Someone like me.
Except for not actually me, of course. The stab of jealousy that poked at me called bullshit. The other women in the near vicinity who were ogling him only sent more of the toxic emotion pumping through me. I wanted to wrap myself around Ryder and show everyone he was mine, the same as I’d wanted to do at the Quad.
What else I noticed throughout the conversation was how quiet Ryder was. He didn’t say much besides “nice to meet you,” and “this is Lindsay” as we met several more people. My editor position at the paper came up, and at least that helped create a few questions that I knew how to answer without totally feeling out of my league.
During the dinner, as we were being served course after course, he was back to the stoic, quiet guy I first met. Only this was a step further—almost robotic, really, with a rehearsed script.
Occasionally, he’d flash me the tiniest of smiles or squeeze my hand, but I missed the guy who made unexpected jokes and gave as good as he got. I understood why he’d go quiet and emotionless at events like this. The conversation topics were total snoozefests.
A guy who couldn’t have been much older than I was went on and on about how important he was in his company. To hear him tell it, they couldn’t function without him, and that’s how you paid for a boat that you hardly had time to take out. Was he right, or was he right? Insert condescending, embarrassment-of-riches chuckle here.
I leaned in to Ryder and whispered, “You could take him. Get him on the ice and slam him against the boards a couple of times. I bet that would cut the bragging short.”
The corner of Ryder’s mouth lifted. “I’ve actually been imagining doing just that for the past ten minutes.” His eyes held a challenging glint when they met mine. “You know, if you were willing to break your rule about mixing worlds and crossing streams, you could watch.”
“One, that guy would pee himself if you put him on the ice, and two, last time the worlds mixed, it didn’t go so well. I just can’t do it.” I’d tried to keep it light and joking, but my voice cracked on that last sentence.
Ryder curled his hand around my knee. “I understand.”
“You guys seem chatty,” Sharon broke in, giving us that same plastic smile she’d been wearing all night. “I’m assuming that with your job at the paper, and Ryder’s spot on the hockey team, it’s hard to keep up with your college courses.”
“It can be,” I said. “Luckily, I have a good math tutor to help me out.” I winked at Ryder, happiness tumbling through me when he broke into his first full smile of the night.
“I’m surprised Ryder has time for that with hockey. Apparently he doesn’t have time for haircuts anymore, either.”
The smile fell from Ryder’s face and irritation bubbled up inside me. Did she like keeping him quiet, her trophy child that she could show off to make her look better? I reached up and ran my hand through his hair. “I like it on the longer side. It’s sexy.”
Someone cleared their throat, as if saying the word sexy was going too far. Or maybe it was the way my body bumped into Ryder’s as I dragged my fingernails across his scalp and ran my hand down his freshly shaven cheek. Either way, I didn’t care. There was some benefit to not belonging somewhere.
Ryder brought my hand to his lips and kissed my open palm. Butterflies erupted, and they fluttered even more when he folded my hand into his and set our joined hands in his lap.
The urge to push things to the inappropriate level called to me, but I didn’t want to give Ryder the wrong idea just to shock some life into this party and these people who talked about money like it was a burden. I’d love some of that burden to float my way.
In an effort to play nice, I turned to the rest of the table and forced myself to say something complimentary about the event. “The food’s amazing, by the way. And this table setting is simply gorgeous.” I wasn’t sure what else to say about a political fundraiser, but it got everyone talking again and the attention off Ryder.
As the topics bounced around, each one as boring as the next, I leaned my head on Ryder’s shoulder.
He curled me closer and then it didn’t matter what anyone was talking about. The way he peered down at me and the fact that he was smiling, a more carefree vibe now in place, was all the victory I needed.
Chapter Eighteen
Ryder
I’d spent the first half of the event thinking I made a mistake bringing Lindsay. Not because I didn’t enjoy being around her, and holy shit, that dress made it hard to keep my thoughts out of the pants she didn’t have on.
But these fundraising events were as horrible as I remembered—with mom’s reelection up this year this was only the beginning, too—and I didn’t want Lindsay to associate me with anything so boring. Once she’d made the joke about slamming the guys into the boards, my worries melted away.
I was used to my mother complaining about my “too-long hair,” but if it meant Lindsay was going to run her fingers through it and call it sexy, I was never cutting it again.
I wrapped my arm tighter around her and ran my fingertips over her smooth skin. Her gaze met mine, and man I wanted to kiss her. Just ignore the fact that we were in public and devour that tempting mouth until we were both gasping for air. Her hand rested on my thigh and when she shifted, it moved an inch higher, and then I was having to think of hockey plays just to keep from sporting a hard-on. That had definitely never happened at one of these fundraisers before.
Finally dinner officially ended and people stood to mingle. Just a quick chat with Mom then I could make my excuse and take Lindsay somewhere else, where we could talk and laugh—and if I had my way—touch more of that silky skin and follow through on my idea to kiss her breathless.
Of course, Mom had other plans. She introduced us to a dozen more people, and it was like she knew I was trying to leave, because every time I opened my mouth, she’d talk over me.
