by Joss Wood
“You told me about your clinic, how much having your own place means to you. Don’t give up on your dreams for your own practice because I’m a stubborn ass who doesn’t know the meaning of the word quit.”
Rory lifted her head to glare at him. “Low blow, McCaskill, using my dreams to get me to do what you want me to do.”
He shrugged as Rory glared at him. He didn’t want her to leave and he would use any method he could to keep her on this island with him. He was that desperate.
“So, you’ll stay?”
“For now.” She pointed a finger at him. “You dodged a bullet, Mac. Don’t make me shoot you for real next time.”
* * *
On the private jet hired for the trip home, Rory watched as Mac stashed his laptop back in a storage space above his head. Looking at him, no one would realize Mac had gone through major surgery nearly eight weeks ago. She listened to him bantering with the flight attendant and couldn’t help wondering if Mac was doing exercises on the side, working that arm in ways she didn’t approve of.
Maybe. Possibly. His recovery was remarkable.
Rory thought back to their argument, still a little angry that he’d deceived her. Maybe it wasn’t deliberate, maybe he’d just been thoughtless, but it had hurt. On the positive side, the argument had opened her eyes. It had been her wake-up call. From that moment on she’d stopped entertaining, even on the smallest scale, thoughts about a happy-ever-after with Mac.
He’d never be a hundred percent honest with her and she could never fully trust him.
There couldn’t be love or any type of a relationship without trust, and she had to be able to trust a man with everything she had. She couldn’t trust Mac so she couldn’t love him. She’d decided that...hadn’t she?
Okay, it was a work in progress.
The flight attendant moved away and Mac stretched out his legs, looking past Rory out the window by her head. Below them the island of Puerto Rico was a verdant dot in an aqua sea and their magical time together was over.
Back to reality.
Mac sipped his beer and placed his ankle on his knee. “This plane can’t fly fast enough. Kade sounded stressed.”
“He didn’t say why he wanted you back in the city?” Rory asked. Mac had announced at breakfast that Kade needed him in Vancouver and by mid-morning they were on their way home.
Mac shook his head. “No, and that worries me.” A frown pulled his eyebrows together and his eyes were bleak. He looked down at his injured arm and traced the red scar that was a memento of his operation. “What if it doesn’t heal correctly? What will I do?”
She’d never heard that note in his voice before—part fear, part insecurity. “You go to plan B, Mac. There is always another plan to be made, isn’t there?”
Mac picked up her hand and wound his fingers in hers. “But hockey is what I do, who I am. It’s my dream, my destiny, the reason I get up in the morning.”
Is that what he really thought? She stared down at his long, lean body. It was a revelation to realize she wasn’t the only one in this plane with demons. She felt relieved, and sad, at the thought. “Yeah, you’re a great hockey player, supposedly one of the best.”
Mac mock-glared at her and she smiled. “Okay, you are the best...does that satisfy your monstrous ego?”
Mac’s lips twitched but he lowered his face so she couldn’t look into his eyes. That was okay. It would be easier to say this without the distraction of his fabulous eyes. “You aren’t what you do, Mac. You’re so much more than that.”
“I play hockey, Rory, that’s it.”
Rory shook her head in disagreement. “You are an amazing businessperson, someone who has many business interests besides hockey. You are a spokesperson for various charities, you play golf and you do triathlons in the off-season. Hockey is not who you are or all that you do.”
“But it’s what I love best and if I can’t do it...if I can’t save the team by keeping it out of Chenko’s clutches, I will have failed. It would be the biggest failure of my life.” Mac sat up, pulled his hand from hers and gripped the armrests. “I don’t like to fail.”
“None of us do, Mac. You’re not alone in that,” Rory responded, her voice tart. “So, the future of the Mavericks is all resting on your shoulders? Kade and Quinn have no part to play?”
“Yes—no... I’m the one who was injured,” Mac protested.
“Here’s a news flash, dude, hockey players get hurt. They sustain injuries all the time. Kade and Quinn, if I remember correctly, are both out of the game because of their injuries. You getting injured was just a matter of time. You couldn’t keep ducking that bullet forever! It’s part of the deal and you can’t whine about it.”
“I am not whining!” Mac protested, his eyes hot.
Rory smiled. “Okay, you weren’t whining. But your thinking is flawed. You are not a superhero and you are not invincible and you are not solely responsible for the future of the Mavericks. If you can’t play again, you will find something else to do, and I have no doubt you will be successful at it. You are not a crab and there is no bucket.”
Mac stared at her for a long time and eventually the smallest smile touched his lips, his eyes. He released a long sigh and sent her a frustrated look. “You might be perfectly gorgeous but you are also a perfect pain in my ass. Especially when you’re being wise.”
The mischievous grin that followed his words suggested their heart-to-heart was over. “Want to join the Mile High Club?”
Rory grinned. “What’s that word I’m looking for? No? No would be it.”
Mac turned in his seat and nuzzled her neck with his lips. “Bet I could change your mind.”
“You’re good, but not that good, McCaskill.” Rory tipped her head to allow him to kiss that sensitive spot under her ear. “But you’re welcome to try.”
