Deflected: Game On in Seattle (Seattle Sockeyes Book 9)

by Jami Davenport

  Her mother chastised her with one of those looks, and Rosalind expected a lecture on rudeness as soon as Alex left. Only Alex wasn’t leaving. He grabbed another book from the display of new releases and settled in on the couch in front of the fireplace.

  “Why are you so rude to him? He seems like a nice man,” her mother whispered harshly.

  “It’s an act. He’s far from being a nice man.”

  “You’ve hardly given him a chance.”

  “I don’t need to give him a chance. He’s just a visitor on this island, not someone I should get to know.”

  Her mother sighed as if deeply disappointed in her daughter. “You never know whether or not the next person through your door may change your life forever. You have to treat each person as if they’re a precious gift.”

  Her mother loved to talk about fate and life choices and all that stuff. Her father was the practical one, while her mother tended to be spontaneous and fun-loving. Somehow, they’d made it work for thirty years. They were as in love now as they’d been when they met. Rosalind wanted a marriage like theirs someday with a man who ticked off all her boxes. Choosing someone who was similar laid a better foundation than opposites like her parents, whom she considered exceptions to the rule.

  “Well, honey, I’m going to get going. See you Sunday afternoon. Bye, Alex.” Her mother kissed her cheek and raised her hand to Alex. He grinned and waved goodbye.

  After her mother left, Rosalind did her best to ignore the man firmly ensconced on her couch. He put his feet on the coffee table and made himself at home. She bristled and stalked over to him.

  “Please don’t—”

  “Put my feet on coffee table,” he finished for her with a wink. He didn’t remove his feet. “They are not hurting anything. You should relax.”

  “This is my store, and I make the rules. You should respect my wishes.”

  He heaved a very large, put-upon sigh and made a production of bending each knee and placing each long leg on the carpet. “Is not as comfortable for reading,” he complained.

  “Don’t you have a home to read in?”

  “I like to be around people, even rigid, surly ones like you.”

  She stiffened. She wasn’t rigid and absolutely was not surly. “You bring out the worst in me.”

  “Likewise.”

  With a frustrated sigh, she stomped off.

  All afternoon, Rosalind forced herself to ignore his very male presence as she helped customers, shelved books, straightened displays, tidied the store. He, on the other hand, ignored her and put in his earbuds but kept the sound down. At least there was that.

  Grudgingly, she admitted he did have one good quality. He liked to read. He wasn’t just here to annoy the heck out of her even if it had seemed that way at first.

  At five o’clock, Rosalind flipped the open sign to Closed. Alex didn’t look up from his book. She tried to get his attention, but he couldn’t hear her with the music blaring in his ears, forcing her to tap him on the shoulder. He glanced up, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and she braced herself for whatever torture he chose to inflict on her next.

  “We’re closed now.”

  He slowly and deliberately turned off his music and removed the earbuds, tucking them in his pocket.

  “What do I owe for this book?” He sauntered over to the counter and leaned on it, way too close for comfort.

  “I’ll ring it up.” Her nostrils filled with the clean, soapy scent of pure male. She forced her attention on the cash register, fumbling with the keys so much she voided the transaction three times. Alex’s presence only a few feet away upset her equilibrium. She could feel his eyes on her, but he said nothing.

  “With your credit from Monday, that’ll be seven thirty-six.” Her voice shook a little at the end, causing him to cast a puzzled expression her way. The man had to be used to women getting flustered around him. He was hot. The finest physical specimen she’d ever seen. Her body couldn’t help that she was starved for male attention, even unwanted attention.

  He opened up his wallet, and she saw a wad of cash. She’d never seen that many bills in one place. She’d bet he was one of those guys who carried around a bunch of ones to make it look like he was loaded. He pulled out a twenty and gave it to her. She snatched it from his hand before they could touch. He lifted one questioning brow. She bent her head over the cash register, counted out his change, and placed it in his outstretched hand, still avoiding contact.

  “Thank you. Did you finish the other book already?”

  “Yes. Not much to do on this island but read.”

  The wistfulness in his voice caused her to lift her head and meet his gaze. She was struck once more by the brilliant blue of his eyes. Calling them blue didn’t do them justice. They were almost turquoise and shone with an intelligence she wouldn’t have expected from him.

  “There’s a lot to do if you like the outdoors, boating, fishing, hiking, stuff like that.”

  “Do you enjoy stuff like that, Rosalind?”

  “Of course. That’s why I live here. It’s the most beautiful place on earth.”

  Instead of chastising her or making light of her comment, he merely nodded.

  Alex loitered around the store as she finished her closing routine and followed her to the door. She exited the store and locked the door. Turning, she was surprised to see him standing a few feet away.

  “I buy you dinner. I hate to dine alone.”

  She shook her head. “I’m busy. I can’t. Call Clarissa. You have her number.”

  “I see her tomorrow. I am only asking for companionship, not to sleep with you.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  He shrugged. “Not necessarily. We would be hot in bed.”

