Derek shrugged, not quite able to meet Mat’s eyes. He didn’t need to give him all the details. It wasn’t really his business. And Derek didn’t want to share that much with Mat, not this time, not about Bridget.
“You know what your problem is, Caulton?”
“Oh, this should be good.” He took a long swallow of beer then sat the glass down with a loud thunk. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You’re so used to things falling in your lap, you don’t know how to work for anything.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Hey, don’t get upset. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just—you come from a different background. You were already used to this lifestyle, you know? And things have always come easy for you. You’ve never had to work for anything, never had to figure out how to play the game.”
Derek clenched his jaw, not liking what Mat was saying, not liking how it made him feel. So he had been lucky growing up. So what? “Christ, Herron. That makes no sense—”
“No, really. Listen. You know how you read the game? I mean, it just comes naturally to you. You see the plays before they happen, get yourself in position and then wham, things just fall in place. But sometimes, off the ice, you have to actually work for that to happen. At least, the rest of us do. And I think this time, you do, too.”
Derek stared at Mat, trying to get his head to stop spinning as he tried to understand the words. He wasn’t sure what was scarier: the fact that Mat was trying to give him advice, or the fact that some of what he was saying actually made sense. No way was he going to tell that to Mat, though. “What are you talking about?”
Mat chuckled then clapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to shove Derek back in the stool. “All you have to do is go over and talk to her. Say hello. If you want it, you’re going to have to be responsible and actually work for it.”
Mat slid off the stool and walked away, leaving Derek sitting there, stunned.
Go over and talk to her.
Derek drained his beer and glanced toward the back. Bridget was still there, talking, laughing. And he suddenly wanted to be there, to be part of that group.
To have her talk and laugh with him.
Go over and talk to her.
Yeah, if only it was that easy.
Chapter Twelve
Bridget knew he was going to come over and say something. She could feel it: that tingling on the back of her neck from Derek watching her, the slow churning of apprehension slowly building in her gut. She should get up and leave now, before he made his move. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to talk to him.
Yeah, sure. Maybe, if she kept repeating that, she could convince herself it was true. She had come here tonight knowing full well there was a chance Derek would be here. And if she really didn’t want to see him, really didn’t want to talk to him, she wouldn’t have joined the rest of the crew for a quick drink. No, she would have made up some excuse like she always did and just go home.
Alone. Like always.
What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like her to be this morose or even this uncertain. That wasn’t her, never had been her. She was too stubborn, too strong-willed. If she wanted something, she had no problems going after it, even if it meant fighting for it. That’s what she’d been doing for years.
Except when it came to Derek, and she didn’t know why.
Was it because she had convinced herself their encounter had been nothing more than a one-night-stand? Maybe. Or maybe it was because she didn’t understand why he was still interested.
If he really was interested. For all she knew, he saw her as something he couldn’t have—even though he already had. Twice. But she wasn’t falling at his feet, wasn’t pursuing him or hanging around, waiting for just the smallest slice of attention.
And maybe that was why he was interested. Because she wasn’t falling at his feet, like she was certain dozens of other women were. Maybe he viewed her as nothing more than a challenge to conquer. Again.
And if she let him, she’d really be in trouble. Because somewhere along the line, during their very brief encounters, she had started wondering what it would be like to really be with him. He wasn’t what she expected. And God help her, she thought she had seen something else in him. Something more than his wide smile and shallow, superficial exterior.
Something she thought she might really like.
And that was too dangerous, too terrifying. The thought that she might actually like someone like Derek Caulton scared her. Except she already slept with him. Twice. And she wasn’t the kind of person who could sleep with someone she didn’t like.
Which meant she was in trouble.
Somebody said something, causing everyone around her to break into laughter. Bridget looked up and forced a smile to her face, pretending she had heard whatever had been said. Rob glanced over at her, a frown on his face.
She liked Rob. Just like she liked all the guys on the ice crew. They were the big brothers she had never had, always looking out for her. Well, if you didn’t count William and Mitchell. It was annoying as hell sometimes. Like right now, because they all knew she was distracted, that something else was going on with her.
Which is why she let them talk her into coming with them tonight. Yeah, sure. That was the only reason.
Gah. She was going to drive herself insane with all these scattered thoughts if she didn’t stop it. This so wasn’t like her, not at all. If she didn’t stop, she really would drive herself crazy.
She reached for her glass of iced tea, thinking she’d finish it off then leave. Go home to her quiet apartment, take a long hot shower, and crash. Tomorrow was a long day of studying to prep for her finals. And then Sunday was visiting day, the day where she spent time with the kids. So yeah, she’d finish her tea and go home and—
“Hey.”
Bridget stiffened at the uncertain greeting coming from behind her. Well crap. Crap, crap, shit. Her hand tightened around the glass but other than that, she was afraid to move. She didn’t have to move because she knew who was standing behind her.
Close. Too close.
Conversation halted as Rob and the rest of the guys looked over at Derek. There was a subtle shifting in the atmosphere, a barely-perceptible change as they studied Derek then looked at her.