Note to self: Mac McCaskill cannot walk away from a challenge.
* * *
Kade met them at the airport and kissed Rory’s cheek before pulling Mac into that handshake/half hug they did so well. “Sorry to pull you back from the island sooner than expected, but I need you here.”
Mac frowned. “What’s happened?”
Kade looked around, saw that they were garnering attention and shook his head. “Not here. We’ll get into it in the car. No, Rory, don’t worry about your luggage, I’ve sent an intern to pick it up.”
Nice, Rory thought. She could get used to this first-class life. She pulled her large tote bag over her shoulder, saw fans lifting their cell phones in their direction and wished she’d worn something other than a pair of faded jeans and a loose cotton shirt for the journey home. They’d both showered on the jet but Mac had changed from his cargo shorts and flip-flops into a pistachio-green jacket, a gray T-shirt and khaki pants. He looked like the celebrity he was and she looked like a backpacker.
Sigh.
Rory stepped away, distancing herself as fans approached Mac and Kade for their autographs. After signing a few, Mac jerked his head in her direction and the three of them started walking—Rory at a half jog. In the VIP parking lot, Kade finally stopped at a low silver sports car and opened the back door for Rory to slide in. Mac took the passenger seat next to Kade and within minutes they were on the highway heading back to the city.
“Talk.” Mac half twisted in his seat to look at Kade, pulling his designer cap off his head and running his hand through his hair. “What’s up? Why did we have to get home so quickly?”
Rory heard the note of irritation in Mac’s voice. Funny, she would’ve thought he’d be happy to be returning home, to be getting back into the swing of things. Yet she couldn’t deny they’d been enjoying the solitude of Cap de Mar, the long, lazy sun-and sea-filled days punctured by long, intense bouts of making love.
“How’s your arm?” Kade repl
ied.
“Fine.”
Rory rolled her eyes. “Fine” was boy-speak for “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Improving,” Rory chimed in half a beat behind him. She ignored Mac’s narrowed eyes and continued to speak. “It’s a lot better but he’s definitely not ready to play yet. If that’s what you are thinking, then you can forget about it.”
“I could play,” Mac said, his tone resolute.
“Do it and die,” Rory stated in a flat, don’t-test-me voice. Hadn’t they had this argument? Had he heard anything she’d said?
Kade swore, ducked around a pickup truck and a station wagon and floored the accelerator. Rory prayed they would arrive at their destination—wherever that was—in one piece.
Where was her destination? Mavericks’ headquarters? Mac’s house? Her apartment? She and Mac had been living together, sleeping together, for a little more than a month. But now they were back to normal and island rules didn’t necessarily apply to Vancouver. Right, this was another reason why she avoided relationships; she hated walking through the minefield of what was socially acceptable.
“Slow down, bud. Not everyone craves your need for speed.”
Kade slowed down from the speed of light to pretty damn fast. She’d take it, Rory decided, and loosened her hold on her seat belt.
“Right,” Mac continued. “What’s going on?”
Rory saw Kade’s broad shoulder lift and drop, taut with tension. “God, so much. First, the press, especially the sports writers, are speculating that your injury is a lot worse than we’ve been admitting to and they are looking for the angles. Speculation has been running wild.”
Rory saw a muscle jump in Mac’s cheek and she wondered what it was like to live life under a microscope.
“Widow Hasselback is also asking how you are and I heard she met with the suits from the Chenko Corporation last week. She told me they’ve increased their offer.”
Mac closed his eyes and gripped the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His curse bounced around the car. “That’s not all,” he said.
“I wish it was,” Kade agreed. “Bayliss, our new investor, would like to watch a practice match before making a commitment.”
Mac frowned. “That wouldn’t normally be a problem. We often have people coming to watch practice, but so many of the team are still on vacation.”
“Between us, Quinn and I have reached them all. They understand what’s at stake and they’ll be there,” Kade reassured him.
Mac pulled out his cell phone and swiped his thumb across the screen. “Scheduled for when?”
Kade’s worried glance bounced off hers in the rearview mirror. “The day after tomorrow. At four.” He looked apologetic. “According to Bayliss, it’s a take-it-or-leave-it deal.”
The day. After. Tomorrow.
Rory shook her head. “Well, that’s all fine and good but you can count Mac out of that match.”
“I’m playing,” Mac said, and she immediately recognized his don’t-argue-with-me voice.
Well, this time she would out-stubborn him. Rory pulled in a breath and reminded herself to keep calm. Yelling at Mac would achieve nothing. If she wanted to win this argument she would have to sound reasonable and in control. And professional. “I admit that your arm is vastly improved and that no one, looking at you, would suspect how serious your injury actually is. But it’s not mended, and one wrong move or twist would undo all the healing you’ve done and possibly, probably, aggravate the injury further.”
“I’m fine, babe.”
“You are not fine!” Rory heard her voice rise and she deliberately toned it down. “You are not fully recovered and you certainly don’t have all your strength back. I strongly suggest, as your physiotherapist, that you sit this one out.”
Mac ignored her to nod at Kade. “I’ll be there.”
