"Awesome!" Aiden said as he pushed away from his mom and into the extra seat next to his new neighbor.
She would have to thank Jack later for giving her some cool people to sit with during the season.
Charlotte turned back to the ice just in time to see Jordan score the first goal of the game. Suddenly, the noise in the arena was deafening and energizing. Jordan skated by the glass in front of them with a fist of triumph in the air, flashing his killer smile and amazing blue eyes. She couldn't help but jump to her feet, cheering along with the rest of the crowd and high fiving a few of the people sitting in front of them.
The crowd began to calm down and return to their seats as the ref lined up to drop the puck for the next face-off while Aiden stared ahead. "Jordan King is so cool," he said in awe.
She had to agree. "He does seem pretty amazing. How long have you been a fan of Jordan's?"
Aiden shrugged. "As long as I can remember, and I'm six years old so it's a long time."
Charlotte became more relaxed as the game went on. She was always so nervous in a setting like this since she could tell when people would treat her differently. There were times when she just wanted to be looked at like a normal person who wasn't recognized by everyone in the arena. But the Wards put her at ease, giving her suggestions for some good places to visit in the area and even asking her out to dinner.
"We have to give you the real Detroit tour," Adam explained between the second and third periods. "We'll show you some of the landmarks around here and then end with chili dogs at American Coney Island."
"Lafayette Coney Island," Rachel replied.
"American."
"What's the difference?" Charlotte asked.
Rachel rolled her eyes as Adam explained, "American is the better Coney Island."
"I don't think so, dear."
"So they're both in the city?" Charlotte asked.
"Oh yeah," Adam said. "Right next door to each other."
"Next door?" she said skeptically.
"It's a Detroit thing."
Charlotte laughed at Adam's succinct explanation. "Well, if you ever make it to New York, I'll be more than happy to return the favor and explain the difference between Famous Ray's Pizza and Ray's Original Pizza."
"Oh, that's a deal," he replied.
She was going to like sitting here this season.
As the last seconds ticked off the clock, Jordan could feel the crowd getting anxious. The Pirates still had the lead, but Jordan's goal was the only one on the board for either team. Luckily, Detroit's goalie made a miraculous save right at the end to get the win, but it was still a little too close. He would have to talk to the team about that the next time they had a captain's meeting.
He headed down the tunnel, happy with his performance at least. He had been trying to get a long scoring streak going this season, but he would always get thrown off only a few games into them. Something felt different tonight. He wanted to say it was something about the ice or the way the team worked together or the cheering from the fans. He wanted to say the team at least showed some grit, making sure they didn't squander the one goal he had picked up.
But as he pulled off his sweaty jersey and sat down in front of his locker, his body tired from the beating it took that night, he knew it wasn't any of those things. Charlotte was exactly where he expected to find her among the sea of people over by the penalty box. Three rows up and a little off to the left, her long blonde hair standing out against the black jerseys in the crowd.
"You OK there, captain?" Alex asked him.
Jordan turned to see a goofy grin on the Russian defenseman's face. "Yeah, why?"
"You seem a little distracted. I hope that Stone girl didn't get to your head."
Logan Moore scoffed from his locker next to Jordan. "He's a big deal now. He doesn't get distracted by trashy reality stars."
"She's not trashy," Jordan insisted.
Alex raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction. "That's too bad. I like trashy."
He rolled his eye. "I'm well aware," he replied. "Anyway, we all know Charlotte is the only one with class on that show."
Several of the players groaned, causing Jordan to cringe in response. What was he even thinking saying that?
"You already sound like a love sick puppy," Logan said.
"I'm not a love sick puppy," he mumbled.
"Which is what a love sick puppy would say," Alex replied. "Besides, we all know she's not as hot as Rebecca on the show."
Logan grabbed a towel. "That woman is way too old for you," he said as he headed for the showers.
"Old means experienced!" Alex yelled back at him before turning to Jordan. "But seriously, if you're banging Charlotte Stone, you can get me a Rebecca hook-up, right?"
"Why are we even talking about this?"
"I know you like talking to your teammates about their interests, captain" Alex said sarcastically. "My interests are hockey, women, and reality shows, in that order."
"Anyway," Jordan said with a sigh. "I met Charlotte right before the game started. I'm not banging her."
Alex smirked. "Not yet, but you need to get back on that horse."
"I've told you before, I'm taking a break from women because I need to focus on being the captain."
The defenseman scowled at him. "Maybe it's time for you to steer your ship into port."
What the hell? Since when did that dumbass Russian start using metaphors to describe Jordan's emotional issues? Oh wait, it was a sex metaphor.
"Where did you even hear that?"
Alex smiled. "That survivor show where they had to live in an old pirate ship for a week and—"
"I remember," Jordan lamented. "Go take a shower, Birdie. You smell like a hockey player."
The penthouse was dark when Charlotte finally got home from the game. Luckily, she had a few overhead lights added when they built out the empty floor, but now she was cursing that she hadn't added more to the plan. At least the sporadic light meant that she couldn't see all the boxes that still needed to be unpacked.
