by Meader, Kate
His friend’s eyes went soft. “Thanks, man.”
As Theo headed out, Gunnar said, “Do me a favor, T.”
“Anything.”
“I know you tell your girl everything but could you hold off on mentioning what day it is? I’d rather not make Sadie feel awkward if I don’t have to.”
Theo’s brow rumpled. “You sure about that?”
“Positive. Let’s keep it to ourselves.”
Theo nodded his assent and headed back to the main house. Alone at last, Gunnar took a few deep breaths and watched the coffee squeeze out the last drip.
Why the secrecy? Sadie was a giver to the core, the kind of person who would expend all her energy trying to be there for him. He saw how it would go. If he cracked even a little, the floodgates would open, driven by a torrent of pain and remembrance. Better to keep her sheltered from the storm that might rage if he let it. As it stood now, he could lose himself in her body and draw the line—though these days it looked more like faded chalk on the sidewalk.
Three years ago on this day, his wife and children were torn from this world. Others might mourn on his behalf, but he would do his grieving alone.
* * *
“Oh, wow!” Sadie made her appreciation for Chase Manor known as they headed down the drive. “This is some spread.”
“Lots of money in pro sports, especially for owners.”
The mansion fronted the water in Lake Forest, a tony suburb north of Chicago. A sign on the front door instructed guests to walk around the house along a side path to the backyard. Music and voices got louder as they moved closer and the scent of grilling assaulted Gunnar’s nostrils.
Lauren had walked on ahead and made a beeline for Jason and Sean, who were hanging with a group of kids at the far end of the pool.
Sadie turned to Gunnar. “She’ll be okay, right?”
“Course she will.” He made a few small circles on the small of her back. “The only one who bites here is me.”
She shivered, a sexy little move that made Gunnar’s cock twitch. “C’mon, let me introduce you to some people.”
“Really? You want—oh, okay.”
Did she think he wanted to keep this under wraps? Or maybe that’s what she’d prefer? He didn’t mind that people saw he was here, getting on with his life. After all, he was! Maybe he’d get less of the sad eyes from the WAGs and fewer offers to set him up. He hadn’t thought of Sadie providing that kind of cover, but he had to admit it appealed.
“Gunnar Bond,” a smooth, sultry voice said behind him. He turned to find Harper Chase-DuPre, the Rebel Queen herself. “I hoped you’d show your face. Playoffs are over though.” She made a vague gesture at his beard.
“Harper, good to see you.” Usually he wouldn’t be kissing his boss, but Harper was a tactile woman who made a point of treating every player as family. She held the embrace a beat longer than usual, and he hoped that would be all she had to say on the subject of his loss.
“This is Sadie.”
“Sadie, the dress designer! Everyone’s raving about you. Lovely to meet you.”
“She’s amazing,” Gunnar said.
Harper gestured to Sadie’s dress, a candy-striped number with a full skirt and a bodice that shaped her breasts perfectly. “Is this from a pattern?”
“Actually, yes, one of my own. I usually like to adapt vintage styles I find in old magazines.”
“Mommy!”
Gunnar looked down to the source of a small yet powerful voice. A little blond girl clung to Harper’s skirt.
Harper cupped the girl’s cheek. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Giselle won’t give me Robby.”
Harper grimaced in sympathy, then turned to Sadie and Gunnar. “This is Amelie, my oldest by about five minutes. She and Giselle are always fighting over Robby the Turtle.”
“He’s a tortoise,” Amelie said.
“Thought he was a turtle.” Harper raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know the difference but my niece, Franky, who’s a wildlife expert, insists there is one.”
“Tortoises live on land, turtles are aquatic.” Sadie pointed at her head with the index finger of one hand. Only when she wrapped her other hand around Gunnar’s did he realize his pulse had spiked. “Dumb facts reside here.”
“A woman of many talents. Do you have a portfolio?”
“Of dumb facts? Not officially.”
“Your designs? The dresses.”
