“If that’s what you want, to keep it a secret, I’m in.” Ty sounds so sure of himself.
“Can we take a break?” she finds herself saying and then suddenly bites her lip.
Ty laughs. “We just started something and you need a break?” There’s an intensity in his voice, and she knows she caught a nerve. She can see it in his eyes. He’s not happy.
“Just until I’m finished with my job and then we will.”
“What you’re saying is you want to be single until your job is over.”
Eileen’s face drops. Maybe she was single for a bit too long and she is now set in her ways, doing what she wants to do and being who she wants to be. Then Ty comes along and makes her feel attractive and wanted, a person she never thought she was capable of being, and he’s calling her out, telling her it’s his way or nothing.
“What am I to you?” There is a hint of sadness in his voice. “A toy you play with and then put away until it’s convenient for you?”
She gasps and glances around her to see who is listening. That’s all she needs, someone reporting to the media that Eileen and Ty are having a falling out. “No, that’s not true at all!” she interjects.
Ty takes his coffee in hand, swallows a gulp, and stands up. “Elle, I really like you, but I can’t be on a string. That’s not me. I guess we’re on a break until your contract is over,” he says, firmly.
“I don’t have a contract,” she whispers. She wishes she could stop him, but she can’t because this is all her fault. She didn’t want a relationship in the first place, and now that Ty was breaking it off she wasn’t ready to accept it.
“Then whenever is convenient for you.” He walks out of the coffee shop casually as though nothing is wrong. She waits for Ty to come back and tell her that after the job is finished she will have his heart, but for now she wonders if she will ever get the chance to mend a relationship with him. She closes her eyes for a second, takes a deep breath, and packs up her things.
Chapter 15
The Oasis Pub is crowded on Friday night. The music is loud and most of the women are all dressed to please a man’s eye: short skirts, high heels, and tight tops. If Eileen didn’t know better, she would have thought she was at the Midnight Oil, a strip club downtown. Not that she had ever been to such a place, but she is feeling rather sophisticated wearing her straight-leg, dark denim jeans and loose cotton-blend top.
The waitress comes by to take another drink order, and Eileen then turns her attention over to Brooke, who is sucking on a straw, trying to get the last drop from the bottom of her glass.
“I’ll get another one, please,” Brooke says and then moves the glass over for the waitress to take with her.
Eileen hears her cell phone vibrating so she reaches for her purse that’s hung on her chair and takes out her phone.
Elle, it’s Mario, I’ve been thinking of you. Call me . . .
“What’s wrong?” Brooke asks as she studies her friend’s face.
“That’s weird,” Eileen says, staring at her phone. “I just got a text from Mario. Strange. Haven’t heard from him in what, two years?”
“Maybe he’s heard about you and Ty and now he’s jealous,” her friend says mischievously. “I’ve heard that some guys want a woman back when they see their ex with somebody else. What are you going to do about Ty?” Brooke asks, taking a sip from her straw.
“I don’t know,” Eileen muses. “Ty seems really persistent in wanting a relationship with me. Although I told him we can’t see each other anymore.”
“You’ve been seeing him for weeks and now you want to call it quits? Guys don’t get that. He likes you! He’s probably scared to lose you if you both cool it off.”
“You think so?”
“If you really care about him . . .” Brooke looks at her friend. “You do, don’t you?”
Eileen smiles instead of answering.
“Okay then, you have strong feelings for Ty. There is nothing wrong with having a relationship with someone you care about, even if you did meet him at work. It’s not a big deal where you meet the love of your life,” she says. “Call it fate. If it’s meant to be, then it will work itself out.”
Eileen’s phone buzzes and she jumps to answer it.
“It’s Mario again: ‘Do I have the right number?’ How do I respond? He’s obviously waiting to hear back from me.”
“Find out what he wants.”
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.” Eileen puts down her phone and takes a drink from her straw.
“Why not? I’m curious what he wants.”
“I know you are, but I have to figure out what’s going on between Ty and me first. If Ty finds out I was in touch with my ex-boyfriend, that doesn’t look good either, especially since it’s Mario. Every time Ty says his name it’s like he’s annoyed by him or something.”
“No, but this is harmless. You’re not jumping into bed with Mario. There’s no reason why Ty needs to know anyway.”
“True.” Eileen sucks in a breath as though she is making a big decision and then picks up her phone and texts Mario back.
You’ve got the right number. I did miss you, she texts, but it’s been two years! What’s up???
She hits send. Does he want her back? She puts her phone down on the table. “I don’t get it. Suddenly he’s texting me? It’s been a long time and suddenly he misses me? It seems kind of strange.”
“Maybe he’s lonely and you came into his thoughts,” Brooke says, trying not to laugh.
“Jeez, thanks. That makes me feel better.” Her eyes drop to the table, where her phone is buzzing. She picks it up and reads it aloud:
I’ve always missed you. I’m just sorry how we ended things. Call me, I want to hear from you.
“Well, are you going to call him?” Brooke asks with eagerness.
