Taming Beckett: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romances Book 1)

by G. K. Brady

  He shrugged. “I know. Shocking, huh? And now that the divorce is about final, well …” Taking a long pull, he darted his eyes to her. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what I said, for what I did to you. I ended the affair right after that first session. I haven’t dated anyone else since, nor have I wanted to. Too little, too late.”

  Her whole body constricted. She accepted more wine, gulping it just to open her throat.

  “Seeing myself has been a real eye-opener. I’m surprised you didn’t leave me long ago, Paige. But then, you’re kindhearted like that.” He shook his head. “You seem to be doing fine with it. You’re positively radiant. You’ll have to tell me your secret for getting over someone.”

  Paige’s tongue finally unfroze. “What the hell, Adrian?”

  “I know. I deserve your anger—all of it. I’ll add it to my own. I made a colossal mistake, and I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” He stared at her, his eyes pooling. “I need more wine to say the rest of what I have to say.”

  “I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

  “Just hear me out. Please.”

  She nodded numbly. He threw back what remained in his glass and uncorked another bottle, splashing it in their glasses. He downed that too, and she matched him. Liquid courage.

  He skewered her eyes with his. “I think I was, uh, I think I was fearful you’d outgrow me, especially after your business took off. You were doing so well—I was impressed. Am impressed. I was … Clay says I was jealous, that I felt threatened. So subconsciously, I … I looked elsewhere.”

  Anger swamped her. “So you wanted to hold me back? Deliberately hurt me?”

  “No, never.” His face crumpled. “But that’s exactly what I did, isn’t it?”

  His sad tone disarmed her, and guilt rushed in, followed by misery. Her eyes brimmed too. “Help me understand. Did I not pay enough attention to you? What did I do wrong?”

  He put the glass down and reached for her, pulling her into his embrace. He’d done that a million times too. “Nothing. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

  She breathed him in, absorbing the familiar comfort of his arms while her thoughts swirled in a chaotic twister.

  “I miss you, Paige.” He tightened his hold and began crying softly in the crook of her neck.

  Her heart splintered; she let her own tears come.

  He pulled back and swiped at his cheeks, then stroked hers. “Is there any chance—would you consider putting the divorce on hold? Just long enough to give counseling another shot?”

  A voice in her head screamed, No! but a quieter one overrode it. What if this could work? What if I still love him? Am I ready to walk away? Just like my mother?

  “I don’t know,” she replied. And she didn’t.

  “Think about it.”

  Her heart heavy, she nodded against his chest. He kissed her temple and held her to him, engulfing her in warmth. Then he began kissing her neck, her jaw, working all the sensitive spots he knew so well as he made his way to her ear. She started to pull away.

  “Paige,” he breathed, “I need you. I want you so much.”

  Her heart squeezed. His lips moved from her ear to her cheek, landing on her mouth. As he kissed her, her mind reeled. This is wrong. But we’re married, so it can’t be wrong. He needs me. I don’t want this. This is wrong. Her reeling thoughts about bulged her brain, like a bag of cats fighting to get out. Snarling, scratching, hissing.

  She pushed his chest. “Adrian, I—”

  Softly, gently, he drew her back. “Paige,” he murmured against her temple. “I love you.”

  He’s my husband.

  He repeated the intoxicating words and kissed her again, deepening it, and the debate raging in her head dulled. Then he pulled her into the bedroom, and by the time he’d removed their clothes, the racket in her head had quieted to a whimper.

  .~ * * * ~.

  Paige lay on her back staring at light dancing on the dark ceiling. What have I done? A tear trickled from the corner of her eye into her ear. Beside her, Adrian breathed rhythmically, his hand holding hers, their fingers entwined. Once upon a time, she would have floated away on a cloud of contentment. But this fairy tale was shattered, and no amount of pretending could put the pieces back in place. Nothing was as it used to be.

  Why didn’t I just leave before it came to this? Tears spilled. Because I had to know, once and for all, if there was any going back.