  “We’ll never know.”

  His blue eyes watched her, as if expecting something more. She squirmed under the heat of his gaze, briefly wondering how good they would be in bed together, then mentally punishing herself for going there. He wasn’t the right man, and she wasn’t the type of woman who slept with someone without a deep emotional connection.

  She put her handbag over her shoulder and walked down the sidewalk. He matched her stride for stride. His long legs had no issue keeping up with her.

  “What are you doing?” She paused a block down the street. The last thing she wanted was for him to know where she lived.

  “Following you.”

  “Please stop.”

  “Not until you agree to dinner. I buy. You pick place.”

  “We don’t even like each other.”

  “Makes for fun sparring.”

  “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

  “Never.” He shook his head.

  “Fine, I’ll go to dinner with you but don’t read anything into it.”

  She was crazy to be going to dinner with him. She was merely having dinner with a visitor on the island as a courtesy. He was nothing more than that.

  Yeah, right.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Loneliness made a person do strange things, and asking a woman who thought he was the devil incarnate to dinner wasn’t one of Alex’s better ideas. At least he wouldn’t be bored, especially if they could keep from killing each other.

  He’d never been much for exploring his inner self, examining his feelings, or dissecting why he did what he did. This time was no different. He’d asked her to dinner on a whim. She didn’t fall all over him like every other woman did. She was a challenge, and he had so few of those when it came to females. He was also bored, and she took away the boredom.

  She was pleasant to look at too. He could watch her all day. Most of the women he dated were tall, leggy model types. Not because he preferred them but because they ran in the crowd he ran in. The women he hooked up with were always ready for a good time and rarely got a repeat performance. If they did get an encore, they were good with that. He’d had a few in his younger days who’d tried to trap him into marriage, one even claiming she was p
regnant. She was, but not with his kid. He’d gone through several months of nail-biting fueled by roller-coaster emotions before he’d found out the baby was a teammate’s. The poor sucker married her and lived miserably ever after. Once she had a ring on her finger, she treated him like crap with her tantrums and demands and slept with half the team behind his back. She was also a crappy mother, one negative trait Alex wouldn’t have tolerated in a life partner.

  Alex could’ve been that guy, but luckily, one of the few things he was responsible about was wearing a condom. He didn’t want kids, ever, nor did he want a wife. He would be a bachelor forever. He’d had a family and lost them. He couldn’t go through that heart-wrenching, soul-deep agony of losing someone he cared deeply for again. He simply wasn’t strong enough. Better to play it fast and loose and never go below surface emotions.

  Rosalind had picked a bistro that served healthy food. Alex should’ve known better. Not his kind of place. The portions would most likely be tiny, and meat would be limited. He’d probably have to find a hamburger stand afterward.

  They sat at a small table next to the window. The view was spectacular of Sunset Bay and the ferry landing. The sky was overcast, but even the grayness of the late afternoon didn’t take away from the beauty of the place. Alex had never been much for sightseeing unless the sights involved bikini-clad women on a tropical beach.

  Rosalind ignored him and studied the menu. Alex picked it up and sighed. Just as he expected. Lots of healthy crap and farm-fresh vegetables. He didn’t mind veggies, as long as they were drowned in gravy or sauce. He doubted this would be that type of place.

  The waiter recited the specials and much to his surprise, they had beef tenderloin.

  “I will have beef.”

  The waiter nodded. “How would you like it done?”

  “Well done.”

  The waiter made a face that could only be interpreted as disgust but said nothing.

  “I’ll have the lentil stew.”

  The waiter nodded his approval. “Good choice.”

  She was gloating, and Alex avoided meeting her gaze. Just because he wasn’t much for fine dining didn’t mean he was an idiot.

  He ordered a bottle of wine from the wine list. He was going to need it.

  “I hope you plan on drinking that all yourself,” she said after the waiter left to fetch the wine.

  “Let me guess. You do not drink?”

  “Not much.”

  “You can have glass. Won’t hurt.”

  “Won’t help,” she shot back. “I don’t need alcohol to have a good time.”

  “Are you insinuating I do?” She’d probably Googled him and knew all about his escapades, and for once he wasn’t proud of them.

  “I’m stating a fact. That’s all, but do you?”

  “I do not.” He was lying, and he knew it. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d enjoyed himself off the ice doing something that didn’t involve alcohol and a lot of it.

  The waiter returned with the wine. After Alex tasted the wine and nodded, the waiter poured them both a glass.

  “Thank you, Ben,” Rosalind said.

  “You’re welcome. How are your parents?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Let them know I’ll be by in the next few days for some eggs.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that.”

  The waiter sauntered off to seat another couple who’d walked in the door.

  “You know him?”

  “It’s hard to live on this island and not know everyone.”

  “I suppose.” He sipped the wine, while she pushed her glass to the middle of the table.

  “Soup without meat in it? What is point? Are you vegetarian or something?”

  “I eat meat, just not a lot. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? Are you insinuating?” He’d immediately gone on the defensive. She pressed his hot buttons as if someone had given her a personal schematic.

