Game On

by Kelly Jamieson

  Yeah, there was a lot of beer in the fridge, but also healthy foods, surprising for a young bachelor—veggies, milk, a piece of salmon in a package. My ex Jason ate out a lot (and not in the good way, which was a whole other issue) and ordered a lot of delivery food, and I don’t think he even knew how to make Kraft mac and cheese.

  Cam and Magnum returned, and Cam headed straight to a cupboard to pull out a bag of dog food. “Here you go, boy, breakfast.” He scooped food into the bowl on the floor, refilled the water dish, then turned to me. “You found food?”

  “Yeah.” I held up a hardboiled egg. “This is perfect. And I had some yogurt.”

  “Protein.”

  “You bet.”

  “I’ll eat at the arena. They feed us pretty well.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “What are you up to today?”

  “Um, besides going to the game tonight?” I batted my eyelashes at him, and he grinned. “Better hit the gym. And I might do some work.”

  He gave me a look. “On Saturday?”

  “You’re working today.” I flashed a cheeky grin.

  “Move On Chicago is important to you, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is. I started it. It’s my…” I stopped.

  Move On Chicago was so much to me. It was a way of giving back, yes. It was a way of sharing things I’d learned the hard way. It was a way of making the world a better place, and it was a way of proving to my family that I wasn’t a pathetic loser.

  Except sometimes I felt pathetic because I had to prove that to them.

  I looked down at the egg in my hand.

  “What?” Cam moved closer and set his hands on my hips.

  “It’s important to me,” I said lamely. I peeked up at him through my eyelashes and caught my bottom lip between my teeth briefly. “When I was a kid, I was kind of…overweight.”

  He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

  I nodded, not sure how much I wanted to say. I didn’t talk about this to many people. Okay, one. Paisley, who’d known me all my life. Yet I felt so at ease with Cam, like he admired me and liked me and didn’t judge me. “Yeah.” I took a breath. “Remember the sibling rivalry thing? Not only were my siblings smart, they were thin. Well, not Lucas. I mean, he was fit.” I exhaled. “My parents are very fit also. My mom’s gorgeous. I was this chubby, uncoordinated kid.”

  Cam tilted his head, like he didn’t believe me.

  “It’s true. Anyway. I didn’t like sports, but somehow I decided I was going to try running. I joined the running club at school. They were freakin’ awesome. Nobody laughed at me; they just helped me. It changed my life.”

  Cam nodded, his eyes warm.

  “I didn’t love running at first. It was hard. But it made me feel better about myself. I felt like I was accomplishing something, and it motivated me to change how I was eating. I used to eat my feelings.” I gave him a wry smile. “Feeling inferior and worthless? An extra large pizza and some breadsticks helped. Big Mac and large fries. Chips and dip. Except it really didn’t make me feel better; it made me feel worse. But I started eating healthy, and with all the running, I lost a bunch of weight. Not only did I look better, I was happier. More confident.”

  “Yeah. I get it.”

  “That was why I went a little crazy in college. I’d lost weight, I was with people who never knew that I’d been chubby, and I felt more confident than I’d ever felt in my life. I went to parties and guys paid attention to me, and…well I had a lot of fun.”

  “Nothing wrong with fun.” He squeezed my waist.

  “When I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, helping other kids feel more confident and healthier seemed like a good goal.”

  He bent his head and kissed me slowly. “The best goal.”

  “Thank you.”

  He didn’t look at me like he was disappointed in me or disdainful of me. If anything, he looked even more admiring. But also…conflicted. Tightness lurked at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He sighed. “Remember last night I said there’s something I have to tell you?”

  “Right. But you don’t have an STD. And I know you’re not married.”

  He frowned. “No.”

  My belly heated. “Please don’t tell me you want to meet my dad about some kind of business deal.”

  “Christ no.”

  I relaxed. “Okay, good. What is it?”

  “I, uh…the night we met. Remember?”

  “Yes.” I smirked. “I remember the bad pickup lines.”

  “Ah, yeah.” He swallowed. “So, about that. I was, uh, trying to win a bet.”

  My forehead tightened. “What?”

  “The guys and I made a bet I couldn’t get you to go out with me.”

  My eyes popped wide and my head poked forward in disbelief. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip.

  I jerked myself out of his grip and backed up against the counter. “So those pickup lines were really…pickup lines.”

  “Well, yeah. I was trying to pick you up.”

  “But you weren’t really interested in me.”

  “Okay, that is not true. One look at you and I thought you were super hot with amazing legs. The guys said you were out of my league. They didn’t think you’d go out with me.”

  My eyes flew open wide at that. Me, out of his league?

  “I thought you might be too,” he admitted. “So I had to take the bet. But once I met you, I didn’t even care about the bet. I just wanted to see you again.”

  The corners of my mouth lifted, my insides softening minutely, and I met his eyes. “You’re fairly convincing.”

  “It’s true.” He leaned over and touched his lips to mine. Then he sucked in a big breath. “That wasn’t the only bet though.”

  My eyebrows pulled down again, my mouth tightening and my stomach clenching.