  And God, she’d found out. Why had it taken sleeping with Adrian to realize it? Not only was there no going back, but she felt filthy, as if she’d had sex in the bathroom stall of a grubby restaurant with a stranger she’d just picked up, while the man she really cared for awaited her, unaware of her sordid, dirty tryst. As if she’d betrayed a truly good man. As if she’d betrayed Beckett. She was sickened by what she’d done.

  With her free hand, she clenched the covers tightly under her chin, but not because she was cold. Shadows began pressing in around her. The bed seemed to shrink, and she couldn’t put space between her body and Adrian’s. She couldn’t breathe. More tears came. She had to get away. Carefully, she slid her hand from his and slipped out of bed, snatching her clothes from the floor. A wave of nausea rolled over her.

  She dressed hastily and was scrawling a note when he appeared in the doorway. He’d thrown on a robe. “What are you doing?”

  She jerked. “I, ah, was just leaving you a message. I have an early start and need to get home.” The words tumbled out of her like water pouring over a dam.

  Yawning, he reached for her, but she inched away. He gave her a bemused look and followed her to her truck. Her movements were awkward, jolting, as though she’d overdosed on caffeine. Before she could jump in, he gave her a quick kiss.

  “I’ll call you before I go,” he said.

  She croaked an “okay” and shut the door.

  He leaned down to her window. “So I’ll tell the attorneys to hold off?”

  Tears came rushing up her throat, stinging her eyes. “I don’t think so, Adrian,” she breathed. “It’s not … I don’t feel the same anymore.” And I just found that out.

  He lurched upright, hurt scoring his features. “I’ll cut my trip short, Paige. Wait until I’m back. Please.”

  She shook her head. “It’s too late. I’m so sorry.”

  She tore out of his driveway as though a wild dog snapped at her tail. Her body numb, thoughts bombarded her brain. Oh God! Didn’t I already know it was too late? How could I have done it? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  A panicked flurry squeezed her chest. What if Beck finds out? She took a calming breath, then two more, reminding herself she wasn’t with Beckett. And if she wasn’t with him, she couldn’t have been unfaithful to him. Right? Her logic did nothing to lessen her guilt. Just don’t tell him.

  Peeling off her clothes, she flew through her house and cranked on the hot water in the shower. A scalding stream ran over her skin. She took a bar of soap and scrubbed. And scrubbed. And scrubbed some more. She opened her mouth, letting water pour in, rinsing, spitting it back out. By the time the water turned cold, her head rested against the tile wall and sobs shook her body.

  Her limbs leaden, she dragged herself to bed. Ignoring a missed call lighting her screen, she turned off her phone and sank under her covers, fresh tears stinging her eyes. How she had any left, she had no idea.

  .~ * * * ~.

  Beckett sat in a sedan, staring at the flat grays and browns of DIA’s high prairie landscape.

  “Visiting or returning home?” the Uber driver asked.

  “Returning home,” Beckett replied absently. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Andie’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Again. For days, she’d been acting strange—ever since canceling out on the hockey game. A call to her that night had gotten no response, and he’d barely spoken to her since. Texting was no better. He tapped his finger against his chin.

  He understood. The divorce was nearly final;
she was probably keeping busy to avoid thinking about it. But he was here, ready to help her through the days, the nights. Take her someplace special or hold her on the couch while she cried, if that’s what she wanted. Or eat a tub of her favorite ice cream with her. It was her call. Whatever she wanted him to be, whatever she needed, he’d be there. And in time, hopefully not too far from now, he’d tell her how he felt about her. That he wanted to heat up their friendship. That he wanted to love her. And more. But he’d have to take it slow so she wouldn’t spook. Now that he had a clear goal, going slow wouldn’t be easy—especially with the memory of that kiss blazing inside him.

  He laughed to himself. Jesus, how that simple act of bumping into her a year ago had flipped his life upside down! Her. Them. It was all he could think about. He’d been awash in willing women for so long that he’d forgotten how to work at getting one. But he sure as hell would do whatever it took to get her. He didn’t want anybody else. He could wait if it meant having her in the end.

