Busted (Promise Harbor Wedding)

by Sydney Somers

  Hayley closed the dishwasher for him. “You can’t flirt with women and keep them away from Jackson at the same time.”

  “Jackson’s never had any problem handling himself with women.”

  He cringed. Did Matt have to make it sound like he was a complete man-whore? Maybe he hadn’t been a saint when it came to dating women, but he hadn’t been out to score with every single woman he met either.

  “You’ve got customers at the bar.” Hayley waved at the window in the door. “I’ll see you at the wedding, Matt.” She shoved her brother ahead of her, then said over her shoulder, “It’s 212 Ridley Road.”

  Despite his earlier tone, Matt nodded on Jackson’s way out. By the time he reached his Challenger, he saw Hayley pull out of the parking lot. He dug out his cell phone as he slid behind the wheel and punched in Josh’s number. When his friend didn’t answer, he left a message to see if Josh needed anything, then hung up and headed for his parents’ place.

  Buying them an RV had turned out to be one of the best gifts he’d ever given them. Retirement gave his dad the freedom to travel the way his mom had been looking forward to for years. They probably would have set their sights on returning to the harbor if they hadn’t seen him just a few weeks ago. Last he spoke with them, they were exploring eastern Canada.

  On the way home, Jackson found himself slowing down as he passed the county hospital, but couldn’t bring himself to pull in to the lot.

  Mitch Stone had cancer. Son of a bitch.

  Why hadn’t he called Matt back all those times? He’d sort of assumed they’d catch up when he came home for the wedding. Just one more reason he’d been a complete ass. He probably deserved more of Matt’s attitude, but fuck if his life wasn’t already in the shitter to begin with.

  Seventeen months since his career-ending car accident and he still didn’t know what the hell to do with himself. Coaching was a viable option, but it wasn’t playing the game he loved.

  Shoving that thought squarely out of his head, he pulled into his parents’ driveway.

  He lounged around watching a movie for a while, then thought about checking his email and catching the latest headlines on ESPN before getting ready. He quickly nixed both ideas when he found over a hundred messages in his inbox. Some were from friends, but most were just people digging for information surrounding his arrest last night.

  He could have walked away. Probably should have. He’d known where it was all headed the second the guy walked over and started running his mouth about what an asshole Jackson was. “Can’t-shoot-for-shit dickhead” had been his personal favorite, though he’d heard far more original crap than that. His giant-sized pal hadn’t appreciated Jackson pointing that out.

  Walking away after that first punch was easier said than done, and then Hayley ended up between them. How she’d moved that fast still made his head spin. What made his head spin even faster, though, was thinking she looked pretty as hell the whole time she was taking him into custody.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jackson decided to get his shower and shaving over with. And maybe more ice on his face. The swelling had gone down, but Allie wasn’t going to be excited about his appearance in the wedding pictures.

  Maybe if he’d put himself right to bed last night after taking Josh home, he wouldn’t have ended up back at Stone’s. Instead he could have been at Josh’s in time to catch him and talk about the cold feet his friend had confessed to.

  Hell, maybe it was better if they didn’t talk about whether or not Josh’s cold feet were anything to worry about. Or the way he’d gotten that weird look on his face the second he’d laid eyes on Devon.

  Remembering how the two of them looked at each other in general was probably the one reason he should have talked to Josh. But what did he know about getting married and the whole cold feet thing? He’d barely been “engaged” before it had ended almost as fast as his days of playing professional hockey.

  Suddenly annoyed with himself for revisiting shit best left in the past, he got himself cleaned up and dressed. With one final adjustment of his persistently crooked tie, he grabbed his wallet and keys and left for Hayley’s.

  According to the dashboard clock he was almost half an hour early by the time he pulled up in front of her apartment building. She was probably still getting ready. Might even give him that cute annoyed look when she found him on her doorstep so soon.

