Chapter Five

Silver almost felt guilty about leaving Asher after he’d gone out and gotten all her favorite foods, but the guilt couldn’t stand up to her anger. She drained half a flask of rum, stuffed it in her purse, and fished out a cherry Tootsie Pop as the elevator descended. Sugar, caffeine, and liquor mixed together made her jittery, yet kinda mellow, almost the perfect balance. There were other things that could give her a better fix, but she wasn’t going there ever again.

As she made her way across the main floor, her resolve weakened. The cold dismissal from Dean had hit her hard. Not that she’d ever consider fooling around with him now that she’d gotten him out of her system—Have you? Really?— but damn it, she hadn’t expected him to react the way he had. The team mattered more to him than she did.

Get over it. It’s not like you’ve never felt this way before. She realized she’d worked her hand into her purse to cup the tiny vial in her palm like a cherished memento. Jerking her hand out, she clipped the purse shut. You don’t need his approval. Or anything else from him. You just need him to accept that you’re in charge.

Still, that weak, needy part of her she usually ignored refused to shut up. Not because of Dean—forget him!—but because of Asher. More and more often he showed, in little ways, that she wasn’t all that important to him. He loved Cedric, and she wanted to believe he loved her too, but . . . hell, she might as well admit it. He didn’t. So where did that leave her?

Alone. Her sister hadn’t answered the one concerned call she’d made. Her father wouldn’t want to hear about her “drama.”

Her simple, five inch heels clipped briskly on the marble tiles. The points found a wide gap and she stumbled. Dropping to one knee, she glanced around to see if anyone had witnessed her humiliation. The security guard pointedly focused on his newspaper. Not one person passing even paused.

I might as well be invisible.

A few years ago, she would have screamed to get someone’s attention. Would have bitched about the tiles and demanded they be fixed immediately. People would have scurried around, ready to cater to her every whim . . .

But she didn’t make a sound. She stood and straightened her pants, wincing at the dull throb in her knee. Limping, she made her way to the door, her vision warped by tears. The cool outside air smacked her face as she pushed it open.

A big hand smacked the door over her head. A wall of muscle in a snug grey T-shirt and faded jeans blocked her path. Before she could react, Landon spoke, his deep, gruff voice softened around the edges by his accent. “Hey. You all right?”

Doing her best to stand up straight, she nodded. “I just tripped. My pride hurts worse than anything else.”

He curved his hand under her elbow and guided her past the doors, helping her lean against the wall before crouching down. “I’m not surprised, but I’d like to take a look anyway.” His light grey eyes met hers as he curved his fingers under one pant leg. “Do you mind?”

“No. Go ahead.” She pressed her eyes shut as he gently rolled her pant leg over her knee and sucked in a breath as the material peeled away from broken flesh. His freshly-showered scent hit her like a gust of wind rising from a summer rain. His calloused fingers brushing alongside the wound distracted her from the pain. Distracted her a little too much. She smirked, sure it was intentional. “Like what you see?”

“Not at all. Torn flesh and blood just isn’t my thing. I’m a breast man, myself.” He straightened and grinned at her. His grin turned to a frown when she evaded his gaze. “Did I say something wrong?”

She sniffled, hating that she couldn’t pull it together. A breast man? Just great. All she seemed to hear lately was that no one wanted her. “I have tiny boobs.”

“I would argue that, considering I’ve seen them.” Landon winked and she couldn’t help but let out a watery giggle. “But right now all I’m thinking about is patching you up. You won’t take offense if I tell you the only thing I want to put on you is a Band-Aid, will you? I’ve got some good lines to practice on you after if you want.”

“Really?” She allowed him wrap to his arm around her shoulders, encasing her securely against his solid body. Such a big, hot—very hot—man. She peeked up at his face. His smile was playful, without a hint of lust. She wasn’t sure whether she should be disappointed or not. He did want to practice lines on her after all. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard them all.”

“Damn.” He led her to a Jeep and held the door open as she climbed in. “So is ‘Any more than a mouthful’ lame? Could you help me come up with new material?”

“Why would you bother asking? I—” She cut herself off. He almost hung up on you about twenty minutes ago for suggesting he wanted to fuck you. Don’t go there. He’d been insulted. He was the only person being nice to her. Time to attempt her first normal conversation with a man she wasn’t related to. “Yeah. It is kinda lame. You want some friendly advice? Don’t comment on breasts when you’re with a woman with small ones. Not until you’ve got her naked. At that point, worshiping them works.”

“So if she’s got massive hooters I should remark on them at once?”

“Only if you wanna get slapped.”

His deep laugh sent a warm rush straight through her. “Maybe I’m kinky that way.”

You sure he doesn’t want to fuck you?

How could she be? She didn’t think it was possible, but Landon made her forget her suspicions as he quickly cleaned her wound and gently covered it with a large Band-Aid. He kissed the top of her knee in a way that seemed so automatic she didn’t even try to read anything into it—though her skin tingled where his lips had pressed long after he rolled her pant leg down.