“Sorry,” I whispered to Lindsay as I ran my hand down her back. “I promise it won’t be much longer.”
“I’m okay.” She slid her arm inside my suit coat and gave me a side-hug. Hope, way stronger than what I’d experienced the other night, whispered that while she was still against crossing fully into my world, maybe she wasn’t totally opposed to some crossing. “You’re a good son to come here and deal with this, you know.”
“Nah.”
She turned to fully face me, adding her other arm to the hug and linking her fingers behind me. “Yes. You’re a good guy, Ryder Maddox.”
“Isn’t that girl code for I’ll never date you?”
She laughed. Then her expression turned serious. “If things were different…I could really see myself slipping.”
“Just slip.” I reached up and ran my thumb across her bottom lip, my blood pumping hotter at her sharp exhale. “I’ll catch you.”
She swallowed and my heart beat so hard and fast, I wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear it.
I dragged my thumb down and then cupped her chin and tipped up her head. Her eyes fluttered closed as I leaned in. Her lips were a breath away, so close I could smell the strawberry lip gloss she put on after dinner, and anticipation zinged through my veins.
“Ryder. Did you see that the police chief made it?” Mom wrapped her hand around my elbow and gave a tug. One I could easily break free from, but Lindsay took a step back, a dazed look on her face.
I bit back the harsh reply that wanted to burst from my lips and forced a smile on them instead.
“This is Lindsay,” I added after I’d greeted the police chief. And if you hadn’t shown up, I’d be kissing her right now, the way I’ve wanted to since the first moment I laid eyes on her.
“Speaking of…” My mother said, and something in her tone made the hair on my neck stand on end. “Lindsay, I wanted to introduce you to someone. She’s a newspaper columnist from New York City—I met her back when we used to live there, when Ryder’s father played for the Islanders—and I thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to t
alk shop with someone who’s been very successful in your industry.”
I moved to go with Lindsay, but Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “The police chief wants to talk hockey. Us girls don’t care about that, so you boys go ahead.”
Lindsay looked torn, like she wanted to correct the false assumption about hockey—no matter what she said, I knew there was part of her that cared about the sport. Or maybe I just wanted that to be true so I stopped feeling like I had to choose it or her.
Not like that’s a real option. She’s graduating in a few short months and heading to New York City, and I have two more years in Boston, plus a career in the NHL ahead of me that’ll take me who knows where.
Clearly meeting a columnist from a big paper would be a good networking opportunity for her, and that desire danced in her eyes, too.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Go dazzle her. I’ll be here when you’re through.”
To my surprise, she backtracked and gave me quick kiss on my cheek.
The police chief started right in on the hockey talk, but my attention was on Lindsay’s ass in that dress, and how I could still feel the ghost of her soft lips on my cheek.
Chapter Nineteen
Lindsay
My brain said say something witty, no smart, no just be cool while my body just stood there, useless to do anything but stare.
“…and this is Lindsay,” Sharon said, and a frown line settled between her eyebrows. Earlier there’d been a hint of disdain, but the look she gave me now spoke more to her concern that I might be having a stroke. “She’s the editor for the paper at Boston College.”
Andrea Green extended her hand and my body finally sprang into motion. I made a squeaky noise that caused a flush of heat to rush up to my face. Then I tried again, telling myself not to blow this. “Lindsay Rivera. It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve read your articles for years.”
Andrea put a hand to her chest, her red fingernails perfectly contrasting her white-and-black polka-dot blouse. “Oh, thank you. I was starting to worry my audience consisted solely of AARP members. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate them, but most people your age have no idea what a newspaper is, much less who I am.”
“Well, I assure you I’m not like most people my age in a lot of aspects.” Sometimes I worried that meant I’d forever be alone, but it was true. Still, I felt like a bit of a traitor saying that, as the people I was starting to try friendships with this semester continued to surprise me. But here I was meeting one of my idols, and how could I possibly be expected to speak coherently?
I told her that I loved her article on how the news reported on female athletes versus their male counterparts, and then talked about the article Whitney wrote for the Heights. Originally I’d been upset it wasn’t more scathing over the unfair preferential treatment of athletes, but now I was glad it’d been fair and balanced. It was much better journalism.
Plus, now I had all this empathy for Ryder and the pressure he’d dealt with his whole life because of sports, which made me feel a little more for the rest of the athletes as much as I hated to admit it, even to just myself.
“So you’re looking for a job at a major newspaper once you graduate?” Andrea asked.
“That’s sort of the goal.”
Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Sort of?”
Mentally I kicked myself for not giving a stronger answer. “The truth is, while I love my job as editor at the paper and would be happy to find any kind of publishing job, I prefer fiction.”
I cringed, thinking she was going to now change her opinion and decide I was a silly girl who preferred to ignore the real world and live in a fictional one where guys were more chivalrous and happy endings were common.
Although the guy I came with seems like perfect hero material. I just worried that the real world and my past would mess it up.
