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

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "Why wouldn't he play? He was out for warm-ups."

  "Yeah, but they can only dress so many players each game. I wouldn't worry about it, I'm sure he's fine."

  "But—" Cara's phone rang, interrupting her. She placed one hand on her growing belly then leaned to the side and pulled the phone from her back pocket. A worried frown creased her face as she stared at the screen. "It's Travis."

  Natalie held her breath, some of the woman's worry rubbing off on her. She wasn't the only one, she saw. They were all watching Cara now, faces filled with differing degrees of concern as Cara answered the phone.

  She was quiet for a few seconds then her eyes widened. "Now? But...Oh, Travis, that's great! But...I know...okay, yes. I will...Call me when you get there...I love you, too."

  Cara ended the call and dropped the phone in her lap, a stunned expression on her face. She finally turned to the women watching her, a wide smile on her pretty face. "The Banners just called Travis up. He's on his way to meet the team in Nashville."

  Their small group erupted in a chorus of cheers and congratulations. Natalie frowned and looked over at Haley, not quite sure what just happened or why everyone was so happy.

  "It means Banky gets to play in the big league. This might be his chance to go pro fulltime."

  Natalie nodded, suddenly understanding. She looked down at the bench, at Ben's tense back and shoulders as he stared straight ahead.

  I've never been good enough to make it all the way.

  Yes, she understood everyone's excitement—and she finally understood the reason for Ben's anger, as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ben stood just outside the bathroom, his shoulder propped against the doorframe, watching Natalie. She leaned close to the mirror, her eyes unnaturally wide as she swiped mascara along her lashes. He cleared his throat but she didn't look at him. Didn't even acknowledge his presence even though she had to know he was standing there.

  "What are you doing?"

  She ran the wand over her lashes one more time then jammed it back into the ridiculously tiny bottle. "I'm getting ready for my interview."

  "Another one?"

  She grabbed some kind of pencil from the makeup bag resting on the counter and uncapped it. "Yes, another one. And another one after that, until I find a job."

  "I still don't know why you're so damn set on getting a job. I told you—"

  "Because I need a job." She finally looked over at him, her green eyes holding a hint of frost. "I need to get out of this house."

  Ben bit back a sigh as the familiar irritation crept over him. It was the same answer she'd been giving him for the past two weeks. At first, her need for a job had been because she felt awkward for not contributing. Then it had been because she was bored. And yeah, he understood both reasons. He didn't care about the first one—she didn't need to contribute, not when he made more than enough for both of them—but he totally got the second one. Boredom sucked and if she needed to find something to do, he wasn't going to try to stop her. He wasn't thrilled with the idea that it would mean they saw less of each other but it wasn't that big of a deal. Most of the other wives and girlfriends all had jobs and the guys made it work.

  So would they.

  But that last reason—needing to get out of the house—was relatively new. And the way she said it let him know that it had nothing to do with boredom.

  I need to get out of this house.

  Yeah, because he'd been a miserable son-of-a-bitch for the last two weeks—ever since Banky had been called up by the Banners. He'd tried to shake the irrational jealousy. Banky was younger. Hell, he played a completely different position than Ben, which just happened to be what the Banners needed. And he was happy for the kid...mostly.

  But it still stung. Wasn't that human nature? To be just a little jealous and hurt when you realized someone else was better than you? That someone else was getting the same shot you once had and lost, because you weren't quite good enough?

  Yeah, maybe. Except even Ben knew he was taking things too far. He should have shaken off the jealousy after that first night but here he was, two weeks later, still wallowing in misery.

  And Natalie wasn't the only one tiring of it.

  He swallowed back another sigh and watched as she finished getting ready, putting on make-up she didn't need so she could go to an interview for a job he didn't want her to have.

  He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and cleared his throat again. "Did you want to meet for lunch later? We could—"

  "No."

  Just that one answer, so brief and decisive. The first hint of anger flickered deep inside him and he quickly squashed it. "Why not?"

  "I'm meeting Haley for a late lunch then we're going shopping with Savannah and then to see a movie. I probably won't be back until late."

  The anger flickered back to life, a little stronger than before. And with it came the old insecurities and the feeling of never being good enough. "You'd rather spend time with them than with me?"

  She traced her full lips with the pencil in her hand, recapped it and threw it into the makeup bag, then spun on the heel of her cute boots and stared at him. Impatience and a hint of anger flared in her eyes. "With the way you've been acting? Yes."

  Ben pushed away from the doorframe. "The way I've been acting? How the hell have I been acting?"

  "In one word?" Natalie stepped toward him, her head tilted back so she could meet his gaze. "Miserable. Pouting. Like a little boy who's throwing a temper tantrum because he didn't get his way."

  He ignored the urge to tell her that was more than one word and reached for her arm when she pushed past him. She sidestepped his hold and kept going so he followed her. "You don't think I have a right to be upset?"

  "Upset? Is that what you call it?" She came to a halt in the living room and spun around to face him. "I could understand upset. I even sympathized with it—two weeks ago. But it's done and over with and you need to get past it."