Damn, it felt . . . nice. Not sexual. Nothing sexual had ever been so tender.

I really hope he doesn’t want to fuck me.

Music started up the second he turned the key. Before long, the upbeat dance tune had her swaying and singing along, tapping her lollipop hand on her knee in time to the beat. They drove for a bit without a word, both enjoying the music. At a stoplight, Landon looked at her with an unreadable smile on his lips.

“So,” he spoke loud over the music. “I hear you’re an actress? Is singing part of the job description?”

She winced. Asher told her all the time that she couldn’t carry a note. “Depends. If I started younger, maybe, but most of my parts didn’t involve much more than a willingness to show a bit of skin.”

His brow shot up. “You’re not a porn star, are you?” He held up a hand before she could come up with a biting response. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I have an unhealthy addiction to pornos, and I would remember you.”

Heat spread over her cheeks. “Are you serious?”

He snorted. “No. Do I look like some kind of perv?”

At that point, she really couldn’t say one way or another. But if he was a perv, he was a cut above the rest. He’d passed the fifteen minute mark without leering and groping. Which earned him some serious brownie points.

She stuck her lollipop in her mouth and sucked hard. Then shifted it to one side of her mouth. “Why the question then?” She crunched on what was left of the candy and dropped the stick in the empty ashtray. “Not that I’m all that surprised, but why even mention porn star?”

“You brought up showing skin.” He shrugged. “You’ve got a nice voice. I think you sold yourself short.”

Oh, he’s so full of shit! She shook her head and smiled. “I do not. But you’re sweet to say so.”

“I get the impression that you don’t believe me.” He eased the Jeep into a space on a grungy, low-end shopping district street and shifted into park. “Me and you are gonna do karaoke one day. Maybe you’ll believe the drunken, cheering crowd.”

Her eyes went wide. “Not now? I’m not up to—”

“I think I mentioned darts.” He got out and went around the car to open her door. “Maybe we can hit a karaoke club this weekend.”

“Maybe . . .” Singing in public wasn’t high on her to-do list. She really, really hated being laughed at. “But I thought we were going out for lunch.”

He glanced over at the bar he’d parked in front of. “This place serves food. I hope you weren’t expecting anythin’ fancy?”

He brought me out for greasy bar food? She wrinkled her nose. This had to be the oddest date she’d ever been on.

It’s not a date.

Right. Still, if she ate here, she’d be obliged to sign up for a local gym. Her Dartmouth “owner” career had gotten off to a rocky start. And Daddy would take the reins back any day now. If she wanted to maintain her independence, she might want to start looking for work soon. And her body was the only thing she had that was worth anything.

“Do you think they serve salads?”

“Oh, no. You’re not allowed to do that. We’re hanging out as friends.” Landon folded his arms over his broad chest. “Save the ‘I’ll just have a salad’ for the men you’re trying to impress. With me, you’re gonna eat normal. You’re not allergic to French fries, are you?”

“No, but—”

“Do you like them?”

Well . . . To be honest, once in a while she did enjoy scarfing down all kinds of naughty, fattening foods. French fries became a comfort food when she quit sniffing. But after gaining three pounds in a week, she’d gotten back on her no carbs diet.

“I like them . . .” She drew her shoulders back. “But I have to be careful. You must get that? You know about keeping in shape.”

His expression turned serious. “Very true. So how about after we stuff our faces, we walk to the forum? That should burn all those nasty calories.”

“You’ll be late getting back to training.”

“I like living on the edge.” He held the bar door open for her. “I just got here. I don’t want the coaching staff to think I’m predictable.”

She arched a brow as she paused by his side. “How much am I paying you again?”

“Way too much.” He chuckled and gave her a little shove. “But I won’t let you down so long as you don’t expose my strategy. I plan to be an old-style goalie. A little weird. You good with that?”

With his kind of weird? Oh, hell yeah! She had no clue what would happen on the ice, but right here, right now, he was everything she needed and more. He didn’t take anything seriously! And he made her feel like it was okay for her to do the same.

“I reserve judgment.” She gave him a sideways smile. “I should be honest. I’m a sore loser too. I will so pull the ‘a gentleman would let me win’ card.”

“Will you?”

“Yes I will.”

He hugged her against his side and whispered in her ear. “Then I suggest you find yourself a gentleman. Because otherwise I will kick your ass without thinking twice.”

* * * *

Landon put the dart in Silver’s hand and pointed at the board. She seemed to have forgotten everything he’d taught her after hitting the wall a few times. “It’s really not that hard. Aim for the center. If you hit anywhere on the board, you’ll get points.”

Silver swayed into him, her three beers already testing her endurance. “Show off. You bought me that last beer because I got close.”

