Hate the Game

by Rose, Callie

  “It’s alright. I’ll just slip it out from under here, and… .” I did as I said, then piled her belongings back into the locker. The underwear went in, then immediately fell out again. She stared at me as I picked them up and tossed them in, only for them to fall out a second time. Finally, flustered and annoyed, I shoved them in as far as they would go and slammed the door.

  “Sorry,” I said breathlessly. “Thanks.”

  I threw my clothes on as quickly as possible and bolted for the door. I was missing a sock, but I decided she could just have it. Sawyer was waiting for me with an insufferably bored look on his face when I emerged again.

  “Get lost?”

  “Please do.”

  He grinned appreciatively. “You’re quick, I like that. Ready?”

  “For what?” I swear, if he thinks I’m going skating right now… .

  He winked at me. “Wait and see.”

  Damn it.

  10

  Addison

  “Don’t look so worried,” Sawyer laughed as he pulled into his driveway. “Workout’s over. For now. I’m going to grab a bite and study the Kings for the game this weekend. You’re welcome to hang out while I do. It’ll be about three hours of hockey games, in slow motion, play-by-play, on repeat.”

  “As lovely as that sounds, I think I’ll eat and go upstairs for a while.”

  “Beat?”

  I shot him a look and shook my head dismissively. He just gifted me with a grin and stepped out of the car. I wished he wouldn’t do that. His smile was so disarming, it put me off-balance. Watching his ass while I followed him into the house was even worse, but I couldn’t help myself. Athlete’s bodies never failed to get me going; it was their personalities that turned me off.

  Even in that regard, Sawyer wasn’t as bad as I’d thought he would be. Which just goes to show how low the bar is set. He’s been an absolute terror. But, once again, he had to make me second-guess my first impressions when we reached the kitchen. Unlike the other hodge-podge rooms, the kitchen was efficient and immaculate. More than that, he was behaving himself.

  “I’m making a sandwich. Want one? I’ve got a little of everything in here. I could make you one, unless you would prefer to do it yourself. I don’t mind either way. Mi casa es su casa and all that.”

  “Thanks. I think I’ll raid your fridge.”

  “Help yourself.”

  He began making his own sandwich, and I had to stop my search and stare while he did it. Three kinds of cheese, two kinds of meat, piles of greens, avocado, onions, tomatoes, and sardines were packed between slices of whole grain bread. He made three of them, cut the sandwiches in two, and moved to the breakfast bar.

  “You aren’t really going to eat all of that, are you?”

  “Of course I am,” he scoffed. “This won’t even make up half of what I burned today. You should use some of that, the protein and magnesium will help your muscles.” He waved at the pile of ingredients that he’d left on the table.

  I didn’t want to admit how sore I still was, even after the sauna, but I trusted his instinct. If he thought this stuff would help, I wasn’t going to question it. Not that I trust him, of course. But this is kind of his forte. Besides, he’s eating the stuff.

  I thanked him and put together a miniature version of his sandwich, then took the time to put the stuff away before I started eating.

  “I always forget to do that,” he said around a mouthful of food. “It used to drive my sister crazy.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.” I sat across from him at the breakfast bar, fascinated by how efficiently he packed away the massive sandwiches.

  He nodded. “They leave a lot out of those tabloid stories. Nobody cares about the siblings unless they’re also famous or wrapped up in some sort of scandal.”

  “Do you prefer it that way? I’ve been looking for some angle to your story which hasn’t been trampled over a hundred thousand times already.” I took a bite and almost groaned. It tasted fine, but my body reacted as if it were mana from heaven. “This is exactly what I needed.”

  “Told you.” He gave me a pleased smile. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “With food, anyway,” I said, returning his smile in spite of myself. “Do you want to tell me about your sister? The rest of your family?”

  He shook his head, his expression unreadable with all that food in his mouth. “Let’s leave them out of this. I don’t want to embarrass them. Not because there’s anything to be embarrassed of,” he added quickly. “They’re very private people, that’s all.”

  “Off the record, then?”

  He cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

  I gazed at him blandly. “Because I’m trying to analyze your character with more complete information. The stories about you tend to repeat, and they’re clearly incomplete. For example, not one of them mentioned this… .” I gestured widely, indicating the surrounding area. “Commune you live on.”

  “It’s not a commune.”

  “A rich people reservation?”

  “It’s a housing development,” he said with a laugh. “Journalists, man. Just have to put an emotional spin on every story.”

  “Sometimes emotion is the story,” I said. “Yours, for example. Your broken heart was the instigating factor to your tailspin. Without emotion, in this case, there would be no story.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “But you’ve read the stories they wrote about me. Nobody really took the time to discover that angle or write on it. The emotion was shock, that’s it. ‘Oh my god! Look what Sawyer Dawson did this time! Line up, ladies and gentlemen, and observe the barbarian in his natural habitat!’”

  He shot me an exasperated look, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “I must have missed that headline.” Cocking my head, I grinned. “It’s a good one, though, I’ll put it in my notes. Maybe I’ll have a chance to use it.”

