But he didn’t want to. Not tonight. Not after Jacob’s careless comments. Not when there was a chance he might miss a call or text from Shannon. He’d be able to hear his phone better in the quiet of his own room—as long as Logan didn’t drown everything out with his snoring.
Caleb shook his head and stood up. “No, I’m calling it a night, too.”
Chapter Fifteen
Shannon jammed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, wishing again that she was wearing one of her heavy sweatshirts underneath instead of a dressy sweater. The sweater might look nice with the black slacks and low-heeled boots, but it sucked as far as warmth went.
If she had known the warehouse was going to be so cold, she would have reconsidered her wardrobe choices—especially since several of her teammates were watching her with unveiled curiosity. That she had anticipated. What surprised her so far was that nobody had said anything about the way she was dressed, not even Taylor.
Although Taylor looked preoccupied, even a little worried, so maybe it wasn’t a surprise she hadn’t said anything. Yet.
Shannon glanced at her watch then bit back a sigh as she looked around. Almost everyone was here—everyone except Rachel and Amanda. Not that Amanda counted, not really. She was still officially on the roster but she wasn’t playing because she was still going through rehab. The latest rumor was that she was finishing up and might actually return in time to finish the season. Shannon wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Part of her was sympathetic—a very small part. The rest of her? Not so much. How could she just throw everything away like that for a quick fix? It wasn’t just Amanda’s potential career—it was the reputation of everyone else on the team. Hell, the reputation of the league itself. There had been a major shit storm when Amanda collapsed on the ice a few months ago—even more when they discovered it was because of her drug problem. Yeah, that had been ugly. Beyond ugly.
And yeah, Shannon knew it was an addiction. Knew that addicts had no control and didn’t know what they were doing. The logical part of her brain understood that. The emotional side of her—the one filled with passion for playing—struggled to understand the why behind it. Which was stupid, because why didn’t matter when drugs and addiction were involved.
She bit back another sigh—this one filled with impatience—and pushed all thoughts of Amanda from her mind. This meeting wasn’t about Amanda—it was about their upcoming exhibition game.
And Shannon was going to miss it if Taylor didn’t start soon. She had a date with Caleb tonight—a real, actual date. They were going out for a late dinner then catching an even later movie. And after that…she wasn’t sure. She knew what she wanted to do, she just wasn’t sure if it was the smart thing to do.
“How much longer are we going to wait before getting started?” Dani finally asked the question that everyone else had been thinking. A few more voices chimed in, echoing around the cavernous room before finally disappearing in the dark shadows overhead.
Taylor glanced at her watch then leaned against the back of the worn sofa. Springs creaked with the movement and she quickly sat back up, shooting a frown at Sammie. The other woman shrugged, a small smile of apology on her face.
“It’s a warehouse, not an office. What did you expect?”
Shannon looked around again, taking in the concrete floors. The large sturdy cabinets secured by even larger locks. The interior doors leading to what she assumed were offices, also securely locked. Well, almost all. One door was open, light spilling from it in a harsh slash along the floor. Sammie’s ex-husband—or rather, her soon-to-be-husband—was back there with one of his buddies, their voices nothing more than deep rumblings seeping into the chilliness of the large room.
Shannon hunched her shoulders around her ears to ward off the cold. She’d bet anything that they had heat in that office.
“How come they’re in there where it’s warm and we’re stuck out here?”
“Because that room is too small for all of us.” Sammie glanced over at the office then leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Besides, they’re having a meeting.”
Jordyn Knott stared at the open door then turned toward Sammie. “What exactly do they do again?”
“Oh, you know.” Sammie laughed and waved her hand from side-to-side. “Security and, um, stuff.”
“‘Stuff’? What kind of ‘stuff’?”
“Just, you know, um, stuff.”
“We could tell you, then we’d have to kill you.”
