Playing His Part: A York Bombers Hockey Romance (The York Bombers Book 7)
Page 5
She hurried after Ben, stumbling to a stop just outside his bedroom. Her mind registered the massive bed in the middle of the room, the dark maroon of the walls offset by the white of the soaring cathedral ceilings, the pale gray wood of the nightstands and dresser. It wasn't the furnishings that had caused her breath to rush from her in a small squeak. It wasn't even the unexpected tidiness of the room—it was the man himself.
Ben stood in the middle of the room, facing her with a small frown. He'd already shed his shirt and was in the process of doing the same to the black nylon track pants. His thumbs were hooked into the waistband, ready to shove them down past his lean hips.
Staring was rude. She knew that. Just like she knew she probably looked like a starving woman the way her eyes raked the broad expanse of his sculpted chest and trailed along the ridges of his hard abdomen then down even lower. She needed to close her eyes. To not imagine everything she wasn't able to see. To turn around and run from the room. To apologize for staring at that hard, lean body.
Yes, that was exactly what she needed to do. But in her current list of needs, that one ranked at about twenty-three, totally surpassed by the sudden need to run her hands all over that bare skin and muscle, just to see if it was as hot and hard as it looked.
And that was absolutely the last thing she could do. She knew that. Knew that the simple act of just touching Ben would open the door to even more insanity. It was bad enough they were joined together in this sham of a marriage—crossing the line into anything physical would catapult her into a new world of trouble.
And if that happened, she was very much afraid that she wouldn't escape unscathed. Not this time.
"Did you need something?"
Need. She opened her mouth to answer him, quickly closed it again because that wasn't what he meant and she knew it. For his part, Ben seemed to be unaware of the reason for her sudden silence. Or maybe he knew and was wisely ignoring it, for which she should be eternally grateful. Should be—Natalie didn't want to look too closely into all the reasons why she wasn't.
She finally forced her gaze from his chest and stared at a spot over his shoulder, not quite able to meet his eyes. Was her face as red as it felt? She was sure it must be and could only hope that he didn't notice it, that the room was dim enough to hide her embarrassed blush.
"I—" Her mouth snapped closed and she tried furiously to remember why she had followed Ben, why she had chased after him. What had they been talking about?
Nothing—because there had been no talking, just Ben's assurance that she didn't need to worry about money. Not now. That he would take care of everything—and she couldn't let him do that.
She finally found her voice and with it, the courage to meet his cool gaze. "I'm not going to let you take care of things. I need to find a job."
"Natalie—"
"Just give me directions to the store. I can walk there while you take your nap."
"I said we can talk about this later."
"There's nothing to talk about. I need to start looking for a job."
"And I said you didn't need to worry about it." He stepped toward her, his dark eyes flashing in the shadows. "We're married now—"
"Which means absolutely nothing because it isn't a real marriage and you know it. And even if it was, that wouldn't change things because I still wouldn't let you control me."
It wasn't until he staggered to a surprised stop that Natalie realized he had been advancing on her. He stood a foot away, close enough that she felt the heat radiating from his bare skin—and close enough that she saw the surprise flash in his eyes.
"Control you." He repeated her words, his voice dangerously soft. Or maybe the danger was only in her imagination because a second later, rich laughter filled the air. "Control you? Is that what you think this is about?"
"Isn't it?"
He watched her for a long minute then finally shook his head and turned away. She studied his broad back, the way muscles bunched and stretched as he made his way over to the dresser and grabbed his wallet.
"No, it's not. This was about me getting some sleep before taking you to the damn store because I've been up for damn near forty-eight hours straight. But hey, if that doesn't work for you—" He grabbed her hand and slapped the wallet into her palm. "Knock yourself out. The closest store's about three miles away. Go out to the main entrance, make a left, and keep walking. When you see the highway, make a right. You'll have your choice of convenience stores and gas stations to pick from."
Natalie stared at the heavy wallet in her hand then raised her eyes to meet Ben's gaze. Had she misunderstood him earlier? Or was she misunderstanding him now? Because right now, she didn't see exhaustion in his eyes—she saw desire, a slow burn that grew and danced as she watched. He was standing so close to her, close enough that all she had to do was lean forward and tilt her head up and they'd be kissing and she'd finally learn if his kiss was really as potent as she remembered from their wedding day, or if she had simply imagined it.
For once in her life, Natalie curbed her natural impulse and thrust the wallet at him. She refused to acknowledge the heat of bare skin as her fingers brushed against his chest, refused to acknowledge the hard muscles that jumped under her accidental touch. She didn't wait to see if he caught the wallet or if it fell to the thick carpeting under their feet. She didn't care what happened to it, not when instinct and self-preservation urged her to turn and hurry from the room.
For the first time in a very long time, Natalie refused to give in to the lure of temptation. And when she heard the silent click of the bedroom door closing behind her, she wondered if she'd finally made the right choice—
Or if it was something she'd come to regret in the nights ahead.