  After exiting the Uber, he took the stairs to his new office in a second-floor suite of shared workspaces. The receptionist was shared too, and she lowered her glasses as he hit the landing.

  “Mr. Miller, welcome back,” she said. “You have some mail, and a guest is waiting for you in your office.”

  “A guest?”

  “Yes. He said he’s a friend, and he stopped by without an appointment hoping to catch you. He hasn’t been here long.”

  “Thanks.” Puzzled, Beckett navigated the hallway to his office. A man stood at the window, his back to him. Beckett stiffened.

  “I wish I could say this is a pleasant surprise, but I’d be lying. What can I do for you?”

  Adrian turned and faced him, squaring his shoulders. “Is this how you greet all your visitors?”

  Beckett dropped his bags beside his desk and leaned against his credenza, surveying him. “Only those who treat my friends like shit.”

  Adrian hmphed. “I assume you mean my wife. From what I understand, you two have been a little more than friends.”

  “You mean Andie? What’s your point?” Beckett folded his arms across his chest.

  “Why do you insist on calling her that ridiculous name?”

  “Because it pisses you off.”

  Adrian snorted. “Look, Miller, I just came to tell you to stay away from her.”

  “Did you forget she’s divorcing you?”

  Knuckling his fists on the desk, Adrian leaned forward and glowered. “You have no claim on her, Miller.”

  “Bite me, Paulson. Neither do you. You dump her for some piece of ass you’ve been nailing for a year, and then what? You make up some jealous husband bullshit right before the divorce is final? She’s smarter than that.”

  Adrian straightened. “Talked to Paige lately?”

  Beckett glared at him, trying to suppress the rising alarm sirens pitching in his head.

  “I didn’t think so.” Adrian grinned wickedly. “Paige and I aren’t done. Not by a long shot. She told me in bed the other night she couldn’t bring herself to tell you, so I said I’d do it for her. How do you think I knew where your office is? Or when you’d be here?”

  Beckett’s gut clenched, and breath squeezed from his lungs as though he’d taken a shoulder to the solar plexus. His fingertips curled under the lip of the credenza and dug in. “What’s the real reason for your visit, Paulson?”

  “Like I told you, stop seeing Paige.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  Adrian’s chin inched up. “What is she to you? Conquest number one thousand? Did she win a T-shirt?”

  Despite his size, despite being on land, Beckett moved quickly, his fist connecting with Adrian’s perfect jaw. The shithead dropped like a sack of rice and sprawled on the carpet.

  Joy boiling over, fists clenched, Beckett loomed over him. He bounced in place, adrenaline surging, focused, taut, ready, willing Adrian to lunge, aching for another swing at the cocksucker.

  Adrian pulled himself up on his elbow and gingerly prodded his jaw. “You bastard! You broke my jaw!”

  Beckett answered in a low growl. “Maybe that’ll stop you flapping your fucking gums when you talk about her, you whiny little motherfucker.”

  Adrian sat up, his chin in his hand. “I’m going to sue you, Miller.”’

  “For what? Coming into my place of business and threatening me? I was defending myself, so fuck you.”

  The adrenaline ebbed, and Beckett’s hand started to throb. He opened and closed his fist.

  Adrian wagged a finger. “Stay away from her, Miller. I mean it. Stay away from Paige.”

  Beckett snorted derisively. “Who’s going to stop me? You? Make your move! Oh wait. You don’t have any, do you, asshole? Now get the hell out of my office, you fucking piece of shit, before I hit you again.”

  Adrian pulled himself up and left. Beckett heaved in a huge breath and exhaled, words spinning and blaring in his head. She told me in bed the other night. In bed. The other night. She told me in bed. We’re not done.

  He dropped into his chair. Elbows on his desk, he held his head and dug his fingers into his scalp. His hand hurt, but his hammering heart hurt worse.

  “How could you go back to that douchebag, Andie?” he ground out.

  Beckett’s body had slowed to its regular rhythm, but his thoughts twisted like jetsam in an ocean whirlpool. Maybe Adrian had lied. Wouldn’t put it past that prick.

