Defending the Reaper: A Standalone Steamy Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romances Book 5)

by G. K. Brady

  Jesus! He couldn’t think what to say. Mumbling an “I’m sorry” was not only inadequate, it did squat to help her. “How long ago?” he asked instead.

  Fingers in her hair, she raked them through her tresses. “A little over two years now, and I’m still trying to fix it. Not only did I catch my husband screwing someone else, but he’d been screwing up the business too. Making commitments to clients he didn’t keep, blowing off vendors we owed money, taking money out of our business account to lavish on his, um, dalliance. And I was so … so blind. I didn’t see any of it coming.”

  Dave scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “You’re not actually blaming yourself for what he did, are you?” Not your fault the guy was a douche of epic proportions.

  Another headshake. “It was my business too. I should have paid more attention. Should have tuned into these little nagging doubts I was having—that’s what responsible people do—but I was caught up in my designs and I … didn’t. So yeah, I’m partly to blame.”

  Something twisted inside him to hear her beating herself up over not being “responsible.” Hell, she was one of the most responsible people he knew. Work first, fun later, though she never seemed to get around to the fun part. And now maybe he understood why. She’d had a husband, the same partner in all facets of her life. She should have been able to trust the asshole. How was not following up on her “nagging doubts” her fault?

  “Not for the affair,” he said firmly. He hadn’t earned the right to wade in on the business end of her life—not that he was looking for that right.

  She wagged her head from side to side as if considering what he said. “Maybe. It turns out I wasn’t what he wanted or needed. I should’ve seen the signs there too, but I missed them.”

  Dave tried not to gape at her. What she said was so wrong on so many levels. That she could think she was responsible for the guy’s wandering dick … He couldn’t see it. Who would wander on a girl like this? A light blazed on in his head. “Is this why you’re not doing as much design work as you’d like? You’re too busy doing the other stuff to keep the business viable?”

  “Yep.”

  “Finn must be a big help?”

  Her mouth opened and closed.

  “Or not,” he quickly added.

  “No, he is. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression because he’s a good guy. He’s been helping me pick up the pieces since Will took off, but it was really rough at first. And Finn’s had a few wild hairs that have, shall we say, gotten him into trouble.” She turned bright eyes to Dave’s. “But that’s in the past.”

  A little ball of unease that had been tightening in his gut loosened. “I guess we all have skeletons rattling around in our closets. Some more than others.”

  “Yes, some definitely more than others.” As she said this, she broke eye contact, turning to look at the radio. “Time to find a country station?”

  “Sure.” The discussion died on the twanging chords of “There Was This Girl” as Riley Green’s voice drifted over the speakers. But it didn’t kill the feeling Ellie Hendricks was one big Rubik’s Cube waiting to be solved. Dave had never been good at geometry, though he found himself wanting to take a crash course.

  Chapter 20

  Carrie Underwood, Eat Your Heart Out

  They’d been bouncing over a rutted, twisting, packed dirt road ever since driving through the ranch entrance fifteen minutes ago. Just as Ellie was convinced there was no home, they turned a hilly corner and a jaw-dropping spread came into view, complete with an iconic red barn, rolling wheat-colored pastures that climbed gentle rises, and miles of crisp white rail fencing. In the midst of it all sprawled a house that was more lodge than it was residence, surrounded by a half dozen smaller-scale replicas. The sun was slung low in the sky, and it gilded the scene in gold. A gasp escaped her.

  “Oh my gosh! This is … this is gorgeous!”

  She snapped her gaping mouth shut and side-eyed Dave, who sported a frozen frown as he focused on steering the truck into a huge dirt-and-gravel parking area already lined with pickups and SUVs. The slower he went, the louder Rascal Flatts’s “Powerful Stuff” blared.

  Mumbling, “Nice little place,” he hit the volume button on his steering wheel, and the sound of crunching tires replaced the chorus singing how so, so sweet it was.

  The lodge, er, house, had a deep wraparound porch, and several figures stood under its roof, lost in the long afternoon shadows. Dave parked, and as he helped her climb out of the truck, two of those shadows broke free and headed toward them.