Chapter Six
Natalie huddled deeper into her jacket, thankful for the extra layer that provided some protection against the cold air of the rink. She thought about putting her gloves on then decided against it. Nobody else around her had on gloves and she didn't want to stand out any more than she already was. The game couldn't last that much longer, she'd survive until it was over.
Then she could go home—not home, it was Ben's place—and disappear into the room she was using and wonder for the millionth time why Ben had insisted she come tonight. He'd told her it was because his teammates had learned he was married and that it would look odd if she wasn't there. The reason sounded plausible enough but there had been a flash of something in his hazel eyes when he'd said it that made her believe there was more to it.
Which made her question, for the billionth time, why he was insisting on taking this whole marriage charade to the lengths he was.
And why she was letting him.
If she was honest with herself, that was what bothered her the most. Not that Ben was taking this show too far, but that she was going right along with it. He didn't have to marry her and she certainly didn't have to agree to it—she would survive the catastrophe with Brandon just fine, with or without anyone's help. And while potentially having Ben's help could explain why she had gone through with it, she still didn't understand why Ben had agreed to it. No, he'd done more than agree to it—the whole thing had been his idea.
And she still didn't know why. People didn't do things like that without expecting something in return and so far, Ben had asked for exactly nothing. Even if he had, Natalie had nothing to offer him.
So why was he so insistent on carrying things this far? It would be so much easier—for both of them—if they just got an annulment and went their separate ways. The longer they waited, the harder it would be. Well, maybe not harder, but surely it would get more complicated, right?
That's what she kept telling herself, anyway. Not that there was much she could do about it except go along with everything and wait to see what happened. Bide her time, find a job and stash away some money so that when they finally put an end to this whole charade, she'd have a little something to carry her through.
That's what she tri
ed to tell herself, anyway—for the millionth time. But that little voice in the back of her mind, the one that belonged to the frightened little girl she'd always be, was urging her to leave well enough alone and let Ben take care of her.
Natalie refused to give in to that little voice. She'd done it before—more than once—and things had never worked out. This time would be no different. She needed to shove temptation away and rely on herself, that was the only way to guarantee that she had any control in the outcome. Her life, her rules. It couldn't be any other way.
Except that was another lie she kept telling herself. If it wasn't, she wouldn't be here right now, sitting with a bunch of women she didn't know and didn't want to know. They'd been friendly enough at first, the assorted wives and girlfriends of Ben's teammates, introducing themselves and welcoming her, trying to make small talk and getting to know her. But she didn't miss the quiet speculation in their eyes or the unasked questions veiled by the social niceties. And she made no attempt to get to know them. If she did, she'd let her guard down and become vulnerable and bad things happened when she did that.
So she sat there, huddled against the chill, watching a game she didn't understand and wondering how much longer it would go on for. The clock on the giant screen was counting down the minutes but even that didn't tell her much. She wasn't a sports fan, had no idea how the game was divided. Was it split into quarters? Or maybe it was halves. That would be better, because that meant they were near the end of the second half and it would be over soon and she could leave.
After waiting for Ben to come get her.
A loud horn blared out of nowhere, making her jump. She glanced around, watched as people surged to their feet and started clapping. The men that had been on the ice were leaving, disappearing to someplace she couldn't see from her seat. Did that mean it was over? It must, because people were starting to leave.
Except for the women surrounding her—they were still seated, their heads together as they chatted and laughed with each other.
Natalie shifted in her own seat, feeling very much like an outsider. She hesitated, finally cleared her throat and leaned toward the woman closest to her, the one with a wild mane of vibrant red hair and eyes that hinted at being a survivor.
"Excuse me." Natalie repeated the words a second time but the woman still didn't hear her. She finally pulled her hand from her coat pocket and tapped the woman on the shoulder to get her attention—only all the women were now staring at her, not just the redhead.
Natalie ignored the curious stares and focused on the redhead. "Is it over?"
"The game? No, this is just the intermission. There's another period left to go."
Natalie nodded her thanks then sat back. There was still another period to go? How long was the actual game for? She'd already been here for several hours, waiting in the stands long before anyone else got here because she'd come with Ben—and he needed to get here early.
It wouldn't be so bad if she had something to do, some way to occupy herself while she waited. If she had thought to bring a book, she could be reading right now. Maybe next time—
Except there wouldn't be a next time. She was here tonight for show-and-tell as Ben's new wife and nothing more, even she knew that. Once Ben's teammates saw her and satisfied their curiosity, there would be no reason for her to return.
"Hey, Nat. I need help getting the drinks. Come with me."
She winced at the nickname and turned toward the redhead, ready to tell her she should get someone else to help her, but the woman was already reaching for her. One slender hand closed over Natalie's arm and tugged and before she realized what was happening, she was being dragged up the concrete stairs to the busy concourse.
The redhead stopped at a drink booth several yards away and took a place in the long line. Natalie hesitated then stood behind her, saying nothing as she looked around and studied the heavy crowd moving around them.
"So. Ben's wife, huh?"
