by Anna Albo
“I’m not sleeping with him.”
Cate shrieked with laughter. “So then why are you doing your finger and toenails? How will he see your lovely feet if they aren’t naked?”
“I always do them,” Allie said, her voice pitching.
“You’re such a liar. Like I said, make him wear a condom.”
Allie rolled her eyes. “This guy can have any girl in town so he’s not going to get mixed up with me.”
Cate put her serious face on. “This isn’t about Blake, is it?”
“No. I’m over Blake. Old news.”
“Good. I worry that you’re still pining for him.”
“He’s living in Washington now. He’s hardly nearby.”
“He isn’t that far either.”
“I haven’t heard from him in months.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I’d hate to think you’re waiting around, hoping he’ll have a change of heart.”
Allie set down her nail polish and stared straight into the screen. “I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t use it against me later. Promise?”
“I don’t like the sound of this, but I’ll promise.”
“When Will looks at me, my heart flutters and I hate that. He and I can’t be a thing, but he makes me forget that Blake ever existed. Until you mentioned him, I hadn’t even thought about him.”
“I wish I could give you a hug. And I’m happy to hear your heart’s on the mend. And maybe you flirt with this guy. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re gorgeous and the right kind of guy will come along. And maybe it’s this guy. Don’t you think it’s weird he’s inviting you over for dinner?”
She did but she couldn’t admit that to Cate. “It’s low key, I suppose. No gawkers.”
“You seem to like him, so at the very least, enjoy yourself.”
“I will. It’s getting late and I still need to get some work done. We’ll talk the day after tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER 9
Cate got in Allie’s head. She found herself at home with an hour until her scheduled dinner with Will, more time than she’d anticipated. She showered using the fancy lavender soap she used only on special occasions. She washed her hair with her Persian rose shampoo, the one she’d bought at a boutique in New York while on holiday. She used the same matching lotion all over her skin then stared at her closet. Simple was best. A pair of fitted jeans and a V-neck sweater that showed a little cleavage.
She grabbed her keys and made her way to her car. His place was a twenty-minute drive she’d already mapped out. Enough time to settle her nerves. She’d picked up a bottle of wine on her lunch hour and would’ve killed for a glass. She didn’t expect anything to happen with Will, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t secretly hoping for it. Every time she thought of him, her body tingled and her stomach fluttered. She knew he was forbidden, but she couldn’t get him out of her head.
She blasted music but didn’t hear a thing. She drove, keeping her eyes trained on the road, but her mind wandered. Of all guys in the world to make her weak in the knees, why did it have to be a guy she couldn’t have? Moreover, why did she keep picking the wrong guys? She gravitated to men who treated her like crap, or ones who didn’t give her the time of day. She wasn’t quite sure where Cavallo fit yet.
She found his building. It was once an old clothing manufacturer, the name St. Paul Clothing Inc. still visible in the stonework. It had been converted to upscale lofts like most other buildings from St. Paul’s garment and textile heyday. Will lived on the top floor and when she entered his unit on the keypad, she could see it was one of four units on that floor. Every other floor had twelve. Why did he need such a big place?
He buzzed her in and she walked down the wide hallway to the freight elevator. She got inside and took several deep breaths as the elevator jerked and made its slow climb. She kept telling herself it was an innocent evening, all business.
The elevator door creaked open and Allie hopped out, taking her slow walk to Will’s door. She hesitated, staring at P4 for a long time before she knocked. No turning back. He opened one of the huge oak double doors and smiled.
“Well, hello. You’re on time. I’m a little bit behind, but I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that. Practice went late and that screwed up everything. I just put everything in the oven so we’re looking at another half hour. I hope you aren’t famished.”
“No, I can wait as long as it takes.” That wasn’t a lie. Those damn butterflies were flying up a storm. “I brought some wine. I was told it pairs perfectly with pasta.”
“Let’s crack it open,” he said, taking it from her. She followed him into the kitchen, checking out his place along with way. The place had a modern but cozy feel despite the thirty-foot ceilings and endless space. He’d done a good job filling it with bookcases, a corner office and the most ridiculous entertainment system. She’d never seen a television so big.
“I love what you did. Who designed it?”
“That would be yours truly.”
Her eyes popped open. “Really? You sure have a knack for it.”
“I figured if hockey didn’t work out, I’d get into architecture and design. I find it relaxing. Before I turned pro and left college, I was working towards my degree. Ran out of time.”
“You can do that after hockey. You’ll have lots of time.”
“I only have about a year’s worth of classes left. I take the odd class here and there.”
“You should do it.”
“I probably will.”
He pulled out two glasses from one of the cabinets and poured the wine. He handed one to Allie. “To success on and off the ice.”