  “Hey! You guys finally made it,” Sonoma called, Finn ambling behind her.

  After she hugged Ellie, she sidled up to Dave, who leaned down for a one-armed hug. “Are we late?”

  “No, I was just looking forward to seeing you guys. Uncle Stan’s on his way.” She fisted her skirt repeatedly as Finn gave Ellie a light punch in the arm and exchanged a gripping manshake thing with Dave.

  In the background, guys dressed as cowboys—they probably were cowboys—swarmed the barn, and Ellie craned her head, glimpsing an open space inside surrounded by hay bales.

  Dave opened the back door of the crew cab and started unloading. In silent man language for “We’re big strong men, and we got this, so back off,” Finn grabbed whatever Dave handed to him, leaving Ellie in charge of only her purse. She chuckled inside at Finn stepping up to the “gentleman” plate. Usually, she was doing her own schlepping. Nice change.

  Dave turned, a bag and the cooler in his hands. “You guys get your rooms yet?”

  “Yep, we’re all set. We’re in the main house in the ‘lesser rooms.’” Sonoma air-quoted the last two words. “I’ll show you yours.”

  They greeted the people they passed on the porch and stepped into a huge entry. Beyond the entry was an immense vaulted common area done in logs that surrounded a massive stone fireplace. Had she just stepped into the Yellowstone lodge? No, this space was modern, lighter, and someone’s actual living room. Head on a swivel, she stumbled behind the rest of her party as she took in enormous beams and hand-carved wood scenes. There was even a gigantic tree trunk that seemed to sprout from a stone floor and soar up, up, through the ceiling towering twenty feet above.

  By comparison, their rooms were … well, just as Sonoma had described. Lesser. Ellie’s was cramped with a full-size, quilt-covered bed. A chair and a small side table sat beside the room’s only window. What she gave up in luxury, though, was more than offset by a private bath. Dave’s room was next to hers and only a little wider to accommodate a queen-size bed he’d probably have to sleep in diagonally to fit.

  But she wasn’t complaining. No, she was in a world far different from the one she normally spent time in, and suddenly her heart lifted, feeling more and more like a helium balloon bumping along the clouds. She’d escaped the “usual” for a little while and was on the verge of maybe, possibly, having fun.

  “Do you have your box dinner, Ellie?” Sonoma asked from the hall outside both rooms. “I’ll take it and put it with the others.”

  Dave bent down to the cooler and retrieved Ellie’s box, which he handed to Sonoma. Now that she saw it in someone’s else’s hands, Ellie realized how drab it looked. She was going for country elegance, but she’d missed by a mile. Hopefully, it didn’t get stuck next to anything colorful, or the thing would get lost.

  “Careful with how you handle that.” Dave threw Ellie a wink. “We have a very eclectic meal in there.”

  Prize in hand, Sonoma nodded, and soon she and Finn were headed down the hall, their heads together as though they were hatching a diabolical plan.

  Ellie leaned against her door frame. “What do you think those two are up to?”

  Dave rearranged his bag and cooler on the floor, then glanced around. “No good, I’m sure. Looks like you get the only bathroom.”

  “Feel free to use it when you need to.”

  He stared at her a moment, thoughts seeming to whir behind those hawk-intense eyes.<
br />
  “Like, if you want to shower before the dance, for instance,” she clarified, then embarrassingly added, “But be aware there’s a strict no-toilet-seats-up rule in effect.” Epic humor fail, El. Why did I just say that?

  A slow smile spread. “I might just do that. And don’t worry. I’m well aware of the ‘leave-no-toilet-seat-up’ regulations.”

  Right. Because you lived with a drop-dead-gorgeous model once. Way to kill the fun, El. Sheesh. I need a drink because … ugh … no matter how pretty the dress and boots, I still can’t do clever banter or dance!

  “Why don’t we head downstairs, find Nome and Finn, and check this place out? I could use a beer. You?”

  “I think I need a whole six-pack,” she muttered.

  His dark brows crashed together. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” she chirped a little too boisterously. “I’m just … I’m a little nervous about the whole dancing thing.”