  Smiling at the thought of getting under her skin, he climbed out of his car. Bright, hot sunshine beamed down on him, sinking straight through the jacket to warm his skin. Stripping the jacket off, he left it in the car and shut the door.

  He was halfway up the sidewalk when a red and yellow ball dropped in front of him. He stared at the toy, then tipped his head back and almost fell over laughing.

  “Please make my day and tell me you’re not wearing any underwear.”

  Crouched on a gnarled branch about four feet above him, Hayley tugged impatiently at a ridiculously short scrap of material stretched across her thighs and barely covering her behind.

  “Well, had I known that going commando would excite you so much, I would have taken my panties off before scaling the tree.” Her sarcasm was thick enough to skate on.

  “Is this how you usually avoid your dates?”

  “You’re not a real date.” She searched the foliage overheard for something Jackson couldn’t see. “Shake that ball, would you? Before the wedding would be preferable,” she tacked on when he picked up the ball for closer inspection.

  With a flick of his wrist a bell chimed inside the red and yellow shell. From above came an answering meow.

  “You’re up there looking for a cat?”

  “I hope that’s a rhetorical question—either that or they smashed you into the boards one too many times.” Hayley maneuvered around the trunk, her bare feet moving up another branch. “Shit.”

  He circled the tree, trying to keep her in view. “Is there someone I should call? Animal rescue maybe?”

  “They’ll just make Copernicus even more stressed out. They already don’t like him after all the stitches—”

  A branch snapped and Hayley yelped.

  “Are you okay?” Leaves and twigs fluttered to the ground, and he squinted to see more than a flash of her bare calves and the navy fabric of her dress. “Hayley?”

  Another pitiful meow came from just outside Jackson’s line of sight.

  “How good are you at climbing trees?”

  Jackson cringed. “Horrible. Broke my arm after I fell out of one when I was twelve.”

  “Never mind. I think…I’ve almost got it…” Another frustrated curse was followed by, “Either embrace your inner twelve-year-old or you’ll have to head to the wedding without me.”

  Damn, she was serious.

  Jackson looked up and down the street, searching for another option—any other option—and not finding anything.

  Okay then.

  He toed off his shoes, then after another hard look at the tree, stripped off his socks too. At least he’d left his jacket in the car. Loosening his tie, he slipped it over his head and set it on the pile with the rest of his stuff. Once his top buttons were undone, he eyed the tree skeptically.

  Must be out of his mind. Hayley clearly was for climbing the tree for a cat to begin with, never mind that she couldn’t be any less dressed for the occasion.

  He had to jump to reach the closest branch, leaving him to wonder how Hayley had done it when she was a few inches shorter than he was. His foot slipped off the bark the first time he tried getting higher in the tree, and his chin scraped the branch.

  “Maybe you should call Matt instead.”

  “I’ve got it,” he growled, finally managing to maneuver a little higher.

  He moved another branch aside and got his first clear look at Hayley through the leaves. Her dress was hiked almost to her hips and she crouched on a limb close to the trunk, long tendrils of hair draping the branches behind her like a golden spider web. The
curves of her breasts spilled from what probably wasn’t supposed to be such a low-cut neckline.

  He wasn’t about to complain though. It was the best view he’d had in ages.

  A few inches to the right of her bare foot sat the ugliest—and that might be too generous—kitten he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Splotches of mud-brown and burnt orange peppered his scrawny body, some long and fluffy and other patches buzzed down like he’d been shaved for surgery. A stubby black tail whipped back and forth, and two green eyes, one swollen like he’d been in his own bar fight, glared at Jackson.

  “Has he had his rabies shot?” He ducked under branches to reach Hayley.

  “He’s harmless.”

  The warning hiss from the kitten said otherwise. “How did that little thing get up here?”

  “The thing’s name is Copernicus and a dog probably chased him. He has a bad habit of goading them.” She tried to move and winced.

  “A cat named after a Renaissance astronomer?” He glanced down at the kitten again and shook his head.

