His tone is so defensive, and my God, if those words don’t make me want to melt on the floor.
“I have to say I was not expecting you to be the baby daddy of a puppy. How do you even have the time with your schedule?”
“You, of all people, should know that people are not always what they seem.”
Tyler knows how to hit all of my buttons at the same time. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He uncrosses his arms from his chest and places his hands flat on the table, his body and smoldering good looks suffocating me as he closes the distance between us. “You’re wearing an outfit that looks like you dug it out of a bin at Salvation Army, yet your shoes cost about a thousand dollars. Something doesn’t add up with you.”
“How would you know a thing about the price of my shoes?”
“I hooked up with a model who did some ads for Christian Louboutin, and she wore shoes just like those all the time. The red soles are kind of memorable since you don’t see them that often. I’m not as clueless as you think.”
“These are last season, anyway,” I say, dodging his question. “Enough about my shoes, tell me about Roxie.”
He smiles at the mention of her name, which I find so adorable. “Well, she’s a four month old pure bred German Shepherd, she likes long walks in the park, chew toys that squeak a lot, and sleeps next to me every night.”
“Aww,” I say, without even realizing I said it aloud. “That’s…so cute.”
“I hate leaving her behind when I’m working.” His guilt is evident in the way he glances away from me and then down at the ground, before turning back to me, his expression now unreadable. “My neighbors’ wife breeds dogs. Their house is huge and a lot bigger than mine. She setup a doggy daycare on one side of the house where people in the neighborhood can bring their dogs in the daytime. At least Roxie can spend time with her brothers and sisters. I like that she has family right next door.”
His frown returns as he utters the last part.
“You have family in New Jersey, right? I think I read you have two younger sisters.”
“Had,” he corrects, “I had a family.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” I bite down on my bottom, lip, feeling stupid and unsure what to say next.
“They’re not dead.” He grinds his teeth, his words coming out as if he were chewing glass. “You have no reason to be sorry. We just don’t talk anymore.”
“After going through some issues with my father over money, I know how hard it can be after you hit a rough patch.”
“What we went through was not a rough patch.” He sits back in his chair and turns his head toward the door, his profile stunning from this angle. “It was a deal breaker.”
He has a lot of mood swings for a man. One minute, he acts as though he’s about to hit on me, and then the next, his eyes darken and his mood changes. I feel sorry for Tyler and whatever happened between him and his family, except I have no idea how I should act without knowing what caused the rift.
“If it makes you feel any better, you were right about my shoes.”
He turns to face me and pins me down with one look. “So, why are you wearing them with your mom sweater?”
I roll my eyes at his comment. “I’m wearing my mom sweater because I felt like it. I chose these shoes because I might as well wear them before I’m forced to sell them to pay my rent.” His confusion forces me to continue, “I used to be rich, like Rockefeller rich. Well, I wasn’t rich per say, not unless you count my trust fund, but…”
It seems wrong to share this part of my life with a stranger, and this is Tyler Kane, of all people. “How about I answer a question if I get one from you in return. Deal?”
Apprehensive, he looks everywhere but at me before he nods his head. “Deal. Now, finish your story.”
“Have you heard of Sentry Publications?”
“The big company that owns about half of the news papers and channels in the U.S.?”
“My grandfather had started the company when he was twenty-five with a few business partners from law school. He bought them out and over the years, my father had taken over. Too bad my dad is an idiot and made a lot of decisions that cost us our company, my legacy. I almost lost my paper.”
“No shit,” he whispers. “You were like Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous kind of rich, huh?”
I take a sip from my mug and nod before I raised the cup to my lips again to finish it off.
“Is that why those interviews were so important to you?”
“Yes. Do you have any idea how much an exclusive interview with Dante Fisher is worth to a small paper like Sports Buzz.”
Stretching his hands over his head, he yawns, drawing my attention to his six-pack as his jersey creeps up just enough to give me a nice view. “How about an interview with me?”
“Are you offering?” An interview with Tyler about more than his career could be worth decent money.
“Depends on what you’re asking, I guess.”
“Tell me about your family.” Crossing my legs, I clear my throat and continue, now feeling brave enough to ask the hard questions, the kind that earns journalists a reputation in this business. “I know everything about your career, but I want to know the real Tyler Kane. What makes you tick? What do you do in your spare time? What are you like outside of hockey? Did you play other sports growing up? What was your childhood like? I just told you about my family drama. I want to hear about your life.”
“My family is off-limits.” Judging by the venom in his voice and the scowl on his handsome face, I should leave him alone, but I prod anyway.
“You promised me one question,” I counter.
“Anything but my family. You can’t write about them.”
“Fine.” I take a few seconds to compose myself, giving him enough time to settle down. “Why have I never seen you in public with a woman?”
He blows out a puff of air. “Try again.”
I note the irritation on his face. It’s obvious he has both family and girl problems. Now, I’m dying to know the reasons behind them and not just because I’m a reporter but because I’m genuinely interested. “Bad break up?”
