Playing His Part: A York Bombers Hockey Romance (The York Bombers Book 7)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  The woman's small laugh stopped her from making an even bigger fool of herself—until Natalie realized what the redhead must be thinking about her busy comment, then a furious blush heated her face.

  "Yeah, I guess you have been, being newlyweds and all." The woman continued talking as she made her way down the stairs. "This weekend, they have the home game tonight, then they're away tomorrow and Sunday. Next weekend, it's away, home, away. I think. I need to see the schedule to be sure. It can get a little confusing at times."

  "They have games every weekend?"

  "For the most part. And practices during the week. But don't worry, it settles down during the off-season." They finally reached their seats and the redhead slid into the row, passing out drinks before taking the tray from Natalie and doing the same.

  She dropped into her own seat and uncapped the bottle then took a thoughtful sip. If Ben really worked that much, they probably wouldn't see each other very often. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad staying with him. At least, just for a little bit. Just until she could find a job and save some money and figure out where to go next.

  "Hey guys, Nat's going to join us this weekend at Savannah's."

  Six sets of eyes turned toward her. Natalie lowered the water bottle, wondering if she looked as cornered as she felt. She slowly capped the bottle and shook her head. "I don't think—"

  "No pressure. You don't have to if you don't want to." One of the women in front of her spoke, the one wearing a flannel shirt open over a gray t-shirt that said Property of the York Bombers and colorful Chucks on her feet. Natalie had no idea what her name was.

  "You can think it over while we're at Mystic's tonight."

  "Mystic's? What's that?"

  The redhead nodded in the direction of the woman wearing the flannel shirt. "It's the sports bar and restaurant that Megan's dad owns. We both work there. And it's where the guys usually go after practice and games."

  "Oh. I don't know. Ben didn't say anything about going out after the game—"

  "He probably just figured you knew. Or that we'd let you know."

  Natalie shook her head, silently disagreeing with the redhead. Ben probably had no intention of going. Or did he? Maybe that was what he had in mind by bringing her tonight because she certainly wasn't meeting any of his teammates by sitting up here.

  She finally sat back in the seat and offered what she hoped was a careless shrug. "Yeah, okay. I guess we'll meet everyone there."

  It was a safe answer, one that didn't commit her to anything in case Ben really had no intention of going. But the redhead was already shaking her head.

  "You don't want to hang around here waiting for Ben, you'll be here forever. You can ride with me."

  "But—" Natalie's objections were drowned out by the loud music that filled the arena as the lights dimmed. The music was quickly replaced by the announcer's booming voice and the cheers of the crowd as the players skated out onto the ice.

  Everyone around her stood, clapping and cheering. Natalie hesitated but only for a second before finally standing with everyone else—

  And wondering what else she had gotten herself into by not thinking before acting.

  Chapter Seven

  The atmosphere in the locker room was one of celebration. Why shouldn't it be, when the Bombers had annihilated Springfield in the third period, winning with a final score of six-to-nothing? Tyler was still grinning from adding another shut-out to his win column, and Kyle had scored the first hat-trick of his career. Hell, even Ben had notched both a tally and an assist.

  The icing on the cake had been Torresi's mild congratulations on great teamwork and a strong win. Of course, he then had to throw in a not-so-subtle reminder that their next two games were on the road and he expected everyone to be at the practice rink at eight in the morning, wide awake and ready to board the bus that would take them to the airport . A few silent groans had greeted the coach's words but it was mostly for show—not a single player here was stupid enough to show up hungover or exhausted. With the exception of Banky, they'd all been playing for a while and knew better. And Banky had never been a problem because he wasn't a partier, despite having knocked-up a one-night stand then marrying her.

  Ben glanced over at the younger man and frowned at the irony of the entire situation. For all the shit he'd given the guy a few months ago, the joke was now solidly on Ben. If he had an inclination to believe in it, he'd think this was karma's way of getting back at him because now he had joined the ranks of the married guys on the team—

  And he was one hundred percent positive that he was the only one not getting any action at home.

  He tightened the tie around his neck and mentally shrugged. Whatever. He hadn't married Natalie for sex—that he could get anywhere. And he would again—as soon as they sat down to have a little chat and put some rules in place for their marriage. Not that he was planning on running out and getting laid the first chance he got because he wasn't. Shit, he wasn't that bad. But eventually, maybe a few months down the road, if he happened to meet someone who caught his eye, then yeah.

  Maybe.

  He frowned, wondering why the idea of hooking up with someone didn't hold as much appeal as he expected it to. Ben mentally shrugged again and pushed the thought from his mind then grabbed his small duffel bag.

  "You heading to Mystic's to celebrate?" The question came from Aaron Malone, which surprised him enough that he actually hesitated. As the oldest guy on the team—and the father of two—Aaron generally didn't go out much after the games. Once or twice here and there, yeah, but not very often. Which was probably why he didn't realize Ben had essentially stopped going out with the team after laying into Banky for being so damned stupid and naive and gullible.

  He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and shook his head. "Wasn't planning on it. I'm just going up to get Natalie then heading home."