Natalie's gaze darted to the other woman's, searching the clear hazel eyes for any sign of derision or judgment. All she saw was simple curiosity. She nodded but didn't offer any additional information, then was forced to hide her surprise at the other woman's amused laugh.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
"Sometimes." Usually after she'd had four or five drinks, which is what got her into this situation to begin with. She had no intention of sharing that information with the woman currently studying her.
"And I bet you're not big on sharing personal information either, are you?"
"Not really, no." Again, not unless she'd been drinking which—again—is what got her into this mess of a marriage to begin with. Which is why she tended not to drink much unless she was with people she knew well. Considering she refused to let herself be that vulnerable with people, that didn't happen very often.
The woman watched her for a few seconds, a small grin curling the edges of her mouth. Instead of asking more questions the way Natalie expected, she just made a small humming sound and moved forward one place in the line. The tension that had crept into Natalie's shoulders eased a little and she relaxed enough to continue her people-watching.
They finally reached the counter and the redhead placed the large order, including the bottle of water Natalie asked for. She pulled the wallet from her coat pocket and started to open it—she had enough money she could at least pay for her own water—but the redhead waved her off.
"You can buy at the next game."
Natalie started to tell her she wouldn't be at any more games then swallowed the words along with a gulp of surprise when the cashier gave them the total. No, she definitely wouldn't be at any more games—a good thing, too, because she wouldn't be able to afford to buy drinks for everyone, not unless she found a job soon.
They moved to the end of the counter to wait for their order, the noise around them lessening just a bit as the crowd started drifting back to their seats. The redhead—why couldn't Natalie remember her name?—grabbed a handful of napkins and some straws then turned toward her.
"How long have you and Ben known each other?"
"Um—" Natalie hesitated, not sure what to say. How much had Ben told them? Had he told them anything at all? She erred on the side of caution and answered as vaguely as she thought she could get away with. "I, um, I knew him when we were growing up. I was friends with his sister."
"Yeah? Cool." The woman tilted her head to the side, that small grin still in place. "Jenny's brother plays for the Bombers. Jason—that's Megan's boyfriend. And Jenny is married to Tyler, the team's goalie."
Natalie nodded even though she had no idea who the woman was talking about. She vaguely remembered hearing the two women's names but she wouldn't be able to tell who was who because she hadn't paid much attention.
"Jason and Tyler aren't speaking to each other. Haven't been since Jason found out Tyler and Jenny were seeing each other."
"Oh. Doesn't that make being teammates a little difficult?"
The woman shrugged. "Probably. Not our problem though. Men can be such little boys sometimes, you know? Is Ben's sister okay with you marrying her brother?"
Natalie started to say she had no idea because she hadn't seen Donna in almost nine years then realized how smoothly she'd almost been lured into sharing information. She met the other woman's curious gaze and did nothing more than offer a careless shrug. "It doesn't matter if she is or not."
Which was nothing more than the truth, even if it wasn't a complete answer.
She expected the other woman to probe some more but their order finally arrived: two large drink trays loaded with beer, soda, a small cup of white wine, and Natalie's bottle of water. She grabbed one flimsy tray and carefully balanced it in both hands, then stepped back so the other woman could get in front of her and lead the way.
She did, but not after shooting a cautious glance at the tray in Natalie's hand. "Be careful, these aren't the strongest trays around."
"Don't worry, I'v
e got it." Natalie inwardly winced at the sharpness of her voice and offered the woman a small smile to take some of the sting from the words. "I used to waitress some."
"Yeah? Me, too. Still do. Zach hates it but—" She shrugged as if to say who cares.
"You still work?"
"Of course. I'm not the stay-at-home type. None of us are. Even Courtney works, but only two days a week now." The woman shifted the tray then glanced over her shoulder at Natalie. "How about you?"
"No. At least, not yet."
"That's right, you just moved here, didn't you? From...where did you say you lived before you married Ben?"
"I didn't." Natalie hesitated but only for a second. There was no harm in letting the woman know where she used to live up until three days ago. "But I lived in New York City. In the East Village."
"Wow. Sounds fancy."
"Yeah, I guess." It wasn't a word Natalie would use to describe it. Busy. Crowded. Noisy. Bustling. Exciting. Energetic. Expensive. All of those words fit, but not fancy, not with Natalie's nonexistent budget.
"You'll have to tell me all about it. Maybe you can join us at Savannah's this weekend while the guys are away."
Natalie almost stumbled on the first step but caught herself at the last second. "Away?"
"Yeah." The woman hesitated long enough to give Natalie another searching glance. "Don't you know Ben's schedule?"
"I—" She stopped, not knowing how to answer. As his wife, shouldn't she know? Yes—but she wasn't his wife, not really. And Ben hadn't bothered to tell her anything about a schedule. Not that they'd had much time to talk, and not that Natalie had cared to ask. She hadn't even given it much thought, had just assumed that he worked during the week with an occasional game here and there at night.
She'd obviously assumed wrong. "No, I don't. Not really. There, um, we've been busy and—"