Probably because there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that while Derek may have addressed the entire table, his focus was on her. And she was pretty sure that had something to do with the fact that his hand was resting on her shoulder.
Bridget loosened her hold on the sweaty glass and pasted a bright smile on her face before turning to look up at him. “Oh, hey. Uh, Derek. I didn’t know you were here.”
His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit but she wasn’t sure why. She figured it was either at her hesitation of using his name, or her blatant lie of not knowing he was here. Probably both. Okay, yeah. Definitely both. And why did he have to be so tall? Towering over her like he was, she had to crane her neck to look up at him. It made her feel like she was at a disadvantage and she didn’t like that feeling—not when she needed every advantage to deal with him so she wouldn’t do something stupid. Again.
But he didn’t move. He didn’t even say anything, just kept looking at her with those sparkling clear blue eyes. Bridget swallowed a sigh and shifted in the seat, finally looking away and motioning to the guys seated around her.
“Derek, this is the ice crew.” She ran through the introductions so quickly she was surprised she got all the names out. Then she shifted in the chair again, just enough to dislodge Derek’s hand from her shoulder.
Small talk followed the introductions—for about thirty seconds. Then Derek leaned forward so there was no chance of Bridget not being able to see him. “Do you have a few minutes? I was wondering if we could talk.”
Tension immediately coiled in her stomach. Derek’s request had been casual, almost nonchalant. But she saw the flash in his eyes, a qu
ick spark of irritation that let her know the request was anything but casual. And she knew exactly what he wanted to talk about, knew exactly what he was going to ask.
“Actually, I was just getting ready to leave—”
“Then I’ll walk you to your car.”
Bridget noticed the looks they were getting from the guys seated around her, noticed the flare of concern in Rob’s eyes as he watched the two of them. And she knew that all she had to do was say no. She could come up with some excuse, no matter how lame, and she wouldn’t have to worry about Derek walking her to the car. Or talking to him, answering the question she knew he wanted to ask.
The temptation was strong to do just that. So strong. But something about it struck her as cowardly and she couldn’t quite let herself do that, couldn’t take the easy way out.
So she smiled again, letting her friends know that everything was okay, and pushed her chair away from the table. “Sure, no problem.”
She leaned down to grab her backpack but Derek beat her to it, his hand curling around the strap and tossing it over his left shoulder. Bridget didn’t say anything, just stood and started walking away, hoping to put distance between them. Maybe, if she walked fast enough, Derek wouldn’t be able to keep up. Except that didn’t work because his legs were longer than hers. He was beside her in a second, standing too close. And did he really need to put his hand in the middle of her back as they made their way through the bar? It was too natural, almost too possessive, like he was claiming her right here in front of everyone.
The thought sent a funny tingle through her that made her want to cringe and run away.
“Did you want to get anything to eat?”
“What?” She stopped and looked at him. “Uh, no. It’s after eleven, the kitchen’s closed. But thanks anyway.”
“I know the owner. Really. If you’re hungry, I can—”
“No, I’m good.” She pushed forward, the weight of his hand against her lower back a warm presence that confused her instead of reassuring her.
They stepped through the door, the air outside much chillier than she expected, especially after the warmth inside. It was late March, that crazy time when Mother Nature couldn’t quite decide if she wanted winter to linger a little longer or if she wanted to open the door and let spring in. A chill went through her and she automatically wrapped her arms around her, huddling into the warmth of her bulky sweatshirt.
“Are you cold? Don’t you have a jacket?”
She did, balled up inside the backpack. But she didn’t want to tell Derek that, not if it meant spending more time in his presence while she pulled it out and put it on.
“I’m fine.” Bridget walked a little faster as they turned the corner and headed to the parking lot, the sidewalk changing to gravel under her feet. The light dimmed as they moved past the street light, the shadows growing stronger as she headed to the back corner of the lot.
“You parked all the way back here? That’s not really safe, is it?”
She tossed him a look over her shoulder but didn’t say anything until they reached her car. Then she turned and held her hand out. “My bag?”
“What?”
“I need my backpack. My keys are in it.”
Derek grinned and let the bag slide down his arm before holding it out to her. But he didn’t let go of it, just it held it up. She swallowed her exasperation and unzipped the front pocket then reached in for her keys. Derek stepped to the side, just enough to give her room to unlock the door. But he stopped her with a hand on her elbow when before she could slide into the seat.
“Why don’t you let it warm up while we talk?”
Bridget could think of a million reasons why that wasn’t a good idea. But she didn’t say anything, just gave him a dirty look that only resulted in a chuckle. She leaned in and jammed the keys in the ignition then turned them. There was a brief groan, a small grinding, then the engine turned over, sputtering to life.
“Has it been giving you any more trouble? Since that night, I mean.”
Like she could forget. She straightened and shook her head then crossed her arms more tightly in front of her. “No. I broke down and bought a new battery.”
“Good. I’ve been worried about you breaking down somewhere, getting stuck.”
