush of his lips open to hers. The motion of his kiss takes her breath away. She wants to pull him closer, maybe even feel her arms around his broad shoulders, the indents of his biceps. She holds back from returning the kiss, afraid to lead him on.
Ty pulls away, and as their lips part, she inhales his sweet, uplifting cologne. Her heart thumps heavy in her chest. What just happened?
“Is that a start?” he asks, taking a step back.
She doesn’t dare say what’s on her mind, afraid that she’ll fumble her words. Her head is foggy from the kiss. Damn! Why does he get to her this way?
Her body like jelly, she keeps a straight face. The last thing she wants him to think is she likes him. That would just go to his head and he would put more pressure on her
to date.
“Good night,” she says as she gets into her car, happy that their meeting is over and she can safely walk away.
Chapter 8
It’s Friday, another practice, which means having a conversation with Ty. Did he kiss her for reaction? He didn’t really want to start something with her, did he? What would people say if it ever got out? This job is too important for her to risk a relationship—not that she is considering a date with the superstar; he is only after one thing. She has to think of an excuse not to see him again. And it’s not like she has any plans of her own, something that’s starting to become a common theme in her life. Has she gotten herself into a rut? While her girlfriends are out nearly every weekend, she’s putting together instructions for one of her skating classes. After her parents died, she kept herself busy, hoping it would help take her mind off of what she lost. Now, it seems she’s too tired to want to do anything else. Maybe Ty’s right—maybe she needs to get out more or at least start spending more time with the only family she has.
Eileen walks through the Warriors’ building as though she has been doing this job for years. She says hello to a familiar face and makes her way to the bench, where she laces up her skates, puts on her hockey gloves, grabs her stick, and heads out onto the clean ice surface. The players are due on the ice in a few minutes, enough time for her to set up the practice.
“Good morning,” she says as she watches Steve skate toward her.
“How are things?”
“Fine,” she says.
“Any issues?”
Her eyebrow arches. “Issues?”
One by one, the players make it onto the ice.
“Are the guys behaving?”
“So far, so good,” she says.
“Good to hear. Let’s hope it stays that way.” He skates away.
“Me too,” she mutters and watches the players step on the ice and skate around to warm up. Some are wearing blue jerseys, others white. “Twice around the rink and meet me back at center ice!” she shouts, noting that Ty isn’t at practice. Late night with the ladies? Too good for practice? At least he won’t be pestering her for a date. Maybe he is done with her. After their meeting, he saw that she wasn’t interested in him, which is a relief.
Oh, well, he’ll be on to someone else who’s easier, more into his games.
She stands and waits for the players at center ice with her whistle hanging around her neck and a portable white board and marker in her hands. “We’re going to start with the cut cross drill leading into a breakaway,” she announces as she draws a diagram of the play. “Wingers, one on each side. You’ll skate wide to the net, defense in the middle. It will be a two-on-one. Defense will take the trailer—”
“We know how to play hockey,” Bret Thompson chirps. “Show us something we don’t know.”
Eileen glances at him and carries on as if she didn’t hear him. “It will be a two-on-one. Once the man with the puck takes the shot, D picks up the puck and wingers chase to the other side, creating a breakaway. Got it?”
Thompson stands with a gloved hand on his hip. “Yeah, we got it,” he says bitterly. “You can call out instructions, but you can’t do them.” He smirks, looks at the player beside him, who gives him a grin of encouragement. “Why don’t you be D? I’d like to see you give this a try.”
“Sure,” Eileen says with a shrug. “I’m always up for a challenge.” What does she have to do to prove to them that she is capable and skilled?
“I need two wingers!” she yells, watching Thompson skate to the side without the puck. Great, she thinks, I’ve got to take him to the boards. He’s a big guy, tall and known for his attitude on and off the ice. The public calls him the Enforcer. Every team has one, but they are usually nice guys off the ice, or so she’s told. Thompson isn’t like that. She can tell by his comments and brazen demeanor.
Eileen blows her whistle, and the guy with the puck starts skating toward the net. The play is on. She is using her speed to make level with Thompson, although she can’t physically remove him from the play so when she skates for him, she leads into the boards, hunched over and using her shoulder as her weapon to show how she would stop him at the boards without making body contact with him. He has to stop so that their bodies won’t collide. As Eileen lowers her shoulder, Thompson lifts his elbow with such force and determination that he pushes her body, throwing her off balance. Eileen hits the boards hard and falls to the ice. Instantly she grits her teeth and closes her eyes as she takes in a deep breath feeling the pain in her right hand. Wondering whether or not she has broken a bone or two, she tells herself she won’t cry, not in front of these men.