  "You don't understand—"

  "You're right, I don't. You have no idea how lucky you are."

  He stared at her, astonishment now mixing with the growing anger. "Lucky?"

  She didn't flinch at the volume of his voice. She didn't even blink. Instead, she grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder then closed the distance between them—

  And jammed her finger into his chest.

  "Yes, lucky. You're doing something you love to do and you're getting paid to do it. Do you have any idea how many people spend their entire life stuck in a job they hate, barely making ends meet?"

  "I'm not—"

  "Look around you, Ben. Look at everything you have. Hockey. This gorgeous condo that's completely paid for. The furnishings. Not one but two vehicles."

  "The SUV is yours—"

  "No, Ben, it's not. I could never afford something like that, no matter how many jobs I worked at the same time."

  "Natalie—"

  "Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, maybe you should stop and look around and appreciate everything you do have. Maybe then you wouldn't be so miserable."

  The words sliced through him, their pinpoint accuracy hitting him dead center in the chest. But the pain of their truth didn't hurt nearly as much as seeing the tears welling in Natalie's eyes.

  Or realizing that the one thing he needed the most was the woman standing in front of him. He reached for her, needing to pull her into his arms. Needing to hold her.

  Needing her.

  "Natalie—"

  She stepped back and shook her head with a finality that scared him shitless. "I need to go before I'm late. We can talk later when I get home."

  Ben stood there, his feet frozen in place as she walked out. He wanted to follow her—needed to follow her. To tell her not to go. The urge to chase her was so strong that his knees nearly buckled with the force of it. It wasn't just the strange urge—it was the sudden certainty that if he didn't go after her, he'd never see her again.
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  But she said she'd be back. That they would talk when she got home.

  Home.

  Meaning here, with him. She wasn't leaving him. At least, not yet.

  Not unless he got his fucking act together and stopped the fucking bullshit nonsense.

  He took a deep breath, tried to push away the irrational fear that still gripped him, and looked around the condo. Tried to see it through Natalie's eyes. She was right, he realized. He was lucky. Luckier than most. Luckier than even some of the guys he played with. He made a hell of a lot of money, especially at this level of play, because his agent had been a fucking shark when he'd been drafted. He'd been smart with the money, investing instead of spending and living well within his means and it had all paid off in the long run. He wouldn't have to worry about his money running out, not until he was old and gray with one foot in the grave. Not even then.

  And he didn't give a shit about any of it. None of it mattered, not if he didn't have someone to share it with.

  Not just someone—

  Natalie.

  He cared for her. Hell, he more than cared for her.

  He needed her.

  No, it went beyond even that.

  Fuck.

  He loved her.

  He staggered under the weight of the realization, grabbed the back of the sofa to brace himself because his fucking knees actually started to buckle.

  He loved her.

  He repeated the words to himself, over and over. Tasting them. Testing the rightness of them.

  Yes, he loved her.

  So why the fuck was he so scared? Why did the weight of loneliness he'd carried for so long disappear, only to be replaced with the certainty that he might lose her? That something would happen before he could make things right? That he wouldn't get the chance to tell her?

  Ben brushed the strange feelings away, convinced he was overreacting. It was nothing more than paranoia that his father had been right all these years, that he didn't deserve to be happy. That nobody would ever care for him because he wasn't good enough.

  His father was wrong. He'd always been wrong—Natalie had proved that to him, whether she realized it or not.

  That odd feeling of impending doom stayed with him for the next hour as he busied himself around the house. As he put in a load of laundry and cleaned the bathroom. As he played a mindless game on the computer. As he went to the kitchen to fix a sandwich and stared into the full refrigerator without seeing any of its contents.

  When his cell phone rang, it startled him so much that he actually swore. He pulled it from his pocket and dropped it. Swore again as he bent over to retrieve it.

  He saw the number on the cracked screen and recognized the Las Vegas exchange. And he knew—he knew—that the odd feeling that had haunted him since Natalie walked out the door was a hell of a lot more than an overactive imagination.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Natalie hit the little button on the key fob that unlocked the SUV, accidentally hitting it twice so all the doors unlocked. She rolled her eyes, wondering if she'd ever get used to all the little bells and whistles on the brand-new vehicle. Probably not, since she was still getting used to driving. Maybe, once she was a little more comfortable with the vehicle and not quite as worried about hitting something, she'd take the time to learn more about all the fancy features. Right now, she'd be happy if she remembered that she didn't have to put a real key into an ignition and that the gear shift was just a simple knob on the dash.

  Her purse vibrated against her side, startling her. That was another thing she needed to get used to: having a cell phone. She had sent Haley a quick text letting her know she'd be late because there was a room full of people ahead of her then tossed the phone into her purse. She had forgotten to silence it before going into the interview and wanted to sink under her chair in embarrassment when the phone rang. Natalie stammered out an apology but hadn't missed the woman's slight frown of impatience at being interrupted. She apologized a second time when the phone rang again, knowing it probably wouldn't make any difference, not when the irritation at seeing Ben's number flash across the screen had crept into her voice when she apologized.