  Both brows shot up. “You know who Copernicus was?”

  “Discovery Channel,” he explained, ignoring the dig. “What exactly seems to be the problem?” Although most of her problem probably had to do with climbing the tree in the first place.

  She gestured to her head. “I’m tangled.”

  Getting close enough to untangle her hair required crouching opposite her, leaving nothing between his back and the wide open space beyond the tree branch, except a few handfuls of twigs that wouldn’t hold up a squirrel—or a near-rabid kitten—let alone him.

  “Too bad that I forgot my scissors in the car.”

  Hayley gave him a dirty look.

  He grinned. “Would have been easier.” His knee bumped hers, throwing him off balance, and she immediately clamped a hand on his wrist to steady him.

  A whole different kind of warmth hit his veins.

  The breeze kicked up and the smell of her shampoo—apples and some kind of flower—intensified the warming deep in his gut.

  He concentrated on freeing her hair, apologizing when a tricky spot made her wince.

  “Why did you ever want to dye this black? I think women would kill for hair the color of sunshine.”

  Hayley’s eyes were unreadable when they shifted to meet his.

  Sunshine? Jesus. Why didn’t he just grow a vagina if he was going to be so damn girly?

  She lifted a shoulder, her hand moving to tug at the drooping neckline. Apparently he wasn’t fast enough to pretend his attention hadn’t strayed in that direction.

  “Enjoy the view while it lasts, Knight.”

  He laughed, then shifted his weight back to his heels. “I think I got it all.”

  She moved a fraction of an inch, her hand grasping her dress. “Still stuck.”

  He leaned closer, looking down over her shoulder. He spotted the problem. “It snagged your bra.” It also scratched her, and a few drops of blood dotted her back, which as it turned out revealed almost as much skin as her chest.

  Balancing as best he could, he reached around her, wondering if he imagined the shiver than ran through her.

  “Running down thieves and scaling trees in a dress to rescue kittens. You like to set the bar high for yourself, don’t you?”

  “I was even thinking of helping a few seniors cross the street to round out my day.”

  He almost had it… “That’s not the Hayley I remember.”

  She tipped her head back, and he could read the skepticism that he remembered anything about her at all.

  “The Hayley I remember was too busy dodging the cops to help out anyone.”

  She scoffed. “I wasn’t that bad.”

  “Didn’t you steal a truck and almost wreck it?” He was too busy trying to untangle her to recall the details.

  “It was my friend’s dad’s truck—”

  “From his construction company, right?”

  Hayley ignored him. “—and it was just a few scratches.”

  A vague memory of the newspaper images of the smashed truck popped into his head. “And Gretzky was just an average hockey player.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he finally worked her free of the branch. Unfortunately he also unhooked her bra in the process. He managed to capture the lacy black ends before they disappeared under her dress.

  “Little complication.”

  Trying to look over her shoulder, she said, “The other team stealing the puck is a little complication. A strapless bra coming undone is a serious dress malfunction.”

  An image of Hayley in nothing but the strapless bra shot through his mind faster than a breakaway play.

  “Jackson?”

  He cleared his throat, forcing his hands to move again. “I’ve got a bit more experience taking these off than putting them back on.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  He refastened her bra. “I’m not nearly as shallow as you think.”

  “Says the man who was disappointed I was wearing panties.”

  “Good point.” He smiled. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt to mention that if you ever want some firsthand expertise with taking this off—”

  “I’ll call Eric.”

  “That douche?” he snapped, not catching sight of Hayley’s grin until the last second.

  “Here.” Hayley scooped up the kitten and shoved him at Jackson.

  The furball hissed and dug his back claws into Jackson’s side—son of a bitch—but didn’t try to squirm free.

  “Hold on to him while I climb down.” She edged out onto another limb to get around Jackson.

  The fugly kitten stared up at him, opening and closing his mouth in a silent hiss that more closely resembled a guppy.