  "Up? You mean you left her in the arena instead of having her come down to the lounge?"

  Yeah, he had, because he hadn't been thinking. He'd never been involved with anyone long enough—or cared enough, when it came down to it—to bring a guest to the game, let alone have them come down to the lounge. And if he was going to at least be honest with himself, he wasn't entirely certain he wanted Natalie down here where all the guys could ogle her—and maybe ask too many questions that he didn't really want answered. It was enough that she was here, sitting with the other wives and girlfriends. Show-and-tell was over, as far as he was concerned.

  He ignored the questioning expression in Aaron's deep gaze and shrugged. "I'm sure she's fine."

  "As long as they didn't kick her out and make her wait outside."

  "They wouldn't do that." At least, he didn't think they would. And if they tried, she'd tell them she was waiting on him and someone would call down to verify it.

  Unless Natalie didn't think to tell them that.

  He glanced at his watch and swallowed back a small groan. The game had ended more than forty minutes ago. Had he told Natalie how long it might be before he got out? No, he hadn't—because he hadn't cared enough to tell her. He'd just shoved a ticket at her, told her she'd be sitting with the wives and girlfriends, and disappeared without so much as a backward glance. For all he knew, she'd taken off right after that.

  Except he was jumping to conclusions and thinking the worst. She hadn't taken off because he'd seen her in the stands during the game, sitting there looking distracted and totally uninterested. And yeah, maybe she was sitting in the same section as the other women, but even he could see the way she held herself apart from them, not really part of the group.

  Guilt washed over him, only to be quickly brushed away. Just because he got her the ticket didn't mean he could force her to interact with anyone. He'd done his part. If she wanted to keep distance between her and everyone else, that was on her.

  But that didn't lessen the sudden urgency he felt to go find her now.

  "I'll go get her—"

  "Don't
bother, she's not up there." Zach waved his phone in the air before dropping it into his pocket. "She's at Mystic's with the girls waiting on us. Haley drove her."

  Ben started to ask Zach how the hell he even knew what they'd been talking about then realized that wasn't the important question. The important question was— "What the hell is she doing at Mystic's?"

  "How the hell should I know? Haley probably figured you were going to head over there with everyone else and decided to give your wife a ride instead of leaving her by herself in an empty arena for God-only-knows how long." Zach stared at him for a long minute, a silent dare reflected in his gaze. Ben was stuck—and he knew it. There was no logical reason for him to be upset over the fact that Natalie had left with Haley and the others. She wouldn't have known that Ben had no plans to go to Mystic's—because he hadn't told her. The only thing he'd said was that she had to come to the game tonight so the guys could see her. He forgot to mention that the closest he planned on letting any of them get to her was seeing her in the stands.

  Because he didn't feel like listening to their bullshit, whether it was good-natured or not.

  And he sure as hell didn't want any of them to find out that the marriage had been a last-minute impulse. Yes, Nathan and Ryan and Kyle knew. At least, they thought they knew, because he'd told them he was just helping out a friend of his sister's. So far, they hadn't shared that little tidbit with any of the other guys but it was only a matter of time before they did.

  What they didn't know were the details. They didn't know the background story Natalie had given him, about how her ex had dumped her in Vegas then landed his ass in jail.

  And they didn't know that she had already asked for an annulment—something Ben had no plans on giving her. He wasn't sure why yet, was afraid to look too closely at his own motivations for why he'd impulsively asked her to marry his sorry ass then actually followed through with the damn thing. Why didn't matter. Not to him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  But damned if he wanted any of his teammates to find out.

  Or was it already too late for that? Had Natalie told the other women all about it? No, he didn't think so. She might have spilled her entire life story to him but he had the feeling that was an anomaly for her, that she didn't usually open up to many people. She sure as hell hadn't been very talkative the last few days, not since they'd said their vows in that tiny damn chapel on the strip.

  He figured the details of the marriage were safe for now. At least, until the rest of the team got there and started bombarding her with questions. Ben couldn't let that happen.

  Which meant he was heading to Mystic's with everyone else. Fine, he'd go. They'd stay for one drink—anything less than that would just open him to more questions he didn't want to answer. Then he'd grab Natalie and they'd go back to his place and that would be it.

  Ben dug his keys from his pocket and started toward the door. Zach fell into step right beside him.

  "So now you're in a hurry to leave, huh?"

  "Yeah. I figure I should probably get there before anyone else does to protect Natalie from all you assholes."

  "I only buy half of that."

  Ben slid a questioning glance at Zach but didn't even slow his stride. "Yeah? Which half?"

  "That you want to get there before anyone else."

  "Your point?"

  "No point. I just figure it's because you're worried someone will spill the beans and tell your blushing bride how big an ass you are."

  The words had been meant as nothing more than a joke. At least, coming from Zach, they were. A few of the other guys on the team would have sincerely meant them.

  They would have been right.

  And for reasons he didn't understand, that truth suddenly bothered him.