“Shh!” He steadied her with a hand under her elbow. “Don’t share my nefarious secrets! I just bought that guy in the corner a pitcher. I plan to go all dart shark on him.”

“Dart shark?” She took a firm hold on his shirt and pressed her eyes shut. “Are you for real?”

“Are you okay?” He hadn’t taken Silver for a light drinker, and after a good meal, he’d thought a few beers would be okay. But she was acting like she’d had more. “I like winning and all, but I’ve got some standards. If you can’t see the bull’s eye, you win by default.”

“Yay!” She folded into him and tipped almost off her heels. “Then I win!”

“You win.” His teasing took a hike and his protective nature rose to the forefront. “But I demand a rematch after you sleep this off.”

“Sleep this off?” Her brow wrinkled. “Do you think I’m drunk? Seriously? A bit of rum and beer ain’t enough to make me tipsy. I’m not a cheap date.”

“Damn.” Rum? When had she had rum? He led her to their table and leaned her against the table as he grabbed her suit jacket. That she was prancing around in a bra and dress pants should have given him a clue, but some of the waitresses were wearing just as little and he didn’t take Silver as the shy type. After she’d shed the jacket, she’d relaxed. It had taken him a little longer to unwind—how the hell could he not be aware of all that creamy, exposed flesh? But this was how she was used to people seeing her. He refused to judge. He’d just wanted her to be comfortable.

But maybe he should have said something.

“Damn?” She glared at him—well, more like glared at his shoulder, but apparently she wasn’t seeing straight. “Are you surprised that I’m not a cheap date?”

Cheap dates don’t start drinking before lunch. He considered saying as much, but decided against it. He knew players who drank before games because they couldn’t take the pressure. Could be a problem—especially if it got to the point that they couldn’t deal with getting up in the morning without a drink in their hand.

Was Silver like that? A lot of people might see her charmed life as nothing to get stressed about, but after seeing her with her boyfriends, and after hearing a bit about her dad . . .

“I don’t think you’re a cheap date. But I feel like an ass for not asking what had you ready to fall apart when I called.” He did up her jacket buttons. “You want to talk about it?”

She shook her head, then made a choked sound. “I fucked up. I wanted to prove I could handle the job, but the more I think about it—Dean was right. I never shoulda hired that guy.”

“Hired?” He frowned. “Did you hire a new president?”

“Oh, well that too.” She swallowed and teetered a little. “Do you think that’ll be an issue? I didn’t know Dean already had the position! He’s the general manager! And I figured Asher would make a good president. He can read contracts. I’m too stupid.”

“You know, I really hate people insulting my friends, so . . .” He tipped her chin up with a finger and looked into her over bright emerald green eyes. Contacts. Nothing about the woman was what it appeared to be. Including her confidence. “Don’t call yourself stupid.”

“Okay.” Resting her head against his chest, she spoke so quietly he had to bend down to hear her. “Do you know Scott Demyan?”

Oh no. “Not personally, but I’ve heard of him. Why?”

“I got him for the team.”

All righty then. He could see how Dean would have been pissed. No way would he approve of that showboating, chirping, antagonizer on the roster. They had at least one rookie who fit the bill already. Not that it mattered now. “Why did you do it?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Her brow furrowed as she sniffed into his shirt. “You smell nice.”

“Okay, now I know you’re wasted.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.” Redirecting her to the door, he did his best to hide her wavering walk so the bar patrons wouldn’t stare. Her legs gave out when they hit the sidewalk, and he carried her to his Jeep. “Would it be too forward of me to ask you for a favor?”

“Nope.” She laughed. “I’ve been waiting for it.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, but he refused to let her drunken rambling get to him. “Good. So no more rum for breakfast?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

She sighed and slumped into her seat. “Fine. But only if you tell me something.”

“Ask away.” He did up her seat belt and swiped away a tear that had spilled down her cheek. “I’m an open book.”

“Why do you care? You’re hot. You could get a girl with fewer issues.” She pursed her lips. “And what’s with the ‘friends’ thing?”

“Maybe I’ve got issues too. And maybe I need a friend.” Flattening his hands by her shoulders, he leaned in close. “You’re a lot less messed up than some people I’ve known. I’ve made my share of mistakes, and they had way more impact than anything you’ve done.”

Her hand found his and she blinked as though trying to see him better. “Tell me about it.”

“I will.” After patting her cheek, he stepped back and closed the door. He didn’t speak again until he’d pulled into the midday traffic. “If you promise to let me get you home and fix you up a pot of coffee before I leave, I promise to go into overshare mode the next time we go out. Deal?”

“Deal. But . . .” Her head in her hands, she whispered, “You’ve got to give me something. Why did you sound so worried on the phone?”

A lump the size of a boulder lodged in his throat. “Because the last time a woman called me to tell me she was about to lose her mind, I laughed it off and said I didn’t want to hear it. And I’ve been paying for it ever since.”