His mouth twists in disgust. “You could say that. Next question.”
“At least tell me her name.”
An awkward silence passes between us as he mulls it over. “Payton. That’s her name. I think we’re done with question and answer time for today.”
Jotting down her name in my head, I make a mental note to look up anyone named Payton who lives near where Tyler grew up, where he lives now. With his track record of never having a girlfriend, the list may be a mile long and impossible to narrow down. I have my work cut out for me. But whatever he is hiding might make for a good story, and when you’re writing about one of the NHLs biggest bad boys, a top story could lead to bigger and better things.
“Would it help if I tell you something else about myself?” I need to keep him talking.
“I write a blog with my friend in my spare time. She’s a romance author, and we write a sex advice blog.”
His expression turns from grim to elated in a split second. Tyler leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and shakes my side in the process. “You write about sex? Get out of here!”
“Yes,” I say, defensive, “does that surprise you?”
“Ugh, yeah. You do not look like the kind of girl who would write about sex.”
Sensing my irritation at his comment, he rebounds from his mistake. “I mean…you have an innocence about you. I wouldn’t have pinged you as the type to write about sex and share it with strangers on the Internet.”
“I’m full of surprises,” I say, resolute.
“I see that. So, what’s the name of your blog?”
Debating whether I should tell him, I pause for a second to think it over, deciding he will never bother to check it out anyway. “Long Sticks and Hard Shots.”
He laughs, flashing a set of white te
eth, his smiling reaching up to his eyes. “Get the fuck out of here. You named your sex blog after hockey?”
I shrug, giving him a goofy look to hide my embarrassment. “I’m a big fan. What can I say?”
“Interesting choice of name for a sex blog.”
“The name of our blog is stupid and over the top—like Sydney. Have you heard of Sydney Calloway, the big romance author?”
“Yeah, my sisters like her books. I can’t say I approve of their reading material, though.”
“Sydney was the youngest romance author ever published. We were in high school when her first book got picked up by a big publisher.”
He tips his head in approval. “That’s pretty impressive.”
“Very. I’m always Sydney’s shadow wherever we go. It was always like that when we were younger, but ever since she made it big, I swear we can’t leave the house without causing a scene.”
“Imagine being me,” he says, serious. “How many people stopped by our table tonight?”
“At least ten.”
“Right,” he finishes, “and that doesn’t even include the people who stopped us on our way here.”
As he glances across the room, a hint of sadness creeps behind his eyes, his facial features matching. He does not hide his moods well.
“There’s a price that comes with fame. Look what happened to Parker with his puck bunny scandals, and Donovan has had his fair share of public incidents. Coming into the league at such a young age, I was not prepared for the fame. I only wanted the money and recognition that comes with it. But after my entire life had changed and I had nothing but people around me who were after my money or to use me to achieve their own fame, the shit got old fast. I cut everyone out of my life except Donovan.”
“I can tell you and Carter are close just from what I’ve read in the papers. That’s why I asked about women. I have only ever seen the two of you together in pictures outside the rink.”
He shoots me a repulsed look. “I’m not gay. We’re not…no, you have the wrong idea.”
I laugh so hard I snort, thankful my mug is empty, or I would have spit macchiato all over him. “I never said that. No, I do not think you are gay, Tyler. Trust me. You inspected every pair of tits and ass that has walked into the café since we sat down over an hour ago. A gay man would not do that.”
He flashes a shit-eating grin. “Not every pair. I can’t see what you have going on under that sweater. Did your grandmother knit that thing for you so men couldn’t figure out how to take it off you?”
This time I spit when I laugh, and he leans back in his chair to get away from the Slobber Queen. “No, my grandmother didn’t knit me this sweater. Sydney dressed me today I will have you know.”
“Nuh-uh. I’ve seen Sydney around, and she dresses like a runway model.”
“Enough about my clothes. You seem to have a hard on about it for whatever reason, and I haven’t finished answering your question about the blog.”
“I have a hard-on all right.” He smirks. “For the record, I hate the sweater because I have to imagine what’s underneath, and it does not suit you at all.”
Ignoring his comment, I decide to continue our conversation. “Anyway, Sydney wanted to name our blog Sex and Syd in the City, and of course, I vetoed that from the start. Originally, Sydney had planned to write on her own as part of her author branding until I agreed to be her co-blogger to fill in for her when she was on a tight deadline. The closer she gets to her pub dates she gets whacky. Writing alongside her happened to work out well for both of us. For me, it helps me keep my word counts up each day, and the same goes for Syd, but it ended up being a really great marketing tool for her books.”
“Long Sticks and Hard Shots,” he mumbles to himself as he removes his phone from his pocket.
I hold out my hand to stop him, mortified of what he will say when he reads our latest article. “Stop! Whatever you are doing just stop right now. Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” He gives me a mischievous grin, his fingers moving at a rapid pace along the keyboard. After he stops typing, his eyes widen as he scrolls down the screen.
“What?” I am dying to know what he is reading on our site that has him so intrigued.
