by Meader, Kate
It doesn’t go with the theme, Sadie. This dinner party is supposed to be a celebration of Prince’s life!
Wait until she hears doves don’t actually cry.
Sadie was skating on thin ice when it came to her job, but she just had to stall for a few weeks more. Pack up the house, her sister, and the dog, close the loops and cauterize the wounds …
Another reason for her delay stemmed from a disturbing discovery she’d made among her father’s papers. Getting a head start on packing up his study—still no joy on that locked desk drawer—she had come across an envelope addressed to her father, written with a Sharpie. There was something loud and belligerent about the handwritten script. Curious, she opened it.
Burn in hell with your dead wife, asshole.
Sadie’s heart had pounded as she sorted through the rest, mostly bills and account statements she would pass on to the lawyer. At least three other envelopes had handwritten addresses, which was unusual enough in this day and age to put Sadie on notice. She had opened another.
You’ve ruined my life. All my savings are gone and my wife left me. May you rot in prison.
More polite, that one. No signature on either. Of course people would be angry at losing their money and the collapse of their dreams. While Sadie doubted Lauren would open the mail, she needed to do a better job protecting her. So much to think about when your life started revolving around a child.
Only as Sadie was leaving the house did she realize she didn’t have contact numbers for the camp. She was failing epically here. She’d tried calling Lauren, only to find her sister’s phone on the sofa among the rest of her detritus.
Outside the facility’s entrance, she spotted Lauren sitting on the curb with a mountain three times her size. As they stood, Sadie’s eyes came to rest very easily on this giant with huge shoulders, untidy, dark blond hair, and a full beard. She parked—sloppily—and jumped out of the SUV.
“Lauren, I’m so sorry! I didn’t take the rush hour traffic into account and—”
“Doesn’t matter,” her sister cut her off. She turned to the giant. “Thanks for waiting with me.”
The giant nodded, all his focus on Lauren, and helped load her gear, a big bag and a hockey stick, into the trunk. He even opened the back door, watched while Lauren clambered in, and cast a beady eye over the seatbelt situation, making sure her sister was suitably restrained. Okay. He muttered something too low for Sadie to hear, but whatever it was made her sister smile. A real honest-to-God smile! Closing the door, he turned to Sadie.
The full-on view was even better than the profile. He wore black sweat pants and a gray tee with the slogan “I like hockey and maybe like three people.” Cute. Thick forearms were currently getting a nice flex on as he fisted his hips. Blue eyes rimmed with a hazel-gold fire stared back at her. His mouth was set in a stern seal that matched the scarring along his cheek, only partially covered by that hot beard. A story there, no doubt.
“Thanks for—”
“Miss, we need to talk.”
Miss? That sounded rather sexy coming from those forbidding lips. “Okay.”
Of course today she looked like one of Cooper’s turds. If she’d realized she’d be meeting some hottie hockey camp guy, she’d probably not have gone with the baggy, spaghetti-sauce splattered tee that pronounced her CUPCAKE WHISPERER. Not that it was even that baggy, or inaccurate. In fact, it clung to her generous hips and did not cover nearly enough of her ass, which were lovingly hugged by yoga pants. (The most action she’d seen in months.) The different-colored flip-flops were the perfect finishing touch.
If she’d shown up to work like this, Allegra would’ve fired her on the spot.
To compensate for her just tumbled out of a bag of Doritos appearance, she smiled at the hockey camp guy. It was her best feature and usually got her out of trouble.
“You’re late.”
The harshness of his tone took her off guard. “Excuse me?”
“You’re twenty five minutes late.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “Are you one of the camp counselors?”
His eyebrow raise had a rather superior inflection, she thought. “Something like that.”
“Well, Mr. …” He left her hanging. Charming. “I actually have multiple demands on my time these days so I’m going to drop the ball on occasion. I’m here now, so thanks for your time.” Shaken by his attack, she turned to leave. He might be hot, but she didn’t need this level of aggravation.