Charlotte walked down the hall past the bedrooms to her office at the end. Even at night, it was perfect. The extra lights in the ceiling made the space bright along with the simple white walls.
She headed over to sit down behind the best piece in the room: a large mahogany desk that was placed in the right spot to allow her to look out the windows and see the skyline of the city. The desk was probably the priciest piece of furniture in her place, which was a bit ridiculous considering she bought it off her own uncle. John had insisted that he needed at least $15,000 to part with such a "family heirloom" or something like that when Charlotte knew damn well the thing was collecting dust in his home in the Hamptons. But it had been custom ordered by her great-grandfather after he made his first million dollars almost a century ago selling New York real estate. It deserved to see some more work.
Charlotte ran her fingers along the top of the desk, tracing the bumps and cracks that it had picked up over the years. She smiled, thinking that she couldn't wait to get started on her next projects there, looking up to make sure she had a good sight line to the whiteboard she had installed on a nearby wall. Her editor, Nick Owen, had called her latest manuscript good but a bit uninspired. It just didn't seem like her, he said.
"Maybe you should try a new approach to your writing," Nick had suggested. "Change your workspace around. Put your desk in a different spot to get a new view or get rid of your little note cards on the bulletin board. Try going big."
Perhaps she had taken Nick's words too seriously when she moved her entire apartment to another city and had a huge whiteboard installed next to her desk in her bigger office. But as she sat there, she realized this was the right decision.
Charlotte stood and walked over to the blank wall that faced the whiteboard and had her bedroom closet on the other side, taking particular note of the floorboards. "One, two, three." She counted the boards with her toe lightly tapping each one before rea
ching the fourth. "Gotcha!" she whispered triumphantly, pressing her foot down to pop open the secret door that led into her closet. It was a bit cheesy, a bit James Bond perhaps, but she was never one to go with convention.
She thought about digging through the boxes to find a t-shirt or some yoga pants to sleep in, but the day had already been quite long after unpacking box after box followed by a hockey game. Instead, she just pulled off her boots, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor of her closet.
She walked into her bedroom, sleek and crisp and modern, including the white bedspread and fluffy pillows. Climbing under the clean sheets on her new bed, she was thankful that she had made sure to unpack those on the first day she arrived. It wouldn't have really mattered tonight though considering the most comfortable thing touching her skin was her jersey. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep, thinking about the note that Jack had included with it when he sent it to her.
"So glad you picked this city. You're going to love Jordan King!"
Chapter 2
Jordan was looking forward to tonight's charity dinner and auction with the team's season-ticket holders, and not to find out who he was going to have dinner with this time around.
For several years now, he had put up for auction a dinner with him. The bidding had become more animated as different groups of people tried vying for the meal, and he actually had a good time every year he'd done it. Of course, the first year was the best when a group of young women talked their fathers into pooling their money together for Jordan's attention. The past few years, it's been some finance guys who love to be entertained by his stories while their wives like to flirt with him in front of their husbands. The food was always pretty good too.
Tonight was going to be different because Charlotte Stone was here. As the captain, he had to go over final details with the event's planners and figured it would be a good idea to check the guest list, making sure he could remember names from last year and seeing if the finance guys were coming. The event planner didn't need to know that he was casually checking the list for Charlotte's name.
There was a buzz that night as he entered the locker room in jeans and a t-shirt, his new tuxedo folded over his arm with his black dress shoes in his hand. For a bunch of gritty hockey players, they actually enjoyed getting dressed up and hanging out with fans. The open bar and free food didn't hurt.
"Looking sharp, captain," Logan said as the team started to collect themselves before heading into the arena with the proper attire.
"I know, right? At least I smell better than most nights here."
"You're telling me. Seriously, you need to get some new shoulder pads."
"And you need to get a new face," Jordan retorted.
A few of the guys started laughing around him before they were hushed by the team's head of public relations. "Just a reminder that even though this is a private event, you are meeting the public so don't do or say anything stupid. And drink in moderation, boys. We don't want a Declan Reed incident."
Jordan scowled. That stupid pest in Los Angeles got drunk last week at a charity poker tournament, made a fool of himself and was arrested for a DUI. Jordan was so glad the worst he ever had to deal with as captain was the occasional hockey ego that needed to be gently put back in check.
The team walked down the wide hallway past the Zamboni before it opened up to the arena floor and empty seats rising up to the rafters. The ice had been covered with boards and black carpeting, and tables were set up with black table cloths and white roses in low vases in the middle. The lights were low except for a stage set up on one side of the floor, and there was a cocktail area on the other.
Jordan recognized a few faces from previous fan events and most of the time, he would make a point to talk to the fans he had become familiar with over the years. But this time, he scanned the crowd looking for one fan in particular. Just like her first night watching the game, it was Charlotte's blonde hair that made her stick out in the crowd. It was only as he got closer and put fewer people between them that he was able to really take her in, starting with her tall black high heels that made her legs look amazing. Her dress was a classic black strapless number with one of those fluffed-out skirts that hit her knees and was giving him very naughty thoughts about having his way with a 1950s housewife. A little flirting with a woman like that would be fun. But just flirting. A relationship right now was not in the cards for him since he had a championship to win. A little flirting, however, never hurt anyone.