“Did you hear anything I said?” Rory demanded from the backseat, her face flushed with anger. “Do you know what you are risking? One slap shot, one bump and that’s it, career over, McCaskill!”
“Stop being dramatic, Rory,” Mac said in a hard, flat voice. “I keep telling you that I know what I am capable of and you’ve got to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“I know that you are being a friggin’ idiot!” Rory shouted.
Mac turned around and looked her in the eye. His direct gaze locked on hers and she immediately realized that nothing she could say or do would change his mind. He was playing, nearly two months after surgery. He was risking his career, all the work they’d done... Rory felt like he was tossing away all her hard work too.
“I took my vacation time to help you heal. I’ve spent hours working on you, working on getting you to where you are right now. You play and you’ve wasted my time and your money,” Rory said, her voice rising along with her anger.
“I don’t have a choice, dammit! Why can’t you understand that?” Mac yelled back. “This is about my family, my team, securing something that means more to me than anything else!”
Of course it did, Rory realized. To Mac, the Mavericks were everything. He wouldn’t change his mind or see reason. Kade and Quinn and the team would always be his top priorities. Her opinion, as his lover or his physiotherapist, didn’t really count.
She was done fighting him, done fighting this. Why did she care anyway? This was a temporary affair, a fling. He was a client. At the end of the day it was his choice whether to mess up his life or not; she had no say in it. It was his arm, his career, his future, his stupidity.
But she didn’t have to be part of it. Rory sucked in air, found none and pushed the button to open her window a crack. Cool, rain-tinged air swirled around her head and she lifted her face to cool her temper. “You do this and I’m out of here. Professionally and personally.”
“Are you serious?” Mac demanded, his tone hard and, maybe she was being a bit fanciful, tinged with hurt.
“Hell, Rory,” Kade murmured.
“It’s my professional opinion that your arm is insufficiently healed to play competitive hockey. I am not going to watch you undo all the hard work we’ve done and I am certainly not going to watch you injure yourself further.”
Mac rubbed the back of his neck and he darted a scowl at Kade. “Pretend you’re not here,” he told him.
“Done,” Kade promptly replied.
Mac turned his attention to her and she pushed her back into her seat, not sure what he was about to say. She just knew it would be important. “Rory, listen to me.”
She dropped her gaze and closed her eyes. When he looked at her like that, all open and exposed, she found it hard to concentrate.
“No, look at me...”
Rory forced her eyes open.
“I know that asking you to trust me is difficult for you. It’s not something you do easily. And I know I’m asking you to put aside your learning and your experience. You think that I believe I’m invincible or a superhero. I’m not. I know I’m not... I’m just someone who knows what he is capable of, what his body is capable of. This isn’t just a practice match. It’s the most important practice match of my life, of Kade’s life, of Quinn’s. If I sit it out I’m risking this team, my friends’ futures, my brothers’ futures. This isn’t about me and my ego.”
“It will be about you if you do more damage to your arm. Then neither you nor your team will have a future...or the future you want.” Couldn’t he see she was trying to protect him from himself? She was trying to be the voice of reason here?
“Trust me, Rory. Please, just this once. Trust me to know what I’m doing. Stand by me, support me. Do that by coming to the practice, make sure that my arm is taped correctly. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Be positive.”
“And if I don’t?” Rory demanded.
Mac just shrugged before qui
etly telling her that he’d play anyway.
“So, really, this entire argument has been a waste of time.” Rory turned away so he didn’t see the burning tears in her eyes. With blurry vision she noticed that Kade was turning down Mac’s street, and within a minute he stopped the car.
The silence was as heavy as the freighter that was making its way across the bay as Mac unclipped his seatbelt and opened his door.
“One of the interns will be along shortly with your luggage,” Kade told him, giving him a fist bump. Mac gripped his shoulder and squeezed before leaving the car. In the open doorway Mac bent his knees to look over his seat at Rory. “You joining me, Rory?”
No. She wanted to go home, pull on her pajamas, grab a glass of wine and cry. “I don’t think so.”
Mac gave her a sharp nod and his lips tightened with annoyance. “As you wish. I’m certainly not going to beg.”
“Like you would know how,” Rory muttered, and his eyes flashed as he slammed the door shut on her words.
Rory folded her arms across her chest and hoped Kade didn’t notice that her hands were shaking. “Can you take me home, Kade?”
“Yep. Can do. Come and sit up here with me.”
Ten
Was she just being stubborn, Rory wondered as Kade capably, and silently, maneuvered his very fancy sports car through the city streets? She’d always been the type of therapist who encouraged her patients to listen to their bodies, to tune in to how they were feeling. She generally listened. If they said they felt better, she trusted they were telling the truth. Why couldn’t she do that with Mac? Why was she balking?
Because there was so much at stake. This one decision could have far-reaching and potentially devastating consequences. Mac loved hockey above everything else and he was risking his entire career on a still fragile tendon and a practice match. She didn’t want him to lose all that he’d worked for. He might be willing to risk it, but she wasn’t prepared to sanction that risk. He was thinking of the team, she was thinking about him—only him.