Sadie laughed, that soft tinkle that gutted Gunnar’s insides. “Oh, right! I do?” She made it sound like a question. With a negligent shrug, she turned and smiled at Gunnar. His heart was racing. That little girl, she was so like Janie … But Sadie tightened her grip, her clasp the only thing keeping him from doubling over.
He didn’t hear what they said because all he could see was the blond doll in front of him. She was pulling on Harper’s dress just like Janie used to do with Kelly. It took a moment for him to realize that Sadie was speaking to him.
“Hey, babe,” Sadie said, her smile soothing. “Could you grab me a white wine? Sauv blanc, if they have it.”
He blinked at her. She kept the smile fixed and squeezed his hand again. She was covering for him.
“Sure. Harper?”
“I’m fine.” She turned back to Sadie.
He headed to the bar and ran into Dante, looking strangely casual in a Hawaiian shirt. “All your suits at the dry cleaners?”
“Funny. Who’s that?” Dante jerked a chin over Gunnar’s shoulder.
“None of your business.”
“Rude.”
It was, but he wasn’t feeling like himself. Or maybe he was feeling exactly like himself. Old Gunnar. Pre-Sadie Gunnar. The sinking feeling in his chest was dragging him down. His pulse rate was rocketing and he hauled air to get it under control.
He’d known there would be kids here, some of them even close to the ages of his own children. Harper and Remy had three kids, two of them adorable twin girls aged three and a half or four. He’d seen them in the owners’ box from a distance. He’d seen pictures of them on the team’s social media. But here, up close … He hadn’t been to a big gathering like this and he wasn’t sure he could do it.
He flexed his hand, missing Sadie’s touch. “That’s Sadie,” he said to Dante. “Her sister is in the youth hockey camp.”
“Would that be the complicated youth hockey camp?”
“We’re just spending time together.”
“What happened to the woman you were texting?”
Gunnar shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“It’s good to see you.” Dante’s squeezed his arm. “I mean it.”
Gunnar mumbled his appreciation at being appreciated, rolled back his shoulders, and did his best imitation of a man not losing his shit. How had he thought this was a good idea? It was one thing to hang with that small group in Saugatuck, where all he could think about was taking Sadie into that cottage and ensuring she couldn’t walk straight for a week. But this was too much. He should be at the cabin, chopping wood, fixing that damn gutter, communing with fucking nature. He wasn’t fit for this kind of company.
His gaze tracked the partygoers, like players on the ice, the goal his woman. Sadie was now deep in conversation with Harper and Jordan Cooke, Levi Hunt’s fiancée. She spotted him staring and gave him that hooky smile, along with something else.
You’ve got this.
He took a deep breath. Okay, you can do this. It’ll be over soon.
It would be over sooner if he could expedite the proceedings. He pulled Lauren away from a bunch of kids. “C’mon, time to meet the Rebels’ captain.”
“Oh, okay!” She picked up a messenger bag filled with items she had brought to be signed.
They passed more kids on the way, several of them splashing about in the pool. With adult supervision, thank God.
Daddy, look at me. I’m swimming!
I see, baby. You’re doing great.
Vadim held court at one end of the pool with a few of the players in a semi-circle around him. Lauren hesitated but Gunnar placed a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s all good, Lo.” He guided her forward. “Hey, Petrov, this is Lauren Yates. She’s a big fan.”
“Lauren!” Petrov held out his hand for her to shake. “Sorry I can’t get up but you know …” He gestured to his knee in a brace. “I’ve seen video of you.”
“You have?”
“Sure, your coach, Mr. Bond, sent it to me. You have fire in your skates. Amazing for what, a fourteen-year-old?”
“I’m twelve,” Lauren said in a gush. “Almost thirteen.”
“Wow, even better. So talented.” He gestured to the players around him. “You know these jokers, Lauren?”
Everyone shook her hand and made her feel welcome.
Cal Foreman spoke up. “You’ll have to come to a game when the season starts, Lauren. I know someone who can get you good seats.”
That would have made any kid happy but this one. Her face crumpled. “I won’t be here. I’m leaving town.” She looked up at Gunnar, then back at Petrov. “I thought you were retiring.”