  “Not here, you won’t,” he said adamantly. “I’ve put all that behind me, whether you want to believe it or not. I have no secrets.”

  “We’ll see,” I said demurely.

  He shook his head. “Give it up, Beyers. My closet is clean and so is my nose. You got nothing.”

  I shrugged and smiled as if I knew something he didn’t, but he was right. As of right now, he was nothing but an eccentric—and unreasonably handsome—athlete with a lot of money and a big house. There was no story here. That didn’t mean I was ready to give up, though.

  “Well,” he said, slapping his thigh after he cleaned his plate. “I’m going to go study the games. You coming?”

  “No, thanks. Maybe next time. I think I’ll lie down for a while.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “If you need a bath, I have Epsom salts and things in my bathroom. Feel free to snag something, I’ve got plenty.”

  “Thank you.” An invitation into his personal bathroom? He was either insane or way over-confident. Either way, I wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass me by. We parted ways at the stairs. I made a face at the creepy candy bar dispenser on my way up, and could almost swear that it made one back at me. At the top of the stairs, my heart began to thunder in my chest.

  It wouldn’t be the first time that I’d gone through someone else’s personal things. I was a journalist. It sort of came with the territory. This time, though, I knew I was playing cat and mouse with Sawyer. Unfortunately, I wasn’t entirely sure who the cat was. It could be a trap. Knowing him, even as little as I did, I suspected it was.

  “Oh come on,” I muttered to myself. “It’s not like he got the team to hide in his room naked or anything. God, that was mortifying.”

  Having successfully talked myself into it, I pushed his bedroom door open. As soon as I did, I took a huge whiff of it. His slightly musky, warm scent permeated the space, mixed with various clean smells. The combination warmed something in my core. Astonished at myself, I realized that being in his bedroom was making me tingly.
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  “You’re like a damn teenager,” I scolded myself. “Focus.”

  If I was a secret, where would I be? Ah! The bedside table, obviously. Too obvious? No, he’s an obvious kind of guy. I quickly and quietly searched the one on the left. The only interesting thing I found was a dog-eared book of re-written fairy tales. A note was scrawled on the inside cover.

  To my little princess. Never stop looking for your happily ever after. Love, Grandma.

  I raised a brow at it, but a strange sort of discomfort settled in my chest. I felt as if I had inadvertently stumbled upon something deeper than a mere secret. I shook myself.

  “Some one-night stand probably left it here,” I said, comforting myself.

  Even so, I put the book back gently, exactly where I’d found it. I moved to search the one on the right. It would have been faster to crawl across the rumpled bed; but his scent was strongest there, and it was already making my knees shaky.

  “Shaky from the exercise, that’s all,” I lied to myself.

  I began to inch the drawer open. I could see bright colors inside, and I was instantly intrigued. Before I could open it any farther, though, I heard him coming up the stairs. I shut the drawer quickly and hurried into the bathroom.

  “Addison?” He was knocking on my bedroom door across the hall.

  I took a deep, steadying breath and wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. I stepped out of the bathroom just as he came into his room.

  “Oh! There you are. I forgot, I used up all of the Epsom salts that I had out. I’ll show you where the rest of them are.”

  “Thanks, I was having some trouble finding them,” I lied.

  He reached up, stretching that strong back as he brought a large bag of Epsom salts down from the top shelf. “You want bubbles too? I’ve got lavender, cherry blossom… .”

  “You take bubble baths?”

  “Something wrong with that?” He was challenging me with his eyes while his lips smirked.

  “Not at all, I just figured you’d be too much of a manly man for that.”

  “Excuse you, but there is nothing more manly than taking a damn bubble bath. I don’t know what kinds of men you’ve been around, but if I’m so insecure about my sexuality that I can’t even relax in soft bubbles and nice smells without looking down at my own ugly bod then you better buy me a skirt and call me Nancy.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Sounds like you’ve made that speech before,” I said with half a grin.

  “Hell yeah, I have! Some of these guys had never taken a bath before they joined the team. They got real dudebro about it when I suggested it after they got their asses kicked on the ice. I got real good at laying out the facts. The last thing I need is a guy tearing his ACL because he’s too scared of girlification to take care of himself.”

  “Huh. I’ve honestly never thought about the pros and cons of men bathing before. Well, not in this context anyway.” I wrinkled my nose at a particularly pungent memory.

  “No worries here, sweetheart,” he said with a grin. “I stay squeaky clean these days. So, bubbles?”

  “Cherry blossom, please.”

  He handed me the giant bottle, then walked with me out of the room. I could almost feel the second nightstand behind me. There was something interesting in there, I could feel it in my bones. My intuition had never been wrong. Unfortunately, I was now out of excuses for going back in there until I had taken a reasonably long bath.

  I sighed happily when I saw the tub in my bathroom. It was luxuriously deep and wide enough to have a little seat-sized divot on one side. I used a generous portion of both bubbles and salt; Sawyer’s passion for the subject had inspired me to have the absolute best bath imaginable. To that end, I grabbed my phone before sliding down into the steaming bath. I groaned with pleasure as I sank into it up to my neck.