  “Only if you choose to take it that way. I eat healthy, which is more than I can say for you.”

  “I do not sit on ass all day. I am physically active and burn calories. I need energy, but I eat good.”

  She looked down at his chest and back up. “Don’t take this wrong, but you don’t seem like a healthy eater.”

  “I take everything you say wrong,” he shot back.

  “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” He chuckled in spite of his annoyance. “Do you think I am fat?”

  “No, not at all. You just don’t seem like the healthy type.”

  “What type you think I am?”

  “Hedonistic. If you know what that means.”

  “I know what it means. Explain why you think that?”

  “You seem bored. Out of sorts. Like you’re used to being entertained and catered to. You want excitement, constant stimulation. I don’t think this island is your speed.”

  She had that right, but damned if he would admit it to her.

  “So, you think I am lazy yet need constant stimulation? That seems to be contradiction.”

  “That’s not exactly what I said. I can’t see you being disciplined enough to have a workout routine.”

  Now that was funny. He threw back his head and laughed. Then he sobered quickly. In Seattle, he had the team trainer telling him what to do and when to do it. The few days he’d been on this island, he hadn’t done much more than run a few miles, but he hadn’t lowered his food intake. The thought of going back to training camp overweight horrified him.

  He would never admit she was right out loud, but he did need to come up with a daily regimen, as much as he hated structure.

  Her brown eyes assessed him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d come up lacking.

  “Do you know anything about hockey players?”

  “A little.” She didn’t meet his gaze.

  “Not much of sports fan, are you?”

  “Not in the least. They make too much money. It’s not fair.”

  “Who said life was fair?”

  It was her turn to shrug.

  “And you would be surprised how hard we work at our sport. We earn every penny we get.” He was defensive but she’d attacked his sport.

  “You’ll never convince me.”

  “Are you always this closed-minded?”

  Her beautiful mouth formed an O, and he zeroed in on those lips. “I’m not.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a pouty face. He chuckled. She was cute when she was mad.

  “I haven’t followed the Sockeyes much. What position do you play?”

  “Would you know if I told you?”

  “Not really.”

  He had to give her points for honesty.

  “Why are you here? Are you hiding out or something?”

  “Where else would I be?” he shot back, wondering how she saw him.

  “Somewhere tropical where the women wear very little clothes.”

  He chuckled. Maybe she had Googled him.

  “So why are you here?”

  He scratched his head. Stalling for time, he took a long swallow of the wine. “It’s a reward for a good season.”

  The shocked look on her face was priceless.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Reward for a good season?

  Rosalind hadn’t seen that coming. Perhaps she’d seriously misjudged this man. Her initial assessment of him categorized him as lazy, entitled, and selfish. He could still be two out of the three but not lazy. Ethan Parker wouldn’t reward laziness if there were other more deserving players.

  “I see,” she said primly. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. We won Stanley Cup, you know?” His smug smile wiped out any regret she’d been feeling and put them right back into familiar territory. She didn’t like him. He didn’t like her.

  “I know,” she admitted, “but I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t watch any games.”

  “No reason to be. Not your thin
g.”

  It should be, considering, but she kept her thoughts to herself. He didn’t need to know about her secret second job.

  “Did you look at kittens?” he asked, smoothly switching the subject. She’d expected him to talk about himself all night.

  “No, I haven’t had time.” And she had no intention of making time.

  “You should. Cats are great company.”

  “If you say so. The cats we had growing up were all barn cats. I never got close to them.”

  “Let me guess. Cats do not follow rules or stick with plan. Therefore, they cannot be part of your household.”

  “I’m not like that. I can be spontaneous.”

  “I not believe you.” He challenged her, and she feared he’d back her in a corner just to prove his point.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when dinner was served. The quicker she ate her meal, the quicker she’d be back home in her cozy little house and away from this man who confused her and refused to stay in the box she put him in.

  He dug into his tenderloin with gusto, not coming up for air until his plate was almost licked clean. His table manners weren’t bad, but he did eat fast, as if finishing first were some kind of competition. Perhaps in his world, it was.

  Alex tipped up the wine bottle to pour another glass of wine for himself and hesitated when he caught her watching him. He placed the bottle back on the table. She didn’t have a clue why he’d care what she thought about his drinking habits or any other habits. Maybe he feared she’d report back to his boss.

  “Do you want dessert?” He sounded hopeful, but she couldn’t abide an extra minute in his presence. No thank you. Not this girl. Even though her girl parts found him attractive, he was not the right guy.

  “I need to go. Thank you for dinner.” She folded the napkin neatly and placed it under the edge of her plate. Was it her imagination or did he look disappointed?

  “No dessert?” He was pouting like a little boy not getting his way.

  “Not for me. You can stay.”

  He considered her offer for a long moment. “No, I walk you home. It is polite thing to do.”

  “Since when are you polite?” She tempered her words with a smile. As much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t half-bad.