“Hey, you made it.” The double doors opened, and Meryl stood there dressed in a slender black skirt paired with a red sweater, her hair cascading to her shoulders in soft waves. Nik expected a servant to answer, not Meryl herself. And he didn’t expect her to look quite so beautiful. He’d already crossed a line last night, and now Nik didn’t know how to step back.
“Yes,” he said, placing his hands in his pockets. “It’s, uh, a nice house.”
“Actually, it’s pretentious and gaudy,” Meryl said. “But come on in, anyway.” She stepped back and Nik entered an expansive foyer. “It didn’t used to be quite as gaudy when my mother was alive. Ronnie has a different decorating taste and insisted on putting her own stamp on things.” There was no hiding the disdain in Meryl’s voice when she spoke of her stepmother.
“I look forward to meeting her,” Nik replied, because it seemed like the polite thing to say.
“If you actually mean that, my opinion of you might have to drop a notch or two,” Meryl quipped, a smile tugging at her lips. “They’re in the parlor, though, so you’ll get your wish.”
The parlor. Nik wasn’t even sure what a parlor was and was fairly certain he’d never been in a house that had one, but he soon found himself in a room with mahogany walls and ornate furniture.
“Father, Ronnie, our guest is here,” Meryl announced, and it didn’t escape Nik’s notice how she addressed Mr. Johnson. Perhaps his first impression would prove to be wrong, but their relationship didn’t seem like a warm and fuzzy one.
“Hello, sir,” Nik extended a hand. “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”
“My pleasure. I’ve been wanting to get to know the players on the team better, and this is a good place to start.” The man shook Nik’s hand firmly, but his smile lacked warmth and sincerity. Nik didn’t feel like a welcome guest, he felt like an employee. Granted, he was an employee, but he now understood why Meryl seemed to speak of her father in resentful tones.
“I’m Veronica Johnson.” A well-manicured hand invaded the space, and it was attached to a tall blonde with bright red lip. She didn’t appear to be much older than Meryl, which might explain some of the resentment. “Nicholas, is it?”
“Nikolai,” he corrected. “I am from Russia.”
“Oh, right.” The hand wave indicated she didn’t much care. Whatever his name or nationality, he was apparently beneath her. “It’s nice to meet someone from your country.” She said it as if it was a third world nation, but in her mind, it probably was.
“Can I offer you something to drink, Nikolai?” Mr. Johnson asked. “Beer, wine, vodka?”
Was that a slight, or a test? Surely the man knew how old he was. Nik shook his head. “Neither, thank you. Water is fine, with a slice of lemon, or perhaps a soda.”
“Of course,” Rick Johnson said, and pressed a button on the wall.
A uniformed waiter promptly appeared at the parlor door. “Yes, sir?”
“Water with lemon for our guest, and a soda too. He seems a little indecisive.”
Nik looked at the floor, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t want to be responsible for putting the hired help out of their way. Especially since at home, his mother was the hired help. “Either will be fine, thank you.”
***
Meryl tried to send Nik a look of apology, hoping he’d get the message. She should have known her father would be passive-aggressively rude and Ronnie openly contemptuous. Nik might very well leave their home disliking her father and his wife, but Meryl didn’t want to be lumped in with any negative impressions he formed of them.
Philip came back with a tray of drinks and informed them that dinner was ready to be served in the small dining room.
“How many dining rooms do you have?” Nik asked as Meryl led him in that direction.
“Four,” she answered. “Formal, secondary, small and private. Which is probably at least three too many.”
“Exactly what I was thinking. I am not used to such...” his voice trailed off as he appeared to search for the right word.
“Pretentiousness?” Meryl supplied.
Nik shook his head. “Opulence, I think it is. I hope I don’t embarrass you.”
Of course he would worry about that. Meryl knew Nik hailed from a working-class background. He wasn’t accustomed to formal dining rooms and uniformed servants. He was sincere, though, and had good manners. “I’m not worried. You’ll be fine,” she assured him.
