Bennett (On the Line Book 2)

by Brenda Rothert

  Bennett

  Copyright © Brenda Rothert 2016

  Published by Silver Sky Publishing Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  Cover design: Sara Eirew

  www.saraeirew.com

  Cover photo: FuriousFotog

  Cover model: Ryan McNulty

  Editor:

  Lisa Hollett, Silently Correcting Your Grammar

  Copy editor: Taylor Bellitto

  Interior Design and Formatting:

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  www.perfectlypublishable.com

  Table of Contents

  Bennett

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  Charlotte

  It was raining. Not that my closet of an office had any windows through which I could see that. No, the drip-drip-drip of raindrops falling from the ceiling into the bucket I kept on my desk for days like this was all the indication I needed.

  I pressed a button on my phone to ask Sara, the secretary in the state’s attorney’s office where I worked, to page Maintenance and put in my monthly request to get the leak fixed. I’d been asking every month for the thirteen months I’d worked here. So far the only response I’d gotten was the bucket.

  I got her voicemail and glanced at the clock. 6:45? She had left for the day.

  Where had the afternoon gone? I’d been holed up doing research for a case and hadn’t even realized how late it was.

  Just another reason I was looking forward to getting a new office—a window. A window and no bucket on my desk would make me feel like I’d arrived.

  The work of an assistant state’s attorney wasn’t glamorous by any means. But I was happy here and grateful to have landed the job fresh out of law school. And once I got promoted to the vacant first assistant position, I’d be doing the work I’d always dreamed of.

  Prosecuting crimes against children was why I’d gone to law school. When the former juvenile prosecutor had left for another job, I’d put in for her spot immediately. My boss Wren had told me it had to be left open for two weeks so internal applications could be accepted, but that my chances were very good.

  My chances were great. The only other assistant state’s attorneys were Carlton, who would be retiring soon, and Riley, who was my boyfriend. He had no interest in the job, so it was mine for the taking.

  Two weeks had passed since the job opened up, and I was planning to stay late tonight in hopes that Wren would come give me the good news. She worked late every night.

  A light knock sounded at my door, and my heart thudded with hopeful anticipation.

  “Charlotte?” It was Riley, his wavy, beach-blond hair falling over his forehead. He brushed it back and grinned at me.

  “Hi.” I smiled back. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

  “Yeah, the traffic docket was a bitch this afternoon. You feel like getting some dinner?”

  I sighed and shook my head. “I need to get this research done for a case tomorrow. Rain check?”

  “Sure. Or . . . I could work some more and wait? I was kind of hoping to talk to you about something.”

  “What’s up? We can talk now.”

  Riley drew his brows together, looking serious.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, my concern mounting.

  “Not . . . wrong, per se.” He took a step inside and closed the door behind him. “I just wanted to talk to you outside of the office.”

  “Well, now I’m worried. Sit down and spill your guts.”

  I pushed the bowl of peanut M&M’s I kept on my desk over his way as he sat down in the chair on the other side of my desk. The chair groaned despite Riley’s lean frame. I’d had two chairs in front of the desk before, but one had broken while a sheriff’s deputy was sitting on it last month. He’d asked me if a splinter in the ass was enough to get him out of testifying in traffic court that day and I’d told him no way.

  Riley and I had spent many late evenings in this office, eating M&M’s and discussing cases. We didn’t necessarily have a passionate love affair, but something based on friendship and mutual respect. And the sex wasn’t bad, either.

  “You know I love you, Charlotte,” he said.

  “And I love you. So what’s up?”

  He sighed and looked down, his elbows resting on his knees. “I wanted to be the one to tell you that . . . uh, Wren offered me the first assistant job and I accepted.”

  The drip-drip-drip of rain into the bucket was the only sound in the room for a few seconds.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I finally said. “How is that even possible? You didn’t apply.”

  “I actually did. A couple days ago.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  He grimaced and met my eyes across my desk. “I knew you’d be upset.”

  My cheeks warmed and my heart thundered in my chest. “You think that’s a good enough reason to hide it from me?”

  “Keep it down, Charlotte.”

  I stood up, my palms on my desk. “I will not keep it down! How could you do this to me? After all those times you told me I was meant for that job and I’d be amazing at it?”

  “You would have been.” He looked down again. “But, Charlotte, I have aspirations, you know? If Wren doesn’t run for state’s attorney next time around, I might. And I need this experience.”

  I pulled the bowl of M&M’s back over to my side of the desk. He didn’t deserve them anymore.

  “You went behind my back and applied for the job you knew I wanted.” I gave him an icy glare.

  He gave a half shrug. “Look, Wren chose the best candidate, and it was me. If I run for her job and win, you know I’ll give you the juvenile spot then. If you play your cards right.”

