by RJ Scott
Kat picked up a glass of champagne from a server and summoned every ounce of the strength and reserve she had to possess whenever she was near Ryan.
She never used to have to do that. They were friends. Unlikely friends, maybe, but still, Ryan had been the one to teach her how to skate, even after her brother’s open disapproval. Nicky had not wanted his sister anywhere near the ice, or, more than likely, near the hockey players on the ice. He’d gone into papa-bear mode when their parents died, and he was looking out for his sister. Patching up her brother so often had led her down her own career path, into training to be a paramedic, but hockey was never her thing.
Even now, Kat couldn’t remember the single day or moment when she first saw Ryan and felt something shift inside her. Was it that first day when the bigger boy had tripped Nicky on the ice? Was it when she was eleven and Ryan helped her down out of the tree in the yard? Was it when he and Nicky left home and she stayed behind with her aunt, and the only thing that had kept her sane was his short, to-the-point emails? Or was it the abortive kiss on prom night, the one she’d run from?
She couldn’t tell.
Or perhaps it was moments like tonight, when she watched him without him seeing her.
Ryan was sitting with his back to the bar, resting on his elbows with a beer bottle loose in his hand, watching the room. The empty room, because everyone else was in the ballroom and this was just the bar assigned to the event.
He looked tense and serious; his dark hair was just that bit too long, starting to curl where it touched his shirt collar. Typically, in the hockey season, his hair was cropped close to his head, but this was the off-season, and all the rules went out the window. Ryan’s suit was pale gray, and he wore a black shirt and no tie. Typical Ryan. As if Nicky had told him to dress up, and he’d done just as much as he needed to.
Ryan moved where he sat; the muscles in his arm bunched as he lifted the beer to his lips and took a swallow.
He wasn’t a big drinker, never had been, and left most of that to Nicky in their teenage years. Ryan was the designated driver, the one who acted responsibly. He let his passion out on the ice. That was how he’d explained it to Kat when she’d asked him how he could change so much between dry ground and the rink. One minute laughing and joking, the next slamming someone into the boards or being the last line of defense between the opposing team and the Dragon’s netminder.
He shifted again, this time turning on the stool as if something had told him she was watching him.
They stared at each other, and for the longest moment, Kat held her breath. What would he say about the kiss? Would he laugh at her? Or tease her? Or would he walk away and avoid even seeing her?
“Ryan.” She stepped closer until only a few feet separated them.
He still hadn’t said a word, his eyes wide, and he very carefully placed his beer on the table.
“Kat,” he said finally.
“Thank you for coming,” she began. “I know you hate these things.”
He half smiled. “It’s fine. I’m coming in, I promise. I was just going to find somewhere to sit in there and wait for people to come to me if they want to.” He said that with a slight shrug, as if he couldn’t for one minute think that any person here wanted to talk to him. Under all that player confidence, he was still the kid who didn’t want to be the center of attention off-ice.
“If they want to?” she said with a smile. “They’ll all want to talk about how you should be taking out Mark Rafferty next season for what he did to Nicky.”
The smile turned to a grimace. “Yeah.”
Silence. Suddenly, Kat didn’t know what to say. And then, just like in every situation like this, she babbled to fill the space. “I thought you were on the big island, surfing or picking up girls, doing whatever hockey players do in their downtime.”
He picked up the beer again and swallowed some more, and she saw the bottle for what it was: a prop. He spoke again, quietly. “You remember when Nicky bet me a dollar I couldn’t jump from the second-floor window into the tree, and I did, and he had to pay me, and then he tried and ended up dangling in the tree?”
Kat was confused at the switch in conversation, but she tried not to show it. “I do.”
“Yeah, well, you know I bet him a dollar he couldn’t score a hat-trick that last year in Dallas?”
“I remember. He scored the three and an assist, right?”
“Well, let’s say that tonight….”
“He lost a bet?” She was still puzzled, but when he grimaced, she abruptly caught on. “No way. You lost the bet and had to come here!” She finished with a grin that made Ryan smile as well.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to….” He waved around him, implying good deeds, and charity, and a night out.
“I get that this is your only downtime. So thank you.”
She understood perfectly. She held down her own frenetic career with a lot of responsibility.
“Yeah,” he began.
But where were his words? Nowhere.
“Anyway,” she pressed a hand to his chest and he glanced down. Her short nails were painted a pale pink. She was willing to bet she didn’t have the long talons of most of the woman he’d slept with. “It’s nice you made it, thank you.”
He pressed his own hand over hers momentarily. “You’re welcome,” he managed.
Then it was quiet again, and Kat had so much she wanted to say.
“I wanted to say something—”
“How are you after that—”
They both spoke at the same time and then stopped.
“You first,” she said.
“How are you feeling now, after what happened?”
She shrugged. How was she feeling, exactly? “No different than before. I’m at work. It’s done.”
Ryan frowned. “What about the man who hurt you?” His gaze flicked over her face as though he could see traces of the marks the guy had left on her. He couldn’t; it had been some weeks, and they were gone now.
“His case will come up. I’ll be a witness. I can handle it.”