To sound smarter, I almost added that I was most interested in tragedies and intense literary masterpieces with endings that made you rethink the world, but the truth was, I wanted happy endings. I wanted the books that left me with a grin on my face—that happy heartwarming sensation that made it easier to face the real world. I didn’t want to pretend otherwise, because knowing what you wanted was smarter than trying to be someone you weren’t—I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
“They say truth is stranger than fiction, and while I’ve certainly found that to be true on a lot of the stories I’ve covered, there’s nothing quite like getting lost in a good book,” Andrea said. “Fiction or nonfiction.”
We talked about some of our favorites, from classics to novels that had recently been at the top of the charts—thanks to my college courses, I was a bit out of the loop and I put several of her suggestions in the notes app in my phone.
Besides Ryder, Andrea was the first person here I didn’t find pretentious or boring. In fact, I could probably talk to her all night.
I did a quick check around the room for Ryder. He was over with a group of people, including his mother, and he appeared bored and disengaged. I hated seeing him like that. “Thank you so much for chatting with me. I should probably go find my date.”
“The mayor’s son?”
“We’re just friends,” I said quickly.
“He’s very handsome.”
No, he was more than handsome. He was smoking hot with the kind of body made for carrying out fantasies, and when he noticed me looking his way, his slow smile and heated gaze had an edge of I’m-thinking-dirty-thoughts-about-you to it. A cascade of tingles traveled down my spine.
“It was nice meeting you, Lindsay,” Andrea said, drawing my attention back to her, although a twitterpated lust haze still hung over me. “When did you say you were graduating?”
“This spring, and then I have a summer internship set up with a midsize newspaper in New York,” I said, ignoring the fact that I would only graduate if I passed my math class. With Ryder on my team, for the first time all semester, I felt confident that might happen. Admittedly, optimism was a nice change of pace for me, one I decided to embrace.
“I’ll tell you what. I know a couple of fiction editors, so I’ll poke around and see if I hear of any positions opening up, summer or fall.”
“That would be amazing. Thank you so much.”
“If you want my advice, follow your passion—life’s too short to do otherwise. But full disclosure, even after completing your internship, they might expect you to complete another one at their company, and most starting positions don’t offer a salary that you can actually live off without having another job on the side. It might be a few years before you feel like you’ve made it, but you’d find that with most newspaper jobs, too.”
I wasn’t sure how I could possibly afford trying to pay off student loans and living in New York on such little pay for even longer than I’d originally planned, but I also couldn’t stand the idea of letting what could be a huge opportunity pass. “I’m not afraid of hard work, and if that’s what it takes, I’m totally on board.” Even if I have to get side jobs and work at night and live in crappy apartments.
At the sound of someone approaching, I turned. Sharon was making her way back over to us, but got held up by an older gentleman in a suit.
Andrea handed me her card. “Email me, it’ll help me remember to ask around.”
“Thanks so much.” I clung to her card, curling it in my hot palm. “Again, it was so nice to meet you.” I spun around, my eyes on Ryder—I couldn’t wait to tell him about what had just happened.
Sharon stepped into my path and gave me a smile I thought was slightly warmer than the ones she’d given me earlier this evening—or maybe my rose-tinted glasses were on. “I was just coming to check on you,” she said. “It seems like you and Andrea hit it off, just like I suspected you would.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Seriously, she’s someone I follow and it was super cool to meet her.”
I took a step toward Ryder, but Sharon caught my wrist. “I could introduce you around more and see i
f you make any other connections.”
“I appreciate that, but I want to get back to Ryder.”
Sharon’s smile turned hard-edged again, shattering my rosy lenses. “Look, obviously you’re a bright girl, and I’m sure it took work to get to where you are at your little paper at the school. I admire that. But that doesn’t mean I approve of you being with my son. He’s got a bright future.”
“I know that,” I said, prickling.
“Yes, well, you can slip on a dress and put on a good act, but I’ve seen girls like you before. I dealt with them back when I was married to Ryder’s father. I see through the act. We both know what kind of girl you are.”
“I assure you, I’m not putting on an act. And you have no idea what kind of girl I am.” I tugged my arm, but Sharon only tightened her grip. She was careful to hold it between us, where it’d be blocked from passersby.
“I won’t let my son end up like his father. You’ve got other woman written all over you. You might amuse him now, but in the end, he won’t settle for you, and I think you know it.”
I jerked my arm free and took a step away from her, bumping into the person behind me. I muttered a quick apology, and spun around. I saw Ryder looking at us, his eyebrows drawn together, but my feet refused to move toward him. I wasn’t going to run and tattle. I wanted to pretend it was because I was above it, but deep down I worried Sharon was right.
No one had ever wanted to keep me around for long—my own mother had viewed me as a nuisance half the time—so why would it be different with Ryder?
He was the son of a former NHL player and a mayor. He was smart and driven and going places.
I was me, a messy work in progress who’d made enough mistakes to know just how flawed I was. Hockey was his world, and even though he clearly didn’t enjoy it, so was this. Suddenly I did feel like I was putting on an act just by being here.
Ryder would never settle for a girl like me, and falling harder for him would only leave me hurt and more jaded in the end.
Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny (Taking Shots) Page 11