  I possessed a bad temper at times, and it took over as Riley gave me a smug half smile.

  “You asshole. We are done.”

  I grabbed the rim of the half-full rain bucket, hauled it off the desk, and threw the collected water at him. Then I put it back in place, because I didn’t want a wet desk in the morning.

  Wet ex-boyfriend? Hell yes. And he was dripping, his mouth open in shock, when I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.

  “Charlotte,” he said, standing up. “I can’t believe you—”

  I cut him off. “Yeah, well, I can’t believe you, either. Get out, Riley.”

  “You’re crazy,” he muttered as he left my office.

  I got out of there as fast I could because I wa
s in no state to run into my boss right now. Beneath my shock was deep disappointment. Over Riley and over the job.

  When I reached my car and started it, I headed for the place I always went when I was too angry to even think. The shooting range. And there was no doubt who I’d be picturing when I aimed at the faceless target tonight.

  Bennett

  The first line was killing it tonight. I was covered in sweat from working my side of the ice, watching Killian as he edged closer to the goal.

  “Fucking score!” a fan screamed from the stands near me. “Come on!”

  I swept the puck Killian’s way. He gave it a swift tap with his stick and it slid home into the net.

  The crowd exploded and the Flyers gathered into a circle to celebrate. We were up 4–2 at home now, a solid lead with the end of the game close.

  I glanced at the bench and saw that our new coach, Orion Caldwell, wore his usual game face. He was good about keeping his cool most of the time, not that he didn’t bust our asses into next week. I’d dropped eight pounds in the two weeks he’d been here from all the line drills he made us skate.

  When the game ended, we raised our sticks and the crowd roared. I fucking loved the Flyers’ fans. They went crazy when we scored and loved us whether we won or lost. Now that we had new ownership and a new coach, I was hoping we’d be bringing in more wins than losses for a change.

  Orion’s post-game talk was short, and as soon as it was done, I stripped off my sweat-soaked gear and took a hot shower.

  “Wanna go out?” Liam asked as I wrapped a towel around my waist.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you get your shit put away at home?”

  I furrowed my brow at my roommate and thought about it. “What stuff?”

  “The laundry you left all over the couch.”

  “I’m folding it.”

  Liam shook his head. “Not yet, you’re not. It’s just a big fuckin’ pile.”

  “I’ll fold it later.”

  “Dammit, Bennett, living with you is like having a kid. I didn’t even get to nut in a hot woman and I’m stuck with your slob ass.”

  “You’re so Type A,” I said, shaking my head. “Move my laundry over to the side.”

  “I’m not bringing a woman home and moving your underwear off to the side so we can fuck.”

  “Take her into your bedroom.” I arched my brows and wagged a finger at him. “But make her take her shoes off first. And wipe off the toilet seat after she uses it.”

  “I’m not that bad.”

  “Yeah, you are. You and my mom should be roommates.”

  He grinned at me. “Does she put out?”

  I shoved his shoulder. “Fuck you.”

  “She would?”

  This time, I shoved both his shoulders and pushed him back into his locker. “You want some? Say one more thing about my mom.”

  “Cool it, assholes,” Killian growled at us. “I don’t want to listen to anymore ballbusting from Coach tonight.”

  I gave Liam the silent treatment on the ride to Cosmos, a downtown bar lots of business-types frequented. I liked the vibe here; it wasn’t filled with puck sluts and strippers like some places.

  I had nothing against those women, but they weren’t for me. Cosmos always had women I could talk to before taking them home. I’d met teachers and several women who worked in offices here. Women who worked in offices were damn sexy, with their glasses and heels and skirts.

  Liam clapped me on the shoulder and tilted his head toward a table of well-dressed women in their twenties.

  “The ring,” he murmured.

  I shook my head and glared at him.

  “Let’s get a drink first. I haven’t even looked around.”

  “We can drink over there.”

  “Fine.” I sighed and muttered again, “Asshole.”

  We headed in the direction of the table, and when we got within a few feet of it, Liam started patting his coat like he’d lost something. He frantically checked the pockets and gave me a panicked look.

  “It’s gone, Bennett. What am I gonna do?”

  “Are you sure? Maybe it’s stuck in the bottom of your pocket.”

  He checked the pockets again and groaned. “I can’t believe this. It’s awful. Shit, what am I gonna do? It’s irreplaceable—one of a kind. Just like she was.”

  His grimace was forlorn, and one of the women at the table turned toward him. “Is everything okay?”

  Liam’s shoulders dropped with defeat. “I lost something valuable.”

  “Oh, no. What did you lose?”

  The blonde put her hand over her heart, and all the other women were now focused on Liam, too.