  “They also bet me I couldn’t date someone for two months and not fall in love.”

  I moved my head from side to side as I processed this. What? “I don’t get it.”

  He waved a hand. “It was stupid. They know I don’t do relationships. I mean, I go out with women, but usually only a few times, so they made that damn bet. But…I have to be honest with you now because…because…”

  “Because why?”

  “Because you deserve honesty.”

  I didn’t know what to make of that. My head was spinning with thought fragments, trying to put things together.

  I’d just convinced myself that maybe this man was really interested in me, and that it was my own insecurities that were stopping me from having something great. I’d thought maybe this could be something real. And now I found out he was actually using me! How stupid could I be? I let my guard down and, bam, it happened again!

  “You are such an asshole.” My voice quivered despicably. I tried to edge away from him, emotion swelling up inside me, blazing hot. “And you waited until after we had sex to tell me the truth! Holy shit. Talk about a user.”

  “What! I did not…okay, I did, but…I tried to tell you last night! You asked me to wait.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Frowning, I started out of the kitchen.

  “Jesus, Olivia. Wait. Listen to me.”

  “Fuck you.” I stalked toward his door.

  “You’re not leaving.” He came after me.

  “Oh yes, I am.”

  “Please, Olivia. Stay. Listen to me. Talk to me.” He curved his hands around my upper arms from behind me to hold me still, his grip firm but gentle. “Please.”

  I lowered my head and moved it from
side to side, quivering inside, torn between wanting to stay and hear him out and the urge to get out of there and cry my eyes out.

  “I’m telling you the truth because I feel bad about the stupid goddamn bet. It was dumb and juvenile, and it didn’t feel right anymore. I want to be honest with you. Because…it may have started off as a bet, but honestly, the minute I started talking to you, I really wanted to go out with you.”

  I sucked on my bottom lip. I needed to sniff, but I didn’t want him to hear me crying. My chest constricted. “You just wanted to win a bet.”

  “I admit that. At first. I kept telling myself I had to keep seeing you to win the bet, but the truth was, I really wanted to keep seeing you.” He paused. “You said the same thing…remember?”

  Shit. I did remember. And it was true.

  I wanted to believe him. So, so much. “So…the bet is off?”

  He gently turned me to face him. “Yeah. I’ll tell the guys today.” He eyed me, his expression serious. Sincere. “I really want to keep seeing you. I really like you, and I like being with you. And neither of us is looking for a long-term relationship.”

  “True. I told you that.”

  “Because of Jason Fuckface.”

  It wasn’t just him. I had a long history of guys who’d used me. I didn’t even like to think about the humiliation I’d experienced in high school when Kiefer Garland had asked chubby, klutzy me out because he wanted to drive the sports car my dad had bought me and had told all his friends it would even be worth kissing a fat chick to get to drive that car. “Yeah.”

  “Then we’re good.” He brushed his fingers over my cheek, then cupped my face. “We can keep seeing each other. Have fun, with no expectations. No pressure.”

  I eyed him doubtfully, trying to keep my face blank. Now the truth was out and the bet was off, he wasn’t using me anymore. He said he liked me, and he wanted to keep seeing me. But was I setting myself up for a world of hurt if I kept seeing him? I was really getting to like him too, and now we’d slept together. I’d even told him about being overweight in the past. “Your friends don’t seem to think you can do that.”

  He shook his head. “They’re just jerking me around.”

  “Don’t tell them the bet is over.”

  “Huh?”

  This was probably my dumbest move ever. “When the two months are up, we’ll end things, you can claim you won, and I’ll back you up on it.”

  He stared at me. “Uh…what?”

  “When are the two months up? Mid-April?”

  “Yeah…”

  “We’ll see each other until then. Playoffs start around then, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So you’ll want to focus on hockey. We’ll hang out, have fun…” I laid my hand on his chest and fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Maybe more hot sex…and then when it’s all done you’ll…What do you win, anyway?”

  “They’ll wash my compression shorts for the rest of the year. Calendar year.”

  “That’s it?” My eyebrows pulled down. “Seriously? I thought you were at least betting a car or something.”

  He choked on a laugh. “Yeah, our stupid bets aren’t that big. I have to wash all of theirs if I lose.”

  “Well, there you go. You have a guaranteed win. It’ll be hilarious.”

  “Hmm. I like it.” He grinned. “Serves them right.” He pulled me closer. “We’re okay, then?”

  “Yeah.” I ignored the faint ache in my chest. “We’re good. I’d better go. You need to get to the arena.”

  “I’ll text you about the tickets.”

  “Right. Okay. Thank you.” I tipped my head. “Good luck.”

  * * *

  —

  “This is so cool!” Paisley surveyed the arena from our seats in a corner section.

  We’d arrived early enough to watch the warm-up. I picked out Cam right away, one of the few players not wearing a helmet during warm-up. This seemed like a bad idea to me.

  “These are great seats.” I referred to the small magazine we’d been given to check the numbers of the other players we’d met that night at River East Social House and pointed them out to Paisley.

  “So, you’re still seeing him, even though you got him to work with us.”

