“I wouldn’t be with you if you were a ‘girl’ anymore, Madeline.” He could tell she liked his pointing that out. Many women didn’t want to be reminded they were no longer young, but he had a feeling she was confident with who she was. Which was sexy as hell. “But about your refined palate, I’d like the chance to prove to you that some domestic brews are just as good, if not better, than anything you’ve had overseas.”
“You’ll have it.”
They chatted a bit more about beer, and about her travels, before they both realized White was taking way too long coming down from his room. Tim checked his phone to see if the boy had texted him back. The message he’d sent wasn’t marked as read.
Had White fallen asleep?
All the rookies roomed with a veteran player. Tim would have liked White to have roomed with Perron or Mason—the latter could have helped the kid pick his fights a bit better from the start—but the head coach had paired him up with Mirek Brends, a Swedish defenseman who didn’t speak much English. Which made calling Brends to check on White pointless. He considered calling Callahan, but the team’s captain had probably gone out to celebrate with a few of the guys.
“Maybe White’s not here?” Madeline seemed to read his thoughts, but concern shadowed her eyes. She’d decided White needed her to look out for him.
The kid clearly needed someone to do it. Tim wouldn’t have left him alone if he hadn’t been cleared by the team’s doctor, but White had said he’d be in his room watching TV because he wasn’t feeling up to going out. He wasn’t impulsive, so Tim didn’t see him changing his mind.
He did see him putting on a brave front for the doctor and the team though. Tim didn’t want to second-guess the doctor, but he couldn’t help worrying a little. He glanced over at Madeline when she cleared her throat to get his attention.
“He wasn’t feeling up to going out. He got in a fight and was a bit roughed up.” Tim braced himself for her to give him hell. One of the things he’d liked most about her was that she cared about the boy, but that could be the very thing that ruined his chances with her. He scratched his jaw when she simply looked at him expectantly. “I’m sorry to delay our date, but I want to go check on him.”
She inclined her head. “I thought you would. Should I wait here?”
Now that impressed him. With how motherly she’d been to White, Tim had assumed she’d insist on tagging along. That she trusted him to decide what was best made him a lot more comfortable than her not giving him a choice. He motioned for her to follow him.
“I think he’ll be happy to see you.” He chuckled as he pressed the button to call the elevator. “And his pillow.”
“Probably.” She went quiet as they got on the elevator, her expression thoughtful. After a few minutes, she met his eyes. “Why did you look so surprised when I offered to wait?”
Tim shrugged, seeing no reason not to be up-front. “You’ve been babying him. I honestly thought you’d plow me down on your way up to make sure he doesn’t need a Band-Aid.”
“Ha! I did mention I have younger brothers?” She smirked at his nod. “I’d have a head full of gray hair if I panicked every time one of them got hurt. I’m sure he’s a mess, but he’s a big boy. And you’re his coach—”
“Assistant coach.” He corrected her out of habit, but he had a feeling she hadn’t said that by mistake. Some of the men considered Tim their coach and saw Paul as more of a figurehead. White was one of them.
“His coach,” Madeline repeated, clearly feeling the same. “You’d know if he’ll be comfortable with me being around.”
“I’m positive he’ll be fine with it.”
“Good.”
The elevator stopped and Tim let Madeline get off first, but stopped her partway down the hall with his hand on her arm, his tone very serious even though he struggled not to laugh. “I don’t need you making my boys soft though, so no kissing all his little bumps and bruises better.”
“Agreed. No kisses.” She took his hand and rose up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his in a slow, sensual kiss that had him wanting to continue down the hall, past White’s room and straight to his own. He ran his hand over her hair, inhaling slowly as she put a breath of distance between them, speaking with quiet laughter in her voice. “I’ll save the kisses for you, but I can’t promise not to pet on him a little.”
He snorted and knocked on the door to White’s room. “Fine, but you’re not tucking him in.”
“May I sing him to sleep?”
White didn’t answer. Tim tested the doorknob. Found the door unlocked.