Jordan swaggered over, taking a place next to her at the bar. She was drinking some sort of amber liquor on the rocks, leaving a dark red lipstick print on the edge of the glass.
"Um, Charlotte, right?" he asked casually, trying to downplay the fact that he recognized her as soon as he walked in.
She turned, her brown eyes quickly taking him in before a smile began to spread across her face. "Jordan King. It's good to see you again."
"You too. Can I get you a drink?"
Charlotte lifted her half empty glass. "Still working on this one, but thanks."
He gave her a small nod and flagged down the bartender. "So what's your poison, Miss Stone?"
"Captain Morgan."
Jordan looked over and gave her a slight smile. "I'll have what she's having," he told the bartender before turning his attention back to her. "So you like captains?" he asked flirtatiously.
"I just don't like drinking cocktails with little umbrellas and lots of fruit. Keep it simple."
He took his fresh glass off the bar and tipped it in her direction. "To simple."
She raised her own and the two of them took a sip, the liquor burning its way down his throat. It wasn't the fanciest rum he had ever had, but Jordan understood the appeal to someone like Charlotte, who seemed to want to go against what was expected of her. He had been trying to do the same thing lately.
"So, Charlotte. How—"
"Charlotte!"
They pair turned to see Jack Foster heading towards them. Jordan cursed inwardly. Blocked by his own team owner. Again.
"You having a good time?" Jack asked, giving her a quick peck on the check in greeting.
"So far, so good."
"Has Jordan started hustling you for cash yet?"
Charlotte gave the captain a quizzical look. "Not yet. Should I be worried?"
Jordan could only smile innocently as Jack casually tossed his arm over Charlotte's shoulder. "Listen, I'm not one to pressure people, but we're auctioning off dinner with Jordan to raise money for the Community Garden Project. Maybe you can throw a few bucks in." He gave her a little wink. "If you pay enough, I could find a way for Jordan and his big ego to actually not show up."
Jordan pretended to be hurt by the owner's comments while Charlotte laughed. "I've still got some New York swagger left in me. I could handle him."
"Then let me know if you're around when we have to renegotiate his contract," Jack joked. "And seriously, Charlotte. I'm getting sick of hearing about the finance guys eating steak with him every year."
They said their goodbyes to the owner, giving Jordan another chance to chat up the lovely Miss Stone when a waiter announced dinner was starting. Thwarted again.
Charlotte grabbed her drink from the bar before turning to him one more time. "So just out of curiosity, how much would dinner with the captain cost me?"
"Well, you can outbid the finance guys," he said, stepping just a little closer. "Or you could just give me your phone number."
She gave him a defiant look. "Then I guess you better hope the finance guys forgot their wallets."
Charlotte tipped her drink in his direction before walking away, leaving some scent that smelled like vanilla and cookies lingering in the air behind her.
He knew it would be a smell he would never forget.
Charlotte had decided on a black dress from her closet that night that was classy and conservative, not too flashy while still being different enough that it would draw attention to her. Of course, she didn
't want to draw too much attention to her. After her meeting with Jordan, she was trying to talk herself out of being interested in another hockey player and was worried what would happen if she did actually see him here.
Sure enough, she hadn't been in the arena for more than ten minutes — just enough time to order a drink — before she ran into Jordan. To be fair, it felt like he was looking for her, but she wasn't about to question it. He didn't specifically go to the bar because she was standing there, and he definitely didn't order the same drink because it was what she was drinking. Nope, none of those things happened. It was all just coincidences.
Charlotte turned to find her seat mates standing at a cocktail table nearby and headed over to join them. She had really enjoyed getting to know Adam and Rachel these past two weeks both at the games and away from them. The Ward family met her before a game at a great burger place nearby, and they went without little Aiden to a local dive bar after a particularly tough loss a week ago.
"You look stunning, Charlotte," Adam said, leaning in to give her a small hug. "Almost the most beautiful person here."
"Well, I understand your bias," she replied.
"I'm going to grab another and meet you at the table. Charlotte, need anything?"
She shook her head before Adam gave Rachel a quick peck on the cheek and went to the bar. Charlotte could tell Adam and Rachel were great together by just the little things between them. It was those little things that she really missed about being in a relationship.
The women headed over to their table with Adam following and began to happily chat as the servers brought in more and more food and took away empty plate after empty plate. Apparently, Charlotte wasn't the only one who was trying to escape New York. Tonight's meal was set up by Chef Marco who, like Cher, had no last name. He had an amazing restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and Charlotte had eaten there several times with the socialite crowd. But the chef decided he wanted to open a second restaurant somewhere in the country that wasn't so snobby. He must've seen the same potential in this city that Charlotte had, and she made a note that she would have to visit his new place soon.
For the Captain (The Detroit Pirates Book 1) Page 2