At least seven of her teammates jumped at the menacing words uttered in a gravelly voice. Twelve of eyes turned to stare at the men standing just outside the door. Large, foreboding, their bodies nothing more than intimidating silhouettes framed by the light coming from behind them. The only thing missing was dramatic music.
Shannon bit back her laughter, nearly choking on it. She didn’t think either man would appreciate it, especially Mac. He was so damned scary, even though he was doing nothing more than simply standing there.
At least, he would be, if not for the three-year-old girl clinging to him like he was her favorite teddy bear.
Shannon quickly averted her gaze and covered her mouth, trying to hide the strangled laughter that threatened to fall from her mouth. She cleared her throat then snapped her fingers in Taylor’s attention.
“Can we get started already? I need to leave in—” She glanced at her watch and frowned. “In twenty minutes.”
“Where are you going?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just get started already, will you?”
Taylor studied her with a frown. She opened her mouth then snapped it shut, obviously reconsidering whatever she had been about to say. Well, that was a first. Shannon had expected the third degree, had been waiting for it ever since she pulled through the automatic gate at the end of the long drive leading up to this place. Now she started to worry, wondering why Taylor wasn’t questioning her.
A quiet Taylor couldn’t be good. Unless she had already figured out where Shannon was going. But if that was the case, wouldn’t she be giving Shannon a hard time about it?
Maybe. Probably.
Or maybe Shannon was just starting to get paranoid, probably a result of sitting in this dark cavern filled with untold secrets.
“Just a few more minutes. We’re waiting on one more.”
“You mean Rachel?” Dani rolled her eyes then took a sip from her fountain soda. “I don’t think she’s coming. She pitched a fit about it last night at practice, saying she didn’t get paid for ‘unscheduled meetings’.”
“No, not Rachel. TR was going to try to make it.”
“TR?” Shannon straightened in the lumpy seat and tamped down the spurt of guilt. She still owed TR the rest of that interview. Was the woman going to collect tonight? God, she hoped not. She didn’t have time. “Why would TR be here?”
“Relax, Wiley. She’s not going to hold you up. She’s coming because I invited her. And because she wants to fit this into part of that whole thing she’s doing.”
Dani finished her soda with a loud slurp then placed the empty cup by her feet. “Doesn’t that kind of defeat the whole purpose of having a strategy meeting? I mean, why bother if the Banners find out about it beforehand, you know?”
“She’s not going to publish anything now. This is for later.”
Shannon rolled her eyes then looked at her watch again. Fifteen minutes. She must have made a sound or something because Taylor looked over at her with another frown.
“Fine, we’ll get started.” Taylor grabbed the pad next to her and balanced it on her knee. “Let’s talk strategy.”
“How’s this: we play our best and hope for the best.”
“I’m just hoping we don’t get killed.” Sammie muttered the words, but they were still loud enough for everyone to hear. And loud enough to earn a frown from Taylor.
“Guys, enough. We can beat them. I know we can. We just have to focus on our game. Outshoot them. Outscore them.”
“Taylor, this is supposed to be an exhibition game. You know, for fun. Don’t you think you’re going just a little overboard?” Maddison Sinclair asked the exact same question Shannon had been ready to ask. More than a few of her teammates nodded in agreement, which only seemed to upset Taylor. She tossed the pad beside her then stood up and started pacing, each clipped step echoing around them.
“Am I the only one who thinks we can do this? Because if I am, let me know now.”
Shannon looked around, noticed that everyone else suddenly seemed preoccupied with staring at the floor. She rolled her eyes then spoke up. “Taylor, it’s not that we don’t think we can do this. We’re good. We all know that.”
“Then why is everyone just sitting here looking resigned to losing?”
“We’re not resigned to losing. We’re just…I don’t know. Being realistic. The Banners have been playing together a lot longer than we have. They have more ice time. More practice time. They have more experience as a team.” Shannon mentally cringed as the words left her mouth. Wasn’t that exactly what Caleb had told her? Yes, it was. And yes, it made sense. But when the hell did she start letting other people dictate what she should believe?