“Yeah. Sing to him if you want.” Tim swallowed hard as he pushed the door open. The room was dark except for the flickering of the TV. “Hey, White? You in here?”
Shit, what if the kid did have a concussion? Blood on his fucking brain and he was alone, had maybe fallen asleep and—
“Ian?” Madeline reached out and squeezed Tim’s hand as she called out. She crossed the short hall with the door that led to the bathroom. Moved into the bedroom. “Hello, darlin’. Oh, that looks like it hurts. No, don’t sit up. Tim, can you go fetch some ice?”
Moving to the end of the bed, Tim looked White over and winced. His face was a lot more swollen than before, one eye so puffy he couldn’t open it, and there was blood crusted on his chin. The doctor had given White some painkillers, but Tim had a feeling the kid hadn’t taken them. Fully-clothed and cringing at every movement, White looked utterly miserable.
“I okay. Little sore.” White tried to smile at Madeline as she smoothed his light brown hair away from his face. It turned into a grimace. “Hurts to talk.”
“Then don’t talk, honey. We’ll get some ice for your face.” Madeline frowned at Tim, which got him moving. He grabbed the ice bucket from the table and hurried down the hall to fill it. By the time he returned, Madeline had a damp facecloth that she was using to clean away the blood. And White’s head was on the pillow she’d fixed for him.
Tim couldn’t quite explain why seeing White like this bugged him so much—this wasn’t the first time White had left a game looking like he’d just crawled out of a car wreck. Tim had a feeling he had Madeline to thank for it. Not that he hadn’t looked out for White, for all his players, before because he had. But she’d made being a little more protective of this kid all right. Who else did White really have?
The thought didn’t make Tim sad though. His boy wasn’t alone. As Tim dumped some ice in a folded towel for White’s face, Madeline was busy taking off White’s shoes. She laughed when White stopped her from undoing his jeans with a grunt.
“Would you prefer your coach help you out, buddy? I just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
White made a face, which looked painful. He rolled to his side. “Can take my own clothes off.”
Every word came out muffled, like White’s mouth was full of cotton balls. Tim handed Madeline the ice and held out his hand to help the boy to his feet. “You didn’t take any of the pills Doc gave you, did you, kid?”
“Don’t need ‘em.” White shoved down his jeans and kicked them off. His face went pale, which had the dark bruises standing out even more. “Hate taking meds.”
As White lay back down, Madeline pressed the ice-filled towel to his face and resumed stroking his hair. “I don’t blame you, but they’ll help with the swelling.”
“Fine. But I take ’em, you gotta go.” White met Tim’s eyes as Tim drew the blanket up over his bare legs. Regret filled the kid’s undamaged eye. “Sorry I screwed things up for you.”
“You didn’t. Just lie there and let me look good to her.” Tim lowered his voice as he bent down, even though he knew very well Madeline could hear him from the other side of the bed. He pulled the blanket up to White’s chin. “All better, buddy?”
Laughing and groaning, White pushed Tim away. “Fuck off. Let me sleep.”
Yeah, not happening. And from the regret-filled smile Madeline shot his way, she had no intention of lea
ving either. She went to the mini fridge and took out a bottle of water. She handed it to Tim. “Where are your pills, Ian?”
“In my jeans.” White stared at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. “Pass me my phone too, please?”
Madeline passed White his phone, then tapped two pills into her palm. After White finished texting someone, Madeline pressed them into his hand and watched him take them. Tim helped White lean up, snorting when the kid grunted and snatched the water.
“I ain’t invalued,” White muttered.
And the boy had gone to college? Tim took the water bottle and set it on the nightstand. “You mean you’re not an invalid.”
“That too.”
“Get some rest, White. We’ll stay until Brends comes back.”
A soft knock at the door brought a smug smile—followed by a wince—to White’s lips. He cleared his throat. “That you, Perron?”
The door opened and the muscular forward came into the room, his light blond hair rumpled as though he’d just climbed out of bed. He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes hard as he stared down at White. “I’m starting to think you need a babysitter, kid. Why’d you tell me and Callahan you were fine? You look like shit.”