  Hayley’s hand shot out as she lost her balance, and thankfully she got a good grip on Jackson.

  Too bad Jackson didn’t have on good grip on anything except the kitten when Hayley pulled him out of the tree.

  Chapter Three

  Hitting the ground from a ten-foot drop felt pretty damn close to getting sandwiched between two burly defensemen.

  Staying on his feet wasn’t an option, not when Jackson had tried not to land directly on Hayley or the kitten. He would have cursed at the little fucker’s claws digging into his chest if he could breathe. Oxygen was slow to reinflate his lungs.

  Unfortunately, the second he could suck in a breath, pain pushed hard into his awareness, radiating up his spine. The ache in his side felt like he’d taken one too many dives across the ice. And then there was the stinging in his chest—

  Jackson released the kitten, trying not to outright toss the furball across the grass. Ten seconds ago he would have traded his favorite jersey for the kitten’s ability to land on its feet.

  “Sweet Jesus.” He rolled to his side and found Hayley in the same position facing him, cradling her wrist to her chest.

  “You okay?”

  She looked at him and burst out laughing. Almost immediately, she winced. “Shit, that hurts.” She laughed again. “Last night I arrested you and just now made you fall out of a tree, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

  Despite the teeth-gritting ache in his bad knee, he smiled. He could almost appreciate the pain being brought on by something other than a careless mistake that had ruined more than just the ligaments in his knee.

  “Eric was right. Any sane guy would have wanted to get far away from me.”

  “I’ll consider bolting when I’m sure I can stand.”

  Hayley surveyed him from head to toe, her brows scrunched together in an adorable frown. “You didn’t break anything, did you?”

  He’d earned his share of sprains and fractures over the years, and nothing felt anywhere close to that kind of pain at the moment. Still, his body had taken one hell of a hit. “Don’t worry. My hockey career is already over.” Saying as much aloud always sucked, but he was a little too distracted by the worry in her eyes to get hung up on it this time.
<
br />   “Sorry about that.”

  “Not your fault the stupid cat climbed a tree.” The same stupid cat that sat licking its paws only a few feet away.

  Her expression softened. “I meant about hockey.”

  “Oh.” He leaned up on his elbows, gritting his teeth at the pain that stretched across his side. Perfect. A bruised rib was just what he needed after a bar fight and dropping out of a tree.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “The icing on the cake,” he muttered, then dragged himself up to see if anything else hurt. Nothing else registered, though, when he noticed her still cradling her wrist. “Let me see.”

  She waved him off. “Just a little sprain. No big deal.”

  No big deal didn’t make sense with the way she avoided putting weight on it when she stood. Jackson didn’t let her get any further until she held it out for inspection.

  With a sigh, she thrust her hand toward him. He gently probed her wrist, trying not to notice how smooth and warm her skin was beneath his fingers. She hissed out a breath and tugged her hand free.

  With her left hand, she scooped up the kitten and continued along the path to her building. Seeing her favor one leg just a bit made it impossible to decide which one of them was in rougher shape.

  He picked up his stuff along with Hayley’s discard sandals and trailed after her. His bad knee spasmed in protest for a minute, then settled into its usual dull pain. He’d gotten used to ignoring it for the most part, and it certainly helped that he was following Hayley and her killer legs even a guy on his deathbed would have appreciated. He couldn’t have asked for a better distraction from the lingering discomfort that would undoubtedly be worse in the morning.

  Hayley knocked at the first apartment they came to, and an elderly man with a cane and a Beatles T-shirt opened the door.

  He scowled down at the kitten. “More trouble, Copernicus?” He held his hand out, and Hayley handed the little bugger over. The kitten immediately snuggled in to him.

  “Hope he wasn’t too much trouble for you, Hayley.”

  Apparently the man had missed their gold-medal-winning dismount.

  “Not at all,” she lied, giving Jackson a subtle shake of her head, as if he’d say otherwise.