She froze. Off the ice? Then it hit her. The foundation. They toasted and she sipped her drink, wanting to gulp it down, grab the bottle and guzzle that too. Anything to calm her nerves.
“Not only are you a master designer, you cook too?”
“When you’re on your own as long as I’ve been, you either learn or starve.”
“Or eat out a lot.”
“That too. Not good if you want to stay in shape.”
She was staring at his chest and by the time she realized it, he was giving her an odd look.
“Something on my shirt?” he asked, looking down and searching for the invisible stain.
“No. Is that a combed cotton shirt? It looks combed cotton. I’ve heard that’s great for the skin. It breathes well.” She had no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded good and he seemed to buy it.
“I have no idea. Maybe? Combed cotton is a thing?”
“That’s what I heard. About the Falcons,” she said, swiftly changing the subject. “What’s the prognosis for the season? Are the playoffs a possibility?”
His face crinkled. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, not really. I’d heard some of the new guys coming up were going to make an impact. Push us forward.”
“Maybe in a few years. Until then, we are destined for last place. Why don’t we sit in the living room? It’s more comfortable in there.”
“Sure,” she said.
She sank into his cushy grey sofa and stared up at the enormous television mounted on the wall. He had on a hockey game that he switched off. She drank more wine. She had to pace herself. She hadn’t eaten since noon and acting like a drunken fool wasn’t in the cards.
“I wanted to tell you again how much I enjoyed that meeting. You put Tiffani in her place. Now whether or not she’ll see your way of thinking, I can’t say.”
Allie nodded, staring at his chest again. His pectorals were begging to be set free. She shook her head, realizing she was ogling him, the same way men stared at her breasts. “It would be in her best interest to see the light. At the last management meeting, I presented on the foundation and I actually got the attention of Tyler Strewchuk. He’s going to make some phone calls and get us some great prizes.”
“Tyler is a good person
to have in your corner. I have a lot of respect for him. He cares about the team.”
“I get that impression. Is there anyone else in the organization who’s worth knowing?”
Will shrugged and took a sip of wine. “I mostly know people on the hockey side. Our GM is okay. I think he’s a bit green, but experience comes with time.”
Allie shifted to face him. “I know Eddie’s my uncle and you’re probably holding back, but I’d appreciate your insight. I wouldn’t repeat anything you say.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Why do you want my insight?”
“I think you’re about the only person who will be honest with me. I have a coworker who goes along with everything I say, and a bunch of executives who either ignore or patronize me. So far you’re the only one who has treated me with any respect.”
He bit his lip. “I don’t know if I should say anything.”
“You have my trust. Cross my heart,” she said even though she would have rather crossed his . . . She had to snap out of it and focus.
He took a long hard look at her—that stare—and Allie waited, wondering if she needed to sell it more, but soon he was talking.
“The team is a mess. Morale is at an all-time low. A bunch of guys are around for the paycheck only. Being a Falcon right now isn’t much fun.”
“Is that a coaching issue?”
“Yes and no,” he said, taking another sip of wine before rising and heading to the kitchen. Allie followed, not wanting him to be sidetracked in any way. He checked on his pasta before pulling out a loaf of bread and spreading a garlic butter mixture on it. He wrapped it in aluminum foil and popped it in the oven. “I don’t know what goes through Coach Burrows’ head, but I think he’s beyond frustrated. He’s a lame duck and he knows it. If we start out like last year, he’ll be gone within the first twenty games. If we play half decent, he has to endure another year of crap. My personal opinion is that he wishes he was fired last summer.”
“Why wasn’t he?”
Will breathed deeply. “How do I say this delicately? Your uncle is a cheap bastard.”
Allie stifled a laugh. “You think I don’t know that?”
Will smiled, more out of relief that she wasn’t offended. “Okay, good. But here’s the problem: if you’re cheap with a team, you get crappy results. None of the guys feel like anyone cares. We don’t go after any big names, we draft high but most turn out to be duds, and the ones who are promising, or succeed, are shipped off when their asking price goes up. You can’t put a mediocre team on the ice and expect exceptional results.”
“Not much has changed. I used to work entry level with the Falcons before I went to college. The same thing you’re saying now was the exact thing people said then. I hoped that when Eddie finally got his new arena, when he could control the revenue, that things would change.”
“It hasn’t.”
“Did you know that Stewart Center has one of the lowest booking rates in all of North America? It’s like people bypass St. Paul, or they use other venues in the city. That’s ridiculous. The center is a state-of-the-art building,” Allie said.
“That’s a management issue.”
“It’s hard for Eddie to be on top of all this. The Falcons are such a small part of his business. It’s his plaything.”
“I wish he’d play with us a little more,” Will said with a wink.
