The little boy's eyes widened as he stared at the newcomer, obviously stunned speechless. And he wasn't the only one. Shannon stood there as well, still slightly bent over, her mouth still open on whatever she'd been about to tell the young boy.
Shannon quickly straightened, tugged on her jersey, ran a hand through her long blonde hair.
And holy crappola, she was blushing! Shannon was actually blushing!
The man introduced himself—yeah, right, because nobody knew who Caleb Johnson, one of the Banners' star players, was—then posed for pictures with both the little boy and the family before they left. Shannon stood there for a second, looking completely flustered, then raced around the table and dropped into her chair.
And yes, she was still blushing. Unbelievable.
Caleb stepped closer to the table, nodded at Sammie and Dani, then leaned toward Shannon. Or maybe it was just the way he was resting on his crutches that made it look that way. "Classy move, giving her your stick."
"Oh. Um, well." Shannon cleared her throat, fidgeted with the marker in her hand, looked around at everything except the man in front of her. "Yeah. I guess. Thanks."
Dani started laughing, clapped a hand over her mouth as the laughter turned into a coughing fit. Sammie dug her nails into her palms and looked away, afraid she'd start laughing, too. This was a side of Shannon she had never seen, had never even guessed at. How could anyone have ever guessed that Shannon—of all people—was even capable of being flustered?
Sammie looked over again, just to make sure she really wasn't seeing things, then blinked in surprise when her gaze landed on two people walking toward them.
Taylor, carrying a cardboard tray filled with cups of soda, and…
Jon.
Sammie straightened in her chair, wondering if she was hallucinating. No, that was really Jon. Their eyes met, and her heart did a quick tumble-roll when his lips turned up in a smile.
She started to stand, then dropped back into the seat. What was she doing? Had she really been ready to go over to him and…and what? Put her arms around him? Kiss him?
No. No, of course not. That was ridiculous. The reaction had been nothing more than a stupid impulse, a result of yesterday's conversation with Shannon and Taylor before and after the game—because they hadn't dropped it. Or maybe she was simply being hit with the residual hormones bouncing off Shannon as she kept squirming in her chair, staring up at Caleb Johnson.
Taylor put the tray of drinks on the table and started passing around cups, her gaze meeting Sammie's for a few long seconds before she tilted her head in Jon's direction. "Guess who I found wandering around the concourse?"
"Uh, yeah, I see that." Sammie cleared her throat, doing a little squirming of her own. "Jon. What are you doing here?"
"Mac's never been to a hockey game before so I figured I'd bring him."
"Mac?" Sammie glanced around, searching for Jon's friend.
"He's still watching the game."
"Oh." Sammie cleared her throat again, wondering what else to say, wondering why Jon was watching her like that, with his mouth curled into a smile and a glimmer of heat and amusement dancing in his eyes.
A sudden suspicion formed in her mind and she turned to Taylor, frowning, wondering what her friend had been up to. She was ready to ask, but Taylor pasted a bright smile on her face and started talking.
"Caleb, you didn't tell them, did you?"
The hockey player shook his head. "No. You swore me to secrecy, Tay-Tay. I know better."
"Tell us what?"
"Yeah, Tay-Tay," Sammie put as much menace in her name as possible. "Tell us what?"
"I was going to wait until later to surprise you—"
"Really?"
Taylor narrowed her eyes at Sammie, then kept talking. "The exhibition game is a go!"
"Are you serious?"
"For real?"
Taylor nodded, a wide grin on her face. "Seriously for real. Chuckie just finalized all the details."
The stunned silence lasted for three seconds, then they all jumped up and down, laughing and hugging each other.
"He did it! He really did it!"
"Holy crappola. I can't believe it! It's really happening."
"I told you he would. When will you guys start believing me?"
"I know but—I mean, wow."
Jon looked around, amusement warring with confusion. "So what's happening?"
Dani answered him before Sammie could. "An exhibition game. With the Banners. A real game."
"Yeah. One you would have missed if you had quit yesterday."
"I wasn't—"
"Wait. Hang on." Jon stepped closer to her, a frown creasing his face. "You said you weren't going to do anything until we talked."
"I didn't. I wasn't." Sammie rested her hand against his chest, surprised to feel the steady pounding of his heart beating against her palm. "I'm not. It was just—I'll explain later, okay?"
Jon watched her, his dark gaze seeing too much—and showing too much. Worry. Concern. Pride. And…
Sammie swallowed and tried to look away, tried to step back. He reached for her hand, threaded his fingers with hers, and squeezed. "Later."
The promise in his eyes scared her. No, not scared. That was the wrong word. Yes, she was scared, but not because of Jon. Not because of the way he was looking at her, of what she saw in his deep gaze. She was scared of what she felt, the way her body tightened and warmed. The way she wanted to lean against him, the way her stomach dipped and swirled simply because he was holding her hand.
She glanced over at her teammates, wondering if they could see it, but none of them were looking at her. They were still talking about the exhibition game, excitement and surprise clear in their voices and on their faces.
Except for Shannon, who was still blushing as she slid flirty little glances in Caleb's direction.