“Of course you can. I don’t doubt it.” There was intensity in his gaze, and he was still staring right into her eyes. “What did you want to say?”
“Just sorry, is all.”
“For?”
“You having to come and get me. For the kiss.”
Ryan pushed up and away from the stool, his full six-four height dwarfing her, his broad shoulders stretching the material of his jacket. In every way he was huge: tall and wide, with the solid shape of an athlete who used his body to block. She almost made a step back but stopped herself in time. She wasn’t scared of him; he didn’t intimidate her in the least. Hell, nothing about Ryan scared her.
Except for the fact he could make her heart beat faster just by being in the same room.
He’d scooped her up as if she weighed nothing back at the precinct. What would it be like for him to carry her to bed? To be the one to make her lose her mind—she stopped her train of thought as he began talking.
“One,” he began and counted by holding up his index finger. “If you hadn’t called me as the second choice after your brother, I would have been really angry. If Loki isn’t around, then I am easily the second best.”
“Like a second brother,” she said, way too quietly.
He hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. Just like that.”
“And what was two?”
He held up another finger, right in front of her. “Two, you needed that kiss, and we’re friends. That’s what friends do.”
Warmth pooled inside her at the absolute determination and focus in him. Friends didn’t actually go around kissing each other; she was sure of that. And the concept of Ryan being a second brother—
Never.
“Okay.” She shifted her gaze down from the foot in height that he had on her and focused on the buttons of his shirt.
“You cleaned up nice,” he murmured and extended an
elbow, which she took.
The intensity of the moment was gone; this was one friend commenting on another. She could handle that. Even as she linked arms with him and leaned into his solid strength, she tried her hardest to relax, and to ignore the heat building inside her at his touch. She tried not to think that being told she looked nice wasn’t enough. She’d wanted him to look at her with heat and to tell her she looked beautiful.
She’d always wanted that.
Wanted what she couldn’t have. Watched Ryan with one puck bunny after another, and dying inside a little with each one.
“Back at you,” she forced herself to tease.
“I hate these things,” he muttered under his breath.
The thing is, she knew that. He did his own charity work, quietly and under the radar, and he’d never been the guy at the center of the room as the star attraction. That he’d always left to Loki.
“I know big guy, so let’s go find a corner for you to hide in.”
CHAPTER 8
The night itself wasn’t as bad as Ryan imagined it would be, because there were plenty of ways he could get out of doing anything. He was the bad boy of the Dragons; the quiet, intense heavy hitter with anger issues who didn’t smile a lot, and everyone expected him to be grumpy and antisocial, an act he’d spent a lot of time cultivating.
Not like Simba, who had to be the grown-up out there, or Loki, who was always the center of attention, or the twins, who had gravitated to standing together, holding court as a team. Hiding in the bar had worked for Ryan, but he’d known he couldn’t stay there forever. He was here in his best suit, with a glass of sparkling water, not feeling the need for the burn of alcohol after that single beer. The corner he was in was nicely empty, apart from two guys who were happy to talk hockey without focusing on Loki’s injury, and who would rather talk about the run for the playoffs next year.
They had specific points about the strength of the offensive line, about Loki, and Simba, about rookies out there ready to be snapped up.
This Ryan could do.
Ryan could handle technical talk with the best of them. And anyway, sitting here, he could avoid Loki, the fucker. Because come on—Loki had tricked him into this shit. More importantly he could avoid Kat, who never failed to reduce him to feeling like a gorilla with no manners and way too big in his body. She was freaking gorgeous in that dress, the soft material molding to every sexy curve, hiding more than it revealed, which just made things worse.
Somehow, that kiss had changed things.
Because he knew what she tasted like now. Which, in turn, meant he’d gotten half-hard in the bar, then had to fight the inappropriate urge to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to the first hotel room he could buy into, just to kiss her again.
That dress. She looked stunning. Way past stunning. And all he’d found to say was that she’d scrubbed up well. Just recalling that made him feel like a fucking idiot. Maybe there was a school out there that could give him pointers. How to compliment the girl you lust after who you shouldn’t have, 101, or something like that.
She’d touched him, pressed a hand to his chest, her nails pale pink, sensible, and short. Most of his hookups sported talons, but he’d bet that if he was inside Kat, she’d still dig those nails into him—
Horror at the direction of his thoughts had him near choking on his water.
“You okay man?” One of the guys asked.
Ryan held up a hand to indicate he was okay, and the guy went back to discussing three on three overtime, giving Ryan time to get his breath back.
He would not imagine making love to Kat. He couldn’t. That was way too dangerous to even let those thoughts into his head.
We can fuck as many of these girls as we want, Loki had once said at the first club they’d gone to when Ryan joined the Dragons. They love professional sports guys, it’s like a buffet with all you can eat.
And Ryan had done. He’d done what he was supposed to do, and he’d never swapped numbers, and he’d never once had them over to his and Loki’s place.
None of them meant anything. They were just convenient, just like he was to them. None of them were looking for permanent. Everyone knew the score.
I’m the worst person in the world. He thought, as the conversation moved into analyzing the teams in World Juniors.
“You can’t stay in this corner all night,” Loki said right next to him, leaning on his crutches and looking in way too much pain.