“I don’t know . . .” Eileen says, puckering her lips. “Should I? He’s probably bored and looking for attention.” She grips her phone, trying to decide whether to call Mario or just forget about him.
“Speaking of attention,” Brooke says and sits up straighter, pulling her long blonde hair in front of her. She plucks through the strands looking for split ends. “I need your opinion,” she says and then combs her fingers through her mane and tosses it behind her. Brooke folds her hands on the table so that she looks prim and proper, like a young girl who’s gone to boarding school. “I was thinking of getting Botox on my lips to make them fuller,” she says, puckering up. “And getting liposuction on my thighs.”
Eileen squints her eyes as though missing something in the conversation. “What for? You’re selling purses, not your body. What makes you think that having bigger lips and thinner thighs will help you sell your product?”
“I want to feel refreshed and new,” Brooke says, lifting up her shoulders and tilting her head to the side. “I need to feel like I’m one of those Mary Kay ladies, you know? Walking around like I just won the lottery, feeling glamorous and princess-like. Besides, I need a change.”
Eileen slouches, resting her elbows on the table, cuddling her drink. “Why not go to the spa for a facial and pedicure if you want to feel refreshed? Or go to the gym if you want a change?” Eileen asks. “That’s what normal people do. And it would be cheaper, plus the results are guaranteed.”
“The gym takes work,” Brooke whines and pouts her lips. “So, you don’t think it’s a good idea? What about getting just my lips done? Men love full lips.”
Eileen makes a face and says, “I’m sure you can buy a lipstick that does the same thing, can’t you? And it won’t cost you a month’s wage.”
“I don’t have time to go to the gym right now, and if I get Botox on my lips and cellulite treatment on my thighs, it would feel natural after a while, wouldn’t it? Waking up to thinner thighs and bigger lips? Besides, what woman doesn’t want that?”
Eileen looks at her friend with wide eyes.
“Okay, besides you,” Brooke says. “You’re n
ot exactly the average woman.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not telling you something you don’t already know,” Brooke says. “Come on, you’re not the type of woman who cares about feminine things.”
“Yes, I do!”
“Elle, you don’t care about shopping or owning a Louis Vuitton handbag.”
“That has nothing to do with being feminine. It has a lot to do with priorities,” Eileen says and takes a sip of her drink. “So, I’d rather not worry about makeup. If you want my advice about artificial beauty, you don’t need it. Think about it. Whatever happened to natural beauty anyway? Women have forgotten about trying to look good by working out—instead, they get a quick fix at some clinic. Look around us. This pub is filled with women trying to look the same.” She glances at the full tables. “They’re all wearing low-cut shirts to show off their cleavage and a ton of makeup. My advice to you is if you want a change, make time to go to the gym, get a personal trainer.”
“That’s the thing with working all day, coming home, and designing and making purses. I don’t exactly have a lot of time or a lot of energy.”
“Of course not,” Eileen says.
“Really, by the time I get home it’s five-thirty. I eat dinner and sew, and it’s time for bed. If I get a little treatment, it would help me look and feel beautiful so when I am selling my original designed purses. I’d look the part, you know?”
“And what’s the part?” Eileen chuckles.
“Perky lips, thin legs, and good height—of course that would be thanks to my Christian Louboutin heels and a black fitted dress that I will one day purchase when I sell my collection to the highest bidder.” She laughs.
Eileen arches an eyebrow and takes a sip of her drink. “Kinda like a game show hostess,” she says. “Those heels are probably a paycheck, too.”
“Some things in life are worth the money.”
Eileen smiles. “Like a designer Brooke purse.”
“Exactly!” Brooke says with joy. “One day, I hope.”
“Well, I have to hand it to you—I think it’s just a matter of time before your purses are in demand.”
“You think so?”
“Sure! You’re talented and unique—just what the fashion world needs.”
“Thanks, Elle. Have you been reading In Style or Vogue, or something?”
“No, but your designs are one of a kind. I’ve never seen anything like them,” Eileen says and then cradles her glass with her hands. “One of these days, you’ll have your own store and you’ll be shipping your purses all over the world.”
“That would be nice,” Brooke says with a full smile. “I’d love that. Maybe even go to L.A. or New York to showcase my work. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“You could be going to those fashion conferences and hooking up with some big company that’d be willing to distribute your purses.”
“Ohhhh, wouldn’t that be cool? Say, what happened to the purse I made you for your birthday?”
“I use it, but occasionally I like to use this one,” Eileen tells her and glances at her faded black purse.
“That one is so old,” Brooke says with disgust. “Didn’t you buy it like five years ago on a clearance rack?”
“I don’t remember exactly, but I don’t care. It’s leather and it will last forever.”
“So will my purses,” Brooke says with a tap of her hand to her chest. “As long as you take care of it.”
Eileen looks down at her purse hanging off the chair. “I think it’s fine. It does its job and besides, the purse you made me is really fancy. I use it for work or for dinner dates.”
“That means you don’t use it,” Brooke says with a pout.