  “Yeah.” I scrunched up my face, not sure how much I wanted to tell Paisley. Somehow I had a feeling if I told her about the bet, she’d be all pissed on my behalf and would tell me I should have kicked him in the nuts and should never see him again. And I wasn’t entirely sure myself that I shouldn’t have done that. “I know it’s not a good idea, but he’s very…convincing.”

  Paisley gave me a weird look.

  “What?”

  “Why isn’t it a good idea?”

  Eep. I waved a hand. “Well, look at him. He’s a famous professional athlete.”

  “And?”

  I sighed. “I’m not looking for a relationship. My life is fine the way it is.” I wasn’t lying. And I’d told Cam as much earlier.

  “I know it is. I just don’t want you thinking that you’re not good enough for someone like Cam. Because you are.”

  “I am.” I lifted my chin.

  The players were leaving the ice now, and I watched Cam.

  I had enjoyed spending time with him. Our first date had been so much fun, and I was really attracted to him. I could have just asked him to work with Move On Chicago that first day and never seen him again, but I didn’t because…I wanted to see him again. And when I’d tried to end things, he’d charmed me into going out with him again, and I hadn’t resisted very strenuously, because…I wanted to see him again. But neither of us was looking for a long-term relationship so this was okay…wasn’t it?

  I probably should have just walked out and ended things. But the idea of never seeing him again gave me a weird ache in my chest.

  So what was going to happen when we ended things when the two months were up?

  Ah, it would be fine. I could totally do this.

  The game was exciting, a fast-paced back and forth between the two teams, trading goals, lots of close calls, a little rough action in front of the net. It was even more exciting watching Cam. Seeing him skate so fast, handling the puck so expertly, smashing another guy into the boards and then shoving him back when the guy reacted, filled me with admiration. He was so good at what he did. It also filled me with awe that I was sort of dating this man.

  Which then resurfaced all those doubts about whether that was really such a good idea.

  The Aces won the game, so the arena was buzzing with positive vibes as we made our way out. “Yay! That was a great game!” Paisley pumped a fist into the air.

  “Apparently it was an important game. Cam’ll be happy. So, do you want to go to the Sin Bin? He said some of the guys will be going there after the game.”

  “Sure!”

  We jumped on a bus headed toward Michigan. I knew where the Sin Bin was, and we could get off on State Street and walk from there. It wasn’t long before we entered the dimly lit bar where once again the mood was jubilant, a few TVs replaying highlights of the game.

  We were there before Cam and his teammates, and I had no idea how many were coming, so we sat at the bar while we waited for them and ordered cocktails. There were some interesting drinks on the menu, so we both tried something new.

  I sipped my Venetian Sour. “Yum.”

  Paisley nodded enthusiastically. “Mine is good too. Bad Apple.” She grinned. “Switch.”

  We traded drinks to try each other’s. “Oh, that is delish! We could spend all night here working our way through the cocktail menu.”

  “What are you drinking?”

  The deep male voice behind me was familiar enough to make my belly flutter. I tur
ned and smiled at Cam. “Venetian Sour. Try it.”

  He held my gaze as he lifted the glass to his lips. “Mmm.”

  My blood heated in my veins at his regard. “Good game.”

  “Thanks.”

  I let my gaze wander over him. Damn, he looked awesome in a suit and tie. When I lifted my eyes to meet his again, I saw the knowing look there. One corner of my mouth hitched, and we exchanged a message without saying a word.

  “Ahem.”

  I blinked and turned to Paisley. She was watching us with raised eyebrows.

  “The other guys are over there,” Cam said, jerking his head. “Bring your drinks.”

  We slid off our stools and followed him through the bar to where they had pulled a couple of tables together—a whole bunch of big, hot guys in suits. Holy crap.

  “What was that look for?” I whispered to Paisley.

  “The intense eye fucking was making me uncomfortable.”

  I burst out laughing. Cam shot me a look over his shoulder, and I grinned at him.

  Hey, this was the perfect time to make his friends think they were winning the bet. So I moved up closer to Cam, went up on my toes and kissed his jaw. His eyelashes lowered and he turned his head a fraction of an inch so our lips met. My own eyes drifted closed as our mouths clung in a soft but sizzling hot kiss.

  I drew back slowly and met his eyes, which were gleaming and dark. The corners of his mouth kicked up, and I smiled back at him.

  I nonchalantly moved away, aware of the gazes locked on us.

  Cam held chairs for Paisley and me, and we slid into them. Cam sat next to me, close enough to lay his arm along the back of my chair, and I shifted closer.

  There were women here too, and Cam introduced us to Sidney, Jared Rupp’s wife; Kendra, Max Hall’s girlfriend; and Jodie, Nick Balachov’s wife. I sensed the curiosity in their smiles as they greeted us.

  “Your cocktail menu is amazing,” I said to Jared, holding up my drink. “This is delicious.”

  “Thanks.” He grinned and leaned into his wife. “But the credit goes to Sid. She developed the menu.”

  “Oh. Wow.”

  Sidney smiled. “I’m a mixologist. I do consulting work for bars, restaurants, hotels…coming up with new cocktails and training their staff.”