  Natalie had ignored the call—again—and finally silenced the phone before burying it at the bottom of her purse. She forced herself to concentrate on the questions the woman asked her instead of why Ben was suddenly calling but it was already too late. The woman wasn't interested in hiring her, Natalie had seen that much from the indifference in her gaze when she briefly scanned the pathetically short resume in her hands.

  She ignored the call now as she climbed into the driver's seat and carefully fastened her seat belt. The phone went silent as she studied the mirrors, just in case they had somehow mysteriously moved during the two hours she had been inside, waiting for her turn to be interviewed.

  Maybe the interview hadn't gone as bad as she thought. The woman had smiled—a brief one, but still a smile—shook her hand, and told her she'd be in touch. That was a good sign, right?

  No, not really. It was nothing more than a polite way of saying they weren't interested. Even she knew that.

  She sighed and reached for the key fob. Maybe she could get a job at Mystic's. Haley said they always needed help and Natalie had experience at waiting tables. She'd talk to Haley when they met for lunch—

  Her phone vibrated again and she let out a squeal of combined frustration and irritation and impatience. She reached into the bag with one hand and yanked out the phone, trying to jam the key fob into a nonexistent ignition and turn the phone completely off at the same time. She accidentally answered the call instead, heard Ben's voice as the passenger door opened.

  Natalie turned, confusion mixing with the brief spurt of anger filling her as Ben climbed into the passenger seat. She opened her mouth, ready to ask him what the hell he was doing—then realized it wasn't Ben. The anger morphed to fear, numbing her for several long seconds. The phone fell from her fingers and dropped into the space between her seat and the console. Her survival instinct finally kicked in and she reached for the door handle, ready to open it and dive for safety.

  The locks clicked, the sound as loud as a gunshot. Brandon turned to her, a cold smile on his face. The afternoon sun glinted on the fury in his blue eyes—and on the blade of the knife he held in one hand.

  "Hey, Nat. Bet you're surprised to see me."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Bet you're surprised to see me.

  Cold fear washed over Ben when he heard the words. He gripped the phone, tried to dislodge his heart from his throat so he could tell Zach to drive faster. Fuck, he could barely breathe, let alone talk.

  Natalie was in danger. He was too late, the son-of-a-bitch had her.

  He'd raced from the house as soon as he got the call letting him know that her ex had been released—that he'd been out for several weeks. Despite what Ben had told Natalie, the police had never searched the man's room and the hotel had never packed up his belongings. The room had been reserved for an extended stay, had been paid for in advance so there was no need for it to be packed up.

  And there was no need for him to suspect anyone but Natalie had taken his money.

  Ben had tried calling Natalie as he raced to Zach's place. Had hoped and prayed she'd pick up the phone but she never did. Then he'd prayed some more. Prayed that he was overreacting. Just because her ex was out didn't mean he'd come after Natalie.

  His gut told him he was wrong, whispered that he was running out of time.

  No, he couldn't be. He refused to believe it. She was with Haley somewhere, someplace safe. Somewhere in public, where nobody would dare to approach them.

  But Haley answered the door when he pounded on it hard enough to break it down. Had told him that Natalie was still at the interview, that she had sent a text earlier saying she might be late because there were other people ahead of her.

  Ben had sagged against the doorframe and tried calling Natalie again but she didn't answer. He
'd managed to get the words out before fear rendered him speechless, managed to force what little he knew through a throat clogged with desperation. But Natalie must have told Haley some of what happened, just enough because the other woman had immediately understood. She called for Zach then the three of them raced outside. Ben had started for his car but Zach grabbed him, shoved him into the truck and took off.

  Ben had called Natalie again, felt a moment of relief when she answered—until he heard what sounded like the phone dropping, followed by a man's voice.

  Hey, Nat. Bet you didn't expect to see me.

  The voice spoke again, the words echoing through the speaker of his phone. Cold. Distant and hollow.

  Where's my money, Nat?

  I—I don't have it. Natalie's voice, quiet and tinged with fear.

  Don't lie to me, bitch. I want my money.

  Zach's foot pressed down on the accelerator and the big truck lurched forward. The rear fishtailed as he darted through traffic and made a hard right, tires squealing against the asphalt.

  I don't have it! Natalie's voice again, a little stronger this time. I gave it away.

  You better be lying about that.

  I'm not— The words ended in a high-pitched gasp, the sound filled with surprise and pain. A low groan filled the cab of the truck, the sound filled with pain of another sort. It wasn't until Haley reached over the seat and squeezed his shoulder that he realized the noise had come from him.

  Is that really a wedding ring on your finger? The angry question spilled through the speaker of Ben's phone. There was another sound, a scuffling of some sort, followed by Natalie's sharp voice.

  Don't touch me!

  Fury shot through Ben, pushing away some of the paralyzing fear. His fingers tightened around the phone.

  I just want to see it.

  Get. Off. There was dull thud, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by a small grunt. The fear returned, worse than before. If that asshole touched her—

  Fuck, Nat. I was just looking. You didn't have to hit me.