  Chapter Eight

  Ben paused just inside the doorway and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. Mystic's was crowded—which wasn't unusual, considering it was late on a Friday night. Music from the DJ filled the bar area, loud enough to be enjoyable but not so loud that people had to shout to be heard over it. Not that it mattered because people were still shouting, creating an annoying din that Ben felt throbbing at the base of his skull.

  He usually enjoyed coming to Mystic's...during the day, when it wasn't quite as crowded or noisy. Every once in a while he'd join the guys for a drink or two after a game but usually he went to a different bar, one that was generally quieter. He preferred to drink in peace, not amid a throng of people shouting over one another to be heard.

  But tonight, he didn't have a choice. As tempting as it was to just grab Natalie and take her home, he couldn't. There would be too many questions asked if he did that—not that there wouldn't be questions regardless. Fine. They'd stay long enough to have that one drink and appease everyone's curiosity then they'd leave. It wasn't like tonight would be a late night for anyone anyway, not when they were hitting the road in the morning.

  Someone jostled him from behind. Ben turned, a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it back with a groan and his mood, such as it was, took a nosedive when he saw Nathan and Ryan behind him. There could be only one reason the two men were here: Natalie.

  Ben clenched his back teeth together and told himself to ignore them as he headed toward the group of tables clustered in the far corner. Even if he hadn't known where everyone usually sat after the games, the tables would have been easy to spot. Kind of hard not to when seven women sat around them, all of them wearing jerseys or shirts emblazoned with the York Bombers logo.

  No, not all of them. Natalie was wearing another off-the-shoulder sweater, this one in a deep green that accented the paleness of her bare skin and the color of her deep eyes. Her clothes weren't the only thing that set her apart from the other women. She was sitting at the same table as everyone else but she wasn't part of the group. Ben could see that even from a distance. She held herself apart from them, just like she had at the game, not even leaning in to participate in whatever conversation was going on around her. Something twisted in his gut and he stumbled at the strange reaction, not sure what it was from.

  Guilt?

  Pity?

  Something else?

  He ground his teeth even harder and kept walking until he reached the table. Seven sets of eyes looked up at him but it was only one he was interested in: Natalie's. And the woman really needed to work on her acting skills because instead of being happy to see him, she looked anxious—and not in a good way. There was a flash of something that resembled dread in her moss green eyes, the emotion quickly blinked away when he took the empty seat beside her. He slid closer and draped his arm along the back of her chair, his hand lightly brushing the bare skin of her exposed shoulder. A jolt went through him at the sensation of that soft skin under his fingers. Or maybe the jolt was from her reaction because she stiffened and started to pull away.

  Did anyone else notice? Yeah, dammit. Haley was watching them, a small frown creasing her face when Natalie eased away from him. Of course it was Haley. Of all the women here, she would be the one most attuned to any tension or potential threat around them, especially after what she went through last year when her ex had nearly killed her. Ben wanted to jump to his feet and yell, to ask her if she really thought he was as bad as the low-life son-of-a-bitch who had hurt her. He kept the words bottled up, knowing that Haley had no way of answering that because she didn't know him. None of the women did, not really.

  And he had nobody to blame but himself because he always kept himself a little apart from everyone else.

  Instead of arguing his innocence, Ben leaned to the side and pressed his mouth close to Natalie's ear. Her soft hair teased his cheek and nose and her delicate scent—something fresh and fruity and tempting—drew him in. For one brief second, he wanted to bury his face in her hair. Wanted to run his hands through the soft strands and feel them curl around his fingers. Wanted to cup her face between his palms and tilt her head back and—

  Shit.

  Maybe he made
a small sound, or maybe Natalie's intuition was simply sharper than he realized, because she stiffened and again tried to put some distance between them. He dropped his hand on her shoulder, holding her in place, then spoke into her ear low enough that only she could hear.

  "We're supposed to be newlyweds. Stop acting like you're afraid of me. This is just for show. I'm not going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to my cave to have my way with you."

  Her head snapped toward his, surprise flashing in her eyes for a brief second when their gazes met. That clear gaze slid away from his and swept along the table, taking in the growing crowd filling the empty seats. The tension eased from her body and she leaned closer, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth.

  The breath rushed from his lungs at the sight of that smile. It was sweet and sexy and oh-so-teasing, the kind of secret smile a woman might give her lover. A smile filled with unspoken promises to be delivered later.

  Ben sucked in a deep breath and fisted his hand against his thigh. Shit. Dammit. Fuck. What the fuck was that about? Anyone who happened to be looking over at them would think they were silently making plans for later—and that Natalie was definitely looking forward to those plans. Hell, if he didn't know better, he'd believe it, too.

  Ben didn't have to glance around to know that everyone was watching them—he knew they were, could feel their curious gazes on them. But he couldn't turn to look at them, not even to tell them to mind their own fucking business, not when he knew they'd see the surprise on his face.

  And the sudden need that clawed at him, raw and desperate.

  And shit, he needed to get a handle on his reaction. There was no need for him to be acting like this, not when he knew Natalie didn't mean whatever was behind that look. She was only doing what he asked of her: acting like newlyweds and pretending she couldn't wait to be alone with him. It was an act. Nothing more.

  But holy shit, it was a convincing one.