  Now those brows inched up his forehead. “Don’t be. Half the people here have never square-danced. Besides, it’s not that complicated, and I’m betting lots of folks will be liquored up, so they won’t notice someone else’s moves.”

  She raised her hand as though she were answering a question in class. “I think I’d like to be one of those liquored-up people. Then maybe I won’t notice my own dance moves … um, non-moves.”

  He threw his head back, and a deep laugh rolled through his chest, reminding her of thunder. “Then we’d better hurry and find the alcohol, although I suspect that in your case it won’t take much.”

  She stuck her chin in the air. “Are you calling me a lightweight?”

  “No, ma’am. Just saying you’re light in weight, so it probably doesn’t take as much as it would, say, for someone like me or Finn.”

  She hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. All she needed to complete the look was a piece of straw dangling from her teeth. “I’ll have you know I’ve bent elbows with the men folk sitting around in the garage talking cars.”

  “When you were ten?” He coughed out a laugh as he led them down the stairs and onto the porch.

  Wow. He had been paying attention when she’d told him about her dad marrying Finn’s mom. Before she could muster a clever comeback, Finn and Sonoma waved at them. They stood beside a galvanized water trough filled with iced adult beverages, talking with a tall, middle-aged, birdlike man with a bad comb-over. On his other side was a plump, mahogany-haired woman about his vintage.

  Dave placed his fingers in the small of Ellie’s back and propelled her toward the foursome. “Uncle Stan,” he called, his hand shooting out for a shake. The gawky man—Uncle Stan—grinned and clasped Dave’s hand. They did the man-hug-pat thing before Dave stooped to embrace the woman and plant a kiss on her cheek. “Aunt Viv, it’s great to see you.”

  Just as Ellie was contemplating ducking away from the family reunion, Dave introduced her. His Aunt Viv had a way of smiling that made her cheeks pull up and her eyes squint, like every muscle in her face was playing a part in that smile. It radiated happiness. “Looking forward to the box social, Ellie?”

  “Um, yes.”

  “Ellie doesn’t dance, so I think she’s a little nervous,” Dave explained.

  Aunt Viv’s fingers brushed Ellie’s arms. “Don’t you worry. Dave will have you dancing as though you’ve been doing it your whole life.”

  Ellie tilted her head and smiled. “That’s what I keep hearing. Hopefully, I don’t break his toes.”

  They all laughed at this, except Finn, who smirked. She recognized that look. It said, “They don’t know how bad you really are, El.”

  Soon they all had beers, and Ellie chugged half of hers down to soothe her parched throat. If Dave noticed, he didn’t say a word. In fact, he was already going for his second.

  “So it sounds like they might have some trouble with the room situation,” Stan said. “You kids have yours already, right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “What kind of trouble, Uncle Stan?” Sonoma asked.

  “Seems a passel of unexpected relatives showed up, and our hosts are scrambling to find them someplace to sleep.”

  They caught up on family and small-talked. Ellie had polished off her second beer when the conversation broke up, and everyone retreated to their rooms. Dave walked her upstairs, telling her he’d shower in Finn’s bathroom so she’d have plenty of time to get ready.

  Right. Get ready.

  Ellie showered, pulled on a lacy panty-and-bra set she’d bought as a last-minute splurge, and tugged the new dress over her head. Stopped and stared in the battered mirror above the bathroom sink. Sighed and plopped on the edge of the mattress. Why had it looked so much better in the store than it did in this room?

  A soft knock and a feminine voice on the other side had her flinging open the door to Sonoma, whose blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Brought a little makeup and a curling wand in case your spirals need extra twists. And most importantly, this.” She waved an open bottle of rosé under Ellie’s nose.

  “I don’t know if you have enough magic to transform this pumpkin, Sonoma, but the wine will be good for blurring my vision so I can’t see. And blurring my brain so I don’t care.” She laughed as she took the bottle from Sonoma and waved her in.

  Sonoma pulled wineglasses from a big pouch she’d tucked under her arm and began laying out beauty supplies on the quilt. “What are you talking about? I’m starting with a beautiful canvas. Not too many brushstrokes needed to make it a masterpiece.”