“We’re having duck confit,” her father announced. “I hope that’s to your liking, Nik?”
“I’ve not had it before, but I am sure it will be good.” He looked at Ronnie. “Did you make it yourself, Mrs. Johnson?”
Meryl stifled laughter. Ronnie? Cook? Yeah, right. If the woman tried to lie, Meryl would probably choke on a piece of asparagus.
“No. I leave that kind of thing to Clive, our personal chef. I’m so busy with my social obligations and such.”
Okay, she didn’t lie about preparing the meal, at least. The rest of the statement, though, was pure fiction. If Ronnie was busy with anything, it was mani-pedis and shopping. “My mother always made the Christmas Eve meal herself,” Meryl said. “She liked giving the staff the holidays off. And her cooking was always delicious.”
Her father shot her a glare as he tried to change the subject. “How are you settling into things here in Texas, Nik?”
“It has been an adjustment, but each day gets a little easier,” Nik answered as the food was passed around the table. Meryl noticed he took generous helpings of everything. Either he was hungry, or an adventurous eater. “The family I am staying with is very nice.”
Rick nodded. “Meryl tells me that you’ve become very close to their son.”
“Yes. That’s one reason why I wanted to become involved in the project Meryl is working on. I think Bryson and other boys could really benefit from it,” Nik said. He looked over to her and smiled. “You must be so proud of her for having this idea.”
“Well, it’s something I’ve been thinking about ever since we got the expansion bid. Meryl’s just helping me to implement it.”
You lying son of a bitch. Meryl almost choked on a mouthful of duck. Of course he’d try to take all the credit. “You know me,” Meryl said sweetly. “Anything to help you, Daddy.”
“She has many good ideas,” Nik said. “I think it will be very successful.”
Meryl gave him a grateful smile. He wasn’t seeing through her father’s obvious bullshit. One more reason to like him. “With your help, I’m sure it will.” And then her father would have no choice but to praise her. Maybe.
“So tell me about Russia, Nikolai,” Ronnie interjected. “Do you ever see the sun there?”
Meryl wanted to sink into a hole. Sure, she’d had her own misconceptions about the country Nik hailed from, but she wasn’t blatantly rude in asking about them. If Nik was offended, though, he didn’t show it and proceeded to tell them about the nice rivers and lakes of his homeland. He spoke about it with such animation that Meryl wanted to visit sometime, but preferably not in the winter.
After dinner and dessert, she walked him to the door. “Thank you for coming. I hope it wasn’t too unbearable for you.”
“Not at all. The meal was good, and I appreciate the hospitality.”
Meryl noticed he praised the food, but said nothing about how much he liked her father and Ronnie. “It was nice to have someone else here. My brother got married last year, so now he spends the holiday with his wife’s family.” She didn’t add how much she envied Matt for his escape. “Anyway, thanks. Have a good Christmas.”
“Yes, I...” Nik hesitated, and Meryl wondered if he might kiss her again. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”
Not a kiss, but maybe an invitation? Dare she get her hopes up? “No plans, why?”
“You should come over to the Crawfords’ house,” Nik said. “I have a special gift for Bryson, and he’ll probably want to show it off. And we can tell him about the
camp.”
Meryl’s hopes faded a little. Maybe he’d taken her too seriously when she told him her interest was business and intended to keep it that way. Still, the opportunity to spend more time with him as too good to pass up. “I’d like that,” she said. “Very much.”
“Good.” Nik’s lips curled in a smile. “I should warn you, though, that Bryson might tease you about being my girlfriend.”
Meryl’s heart did an involuntarily flutter. “Thanks for the warning, but I think I can handle it.”
Chapter Eight
It was the first Christmas Nik spent without his mother and Alek, and although he missed them greatly, the Crawfords went out of their way to make him feel like part of their family. They gave him several gifts, including a new tie which he planned to wear for the next game. Their generosity made him very glad he’d gotten them gift cards to several local restaurants, so they could enjoy some nights out. His best gift, though, was the one for Bryson.