  “A wedding ring,” Liam said. “I can’t . . .” He swallowed back his emotion.

  Another of the women slid down from her tall chair. “Your wedding ring? You lost it?”

  Liam shook his head sadly. “It wasn’t mine. It was . . . my late wife’s.”

  The collective gasp from the women made me want to roll my eyes and tell Liam to cut the shit. The fucker had never been close to married.

  “We were only married for three months before she passed five years ago,” he said softly. “I wear it around my neck just to remind me that maybe someday . . . I can find a love like that again. I’m a hockey player and I have to take it off for games, but I keep it in this pocket.”

  “We’ll help you find it,” the dark-haired woman now standing next to him said. “Don’t worry.”

  Liam met her eyes and gave her a small smile. “That’s so nice of you . . .”

  “Noelle,” she finished. “I’m Noelle.”

  She was pretty, and I had no doubt I’d be seeing her in the kitchen of our apartment in the morning.

  Liam reached into his pocket and looked at his phone. He sighed with relief.

  “I got a text from my coach,” he said. “They found it in the locker room.”

  “Great,” I said with only a hint of sarcasm.

  Liam was thanking the women and being invited to join them when I wandered off. My role in his stupid-ass charade was done.

  He didn’t need to lie to get ass, and he knew it. It just seemed to amuse him to do it anyway.

  I didn’t like lying, and I also didn’t like groups of single women vying for attention at the same time. I preferred a one-on-one conversation. I scanned the bar, hoping to see one or two women who caught my interest, but no one did.

  “Bennett,” a female voice called.

  I looked over and saw Molly, the bartender, setting a tall glass of draft beer on the bar.

  “Nice game tonight,” Molly said. “On the house, winger.”

  I grinned at her and sat down in front of the drink. “Thanks.”

  “Where are the other two stooges?”

  I knew she meant Killian and Liam. We usually went out together after games.

  “Liam’s over there, and I don’t know where Killian’s at,” I said. “He was kinda in a mood.”

  “After a win?”

  “He’s a moody bastard.”

  I took a drink of the cold beer and nodded with appreciation.

  “How’s Dean?” I asked Molly.

  “He’s good,” she said of her husband, smiling. “This is his last semester of grad school, and then I’m probably quitting this job.”

  “Gonna start popping out some kids?”

  She laughed. “Not yet. We’ve only been married for a year.”

  A customer gestured at her for another drink and Molly left. I finished my beer and ordered another, watching the news on the TV behind the bar. NHL highlights came on, and I stared at the screen, riveted.

  I’d been dreaming of the big time since I was a kid. I was on the first line of my team, but Killian was a notch ahead of me. He’d get the call before me. And he deserved it.

  Would my time ever come? Or would I be trolling around Fenway, Indiana after games looking for a hookup until my body wore out or I retired from the minors?
>
  Those questions always made me pensive. Normally, I was happy-go-lucky, but wondering if I’d ever make it was tough. I was about to get up and go home to sleep off my mood when a woman flopped down on the barstool next to me.

  She was stunning, with long, dark blond curls and blue eyes. I just stared for a second, too mesmerized to consider how rude it was.

  “Charlotte,” Molly said, smiling as she walked over. “How are you?”

  “Not good,” Charlotte said. “Bring me all the alcohol, Moll.”

  “Got it. I’ll break out the strong stuff.”

  Charlotte was trying to take off her coat, but her arm was stuck in the sleeve.

  “Need some help?” I offered.

  “No,” she snapped, still trying to get her arm out. “Well, maybe.”

  I held back a smile as I took hold of the coat sleeve to help her.

  “Rough night?” I asked.

  She blew out a breath and nodded. “Pretty shitty.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are men so horrible?”

  Molly slid a Long Island Iced Tea toward Charlotte and she took a big drink, cringing as she set the glass back down. “Wow, that’s strong.”

  “Yeah, careful with those,” I said. “You’ll get wasted fast.”

  “Sounds amazing right now.”

  I arched a brow at her. “You drink much?”

  “I got so drunk in college once that I threw up.” Her chin was raised defiantly. Damn, I liked this girl.

  “Yeah, well, a couple of those and you’ll be that drunk again.”

  She took another sip of the drink and sat in silence.

  “Not all men are horrible,” I said after a minute.

  “What?”

  “You asked why men are so horrible, and I’m just saying, not all of us are.”

  She tilted her head and considered. “Not until the opportunity presents itself.”

  Cynical. I’d met women like her before. They usually expected me to single-handedly make up for every bad relationship they’d ever had.

  “So let’s hear it,” I said, like a true glutton for punishment. “Fight with your boyfriend?”

  “Not really a fight. I broke up with him after I pulled out the giant knife he lodged in my back.”

  “What’d he do?”