“The Great Petrov hanging up his skates?” a woman’s voice cut in. “You’d have to rope him to a Zamboni and drag him off.”
Gunnar turned to a smiling Mia Wallace, Petrov’s sister. There was another dramatic Rebels story with a soap opera wash to it. Mia was a college hockey star, a pick for the next Winter Olympics, and the perfect role model for Lauren. “Hey, Gunnar.”
“Hey, Mia. Have you met Lauren?”
“No!” She held out her fist for the bump. “Saw you play last week, but I had to leave right after. You were amazing. Wish I was that fast at your age.”
“You are fast enough now, sestra,” Petrov said darkly to his sister, which drew a snort from Cal. Mia glared at him, earning a wink from Foreman. She made a face and Cal chuckled.
Petrov seemed oblivious to the undercurrents. “I’m not quite ready to call it a day,” he said to Lauren. “Nikogda ne sdavaysya bez boya.”
“What does that mean?” Lauren asked.
“Never give up without a fight.”
“Don’t forget to get your stuff signed,” Gunnar prompted.
“Right!” She opened her bag and fumbled around in it. Several items fell out. A notepad, pencils, a Petrov jersey, a game program from a couple of seasons back, Poptarts, Skittles, a phone, and that teddy bear she carried around everywhere. She’d been pissed when Sadie stitched it up, but it had sounded more like she was going through the motions. Pushing back on every kind gesture from Sadie because it was expected.
She handed a Sharpie to Petrov. “What was that you said again? The Russian thing?”
Petrov smiled that billion-ruble grin. “Nikogda ne sdavaysya bez boya.” He wrote something in a Cyrillic script on the inside of her program.
Lauren repeated the words, mouthing them until she committed them to memory.
Someone nudged Gunnar. He turned to a haggard Tate Kaminski, the picture of sleep deprivation. Gunnar remembered embodying that look himself once.
“Hey, Tate.”
Kaminski angled a look around his shoulder. “Is that Jonah Yates’s kid?”
Not liking the sound of that, Gunnar moved to block access to Lauren. “What if it is?”
“You have any idea what that fucker has done? He stole from me.”
“Yeah, I know. He’s hurt plenty of people, including his daughters.”
His lip curled in a sneer. “Heard you were banging the other one.”
Gunnar placed a hand on his chest. “You do not want to start this, Kaminski.”
“Oh, yeah, why the hell not?” He pushed back.
“Problem, gentlemen?” Cal Foreman appeared at Tate’s shoulder, his expression as hard as cut glass.
“No problem,” Gunnar said. “Kaminski needs to exit my personal space before he does something he might regret.” He didn’t trust him around Lauren and Sadie. His wife had kicked him out, cut him off from his kids, and left Tate in a bad way. Gunnar understood the man’s pain. It was why he stayed away from people when he was at his lowest.
“You don’t get a say here,” Tate said, but Cal was already steering him away toward the house.
Gunnar checked in on Lauren who was talking to Mia. She smiled shyly, and he gave her a thumbs up which obviously ruined it because she shook her head and rolled her eyes. At least she was safe. For now.
Putting Tate Kaminski out of his mind, Gunnar tried to enjoy himself. All these people, and he was doing okay. Because of Sadie. Sadie, who set his body on fire and smoothed his anxiety with her calm.
He sought her out, needing his fix. His heart erupted when he saw her, fixing the hair of one of Harper’s girls. Sadie in no way resembled Kelly but that little girl was so like Janie. And a twin, as well.
Daddy, my head hurts.
I know, baby. Daddy’s here. He’s going to make it better.
Except he didn’t make it better. He didn’t do a damn thing.
31
Sadie was enjoying herself immensely.
She had attended tons of LA pool parties, though usually they were more opulent than this and more often than not, she was working them for Allegra. Here she didn’t feel she had to watch every word she said or try to blend into the sago palms like the help.
Her heart lifted at the sight of Lauren having fun. Earlier her sister had met the Rebels’ captain, a Russian guy with supermodel cheekbones, and now she was showing the items he’d signed to Jason and Sean. She’d even smiled at Sadie about thirty minutes ago and Sadie took that inside her heart and held it there. Maybe it would be okay.