It was a hockey stick, personalized with his name and favorite number—fourteen—on one side, and the words ‘Young General’ on the other. It wasn’t a miniature, toy stick, either. Nik made sure he got the perfect size for Bryson to use when the new Generals hockey camps opened in the spring. The other part of the gift would be telling him about the program, but Nik planned to wait until Meryl came over later to do that.
“Wow!” The boy’s eyes widened like saucers. “This is like the best present ever.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s important to have a good hockey stick,” Nik said. “There’s another part of the surprise, but will have to wait a little while.” He looked over to Bryson’s parents. “I’ve invited a friend over later. I hope that’s okay.” He probably should have asked them before inviting Meryl, but it was a spur of the moment thing. Nik wanted to see her again, and he didn’t think the Crawfords would mind.
“Of course it’s okay,” Sue said. “We want you to feel comfortable in our home. I’m glad you’re making friends.”
“Is it the girl?” Bryson wanted to know. “The one from practice that you went to see last night?”
“Yes,” Nik admitted with a touch of embarrassment. “It’s not what you think, though.” Or was it? “We have some news to share with you.”
“You’re getting married?” Bryson asked, causing Nik to laugh.
“No. Definitely not that. I will not get married anytime soon,” he said. “I’m too young, and too busy. The news relates to hockey, and that’s all I can say now.”
The boy grumbled a bit, but soon occupied his time playing his new NHL video game. It was a source of pride for Nik that the latest release of the popular game included the San Antonio Generals and that he was one of the featured players, even if his computer-generated likeness game him a chuckle. The hair was all wrong, but the speed was there at least, along with the wrist shot. For a poor kid from Siberia, it was pretty cool.
Meryl arrived shortly after one, and Nik greeted her outside. “Thanks for coming.”
She smiled. “My pleasure. It gave me an excuse to escape the mausoleum.”
Nik frowned. “I am not sure what you mean.” He hated the language barrier. He worked hard to learn English, studying every day, and felt he’d made great progress. Yet there were still words that confused him, and this was one of them. Wasn’t a mausoleum a tomb?
“Oh, sorry,” Meryl said. “It’s a joke. My father’s house is so big and sterile, and quiet on holidays. So I refer to it as a mausoleum.”
Nik nodded. “Okay, I get it.” Or enough of it, anyway. For all of her family’s wealth, Meryl didn’t seem to relish in it. “This is more modest,” he said, referring to the Crawfords’ middle class home. “No servants.”
“It’s lovely,” Meryl said, looking around. “I like this neighborhood. And servants are overrated.”
“My mother works as a housekeeper,” Nik said, and Meryl frowned.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended,” Nik assured her. “But it is a reminder how different we are.” Too different? He hoped not, because the more he saw of Meryl, the more Nik liked her.
“Or maybe we aren’t that different after all,” she said.
“Maybe,” Nik said, feeling less sure. “Come in. You can formally meet Bryson. And he has something to show off.” It was a great feeling knowing he’d given the boy his favorite Christmas gift.
***
Meryl followed Nik into the house, wondering why he’d invited her over to spend time with a twelve-year-old boy and his family on Christmas. But it allowed her to see Nik again and get away from her own house a bit, so she wouldn’t complain.
Nik introduced her to Bryson’s parents, Sue and Paul, who were gracious in welcoming her into their home.
“We were so excited to get professional hockey into San Antonio,” Paul said. “Your father is doing a wonderful job with the team so far.”
“Thank you,” Meryl said. “I’ll let him know. This is his passion.” Sure, he’d dabbled in owning a soccer team before destroying it in his zeal to ruin her life, but being half-Canadian, hockey was his first love. “Mine as well. We want to do everything we can to help the NHL succeed in Central Texas.”
“That’s one reason why I invited Meryl here today. There is a new project we are working on together,” Nik said. “Meryl is starting a program to teach young kids about hockey, with camps and skills activities. I will be one of the coaches, along with some of my teammates.” He turned to Bryson. “Becker and Trevor have already agreed to help, and we are hoping you will join our first camp and maybe invite some of your friends.”