She doesn’t want to show weakness. That’s what they want to see—a woman who can’t play the game. A woman who is trying to fit in with men but can’t take a hit.
Thompson’s intentions prove different. He doesn’t stop to check on the damage he’s caused; instead, he continues to skate towards the net, finishing the drill as though nothing happened.
Eileen can’t move; the pain is too much. Her whole body hurts. It will be okay, she tells herself. She’ll get up in a moment as soon as the pain isn’t so sharp.
“She’s hurt!” yells a player who skates over to her.
The pain is still there. She can’t move, but she tries. She has to get up off the cold surface; she’s only wearing coaching gear, including a pair of un-insulated workout pants.
As she lies on the ice, she can hear someone yelling at Thompson. “What the hell was that? Are you for real? Were you trying to knock her unconscious? You did that on purpose, you moron!”
“She did it herself!” Thompson yells back. “She wants to be one of the guys, she has to learn how to take a hit!”
“She’s still a woman, you idiot! And she weighs a quarter of you! She doesn’t even have equipment on!”
“Are you banging her, Caldwell? Is that why you’re so defensive?” And with that, a fight breaks out and two players are throwing punches until Steve intervenes.
“Should we call an ambulance?” someone yells.
Ty bends down to her. “How do you feel?” he asks softly, touching her hand. “You didn’t knock your head, did you?”
“No, but I’m really sore.” Sore wasn’t the right word; pain was more like it. Pain in her leg, her shoulder, her neck, her hand—it was like being in a car crash and afterwards wondering what happened and figuring out what limitations her body has.
“No kidding, I’m sure you’re sore. How are your legs? Can you move them?”
Eileen moves her legs slowly, gritting her teeth.
“How about your arms? Can you lift them up?”
She lifts her left arm up with no problem.
“Easy. You don’t want to force it. How about the other one?”
She can tell by the pain in her right shoulder that this is going to give her trouble. Eileen slowly lifts her arm and she closes her eyes in fear that the discomfort will show.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Brandon asks, joining them. He nods as though he can feel what she feels.
“Yes,” she mutters.
Steve skates over and leans over Ty’s shoulder. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No, I can take her to a clinic.”
That’s all she needs, to be out on the injured list and possibly lose her job with the Warriors. Is it Thompson who’s been threatening her? She couldn’t think of anyone else on the team with such anger and hostility toward her.
“I’m going to help you up,” says Brandon, putting his hand around her waist. “Is this okay?”
Eileen lets out a weak yes.
“Here! I’ll help her.” Ty’s voice is loud and direct.
“You grab her left arm and I’ll hold onto her right side,” Ty instructs, gently wrapping his arm around her waist. Her right arm is lying on her body; she doesn’t want to move it.
They ease her up carefully. “Put your arm around me,” Brandon says. “For support.”
“I’ll take you to the clinic,” Ty says, lifting her up. From the strength of his arm, she knows she’ll be okay. He won’t let her fall. Is this the real Ty? Or is he trying to score bonus points for another night out?
Eileen glances up at him, only moving her neck slightly to meet his eyes. They are warm, and just like she remembers from their first embrace, her heart picks up and his sweet cologne brings her back to that night. As her eyes take in his comfort, she also is startled by his injury. “You’re bleeding!” she shouts.
“I’ll be okay,” Ty says, calmly.
“But you’re bleeding! Thompson is such a jerk. He thinks he can bully his way around—”
“Just a small cut. Don’t worry,” Ty reassures her. “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t worry? What’s next? Is he going to run me down in the parking lot?”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Ty says. “He has anger issues and unfortunately he took them out on you. Come on. Let’s get you to the doctor. We need to get you checked out. Let’s hope nothing’s broken.”
Ty and Brandon take her to the bench so they can take off her skates.
“Well, maybe he should get some help,” Eileen manages to say.
Brandon chuckles. “It comes in handy in a game.”
“Other teams don’t like him either,” Ty says, placing her on the bench for support.
“Do you have her?” he asks Brandon. When he gets the nod, Ty continues. “Coaches get stressed when they know he’s playing.” Eileen watches Ty unlace her skates, gently removing them from her feet, giving the blades a quick wipe with a hand towel and placing them in her gym bag.
“Has he seriously hurt other players?” She doesn’t really care about having a conversation about Thompson, but it’s the only thing that she can keep her mind focused on as she tries not to think about the pain.
“Oh, sure, he has, in a game. . . .”
“No one from his own team,” adds Brandon. “I’ll grab my shoes and give you a hand,” he tells Ty.
Ty gives him a nod and slips Eileen’s running shoes on her feet. “I don’t know what his problem is.”
“He has a problem with a woman being on the team,” Eileen mutters.
His Game, Her Rules Page 7