Here We Go

by Shannon Stacey

  When Lamont didn’t say anything, she wondered if he’d been struck speechless with horror at the thought of a Lecroix grandchild or if he was actually thinking about the potential talent—and marketability—of a kid with Burke and Lecroix DNA.

  “This is how it is,” she finally said in a firm voice, wanting to put an end to the nonsense. “If everybody keeps their mouths shut beyond what’s already been said, and you and Erik don’t say anything except that my personal life is my own business, everybody gets bored and moves on. The only way this stays a story is if you make it a story, and then any distraction from Erik’s game is also on you.”

  “The fastest way to make the story go away is for you to break things off with Lecroix,” Lamont countered.

  He had a point. It would be easy to say that, after the news broke, they’d decided it would be too much and went their separate ways. End of story.

  But she didn’t really know how long Will would be in Boston, and as long as he was in this city, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist him. And maybe a breakup would be just as newsworthy as dating, if not more, because it would look like Erik punching Will had caused it, which could get everybody excited about an increase in the animosity between the two men. It was better for everybody to let the story ride for a while.

  “That’s not your decision to make,” she said.

  “We should be focusing on the All-Star weekend, not on your nonsense.”

  That was nothing new. “Then stop arguing with me and go watch game tapes or something. You’ve never let anything going on in my life detract from game prep before, so there’s no sense in starting now.”

  He grunted and hung up, which was how their phone calls usually ended. She sank onto the couch and closed her eyes, blowing out a long breath.

  Dealing with Erik and her dad in the same day was always tiring, but tonight she felt absolutely drained. A lot had happened today, and she still had tomorrow to look forward to. If her boss was going to hear what had happened, it would probably be before she showed up to work in the morning. She was hopeful the dating angle would be enough to make Stan dismiss it all, but Will was still an athlete. And not only was he a hockey player, but he was the one the people of Boston hated the most.

  All she wanted to do for the rest of the night was binge some Netflix and then fall into her bed, even though she’d probably do more tossing and turning, tangling her sheets all up, than actual sleeping. She’d worry about tomorrow when her alarm went off.

  Her phone chimed, and she caught herself smiling when Will’s name popped up on the screen.

  Since we’re dating now, do you want to grab some grilled chicken with me?

  Netflix wasn’t going anywhere, she decided. And if she was going to spend a sleepless night in tangled sheets, it might as well be Will who tangled them.

  6

  Will watched Kristen walk through the door of Firewall, just as he had the first time he’d eaten there, and the impact of her gaze meeting his wasn’t lessened any by having been naked in her bed.

  If anything, his hunger for her hit him even harder.

  He’d had a few relationships in his life—a couple of them he’d really believed at the time would go the distance—but he’d never been as excited by a woman as he was by this one. She was not only sexy as hell, but she was funny and authentic and pretty damn fierce.

  She was also a Burke, but nobody was perfect.

  He stood when she reached the table, and she gave him a quick but potent kiss, complete with a sharp nip at his bottom lip, before she sat in the chair across from his. Sitting helped stop his erection before it could become a problem, but he figured he’d better get used to constantly being semihard if he was going to be spending a lot of time with Kristen.

  “I’m surprised you don’t hang out at sports bars,” she said. “You’d probably eat—or at least drink—for free.”

  He snorted at the suggestion. “I think you’re seriously underestimating how much this city loves your brother. You said yourself I was in the top three most hated athletes in Boston on a good day, and now Marauders fans know I did, in fact, defile Burke’s sister.”

  “Thoroughly defiled,” she said, amusement making her eyes crinkle. “But whether they hate you or not, fans aren’t going to pass up the chance to have a story to tell about the time they had a drink with Cross Lecroix.”

  “I’d rather eat my dinner and read my book in peace. Autographs and selfies come with being at the top of my game, but I get time off, too.”

  She propped her chin on her hand. “Does that mean I can’t ask you for an autograph?”

  He laughed. “I guess that depends on where you want me to sign my name.”

  “Tell me you’ve never signed a breast.” He felt the heat in his face and knew he didn’t even have to answer. She rolled her eyes. “You’re not writing your name on my body. But I do think it would be hilarious to have you sign a Cross Lecroix poster so I can hang it in my apartment. Cross as Dad repellent would be pretty effective.”

  “The way you say that makes me wonder if you think of me and Cross Lecroix as two different people in your head.” She shrugged and didn’t deny it. “We’re not. If anything, Cross is the real me. Will’s the guy hanging out in Boston waiting for the clock to tick down on the All-Star break and his conditioning stint so he can get back on the ice in Baltimore.”

  “So noted.” The seriousness in her gaze told him she’d got what he was trying to say without actually saying it. This was a short, involuntary detour in his life, and she shouldn’t think it was anything else. Then the corner of her mouth turned up suggestively. “Of course, Will’s also the guy having sex with me while that clock ticks.”

  “It is good to be Will right now,” he admitted, and his dick twitched to life again.

  “Let’s stop talking about you in dual third-person and order food,” she suggested, which worked for him. Talking about sex while they weren’t in a place they could actually have it was going to make for a very long, uncomfortable evening.