“Are you serious?” the youngster exclaimed. “I can use my new stick.”
“That’s the idea,” Nik said. “It’s why I gave it to you.” He looked at Meryl. “I had his name put on it, and the number he usually wears. Fourteen.”
“Like Jamie Benn,” Bryson said. “He plays for Dallas, if you didn’t know.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Meryl said with a smile. He was, after all, the Stars’ captain and an All-Star and Art Ross Trophy winner. “He’s a great player, but there are two NHL teams in Texas now. I’m glad people like the Stars, but my family wants the Generals to become Texas’ favorite team. That’s one reason why I’m launching the youth hockey programs, and why we want you to sign up. Free of charge, of course,” she added. The idea of making Bryson’s camp enrollment free just popped into her head, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
“You don’t have to do that,” the boy’s father said.
“I know, but I want to,” Meryl assured him. “I really want this program to work, for a lot of reasons.” She didn’t articulate those reasons, but she figured Nik knew by now that they had little to do with her desire to turn the youth of San Antonio into Generals fans. That would simply be an added bonus.
“So that’s the big news?” Bryson asked. “You’re not getting married to Nik?”
“Bryson!” The boy’s mother scolded, while Nik shot her an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No worries.” Meryl chuckled. He had warned her, after all. “No,” she said. “I’m not marrying Nik. I do like him a lot, though.”
***
Meryl confused Nik. He didn’t know whether it was his own relative inexperience with women, or the mixed signals she seemed to send, or something else. He simply knew he couldn’t figure her out. Was she interested in him on a personal level or not?
Outside of his time on the ice, Nik didn’t like to play games. He believed in being forthright and honest. He didn’t think it was too much to expect the same from Meryl, especially if they were going to work together on this project.
After explaining their plans to Bryson and his family, and getting their first unofficial—at least for a few more days—sign up for the ‘Young Generals’ program, Nik suggested he and Meryl take a walk. The weather, once again, was sunny and pleasant, and it woul
d take them away from the prying eyes of a twelve-year-old with an overactive imagination.
“I’m sorry,” Nik said as they walked, “if Bryson made you uncomfortable.”
“Why would you think that?”
“The comment about us getting married.”
“Oh, that.” Meryl laughed. “Not at all. He’s a kid, and they don’t always think before they speak. And you did warn me, after all.”
“Yes. Still, I don’t want you to think I put stories in his head.” Was he saying that right? Nik hoped so.
“You mean you didn’t tell him I was your girlfriend or talk to him about our elaborate wedding plans?”
She said it with total seriousness, and Nik was unsure how to respond. He settled for an equal amount of seriousness. “No. I promise you I didn’t. I hope you will believe me.”
“Of course I believe you.” Meryl’s lips curled in an amused smile. “Relax, Nik,” she said. “I’m not angry or upset. Though you are pretty cute when you’re apologizing for some imagined offense.” Her eyes danced with mischief and whimsy, leaving Nik even more confused. Yes. They would have to talk about this.
“Look, Meryl,” he began cautiously.
“Yes, Nik?”
“I believe we should talk. About what’s happening here. About us.”
“Oh?” She cocked her head to the side. “Is there an ‘us’ now?”
Again, he couldn’t read her intentions. Was she flirting? “I don’t know,” Nik said. He decided to put the ball squarely in her court. At least that’s what he thought the expression was. “You tell me.”
“I’ve already told you. My father doesn’t want me to—”
“Fraternize with players,” Nik finished. “Yes, I remember you telling me that, and also that you were interested only in business from me. We would work together to establish the camps and nothing else.”
“Right. So what’s the problem?” Meryl asked.
“You. You confuse me,” Nik said. “You appear to flirt with me. You let me hold your hand. You let me kiss you, even encourage it. You tell Bryson and his family that you like me a lot.” His words came out fast. There was no sense in holding back. “So which is it?” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “What do you want, Meryl? The truth. No more games.”
Crossing the Line (Men of the Ice Book 2) Page 5