“How to react when his stick ain’t all that?” He bursts into laughter, his voice so loud in the quiet café that the few people who are left, including the staff, are now staring at our table.
“Stop making a scene,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Everyone is staring at us.”
“So what. Let them stare.” Without looking up from his phone, he settles down for a few seconds before he has another outburst. He finds my article entertaining.
“You know this is the exact reason why I never tell anyone about the blog.”
“This is good stuff.” He points at the screen, still focused on the page. “You’re funny. Who would have known?”
“If you knew me, then you would know that I am not all business and no pleasure.”
He glances up, one eyebrow arched. “Is that so? Prove it.”
“How do you expect me to do that?”
“Go out with me, live a little, but please don’t wear that sweater.”
I roll my eyes at him, and he smiles in response. “How about I wear black leather pants and a mid-rise tank? Or maybe I will wear a bandage dress so tight I can’t breathe when I sit down. Would that be sexy enough for you?”
“Ah, yeah, that would do it.” Lowering his voice to a near whisper, he locks eyes with me. “My dick is getting hard just thinking about you in a dress.”
“And there you go ruining the moment.” Grabbing my jacket and purse, I push my chair out and stand. “Thanks for the coffee and shit conversation.”
Tyler hops out of his seat so fast he kicks the table with his foot, causing the mugs to clang as it rocks forward and back into place, setting down with a loud thud.
“Please don’t go. I shouldn’t have said that. I can be a jerk sometimes.”
“I would say that is a factual statement.” I slip into my jacket, trying my best to hold back from saying too much. “Do you even think before you speak or do you just shout the first thing that comes to mind like a child? You can’t go around talking to a lady like some hooker on a street corner.”
“Would a lady talk about cocks on the phone with strange men?”
“You will never let me live that down, will you?”
He grips the zipper of my jacket, our bodies so close we are almost touching, the heat from his lips brushing against mine as he bends down to my height. “No. Torturing you is part of the fun.”
I suck in a deep breath. My body is too aware of our close proximity. “Well, I’m not a toy you can play with.”
“Neither am I, but I have something else you can play with. Do you want an interview or not?”
He still hasn’t let go of the zipper. His fingers linger and almost graze my breasts. I can hardly formulate a single thought with Tyler invading my personal space, let alone come up with a decent retort. A few beats pass between us before I regain normal brain function and have enough oxygen circulating through my veins that I can pull myself together and act like a professional. After all, I need to save Sports Buzz from going down the drain.
“Of course, I want an interview, but will you tell me the truth? I want to know more about your personal life.”
“Why are you so interested in my personal life? There’s nothing to tell. Apart from the occasional model or puck bunny, I don’t do a whole lot outside of hockey. My entire life revolves around practice, training, and games. When I’m home, I watch Game of Thrones and Netflix just like everyone else. I go for runs in the park with Roxie. I am not as exciting as you may think.”
“I want to see where you live and where you grew up. To get a sense of what you’re like, I need to experience a day in the life of Tyler Kane.”
“You want to come to my house?” He hooks his arm around my back, and we walk t
o the door. “I hope you decide to wear that dress if you’re coming over because I sure as hell want to be the one to take it off.”
The sad part is I want to wear it for the same reason because Tyler is working magic between my legs with his sexy smile and modulated voice. Somehow, this weird as fuck conversation just took an odd turn, and over the course of an hour, I am starting to like Tyler Kane, which shocks the hell out of me.
“Not gonna happen,” I say, as he holds the door open for me, his hipbone digging into my stomach as we squeeze through the door together.
“We will see about that,” he challenges. “I have a few ways to change your mind.”
“Bring it, Kane,” I deadpan.
“Oh, it’s been brought, sweetheart. Just you wait and see.”
Chapter Six
TYLER
“What are you doing over there?” Donovan calls out to me from across the other side of the living room.
My house is so big this place makes some of the episodes of MTV Cribs look like a rowhouse in comparison. Because of the size, the vaulted ceilings and open concept floor plan make the room appear four times the size of the entire house where I grew up.
I look up from the laptop rested on my thighs. “Nothing. Just fucking off on the Internet.”
“Porn,” he says as if that is the only thing I do on my computer, which is half right. “You can’t watch the good shit without me.”
He gets up from the lounge chair closest to the fireplace and hops onto the couch, rustling the cushions as he plops his big ass down. With his sudden movements, Roxie looks up at me with those big doe eyes and jumps off her doggy bed to join us. She nuzzles next to me, poking me with her cold, wet puppy nose and licks my forearm.
I pat her back and kiss her on the head. “Good girl.”
“Hand it over,” Donovan says, holding out his palm, “or throw it up on the flat screen. Sharing is caring.”
Donovan is one mammoth of a man with a dark, grisly beard he plans to shave now that our season is over. Despite being well over six feet and pushing two twenty, his boulders for arms and tree trunks for legs make my eight-pack and muscular build seem average. And there is nothing ordinary about me.
Kane (Face-Off Series Book 2) Page 5