The two men he’d been talking to nodded at Loki, and one of them gave up his chair, before both of them wandered off, probably because Loki was glaring at Ryan.
Ryan grunted and moved his chair so that he was further hidden behind the pillar he’d chosen as a barrier.
“People want to meet the star defender of the Ice Dragons,” Loki added.
“No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do.”
“No—”
“Get your ass into the event and make some people smile,” Loki snapped. “Kat needs you, and I can’t fucking do it.” He slumped further into the seat and let out a sharp curse of pain that no one farther than Ryan would have heard.
Ryan began to word a response about how Kat certainly didn’t need him blundering in, all legs and arms, offending whoever he spoke to, but the expression on Loki’s face made him stop. Nicolas Lecour, not well known for his seriousness or his focus, was giving Ryan a look that spoke volumes through the pain carved into his face. Tonight meant something to Loki, and Ryan was abruptly ashamed.
He nodded, which was “I got your back” and “sorry” all wrapped up in one thing.
“Not to mention Evan is here, and I want to kill him.”
Ryan stiffened as he stood. “Evan?”
“He bought the ticket when they were still engaged, and he’s all over her.”
“What did you do about it?”
Loki shook his head and winced. “I can’t do anything to anyone with this.” He gestured to his knee. “I took meds for the pain, but I need you to fix it until they kick in, buddy.”
Flexing, Ryan buttoned his jacket and straightened it, tugging at his collar and wishing he hadn’t stubbornly refused to put on a tie.
“What do you want me to do.”
Loki glared up at him. “Intimidate the fuck out of him, asshole. Get him off my sister.”
Evan was there. He was always so… right. Smaller than Ryan, with his hands on Kat, cleverer than him, better dressed than him. Impeccable, and all that shit.
“Just don’t hurt him too bad,” Loki warned.
“At least not inside the hotel,” Ryan growled.
Loki raised an eyebrow in question, and Ryan shook his head with a muttered curse.
Sometimes Ryan wondered why the hell they were friends. Loki was all sunshine and spark, and Ryan like the heavy tension before a thunderstorm. Loki knew that Ryan would likely go into the Evan situation like a bull in a china shop, but guessed there wasn’t anything he could change about that.
Shrugging away the need to run in the opposite direction, Ryan walked from his corner and out into the main event; a slow-moving mass of brilliant jewel-toned dresses, black suits, and the low hum of polite chatter that didn’t even stop when he walked by. There were a few interested glances and a general move closer by a few people interested in him, but he excused himself, saying he would be back.
He found Kat easily, spotting the scarlet dress and dark hair from across the room.
And his world shifted, as it did every time he was near her. Thirteen years he’d watched her grow from tomboy to teenager to young woman. She was brilliance and light, just like Loki, and when she saw him walking over, her smile held a million questions. Evidently he was way too obvious in his intention to get to her and ignore everyone else.
So much for the social niceties.
He couldn’t find words, no smooth lines that would make everything inside him settle. He could charm a puck bunny into bed with just a wink, but at this moment
as he arrived at her side, he had nothing.
“Hey, Ryan,” she said through the smile.
He knew all her smiles: the ones she gave for real and the ones that held something else. Sadness, or compassion, maybe. Was it just him, or was this smile a little forced?
She introduced him to the two men beside her. “Ryan Flynn, number seventeen with the Ice Dragons, I’d like you to meet Greg Steiner, a surgeon at the hospital. And of course you know Evan.”
Ryan shook hands with Greg and even took Evan’s hand, squeezing maybe just this side of too tight.
“Good to see you,” Greg said. “Bad luck with not making the playoffs. So close, but I’m sure you’ll be right up there, next year.”
“Thank you.”
“Good team, great potential….” Greg went on talking, and Ryan really tried to listen to him, but all he wanted to do was get between Kat and her ex. “Anyway, it’s really nice to meet a young man so involved in charity work at the hospital.”
Ryan tensed. Was that a dig about tonight? Had Greg somehow found out he didn’t really want to be here? He didn’t do a lot of events, but what he did do was behind the scenes, for the kids, the families. But Greg wasn’t digging or sly; in fact, he was genial and smiling.
“I work closely with the Francis ward,” Greg continued, and then tapped the side of his nose, “So I’ve heard things. Sometimes it isn’t all flash and dressing up, sometimes it’s just being there for people,” was all he said before shaking Ryan’s hand and moving off.
Ryan knew it was a cliché; athletes like him working with kids, sound bites and pictures with babies, but he wasn’t like that. Greg worked near the ward Ryan spent a lot of his downtime at, then he’d know the real Ryan. The one who spent time at the hospital doing his thing without fuss and attention.
And why did someone seeing through him like that suddenly scare him so much?
Kat looked like she was going to say something, but then stopped. Evan had a hand on her lower back, a proprietary touch that Ryan found he didn’t like very much.
“Thank you for coming to Kathryn’s aid tonight,” Evan said, and if possible, he moved closer. “It’s always nice to have friends rally round.” Ryan didn’t fail to notice the emphasis on friends, nor the way that Evan leaned in to Kat.