“I do, too.”
“When?”
“When I had my interview with the Warriors.”
Eileen reaches for her phone, which is vibrating again, and reads the message:
I’m coming to Vancouver. Can we meet?
“What? When?” Eileen shrieks. “Mario’s coming here and wants to see me!”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to see him?” Brooke asks.
“Not really.”
“Then tell him you don’t want to see him.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Of course you can. It’s never stopped you before.”
“I loved him, Brooke. It took a year to move on.”
“Elle? You’ll always love him,” her friend tells her before taking a sip. “It will just be a different love now because you’ll never be able to trust him again.”
“I wonder what he wants.” She picks up her phone. “Maybe I’ve got it all wrong. What happens if this is fate?”
“It’s not! After two years?”
“I don’t know. It would be great seeing him again.” She picks up her phone and texts him back: We can meet. Where and when?
“There,” Eileen says, putting down her phone. Her hands tap the table. “He’s probably trying to see if I would see him again. Why would he be coming here? Unless the Warriors signed him.”
“Wouldn’t that be crazy?” her friend asks.
Her phone vibrates again.
I’ll let you know when I book my flight.
“I’m curious. What does he want to see me about?”
“What are you going to tell Ty?” Brooke asks.
Eileen’s eyes widen. “I can’t tell him about Mario. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”
“He’s going to get the wrong idea if you don’t tell him.”
“We’ll see,” Eileen says.
Brooke makes a face.
“What?” Eileen asks. “It’s not like I’m cheating on him. We’re not even together.”
“Yeah, right.” Brooke smirks. “You’re so in denial.”
“No, really. Ty doesn’t want to see me right now, anyway, so seeing Mario isn’t cheating,” Eileen decides. “Mario and I had something, and I can’t figure out why Ty doesn’t understand how the job with the Warriors is so important to me. I don’t want to lose it. I was already warned by the owner to put a stop to it, but Ty doesn’t get it. He thinks it’s nobody’s business if we’re seeing each other.”
“He has feelings for you, obviously,” Brooke says. “If he didn’t care, you wouldn’t hear from him again.”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just that he can’t tell me who I can see; I’m not stopping him from seeing anyone.” With that, she downs her drink and asks for another. How did her love life get complicated when she wasn’t asking for it in the first place?
Chapter 16
After practice, the team disperses, but Ty hangs around, cradling the puck with his hockey stick. He skates toward Eileen with a crooked smile. “Do you wanna play one-on-one?”
Hesitant, she slows down and looks up at him; his helmet strap is hanging past his stubble-covered chin. How could she resist? “Sure.”
“Good, I’m going to kick your butt!” Ty says and takes a slap shot, aiming for the net and getting in. He then skates to the boards, where there is a pile of pucks, and clears them with a sweep of his stick, getting them to center ice. She follows.
“Here’s how it works,” he says. “You have to skate around a face-off circle.” Ty points to the far end of the ice with the end of his hockey stick. “Then you take a shot at the far-end net. Second time around, you skate around the next circle. The third time, it’s center ice. We skate all face-off circles. Best score wins. Got it?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I got it.”
“Okay then. Whoever gets the most in wins,” he tells her, cradling the puck with the blade of his stick, rocking it back and forth.
“What does the winner get?” she asks, trying to sound interested by managing a straight face.
With a half-smile, he replies, “Don’t worry about that. I’ll win.” His smile widens and Eileen wonders if he’s teasing.
“What makes you so sure?” she asks.
“I always win,” he says and shoots the puck at the net. “Look at that, one point for me.”
“That was easy. Even my six-year-olds can do that,” she taunts him.
Ty glances at her, revealing his Caribbean-water-colored eyes and rosy lips that are perfectly formed, remembering how they felt against her bare skin.
He leans on his stick and says, “You think so?”
“Absolutely!”
“It gets harder,” he warns. “The winner gets a date with me tonight for dinner.”
“Hmm . . . and if I win?” she asks.
“If you win, dinner with me. It’s a win-win situation.”
“What happens if I don’t want to have dinner with you?”
“Why wouldn’t you? It’s not like you’re seeing anyone right now.”
“There’s a reason for that. People care too much that I’m here, and I want to finish my job with the team.”
Didn’t he get what he wanted from her? Can’t he just forget about her until Ritchie comes back to work?
“Didn’t we talk about this? I thought I made it clear,” she says.
“I don’t remember having that conversation.”
“Of course you do!” She can feel her frustration grow. “At the coffee shop? You left because you didn’t get your way.”
“No, I left because I didn’t agree with your answer and I’m tired of hearing what you want. How about what I want?”
She puffs out a breath. “You don’t make it easy for me,” she says, skating around the blue face-off circle. She shoots and misses. “Damn!”
“I get you don’t want a relationship. I’m just asking for a dinner date.” He skates off, takes a shot, and scores. They meet back at center ice.
“If I win this game, you have to make an appearance at one of my skating classes.”
“That depends, kids or adults?” he asks.
His Game, Her Rules Page 17