She blew out a quick breath and ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, forget that. Those are nothing but lame-ass excuses. You’re right. We can beat them. We’re just going to have to focus. Play hard. Harder than we’ve ever played before.”
Taylor stopped next to her and gave her a high-five. “Now that’s more like it. So—what’s our game plan?”
Silence greeted her question. Long. Heavy. Filled with doubt. Not doubt that they could do it—or at least give the Banners one hell of a run for their money—but doubt on how to do it.
Shannon rolled her eyes. “Goaltending.”
“What? You mean yours?”
“No, not mine. I mean, yeah, mine, to a point, if you guys don’t do your job. But I’m talking about them. Let’s face it, their goaltenders are struggling right now. Connelly has some serious fucking issues. And Lory still hasn’t found his zone, hasn’t been played enough to really adapt to the Banners’ system yet. So…we play to their weakness. They both have them.”
“Like what?”
“Yeah. And how do we know which one’s going to be in the net that night?”
“We don’t, but it doesn’t matter. Not if you know what to look for.”
Sammie leaned forward, excitement dancing in her eyes. “What do we look for?”
“I need a television. And an internet hook-up.” She glanced around the cavernous room then looked at Sammie, who turned toward the two men lounging against the far wall.
“Jon?”
“We can make that happen.” He pushed away from the wall and headed toward one of the locked doors, motioning for them to follow. The alarm on Shannon’s watch went off with a small beep and she hesitated. It was time to leave, or else she’d be late for her date with Caleb.
Twelve of eyes stared at her. Watching. Waiting. She glanced around, her gaze finally meeting Taylor’s own serious one.
And shit. Shit, fuck shit.
She thought of Caleb’s deep green eyes. Of the dimple that made her heart skip a few beats. Of hot kisses that made her knees buckle.
Of the unspoken promises that filled her with anticipation for their first real date—and what might happen after.
Caleb…or her teammates?
Fuck it. She couldn’t leave, not when her teammates needed her.
“Come on. Let’s do this.”
Chapter Sixteen
She stood him up.
Caleb couldn’t believe it. She had really stood him up. He reached for the glass of wine that had been sitting in front of him, untouched, for the past thirty minutes. It was warm now but he didn’t care, just tossed it back, swallowed it with a wince, then slammed the glass onto the table. Would the restaurant let him take the bottle to go? Probably not, even though he was paying for it.
A whole damn bottle wasted except for that one glass. And he didn’t even fucking like wine.
Shannon had stood him up.
What the fuck?
He glanced at his phone, staring at the blank screen, willing it to beep or ring or vibrate. Something. But it didn’t move, didn’t make a single noise, no matter how long he stared at it. It had been silent for the last thirty minutes, ever since Shannon had sent him that quick text saying she was running a few minutes late.
A few minutes? It had been more than a few minutes. A hell of a lot more, considering they were supposed to meet an hour ago.
And what the fuck was he doing, sitting here by himself? The wait staff had been watching him, no doubt whispering among themselves. Probably laughing. What kind of asshole hung out at a restaurant for an hour, waiting for a date that wasn’t going to show?
The pathetic kind, that’s what kind.
Which didn’t say much for him, since he was still sitting here. Still waiting.
Fuck.
He clenched his jaw and looked around, searching for his waiter. The man was nowhere in sight. Of course not, now that Caleb was ready to leave. Wasn’t that the way it usually worked? The man had appeared at his side every five minutes, asking if he was ready to order no matter how many times Caleb had told him he was waiting for his date. He didn’t miss the doubt in the man’s eyes, or the pity—which only pissed him off. He’d finally told the guy that he’d wave him down when he was ready.
Caleb was ready now, so where the hell was the damn waiter?