  “Now this is a bathtub,” I said with a sigh. I patted my hand off on a nearby towel before picking up my phone and dialing Rebecca.

  “Hey! I didn’t think you’d be calling again today.”

  “I didn’t think I would either. Actually, I wasn’t sure I would survive today.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Her genuine concern made me smile. The woman had no pretense at all. I wasn’t sure she was capable of it, and I adored her for that.

  “Because Sawyer is completely insane.” I laughed. “He took me golfing. It was actually freezing outside, and the man took me golfing. He hated every second of it too, I could tell.”

  “Why would he do it, then? You don’t like golf that much, do you?”

  “Enough to wander around in a twenty degree wind chill for hours? No, no I don’t. I don’t know… I’ve been arguing with myself about that. I don’t know whether he’s trying to scare me off or test my mettle or both. I was kind of hoping Ms. Superfan would have some insights.”

  “Well, let’s be real here, he’s definitely trying to scare you off. At least partially. The man has had the absolute worst luck with journalists, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “But that probably isn’t all of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well… .” She hesitated, and I could almost see her hands moving through the air the way they did when she was searching for the right words. “Okay, so he helps the coach break in the rookies. Somebody did an in-depth exposé sort of thing on the team a few years ago. A video thing, nothing like what you’re doing. They were analyzing the team.”

  “Oh that sounds like a fun project,” I said sarcastically.

  “Doesn’t it? Ugh, I would have loved to be involved in that. Anyway, Sawyer was helping the coach break in the rookies. What he would do is go super hard at these guys, just completely wreck them the first couple of times they were out on the ice with the team.”

  “That seems a little demoralizing. Most of the rookies are right out of college, right?”

  “Mm-hmm, and most of them have egos as big as their gear because of it. If you’re good enough at college hockey to get into the NHL, it swells your head a little.”

  “So he was knocking them down to size, you think?”

  “Mm… that wasn’t really how he described it. It’s more of an evaluation. I guess some guys can take the hits and adjust their game. Other guys get super pissed about it, but there’s nothing they can do if they want to stay on the team. It’s… I guess it’s his way of making sure that everybody who is there is completely on board with the team.”

  “Still not understanding what this has to do with me, or frozen golf.”

  “Okay, so I think what he’s doing is putting barriers in front of you to see how badly you want this. He is testing you, but not really in the way you’re interpreting it. At least that’s what I think.”

  “I did make it pretty clear that I had no personal interest in being here,” I said ruefully.

  “Everything’s subject to change,” she said with a smirk in her voice. “What did you do after the golf?”

  “Oh, God, don’t remind me,” I groaned. “He took me to the sauna with him.”

  There was a tense silence on her end, followed by a strangled squeal. “You… were… in a sauna with him? Was he naked?”

  “Mostly. He was wearing a towel. It, um… only covered the important bits.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Oh, it gets better. I touched his chest.”

  “Addison Beyers, you are lying to me.”

  “Swear to god, double handfuls of Sawyer Dawson’s pecs.”

  “Are you still going to try to tell me that you don’t think he’s hot?”

  I hesitated. “Okay, so he’s hot. Super hot. Holy hell, Becks, he’s the hottest man I’ve ever touched in my life.”

  “See? You’re totally going to hook up with him.”

  “Nope, nope, nope.” Though the thought did get me all tingly again, damn it. “His body is hot. The rest of him is questionable.”

  “Hey, questionable is
better than terrible, which is what you said he was this morning. What changed your mind?”

  “I didn’t change my mind exactly,” I said slowly. “I still think he’s an ass for all that crap he pulled. But he has an ugly candy bar dispenser that looks like a gargoyle made a baby with a troll, and he makes these killer sandwiches, and he’s actually been kind of hospitable since I’ve been here, and he went on a rant about bubble bath… .”

  “Bubble bath?”

  “Yeah, he’s like ‘real men take bubble baths’ and he was super passionate about it.” I laughed. “Being real here, I have no idea what to make of him yet. I can definitely see aspects of the personality the tabloids captured, but… .” I shrugged. “He’s not really what I expected him to be, except when he is. Does that make sense?”

  “I mean, kind of? But I gotta say, Addison, you’re being a really bad journalist right now.”

  I sat up straight in the tub, surprised. “What? How? What did I do?”

  “You went into this with all these preconceived notions about him,” she said matter-of-factly. “Aren’t you supposed to be a blank slate until you learn things for yourself?”

  “Only if I want to spend my entire career reinventing the wheel,” I said wryly. “I’m not just picking up where everybody else left off, you know. I’m taking their stories and insights and using that as a baseline. Right now it’s a matter of separating truth from fiction, past to present. So far I haven’t been very successful.”

  “You will be,” she said confidently. “But not until you scrap the file and start from scratch. Have you even written anything since you’ve been down there?”

  “I haven’t had anything to write,” I said exasperatedly. “He hasn’t given me anything.”

  “Or maybe he has, and you just have your blinders on.”