The excitement finally died down, the conversation turning to the weather. Caleb said goodbye to everyone, his gaze lingering on Shannon as he turned to leave. Taylor waited a few seconds then grabbed Shannon by the arm and shook her.
"Don't even think about it."
"What? I'm not thinking about anything."
"Oh yes, you are. I can see it on your face. Do not go there."
"What are you talking about?"
"She's talking about the way the temperature shot up to a hundred-and-fifty from all that lust rolling off of you." Amusement danced in Dani's green eyes as she waved a hand in front of her face. "Whew. I thought you were going to jump him right here."
"I was not!" But Shannon's face turned bright red and she looked away.
"Um, maybe I should go back inside—"
"No, you're good. We're all done here anyway." Taylor waved Jon's objections off then turned back to Shannon. "And I mean it. Don't go there. Caleb is a nice guy but he is, like, the biggest player ever. The. Biggest. So just don't."
"I wasn't—"
"Were too. Just trust me on this. For once."
"But—"
"For once. Please."
Shannon threw her hands up in the air and let out a little growl. "Fine. Whatever. But I'd like to point out that I'm not the one standing here with moon eyes, holding her ex-husband's hand!"
All three of her teammates turned, glanced down at Jon's hand wrapped around hers, then looked back at Sammie—grinning.
Heat filled her face and she almost yanked her hand from Jon's, especially when he started chuckling. Instead, she tilted her chin up and shot all three women a warning scowl.
"You're just jealous." Then she tugged Jon's hand and started walking in the other direction, away from the laughter and catcalls.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sammie gazed out the passenger window, staring at the swirling snow as it fell around them, coating the trees. The streets. The windshield.
She curled her hands together in her lap and closed her eyes, listening as the wipers slid across the cold glass. Thwamp-thwamp-thwamp. Fast. Bac
k and forth, over and over, working hard to keep up with the driving snow.
Sammie was grateful that she wasn't driving. Jon must have seen her staring out the windows of the concourse, must have seen the worry on her face as she studied the heavy snow. He had squeezed her hand and offered to drive her home.
She didn't accept at first, afraid of sounding too eager, using the excuse that he had to get his own vehicle back home. But he'd told her that he didn't have his car, that Mac had picked him up in his big truck.
That it would be no problem for him to drive her home.
Sammie didn't bother searching for more excuses after that and finally accepted his offer. Maybe she shouldn't have, maybe it wasn't a smart thing to do, but she hated driving in this kind of weather. Hated it, always had, ever since she was seventeen and had spun out on an icy road, nearly taking out a tree before sliding to a stop against a mailbox.
Of course, the downside to letting Jon drive was being trapped in the small confines of her car with him. Not that she felt trapped—which was the problem.
She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye, studying his strong profile. The slight ridge of his nose. The shadow of stubble shading his jaw. Hard. Competent. A witness to horrors she couldn't even imagine. There was an inner strength there—but vulnerability, too. She could see it in the shadows that occasionally crossed his face. In the surprise that danced in his eyes when he watched Clare, like he couldn't believe she was there, couldn't believe she was his.
And she could see it in the heat in his eyes when he occasionally looked at her. He was so careful to hide it—usually. But there had been a few times when she'd glimpsed it, before he could blink it away.
All she could see now was competence, in the way one powerful hand gripped the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car up the interstate. Strong. Relaxed. In charge.
She trusted him.
The realization should surprise her but it didn't. After everything they'd been through, after the pain she had carried for more than two years, she shouldn't trust him. There was no logical reason for it. But she did.
Shannon had been right. Whether he was Clare's father or not, Sammie would have never left her with Jon if she didn't trust him.
But what about everything else? The way her heart skipped and danced whenever he was near. The way her stomach fluttered when he smiled at her. The way her palms grew warm and itched to touch him, even now.
That had nothing to do with trust.
Or maybe it had everything to do with it.
"Are you going to tell me what I missed back there?"
"Hm?" Sammie turned her head, felt her face heat when she realized where her thoughts had been heading. "Miss what?"
Jon chuckled, the sound making the heat from her face spread lower. "That's what I asked. Back at the arena. Why do I feel like I missed something?"
"Oh, that. You didn't. That was just Shannon and Taylor being themselves. Thinking they were being funny."
"Why am I not buying that?"
Sammie shrugged and shifted in the seat, slid her gaze out the window.
"Okay then, how about what else they said? About you quitting. What was that all about?"
"Nothing."
Jon was quiet for a long minute, long enough that Sammie started to think he was letting the subject drop. He did, only to replace it with another one she didn't want to think about.
He reached over and grabbed her hand, curled his fingers around it then gently raised it between them. His voice was as soft as his eyes when he spoke. "Then what about this? What was that all about? Because you've gone out of your way to not touch me since the night we spent together."