The talent on display rivaled a Hollywood pool party, for sure. Plenty of man candy caught Sadie’s eye, between Harper’s tasty husband Remy and his Cajun drawl to a forbidding brooder with a Scottish accent to the team’s general manager, Dante Moretti, who had to be the hottest guy she’d seen in real life.
But none of them drew her in like Gunnar.
They weren’t tied at the hip but it seemed they were aware of where the other was at all times. Every half hour or so, he would stop by to replace her empty glass, brush his fingers against hers, or just to say hi, all subtle gestures of caring that made her heart grow three sizes.
Similarly, she tried to look out for him, watching for any interaction with blond angels that would remind him of his children. If she couldn’t soothe him with words, she would use every tool in her skillset to keep him safe from those demons.
With one ear on the conversation between Elle, Jordan, and Isobel Chase—a spirited discussion about why there were so many mattress stores in Chicago—she kept her remaining focus on the man she’d fallen for in the worst possible way.
Good thing she was leaving Chicago soon. Better if she was leaving sooner.
Getting Lauren settled in LA and making up for the time away from Allegra would fill every second and stop any ridiculous brooding over her sore heart. Still, like a junkie seeking her fix, she sought him out because no man here could compare.
He was looking at her, an eyebrow raised in query. Are you okay? She smiled and he smiled back, and she felt a surge of such affection it almost knocked her over. They were a team, fighting all the slings and arrows shooting their way. He might not want to talk to her about his pain, but she could protect him this way, assure him with a glance that she was here for him.
Another handsome hunk she didn’t recognize said something to him that diverted his attention. She checked back into the conversation, which had moved on to another topic.
“Some people have rated it 1-star?” Jordan was saying. “For Stonehenge!”
Sadie’s phone buzzed with a message from Gunnar. Ready to go soon?
Whenever you are. Everything okay?
Yeah, I want some alone time with you.
She closed her eyes. This wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t say things like that, not when they seeped into her
chest cavity like the fog from that horror movie and turned her into a Gunnar-Zombie.
Preparing to say her goodbyes, she became aware of a presence at her shoulder. A tall bearded man with red-rimmed eyes stood beside her, thrumming with energy.
“Your father’s a fucking prick.”
Sadie started at his tone more than his words. “Can’t say I don’t agree.”
He evidently wasn’t expecting her to concur. Quickly he recovered. “You think you can wheedle your way in here, pick up where your asshole father left off?”
Jordan placed a hand on the man’s arm. “Tate, let’s go get you something to eat.”
He shook her off and got in close to Sadie. Whiskey breath sprayed in her face with this next words. “Your father’s trash and I’m guessing you’re not much better.”
Sadie opened her mouth to speak but didn’t get far. Gunnar appeared behind him, his expression livid.
“I told you not to start anything, Kaminski. One more word and you’ll wish you never opened your mouth.”
Sadie gaped at how quickly this had escalated. There was history here, and not just because this Tate guy was another of her father’s victims.
“Gunnar, it’s okay. He has a right to be angry.”
“Yeah, Bond, listen to your woman.” Tate pushed against Gunnar’s chest, and that was all the tabloids wrote. Gunnar grabbed Tate’s T-shirt with both fists and pulled him away from Sadie. The next few seconds went by in a blur. Punches were thrown, though only Gunnar’s landed. The group Sadie had been talking with made collective gasps, then several sets of hands intervened to separate Gunnar and Tate.
One of those hands was finely manicured and belonged to the Rebels’ CEO.
Harper stood between them, all of five feet one, her mouth set in a pink slash of disapproval. “Do I need to remind you this is a family event and not the hockey rink?” Without waiting for a response, she turned softer eyes on Tate. “Kaminski, please go into the kitchen. I’ll talk to you in a second.”
After some grumbling, Tate rubbed his sore jaw and ambled away in the company of a couple of his teammates. Harper turned to Gunnar.