“I am fine. You gotta stay with me or Tim can’t take his lady out, and then I’ll feel like sh—” White glanced over at Madeline. “Max Perron is the nicest guy on the team. He’ll take good care of me.”
“You’re damn right, I will. You’re lucky Callahan’s not here, Bruiser. Are you trying to end your career already?” Perron picked up the bottle of pills that Madeline had set beside the water on the nightstand. “Did you take your meds?”
“Ya, Coach and Madeline made sure I did. And been icing my face.” White prodded his jaw lightly with a finger. “Working already. My mouth hurts a bit, that’s all. No reason to freak out.”
Perron apparently didn’t agree, but his concern had Tim satisfied that White was in good hands. He turned to Madeline, not sure if she’d agree, but hoping maybe the night could be salvaged. The way she was watching Perron wasn’t promising. She’d gone all momma bear on White, and another player wouldn’t treat her baby as gently as she would.
“Max Perron is a good man, Madeline.” Tim slid his hand around the back of her neck, speaking softly as she relaxed against his side. He stroked the side of her neck, enjoying the way she let him touch her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s good for the boys to look out for each other, and you won’t find anyone better.”
Madeline nodded slowly. “You make sure he keeps icing his jaw, Max. And call if he gets sick or anything. I’m not sure I trust that he’d have told the doctor the truth about headaches or anything else. He goes straight to the hospital if there are any symptoms of a concussion.”
“Yes, ma’am. No question about that.” Perron flashed Madeline a broad smile, bringing out his full Texan charm. “I reckon he’s just smartin’ from lettin’ Deek get off a few punches, but I don’t trust him either. I was stupid like him at his age.”
“You’re what, five years older than me?” White grumbled as Perron brought the ice pack back to his cheek. “Gimme that, I can do it.”
“Then do it so Miss Madeline won’t have to fuss over you no more.”
“Good night, boys.” Tim gently steered Madeline toward the door, sure she’d turn around and demand to stay even after they reached the elevator. They passed through the lobby and stepped out onto the street where the cool night air toyed with the tendrils framing her face and a slight, wistful smile played at her lips. He’d stopped worrying about White as soon as he’d seen the kid was well enough to continue with his matchmaking efforts, but maybe Madeline didn’t feel the same.
She noticed him watching her and let out a soft laugh. “In case you’re wondering, I’m fine leaving him to his teammate. They’re good boys; they’ll take care of each other. I’m missing my own brothers, and Ian’s getting all the coddling I can’t do for them.”
“Do you get to see them often?” Tim slid his hand down her wrist, lacing their fingers together as they crossed the street. On a Wednesday night the Crescent bar shouldn’t be crowded, but there were quite a few people milling around the terrace and the music was louder than the last time he’d been here. They might not be able to hear each other even side by side at a small table.
This date wasn’t going at all as he’d planned.
She squeezed his hand and slowed close to the open door of the bar. “A few times a year, but it’s better that way. They’re sowing their wild oats and aren’t too keen on their big sister cramping their style.”
No resentment in her words. Actually, she sounded a bit relieved.
Laughing, she led the way into the bar, raising her voice as she wove through the crowd with practiced ease. “You can only say ‘Well, bless your heart’ to your own blood so many times before you start wondering if you’re gonna catch their stupid. I love them, and I know they’ll be all right when they grow up a bit, but I have my own life to live. It took getting away from the drama before I realized how exhausting keeping up with it was!”
Tim nodded, not so much because he understood the drama—Mom didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense when their large family got together—but he’d had to take a few steps back from hopeless situations. During Dean’s dysfunctional marriage there had been times Tim’s inability to help his brother left him feeling drained and useless. When he could finally do some good, like letting his niece Jami stay with him while Dean was swamped with work, his relationship with his brother had improved.
“You obviously aren’t as big on sharing family secrets as I am, so why don’t we discuss the matter at hand.” Madeline hopped up on a barstool like an eager girl, flashing him another of her challenging smiles before addressing the bartender. “This man seems to think your beer will make me rethink my preference for foreign lager. Please start me with your best local brew.”