He swore under his breath and pushed away from the table, ready to hunt the man down. Or maybe he should just throw some bills on the table—enough to cover the damn bottle of wine and an outrageous tip—and get the hell out of here.
And fuck. She stood him up. He still couldn’t fucking believe it.
He grabbed the suit jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged into it, not bothering to straighten his collar or sleeves. Why the hell should he, when he was just going to take it off as soon as he got home?
Of all the—he bit back another curse and pushed the chair in. Carefully, even though he’d rather slam it against the table hard enough to send the fancy place settings crashing to the polished terracotta floor.
Doing that would accomplish exactly nothing. It wouldn’t even make him feel better because he’d end up having to pay for it.
He still couldn’t believe she’d stood him up. That never happened to him before. Never. And he wasn’t sure how to act. The anger he felt made sense, was even welcomed. Anger was normal.
What wasn’t normal was the disappointment coursing through him—strong enough to drown out the anger. Why the fuck was he disappointed? It didn’t make sense. He had nothing to be disappointed about. Nothing at all.
That’s what his brain kept telling him. The clenching of his gut was saying something completely different. Neither of which explained why he was still standing there like an ass, staring at the phone gripped in his hand.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”
Caleb frowned at the phone, wondering why the words were coming from behind him. Then his brain finally clicked and he turned, surprised to see Shannon walking toward him, her hair drifting around her face with each step. He clenched his jaw, told himself not to stare, not to smile because she was finally here.
She stopped in front of him, leaned up and pressed a quick kiss against his jaw, then shrugged out of her coat and dropped into the seat with a breathy sigh.
“You said you were going to be a few minutes late.”
She looked up at the sharpness in his voice then offered him a bright smile and a shrug. “I know, sorry. Things ran longer than I thought.”
“We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”
She tilted her head back to look up at him, her brows lowered in a small frown. “I know, but I was running late. I told you that.”
Caleb opened his mouth, snapped it shut again. He had no idea what to say—at least, not without sounding like
he was snapping at her, not without sounding angry. Maybe he didn’t even have to open his mouth, maybe Shannon could tell anyway. Her own jaw clenched, just for a split second before she pushed away from the table.
“Maybe we should just do this another time. You’re pissed—”
“I’m not pissed.”
One sculpted brow shot up. “Really? Because your face is doing one hell of an impression of that right now.”
“I’m not—” He snapped his mouth closed again and pulled his chair out, dropped into it with a heavy sigh. “I’m not pissed. I’m just…”
His voice trailed off. Just…what? He had no idea. And he hoped Shannon didn’t press him because he wasn’t sure how to answer if she did.
She rested her arms on the edge of the table and leaned forward, the motion giving him an eyeful of soft, creamy skin peeking out from the V of her sweater. Caleb blinked and forced his gaze to the center of the table, wondering why he suddenly felt like a complete ass for even looking.
“You’re not used to waiting, are you?” There was humor in her voice, a hint of laughter that irritated him.
“Waiting, yes. For an hour? No. I was ready to leave, thinking you had stood me up.”
She laughed again, the sound laced with disbelief and maybe even a little bit of sympathy—although he wasn’t sure if it was genuine. “You’ve never been stood up before.”
It was a statement, not a question. “No, I haven’t.”
“But I bet you’ve stood up a date once or twice before, hm?”
“I—” He snapped his mouth closed and frowned as heat filled his face. Had he? Yeah, he had. Probably more than once or twice. Usually because the date suddenly thought that date meant a lifetime commitment.
“Yeah, thought so. Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Are you telling me you’ve been stood up before?”
“Duh. Of course. I told you, men generally run the other way—usually without the guts to tell me first.”
“You don’t see me running, do you?”
“Nope. And I still haven’t figured out why.” She reached out and patted his hand, maybe a little harder than necessary. “But I’m here now, neither one of us stood the other up. So. Do you want to do this thing or not?”
Playing Hard: A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance (The Chesapeake Blades Book 3) Page 12