  And it had been a difficult enough day already. Since the news about Kristen broke, he’d been hearing from pretty much everybody he had a professional connection to—from the Harriers management to his agent and his own teammates—as well as getting text messages from a lot of guys he had friendships with off the ice. It had been exhausting and one of the perks of dinner with Kristen was being with somebody who actually knew the truth.

  But the biggest benefit was the way he felt when she turned her gaze on him and her half smile seemed to promise good things. And not just sex—though he certainly wouldn’t turn it down—but just the pleasure of her company. He liked her with her clothes on, too.

  “So, how many panicked or irate phone calls have you gotten?” she asked after they’d put in their order.

  “Let’s just say I’ve had to charge my phone twice already today. But none of the people who called me were Lamont Burke, so I have that going for me.”

  She laughed and nodded. “Yes, you do. Have I mentioned you’re buying tonight?”

  “Sounds fair. Was it as bad as I imagine it was?”

  “He didn’t actually show up at my door, so it could have been worse. But, no, it wasn’t pleasant. He accused me of trying to get attention because I’m jealous of Erik.”

  The happy glow he’d been working on was swept away by a rush of anger, and Will set down his glass so he didn’t crack it. “I think I probably shouldn’t tell you how I feel about that because the bottom line is that he’s your father.”

  “I’m used to it,” she said with a shrug.

  “That doesn’t make it better. It’s worse, actually. This kind of shit would be bad enough as a one-time deal, but it’s not. You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

  “Shh.” She reached across the table and laced her fingers through his. “You’re getting loud, and you’re going to attract attention, and we’re here because you don’t attract attention, so if you cause a sce
ne, you’ll be eating shitty grilled chicken someplace else. And I know I shouldn’t have to be used to my dad being a dick, but I am. But I also know I can’t change him, so it is what it is.”

  “What about Burke?” He winced. “Your brother, I mean. You’re all Burkes, I guess.”

  “Erik can’t change him, either.” She let go of his hand to pick up her drink. “He’s not like Dad, you know. He was raised to be the center of our universe, but he does his best to never leave me behind. We’re very close, even when Dad makes it hard.”

  The last thing Will wanted to do right now was talk about the Burke men—and he especially didn’t want to hear praise for the guy he’d been battling for a decade and a half—so he decided a change of subject was in order. “Since you know a hell of a lot about my job, why don’t you tell me about yours? And this promotion you want?”

  She grimaced. “I basically manage a very large office for an asshole I definitely don’t want to talk about, or even think about, right now.”

  “Okay. Favorite color?”

  “Red.” She chuckled. “Yours?”

  “Blue.” Yesterday, he probably would have said he didn’t have one. But now that he’d seen her eyes, it was definitely blue. But he wasn’t quite ready to give up on talking about her yet. “Okay, I hate pushing, and I know I shouldn’t, but you’re such a strong, confident woman and I get why you might put up with your dad being a jerk, but putting up with an asshole boss doesn’t seem like you.”

  “I took the job because it was available, paid enough to cover my student loans and food, and fit my career plan. Plus, my boss is well-respected in the city. You don’t know until you work in a place what really happens in the office, you know?”

  “But you’ve stayed.”

  “He’s going to run for mayor, and he’s probably going to win. And because I’ve stuck it out and worked my ass off, I’m going to be the chief of staff for the mayor of Boston. And with that on my resume, instead of job-hopping for less money because I don’t personally like my boss, I’m going to use his connections and my skills to make a lateral or forward move to campaign manager or chief of staff for somebody I do like.” She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “He’s a stepping stone for me.”

  “And a judgmental prick.”

  “One I’ll be happy to leave behind, but not until the time is right for me. And now I really don’t want to think about him anymore.”

  “Okay, what’s your favorite movie, then?”

  “Misery.”

  “Horror?” That surprised him. Hell, everything about her surprised him. “I’m partial to horror myself, both in books and movies.”

  They talked for two hours about the horror books and movies they both liked, then moved on to others. And then television shows. They talked about pretty much everything but their families and hockey. She had several cocktails, while he stuck to ice water and his decaf, and they split a strawberry shortcake for dessert.

  “You didn’t drive here, did you?” he asked when she was halfway through her third drink.

  “Nope. After the day I had, I decided to take a Lyft so I wouldn’t have to be conflicted about a second drink.” She lifted the glass. “Or a third. Did I not mention you’re driving me home?”

  He chuckled and clinked his coffee mug lightly against her glass. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  “Probably.” Her expression said his chances at pleasure were higher than probably, but he wouldn’t push her. After the day they’d both had, he would totally understand if she just wanted to climb into her bed alone and pull the covers up over her head.

  It wouldn’t sound like a bad plan to him, either, if he hadn’t been in various states of semi-erect from the minute she walked through the door. Whether Kristen invited him in or he had to have some solo time in his hotel shower, his dick was going to need a little attention before he could sleep.