“I’ll have to report this.”
She pivoted, annoyed as all hell he was still speaking to her. The waves of judgement rolling off him almost flattened her.
“Report it? What business is it of yours?”
“When one of these kids is in harm’s way, it becomes my business.”
She could feel her mouth gaping. “Harm’s way? I was twenty minutes late, you asshole. I know it’s not cool but I’m juggling a lot of balls here.”
“Boyfriend one of those balls? Or is he home ignoring the other kid?”
“The other …” Boyfriend? Harm’s way? She shot a look over her shoulder to Lauren, who was nose-deep in her phone, oblivious to whatever she’d put in motion. Or completely aware.
The lying minx.
When Sadie turned back, the giant was closer. He leaned in ever so slightly, which would have been pleasant if he wasn’t such a dick, and … sniffed. It wasn’t one of those inhaling the fragrant scent of my lover sniffs, either. More like “is that an open sewer I smell?”
“What are you doing?”
He stopped suddenly. Cast a sharp glance at Lauren, who was doing a stellar job of avoiding his gaze. Back to Sadie. Surprising emotional range was showcased as he parsed a number of thoughts flying around his hockey-lug brain.
She helped him get there. “Believe every word out of a twelve-year-old’s mouth, do you? I guess training for the camp counselors is slacking big time.”
He rubbed his beard, aw-shucks embarrassment transforming his expression from stern to sexy.
Then he spoke and ruined it. “Maybe I jumped to a conclusion or three there.”
Worst apology ever.
“Maybe you did.” Great comeback, Sadie. Stellar burn.
She turned away, furious with him, with Lauren, but mostly with herself for taking this crap. As if she didn’t have enough going on. She was trying to do the right thing by everyone.
Screw this guy and the high horse he rode in on. Hot people thought they could get away with anything. Whirling to face him, she asked roughly, “What exactly did she say to you?”
“She spun quite a tale. Abandoned kids, high-as-a-kite guardians, drug dealer boyfriends. Apparently you’re glad to have her out of the house to carry on with your, uh, activities. A social services visit might have been mentioned.” He rubbed his mouth, clearly finding humor in the situation, and why couldn’t she? “I should have known it sounded weird, especially the boyfriend stuff. Thinks she’s too good for the rest of the class. Gets better workouts at her school.”
He passed over the boyfriend comment so quickly, but not quick enough for Sadie. Anyone with two eyes, especially ones as amused as this guy’s, could see that she wasn’t girlfriend material, at least not how she looked today: too many pounds, a bit of a frump, a hot mess.
“Interesting. She’d have to actually attend said school and not be expelled for fighting for that to be true. What else?”
“What I said about you wanting her out of the way—”
“To spend time with my boyfriend. Right. That’s the weak part of her story, the part that tipped you off. Because that couldn’t possibly be correct, could it?”
His brows drew together. “I have no idea. I was waiting here and annoyed on her behalf and put two and two together—”
“And got never in a million years.”
“Hey, wait a second. I feel like we’re having two different conversations here.”
Unbelievable. “I need to go.”
&
nbsp; He stepped forward. “I apologized for going off on you.”
“No. You didn’t. But I truly believe that you think you did, so I suppose we have that to be grateful for. Thanks again for waiting with her. Enjoy your evening.”
She walked around the other side and with trembling hands, yanked at the car door handle.
“Put on your seat belt,” she barked over her shoulder, even though Mr. Safety First had taken care of it. Then she left that parking lot with as much dignity as a woman in a spaghetti-sauce stained cupcake-themed tee could manage.
By the time she stopped at the Wendy’s drive-through, she’d calmed down by about fifty percent. In the absence of In-N-Out burgers—stupid Illinois—she had to go for the next best thing because she had no intention of cooking tonight.
May as well laze around getting high with her imaginary boyfriend.
“What’ll it be?” When Lauren didn’t answer, she turned around.
Her sister regarded her with suspicion. “Aren’t you mad?”