Sammie tensed, her mind searching for an answer—any answer—to give him. But her mind was dangerously blank. She looked away, ready to pull her hand from his. The car started sliding, back and forth, veering across both lanes of 83. Fear knotted her stomach. Her fingers tightened around his, even though she knew she needed to let go of his hand, that he needed both hands to take control of the car—
But he guided the car out of the slide with ease, expertly maneuvering it back into the right lane. He glanced down at their clasped hands, at the way her fingers gripped his own so tight, the flesh of her knuckles turned white.
Jon squeezed her hand then raised it to his mouth and pressed a quick kiss to her fingers. "Just a little slide, not a big deal."
"I—I know." And she needed to pull her hand from his, she really needed to.
"You still hate driving in this stuff, huh?"
"Um, yeah. I guess I do."
"Well, no need to worry. I'll have you home in no time. Safe and sound."
"Then what about you? How are you going to get home?"
"Mac's going to pick me up."
Sammie glanced out the window, at the falling snow that seemed to grow heavier with each passing minute. "It looks like it's getting worse."
"It's not too bad."
"You, uh, you could always stay with us, instead of having Mac drive all the way out to pick you up. There's plenty of room—"
"Somehow I don't think your parents would appreciate that too much."
"They wouldn't mind." Jon glanced over, one brow raised in disbelief. Sammie shrugged and looked away. "Okay, maybe they would. But they'd get over it."
"I think I'll just have Mac pick me up."
"But I feel bad—"
"It's not a big deal, Sammie. Honest."
"I think you should just go to your place. It's closer."
"And then what? You're going to drive home? Sammie, no. You hate driving in this stuff. Mac can come pick me up."
"I, um, I can just wait until everything clears up."
"It's not supposed to end until morning."
"Oh." Sammie looked out the window, turned her head and looked down at their clasped hands. Then she took a deep breath, letting the words fall from her lips before she lost her courage—or regained her senses.
"I could always just spend the night."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jonathan tossed the keys onto the small table by the door then stood there, his gaze on Sammie as she moved around the living room. She dragged her hand along the back of the recliner, fingered the edge of one of the throw pillows tossed on the sofa. Moving around the room, not bothering to take off her coat, not bothering to sit down.
Jonathan hesitated, thought about making a joke of inviting her to have a seat then thought better about it at the last minute. He couldn't judge her mood any better now than he could last night when he'd dropped Clare off. She was definitely preoccupied, but it was more than that. She seemed almost…shy. But it was more than that, too. It was like she was thinking, hard, and not coming to any conclusions.
At least, not any that she seemed happy about.
He moved through the living room and into the kitchen, pulling out coffee and filters then setting up the coffee maker. A few minutes later, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the kitchen. It would be a few minutes more before enough was brewed to drink, so he moved back to the living room and propped his shoulder against the wall.
Sammie had stopped pacing but she was still wearing her coat—and a frown of concentration.
"Coffee should be ready in a few minutes if you wanted to take off your coat. Have a seat."
She jumped, as if she hadn't heard him come in, then turned to face him. Her smile was just a little too forced, her shoulders just a little too tense as she shrugged out of her coat.
"I can still take you home, you know. It's no trouble."
"No." She shook her head and lowered herself to the sofa, perching on the edge of it. She draped her coat over her lap then stared at it, her fingers toying with the zipper as she slid it up and down.
His gut twisted at the expression on her face: confused, lonely. The only thing he wanted to do was rush to her side and pull her into his arms. Hold her. Kiss away the frown. Just kiss her, until she forgot about everything except t
hem, the way they were together. The way they used to be.
The way he wished they could be again.
But he didn't move. Gut instinct told him the worst thing he could do was go near her right now.
So he stayed where he was and forced a smile to his face and tried to infuse his voice with a little bit of humor. "Are you sure? Because you don't exactly look like you want to be here."
The humor fell flat, even to his own ears. He doubted Sammie noticed though, not with the way she kept staring at her hands, the way she kept playing with the zipper of her jacket. Up and down, over and over, the sound almost hypnotic.
And then she stopped and looked straight at him, the look in her eyes both sad and determined. "Why did you come back, Jon?"
He should have expected the question. Hell, he had expected it, wondered why she hadn't asked him two months ago when he first showed up. But she hadn't asked and he had stopped expecting it, thinking she didn't want to know, figuring she wasn't ready for the answer.
Was she ready now?
He ran a hand through his hair then down along the back of his neck, blowing out a deep breath. He took a step forward, stopped, stepped forward again then hesitated before he finally dropped into the recliner.
Was that disappointment in Sammie's eyes? Had she been expecting him to sit next to her? No, he shouldn’t read anything into that, not now. He couldn’t afford to.
"Jon? Why did you come back? Was it for work?"
"No." He shook his head to reiterate the answer then stared down at his clasped hands. "No, it wasn't for work. Daryl wanted to set the office up in northern Virginia. I convinced him here would be better."
"Why?"
Jonathan raised his head, his gaze moving to hers. Holding it, refusing to let her look away with the sheer force of his will—
And a ton of prayer.
"Because I wanted to be near you and Clare."
"But why? It's been almost three years, Jon. How did you know I would even agree to see you? That I would agree to let you see Clare?"
Loving Hard: A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance (The Chesapeake Blades Book 2) Page 18