Well crap. What was she supposed to say to that? The idea that he had been thinking about her at all, let alone worried about her, sent a tiny shiver through her. Which was stupid, so stupid.
“You don’t like that?”
“Like what?”
“That I was worried.” Derek stepped a little closer, the heat from his body warming her even though they were still separated by more than a few inches. Bridget stepped back, her butt colliding with the cold metal door of the car. “I saw it. In your face.”
“What? Oh, um. No. I don’t know. You just surprised me, that’s all.”
“You surprised me, too.”
Bridget risked looking at his face. It was such the wrong thing to do. His eyes had darkened—or maybe that was nothing more than a trick of the night’s shadows. Was it her imagination, or had he moved closer? And he wasn’t smiling any longer. Gone was the carefree aloofness she was used to seeing in his expression. Now he looked serious, like he was studying her, his stare too intent, too focused. She swallowed and tried to step back again, even though she knew there was no place for her to go.
Unless she decided to climb over the roof of the car. Which probably wasn’t such a bad idea, no matter how silly it sounded.
No, not silly. Desperate. Since when did she resort to desperate tactics?
Bridget straightened and tried to look him straight in the eye. She didn’t quite succeed and ended up staring just over his shoulder. “I surprised you?”
“Yeah. Last week. You know—when you disappeared without a word.”
Oh crap. This was such a bad idea. She knew he was going to bring that up. As soon as he had asked to talk, she knew. He probably wasn’t used to women just leaving, and now his ego was probably hurt by it. And she had no idea what to say.
“So why’d you leave?”
“I had things to do.”
“I could have taken you back to your car. All you had to do was ask.”
“Uh, you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you up—”
“So how’d you get there? Back to your car, I mean.”
“Oh. I just grabbed a taxi. No big deal.” Well, except that she had to walk a few blocks to find one, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“No big deal.” Derek repeated the words, his voice low, almost too soft in the chilled air around them. Except it wasn’t really chilled, not anymore, because Bridget was right, he had been moving closer, just a little at a time, his body throwing off enough heat to sear her flesh. “I call bullshit. I don’t think you had anything to do. I think you got scared and ran.”
“Scared? That’s—” Ridiculous. She was going to say ridiculous. But she couldn’t say anything because his mouth was suddenly on hers. Warm, coaxing. Gentle. If it had been anything but, she could have resisted, would have pushed him away.
But there was no domination in the kiss. Just his mouth, warm, hot and reassuring against hers. Almost shy at first, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if she’d push him away.
And she should. If she was smart, she would. He was dangerous, too dangerous. But before she could stop herself, she leaned into him, her hand curling around the open edge of his jacket as her mouth opened under his.
A sigh, then a moan. His? Hers? It didn’t matter, not when his tongue danced with hers, not when she could taste the spicy warmth of his mouth, a taste that made her hunger for more. Made her burn.
Made her want.
No, she shouldn’t be doing this. She couldn’t.
She uncurled her fingers and rested the palm of her hand flat against his chest. Then she pulled away, pushing him just the slightest bit to put distance between them. Was it her imagination, or was his heart beati
ng hard in his chest, the rhythm steady against her palm? And was his breathing a little faster, a little shakier like hers? It must be her imagination. It had to be.
“Derek, what are you doing?”
He blinked, a slow lowering of lids over heated blue eyes. “I thought I was kissing you.”
“No. I mean—why? I don’t understand. We did our thing already. Had our fun and—”
“Had our fun?” He took a step back, his brows lowering into a dangerous frown. Cold air flowed into the space between them, chilling her. “You think that’s all I wanted? A quick romp, wham bam and good bye?”
“Isn’t it?”
Something flashed in his eyes. Guilt, maybe? Certainly not hurt. No, that was surely her imagination. “No, it isn’t. Why would you think that?”
“Why?” God, she could name a hundred different reasons, but the biggest one of all was that she wasn’t his type. She knew that, had seen some of the women he dated, both at the arena and in the sports pages. And she wasn’t like them, not even remotely close. “I think the only reason you’re still interested is because I’m not falling all over you. I’m nothing more than a challenge to you.”
Okay, that sounded really harsh, even for her. And she didn’t imagine the flare of hurt in his eyes this time. Hurt and something that looked like disappointment. Which was so ridiculous. No, it had to be her imagination.
She squeezed her eyes shut for little more than a second. And when she reopened them, Derek had taken another step back. His face was expressionless, his eyes hidden in the shadows of the night. Tension rolled from him, small little waves that made her uncomfortable, made her feel guilty.
He held the backpack out to her, waiting for her to take it. She closed her hand over the strap, expecting him to let go. But he tugged on it instead, pulling her off balance enough that she staggered forward a step.
He pressed his lips against hers once more, the touch so brief it barely qualified as a peck. Then he released the backpack and took another step back.
“You’re wrong.”
He didn’t say anything else, just turned around and walked away. Bridget stared after him, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Playmaker: A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella Page 8