Furious. “Why should I be?”
She shrugged, confused. “I know Gunnar spoke to you and you looked mad at him.”
Gunnar. Of course he’d have some weird superhero Viking name to go with the massive shoulders, unreasonably attractive beard, and pillage-her-village attitude.
“Because I’m trying to cut you some slack. I can’t stop you from having negative thoughts about me. If you need to lie about me because you can’t think of any actual abuse, then we’re probably okay.”
Lauren looked out the window. “I don’t want to go to LA. I want to stay here with Dad.”
Sadie closed her eyes for a second. “Do you know what could have happened if that hockey guy hadn’t spoken to me first? If he’d reported me to the authorities? If they believed it?”
“I wouldn’t have to move to LA.”
Grrr. They reached the ordering window. “What would you like?”
“Taco salad. No chili.”
She put in the order for that—though she suspected a Wendy’s salad was probably awful, serve her right—and a Baconator for herself.
“And a vanilla milkshake?”
“Alright.” Only because Sadie wanted one, too. “So, how was camp, apart from the false abuse allegations?”
“I got into a sort-of fight.”
“What?” The Viking could have mentioned that, but then he was too busy being a judgmental ass.
“I checked someone and they didn’t like it.”
“Checked someone?”
“Pushed with my shoulder. It’s a big part of hockey but they don’t like it when kids do it.” She sounded annoyed. God forbid the child’s desire to destroy was inhibited. “He’s a good player, the kid I checked. Just not as good as me.”
Sadie smiled privately at the tone of grudging admiration she heard in her sister’s voice along with the confidence in her own abilities.
“That guy I spoke to? Gunnar?” The name sounded strong, like a medieval fort or eighty proof liquor. “He said you thought you were too good for this class. Is that true?”
“That I thought it or that I am?”
“Either.”
“Both.”
What must it feel like to be that good at something and unafraid to tell the world about it? Sadie had felt like that years ago when she moved to LA, filled with hopes and dreams, fueled by an urge to prove her father wrong. Drawing pictures of dresses isn’t a real job, Sadie. The classic, You’ll need to find a rich husband to support you. And the cruelest, You’re not unique enough to stand out. After marrying Sadie’s flighty and artistic mother, a woman who couldn’t be tied down, he’d been determined to stamp out any of her mother’s traits.
Perhaps he had. Ten years later, she had little to show for it.
She refocused on her sister. Coco Chanel in Heaven but was she smiling back at her?
“I’m sure we can find a school in LA that knows what to do with someone of your talents.”
The smile vanished, taking the good vibe with it. “I’m not going.”
Sadie drove to the pickup window. “Let’s try to end the day on a positive note. You’re about to have a taco salad and a milkshake, you’ve established you’re better than your peers, and you made me look like a drug-addicted crackhead. What a productive day for you!”
Lauren squinted at her again, probably trying to assess if Sadie was being sarcastic. She was but she was also being kind, which made Sadie a doormat, she supposed. Same difference.
Thank the goddess she had a Baconator in her future.
11
“Hey, what are you doing here so early?”
Gunnar turned to find Isobel Chase standing before him at the entrance to the Rebels’ practice facility. Tall and well-built, with a shock of dark hair tied in a ponytail, she cut quite the imposing figure, reminding Gunnar of her late father Clifford more than any of the Chase sisters.
“I wanted to chat with one of the hockey moms—well, hockey sister. If that’s a thing.” With the Chase family, owners of the Rebels, he supposed it might be. He was still confused about what had happened yesterday with Lauren’s sister but he’d been married long enough to know when he’d stepped in it, rolled around in it, and ate it.
“Oh?” Isobel zeroed in on him with green, all-seeing eyes. “What happened?”
“One of the kids, Lauren, said some stuff about her home life that put me on alert and when her sister was late to pick her up I might have been a bit sharp with her.”
“Lauren? That’d be Lauren Yates. Tough situation.”
“It is?”