  The first thing she did when they got in his car was change the radio station. He’d been listening to sports radio, mostly to get an overview of how the day in sports in general had gone. But, of course, they were talking hockey when he fired up the ignition.

  “Things are getting interesting in the Boston hockey scene,” was the first thing they heard, and she hit the scan button before they heard more.

  “Let’s just pretend they were going to talk about the Zamboni or something,” she said, scanning until she found a song she liked.

  As he drove, Kristen sang along to the radio with the confidence and enthusiasm of somebody who’d consumed three fairly strong cocktails, and he enjoyed it immensely. She wasn’t drunk, by any means, but she was definitely more relaxed than she’d been when she walked into Firewall.

  When he pulled into a spot just down the street from her building, she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to him. “You coming up?”

  “I’m definitely walking you to the door. But as for coming up, are you sure want me to?”

  She shrugged. “If I have to fake date you, I may as well get some great sex out of it.”

  “That’s a weird combination of very flattering, and yet somehow not.”

  “Maybe just focus on the great sex part.”

  He could do that. “I’m definitely coming up, then.”

  The next morning, it was nothing short of a miracle that Kristen managed to get to work on time. She was exhausted and sore—though in the best possible way—and she definitely didn’t look her best. But she wasn’t late.

  Annie, who was the head of HR as well as her friend, poked her head in the door within a minute of her arrival. “Stan’s looking for you.”

  Kristen looked at her watch. “It’s not time for our morning meeting yet.”

  “I don’t think it’s that. He seems agitated, and he asked about you first thing, and he’s asked about every two minutes if you’re here yet.”

  She sighed. So he knew. It was surprising he hadn’t called her cell phone, despite his preference for face-to-face meetings. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  As tempting as it was to wait until their usual meeting time or to simply ignore the summons, Kristen decided there was no sense in putting it off. She walked down the short hall to Stan’s office.

  The door was open, so she knocked on the jamb. “You wanted to see me?”

  He looked up from his computer screen. “Kristen, come in. Close the door behind you, please.”

  She did as she was told and then sat in her usual chair with her hands folded in her lap.

  “It’s been brought to my attention that you had some kind of a domestic situation that unfortunately made headlines yesterday.”

  It was hard to keep a straight face—she couldn’t sneer at his uptight tone or laugh at his melodrama, nor could she let her extreme annoyance show—but she mentally repeated the word promotion to keep herself in check. “I don’t think a sports blog qualifies as ‘making headlines,’ but yes, there was some interest in my personal life.”

  “You are aware, of course, that your actions reflect on me and this office, right?”

  Only if you’re a self-absorbed misogynist. “It was a misunderstanding, Stan. I’m dating a wonderful man, and my brother was taken by surprise when he found out it was somebody he knew. That’s all.”

  Stan scowled. “The article made it sound far more sordid than that.”

  “Again, it was a blog post, not an article.” It was a ridiculous and irrelevant distinction, but it would matter to him.

  “And he’s a hockey player, if I read it correctly?”

  He knew damn well he’d read it correctly, and he also knew her brother played hockey professionally. Stan hadn’t hesitated to use that connection in the past when free tickets to a Marauders game would help him schmooze with people he wanted to impress, so he should watch the hypocrisy. She would only tolerate so much.

  “He plays for a Baltimore team, yes.” She was about to stress the fact he wouldn’t be in Boston long, but then she remembered she was supposed to be selling th
em as a stable, committed couple. “This shouldn’t come up again, Stan. I’ve spoken to my brother and there shouldn’t be any more headlines.”

  “I hope you’re right. I would hate to see you in some kind of scandal that would reflect poorly on this office.”

  “It won’t happen,” she assured him again, more firmly this time, while she called him a lot of unsavory names in her head.

  The man liked to put on airs as though he were gearing up for a run at the White House instead of the mayor’s office. The only thing that reflected poorly on his office was him, but it all happened behind closed office doors, so the city just saw the smiling and successful businessman with the picture-perfect family.

  Because she didn’t want to delve any deeper into her personal life for Stan, she stood. For a few seconds, he looked like he wanted to say more, but then he gave her the smile he seemed to think was charming but was actually smarmy. “I’m glad to hear it. And it’s good that you’ve found yourself a beau. I’m happy for you, Kristen.”

  She managed to leave his office and close the door behind her before the derisive snort escaped. A beau? What the hell was that about?

  Annie managed to get out of the water cooler conversation she was having in time to meet Kristen at her office door. “Everything okay? You look pissed.”

  “It’s fine. I’m just trying to recover from my journey back to 1955.”

  “He saw the blog post, didn’t he?”

  “You saw the blog post?” Annie had no interest in sports that Kristen knew of.

  Annie blushed. “I think everybody’s seen it. I was going to text you yesterday, but my mom called with one of her crises and it got late. I was really hoping Stan wouldn’t hear about it, though.”

  “I was, too, but he probably has Google alerts set up for each of us.”

  Annie laughed out loud. “I’d say you’re probably right, except he can barely check his own email without calling the IT guy for help. I have to run, but we’re having lunch together today because I want to hear more about this Cross guy.”