The bartender, a man their age with a shiny bald head and pale eyebrows, smiled at her, completely charmed. After determining whether she preferred a light beer or a dark malt, he fetched two heavy glass mugs and a bottle of Kentucky Brunch. “Lady, I think you’ll like this one.”
For the next few hours they tried all Tim’s favorite beers and several he’d never had before but sampled on recommendation from the bartender. The foreign brews Madeline asked for were rich and full-bodied, some better than anything he’d ever tried before, but the real win was Madeline admitting at the end, in a slightly slurred tone, that he had good taste.
Warmth filled him with her approval, along with the alcohol in his blood, and he laughed out loud as they strolled down the street. He wasn’t trying to be cocky or anything, he was just…so damn happy. He couldn’t remember the last time a date hadn’t felt like a job interview he was trying to pass. With Madeline, it hadn’t even felt like a date. They were simply together, enjoying one another, with nowhere else they wanted to be.
He wanted more time like this, more time with her. The sky lightening reminded him that they’d be back on the plane in a few hours. She’d leave with them, but after that…He had no idea where she lived. Or even how long she stayed in any one place.
These were things he should have asked her already. Instead, he had to start thinking about getting her to her hotel. And going back to his. They both needed to sleep. One day off before two games at home and Coach Paul would probably want to schedule a team practice.
“You’re thinking awfully hard, Tim.” Madeline drew his arm around her waist and rested her head on his chest. “You didn’t comment about our reaching the beach. Didn’t see how beautiful the moon looked on the water before the clouds covered it. You’re so far away.”
“I’m here. I’m just wondering where you’ll be tomorrow.” He followed her gaze. High above them, white clouds ghosted across the huge, pale gold moon. Waves lapped at the sand only a couple of yards from where they stood. The ocean breeze was crisp, almost cold, bu
t the air tasted as fresh as it did back in Nova Scotia. Which had him wondering where she called home. “Do you live in Georgia or—”
“I have a condo in New York, but I’ve been renting it out since I got the job with the airport in Halifax. I just got a lease for a nice little house not far from Dartmouth.” She cocked her head and peered up at him. “So you don’t have to worry that I’ll disappear from your life after tonight.”
“Good, because I enjoyed this. I’d like to take you out once we get home.”
“We’re out now, Tim.” She slid her hand to the small of his back, under his shirt, as though she craved the contact with his bare flesh. His lips curved as she tilted her head, inviting his kiss. The rich flavor of the beer sweetened her lips, and he savored the faint traces of coffee and whiskey in the last brew as he slipped his tongue past her soft, parted lips. She teased him with her own tongue, letting out a soft moan as he held her firmly against him and deepened the kiss.
Her breasts swelled over the top of her shirt as they were pressed to his chest, and he had to pull away before he was tempted to cup them in his hands, free them right here like he had every right to. He wanted his mouth and his hands all over her, but not yet.
“I should get you back to your hotel.” He rested his forehead on hers and tried to slow his racing pulse. No woman had even set him off-balance like this. He questioned his every move, went from being completely comfortable to awkwardness in a breath. Women preferred men who led the way, who knew what they were doing, but for some reason Madeline took him out of his element.
“What if I ask you to stay?”
The answer is yes!
No. He pressed his eyes shut. If he spent the night with her, he had no idea which side of him she’d get. He’d seen how she’d responded to Dean. That was what she needed. And Tim wasn’t sure he could give it to her.
This was how he’d felt the few times he’d let his brother talk him into going to a play party. Tim had been raised to accept lifestyles different from the norm, so his brother casually mentioning he was into BDSM wasn’t shocking. Tim’s own reactions to the atmosphere in the kink clubs however…that was disconcerting. He’d always been “the nice guy” in high school, dating the shy girls, being the boy they had no problem introducing to their daddies. Meeting his first Domme had been quite the experience. Hot sex and a few hours to let go and simply do each and every thing she asked of him.
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