“Her father was recently sentenced to prison in some major fraud case. And she lost her mother several months ago. Cancer, I believe. I was kind of surprised to see her name on the list. I was sure they’d cancel.”
That sounded like a clusterfuck of epic proportions. No wonder Lauren had looked so wounded when he asked how her parents felt about her NHL ambitions. Right after that, she came up with the tall tale. Nice work, Bond.
The sister looked a good deal older so maybe they were only half-siblings. They definitely weren’t close, judging by the way those lies slipped so easily from Lauren’s mouth.
Something about the older sister had put him on edge. Not her defensiveness. That he understood. She came off as holding on to her pride by a thread, and not all that surprised to be the subject of her younger sister’s fabrication. She’d expected trouble.
With her unmatched flip-flops, figure-shaping tee, and a chip on her shoulder the size of a rink, she’d certainly made an impression. Beneath that red-gold hair tied in a messy topknot, she’d looked harried and annoyed until she smiled at him. A great, hooky smile that had almost prevented him from screwing up. Almost.
Her eyes shone like silver stars.
He realized that Isobel was still speaking to him and he hadn’t heard half of what she said while he was thinking of Lauren Yates’s sister and her wicked smile and storybook eyes.
“What’s that?”
Isobel frowned. “What did she say about her home life? We have a mandatory reporter status here, so if we suspect something is wrong …”
“No, the kid’s lashing out, trying to make trouble for the sister. They don’t get along, which is one thing. And the kid thinks she’s too good for this group, which is another.”
“She sort of is,” Isobel said with a knowing grin. “I remember what that was like. She has great skills for a twelve-year-old, but that doesn’t mean she can’t learn something. Maybe we can talk to Jax about putting her in the U14 group. Thing is, she’d get crushed by those bigger kids.” She put a finger to her chin. “I’ll take a closer look at her today and let you know if I have any ideas. We only have four days left but she’s also signed up for next week’s session as well, so I’d hate to think she’s not getting the most out of it.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to the sister.”
Isobel folded her arms. “I’m happy to take care of that. You didn’t sig
n up for heart-to-hearts with the parents.”
In this case, more like an ice pick to the heart. “I didn’t sign up for any of this but someone dragged me back to Chicago to make me work in the off-season.”
“Your boss sounds like a real asshole.” She grinned. “I can talk to this woman you’ve pissed off.”
Passing the buck was attractive, but he wasn’t one for shirking his duty. “I made a mistake and I’d like to own it.”
She looked a touch too gleeful at his admission. “I’d be the last person to ever prevent a man from owning up to a mistake. Good luck, G-man!”
* * *
“Ms. Yates?”
Sadie turned at the sound of a deep, rumbly voice, only to be greeted by him, the hockey camp guy. Where was a sinkhole when you needed one?
“Could I have a word?”
She exchanged a glance with Lauren, who she was pleased to say looked worried. She banished that petty thought. Last night Sadie had resisted delving too deep into why Lauren would so blatantly lie. Better to not know how much her sister must hate her.
“Sure. Lauren, I’ll see you here at four. Don’t be late, you whippersnapper!”
Her sister ignored her and went inside the glass front doors. Whippersnapper? What was she, eighty? She’d be handing out boiled candy next.
Hockey Viking loomed expectantly, waiting for her to speak. How refreshing.
“Can you make it quick? I have a lot of errands to run.”
Next stop was a visit to the vet with Cooper, currently slobbering over the back seat upholstery. All that pooping and now, vomiting, had to be for a reason. As soon as she dealt with the marble statue in front of her.
Tree-trunk was more apt. Viking even more so. Olaf? No, that was the goofy snowman. The other guy, the broad-shouldered hero. Kristian or something.
“I won’t keep you long. I wanted to apologize properly for yesterday.”
Never mind that. “I heard she got into some sort of fight. And you didn’t tell me.” She moved closer, pointing a finger in the general direction of a defined pec. “Is my sister safe doing this?”