  He looked at his phone. No calls from Andie. No texts. It was crystal-clear she’d been giving him the brush-off all week, and maybe now he knew why. And it pissed him off.

  He stabbed at her number. Her singsong voice told him she wasn’t available but that he should leave his name and number and she’d call him back. Before the beep sounded, he ended the call. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the ceiling. This woman! He needed answers.

  Fifteen minutes later, he exited another Uber and strode up Andie’s walk. A dark-haired woman opened the door. Her eyes popped behind her bright red rims, reminding him of a bug.

  “Hi,” he said. The woman dropped her jaw. “I’m here to see Paige Paul—” Fuck it. “Paige Anderson. I’m Beckett Miller.”

  “I … I know,” the woman stammered.

  He arched an eyebrow. “You must be Katie. Can I come in?”

  Flustered, she opened the door and stood aside. “I am. Yes, of course. Yes.”

  When she’d closed the door, he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Katie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Katie looked at his hand as if it might explode, then hesitantly took it. “You have?”

  He bit back a wince and put on his magazine smile. “Yep, and I’m glad to finally meet you. Is Paige here?”

  Katie seemed to come to. “No, but she’ll be back anytime. You can wait in the office. Is she expecting you?”

  “No, it’s a surprise.” He winked conspiratorially.

  She tittered nervously and led him to Andie’s office, where she indicated a chair. He sat. The phone rang, but Katie continued gawping at him, slowly lowering herself behind her desk.

  “You going to answer?” He pointed at the phone. “It might be your boss. But don’t tell her I’m here.”

  She jumped. “Uh … yes. No. Right.”

  If he hadn’t been so damn wound up, he’d have found Katie’s fluster amusing. Flattering, even. Responses like hers had been common enough, even among the beautiful models and actresses who inhabited the stratosphere. But when his career fizzled, so did their attention. He’d fallen a long way, and they’d barely glanced down from their high perches to see if he’d landed on his feet or splatted like an overgrown paintball. It hadn’t surprised him. What did surprise him was he hadn’t looked up at those frozen clouds, aching to be among them.

  The thought of not being in Andie’s world, however, fractured him. Christ, it hurt.

  As Katie talked on the phone, the garage door hummed beside the wall. He flashed his eyes to the window as the f
amiliar gold Tacoma pulled in. A door closed, and Andie flew into the office. And stopped.

  Her eyes and mouth went round. “What are you doing here?”

  He laced his hands over his stomach as though he didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything, as though his heart wasn’t slamming against his ribcage. “Adrian paid me a call, and I was hoping you’d clear up a few things for me. I’ve had a hard time getting hold of you, so the mountain has come to Muhammad.”

  Andie darted panicky eyes to Katie, who had just hung up. “Um, Katie, why don’t you knock off early today?’

  Katie’s gaze bounced between them. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

  When she was gone, Andie ushered him into the kitchen and zoomed around like a hummingbird intent on sampling every goddamn bloom in a field of flowers. She served him a steaming mug of coffee at the kitchen table. Had her hand been shaking?

  “I thought Katie was going to keel over. She’s had a crush on you for a long time, you know.” She blew a ripple over the surface of her hot drink and, still acting the hummingbird, took a tiny sip. He didn’t respond, and she continued. “So. You said Adrian paid you a visit?” She kept her eyes on the coffee.

  He rested his chin in his hand. “You know, that’s one of the things I like best about you. You cut to the chase. Except when you ignore me outright, of course.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes shifted nowhere in particular—just not toward him. “I’m sorry.”

  If he’d been expecting more, he was disappointed. “He says the divorce is off.”

  Her eyes snapped to his. “What else did he say?”

  Shit. She’s not denying it. “The sleeping together part, you mean?” He slurped his coffee and held his breath.

  “He told you that?”

  “Afraid so.” The coffee tasted bitter, and he slid the mug away. If only he had something stronger.

  “He had no right! That was between him and me.”

  Fuck! It’s true. Beckett’s gut twisted.

  She dropped her face in her hands and shook her head. A high-pitched sort of moan came from her, but he couldn’t make it out.

  “What?” he snapped.