  Something about what Sonoma said and the way she said it soothed Ellie’s ragged nerves. Ellie splashed a generous amount of wine in each glass, then sat back to let Sonoma work her magic.

  After fifteen minutes, they were on their second glass of wine, and Sonoma was hovering her own mirror in front of Ellie’s face. “I didn’t need to touch your hair. As for the makeup, you don’t wear much, so I kept it light. A little blush, a silvery-gray shadow to pop your eyes, and some mascara to plump those long lashes. What do you think?”

  Ellie blinked at herself. “I can’t believe that’s me! I looked horrible in the bathroom mirror just a few minutes ago.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the bathroom mirror, and it’s not going to make anyone look good.” She downed a sip of wine and wiggled her eyebrows. “But this. Dave’s gonna have a hard time keeping his eyes off you.”

  A laugh punched from Ellie’s chest. “I’m sure he’ll have no problem, especially with the women he’s used to looking at.” Shit. I busted myself. The talk about Will’s rejection on the way here had stirred up Ellie’s feelings of inadequacy that always swam just below the surface, nibbling away at her confidence in herself. Being a killer landscaper was one thing, but an attractive woman? Not so much.

  Sonoma’s eyes narrowed, and Ellie gave her a sheepish look. “I might have seen pictures of him on the Internet with supermodel women. And his last girlfriend was … wow.”

  One side of Sonoma’s mouth curled up. “You like my cousin, don’t you? God, please say you do.”

  Now Ellie squirmed. “I’ll admit I like him more than I did at first. He’s sort of … grown on me.”

  “He does that. Grows on people like toe fungus,” Sonoma snorted. “But yeah, he cleans up pretty well. He refused to do that until he met you, you know.”

  Ellie masked her surprise with a hefty gulp of her own. “Anyway, I see pictures of him with women like Nicole, and I get it. He could have anyone he wants. And next to their star-power, two-thousand-lumens-halogen-floodlight looks, I’m a dim seven-watt landscape bulb.”

  Sonoma caught Ellie’s hand in hers. “Listen to me. First of all, no one’s comparing you to her, except you. And yeah, she was a stunner … on the outside. Inside, she’s as shallow as a kiddie pool.”

  “You didn’t like her,” Ellie said matter-of-factly.

  Sonoma released her hand and emptied the rest of the wine into their glasses. “I didn’t like her. She wouldn’t give me the time o
f day unless she was working Dave over for something, and then she was so syrupy I wanted to gag. But I could see through her games, and I called her on it. She didn’t like that. Unfortunately, he was blind to it all. Probably still is.”

  “But there had to be something there besides her looks. I don’t know him that well, but he doesn’t strike me as the type of guy who goes strictly for arm candy.” Ellie’s heart sank under the weight of the possibility that maybe he was the kind of guy who wanted the trophy girl.

  A sigh dropped Sonoma’s shoulders an inch. “I’ve been telling him for years to look beyond the flash before letting himself get hooked. He’s been more interested in style over substance. Nicky was also really good at playing hard-to-get, and he fell for it. By the time he figured it out, she had him wound so tight he didn’t know how to unwind himself.” Sonoma finished off her wine and began gathering her stuff into her pouch. “A couple things to know about Dave. First, he needs very little feeding and watering to make him happy. He comes across as this tough, gruff, grumpy bear, but deep down, he’s the marshmallow man. What he really wants is someone he can look after, someone he can shower with attention.

  “Second, he protects people he cares about. To. A. Fault. He makes excuses for them and turns a blind eye. Sticks his head in the sand and holds out until he can’t breathe anymore. He’d make a really good ostrich.” She paused to tee-hee, and Ellie giggled with her. “I was so happy when Nicky broke up with him. It sounds mean, but he’s so much better off without her. And I don’t think he would’ve walked away, so she did him a huge favor. I just worry …”

  Ellie rocked her mostly empty wineglass on a side table and fished out some hoop earrings. “You worry about what?”

  “Oh, just that she’ll realize how good she had it and try to reel him back in.”

  One of the hoops slipped from Ellie’s fingers and bounced on the floor. She turned wide eyes to Sonoma. “You think he’d go back to her after everything that happened?”