“It drives me crazy because I think the team and the organization could do so much better.”
“It sounds like that’s the reason you’re here. Your uncle finally wants to turn things around.”
Allie frowned. “The team operates at a loss.”
“That happens when you have a half-empty arena. No one wants to see us play. It’s a vicious circle.”
“Maybe Eddie’s okay with that and it’s some kind of tax write off, but I can’t imagine he likes it. He wants every part of his business to be successful.”
Will retrieved their wines and set them down on his dining room table. He then pulled the pasta out of the oven. “It needs to rest, so I thought we’d start with a salad and garlic bread.”
“Where’d you learn to cook?”
“My dad and grandma. After my mom passed, he had to learn fast and my nonna was around a lot making food for me and my brother. Along the way she taught Dad and us too.”
She remembered Cate telling her about his mother. Did Allie dare ask? “Were you young when your mom died?”
“I was nine. Cancer.”
“You were so young. Do you have a lot of memories of her?”
He had a faraway look in his eyes. “I do and they’re all good ones.”
Their evening had taken a somber turn and she wanted to lighten it again. “I’m not much of a cook myself. If it’s not simple, I don’t make it.”
“I find it relaxing and a nice change from the food on the road,” he said, relieved to have moved on from the heavy topic of his mother.
He prepped the salad and when Allie offered to help, he insisted she sit at the table and relax. “You’re my guest.”
“What would you change?” she asked, returning to the Falcons.
“It’s easy for me to say because I don’t own the team, but I’d get rid of Burrows. I’d dump a serious amount of money into rebuilding and get some good free agents. I’d make some trades and get rid of the dead weight in the locker room, and that’s just the beginning.”
“And you don’t think any of that will happen.”
“Cam, our GM, is a great guy. He tries to keep upbeat, but I think he’s scared, too scared to do anything. I don’t know if that’s because he’s worried about your uncle, or if he doesn’t have the confidence. The whole do-nothing attitude isn’t working.”
He pulled out the garlic bread and carefully unwrapped the foil. He sliced it gingerly so that he wouldn’t crush the warm bread. He then served Allie her salad along with his own and placed a heaping plate of garlic bread between them. The smell wafted over to her and she wanted to dive into it.
“As oblivious as my uncle is to why the team isn’t good, he’s very conscious of every cent spent. If he didn’t love this team so much, he would have sold it years ago.”
“I play hockey, that’s my thing, but any idiot can see that the marketing is MIA. They don’t come up with anything and when they do, it’s something they’ve copied from another team. I feel like nobody cares and if I feel that way, then most of the guys feel that way too.”
“I wish I had more pull, but I don’t. It will be years before I have any real influence.”
“I doubt that. In a year or two you’ll be top management.”
Allie couldn’t resist and took a chunk of garlic bread. It was still warm and she sank her teeth into it. It tasted like nothing she’d ever had before. Like homemade, if her mother had ever bothered to cook.
“This tastes better than it smells, and I didn’t think that was possible.”
“The garlic spread is my grandmother’s recipe, except when she made it, the bread was also from scratch, but I didn’t have time.”
“You make bread too?”
“I make a lot of things.”
Allie’s cheeks warmed. Why did her mind go straight to the gutter? “Maybe I can get some recipes from you.” She paused. “I can’t believe I asked a guy for recipes.”
“Guys can cook too,” he said with his boyish smile.
“I learned that tonight.”
“I’ve never asked you how you’re related to Eddie,” he said, tearing off a piece of bread.
“My mom is Eddie’s little sister.”
“You took your mother’s name? Your dad is out of the picture?”
“He was never in the picture. He walked out on me and my mom when I was three. I don’t remember him and he’s made no effort to connect with me. We moved in with Eddie and my aunt Eileen because my mom had a breakdown. We never left.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“My mom was a mess . . . well,
she’s still a mess. She’s never been able to hold down any kind of job. Eddie has tried getting her back on her feet, but she flakes out. The volume of antidepressants and every other pill she can get her hands on doesn’t help. Currently he has her up in a condo in Toronto where he can keep an eye on her. She has an allowance that she blows through, but Eddie feels sorry for her so he keeps funneling money to her.”
“Sounds like you aren’t close to her then?”
“We’re kind of close. Our relationship is complicated. We talk once a week and sometimes we forget. When she’s met a new guy, she tends to disappear for a bit until the relationship combusts, which is usually after a month or two. I grew up looking after her, if you know what I mean. Eddie was the real parent in my life, like the dad I never had. He came to my graduation, he taught me to drive, paid for my education and he’s always been there whenever I’ve needed him, and I’ve always had to be there for my mom when she’s needed me.”
Will nodded. “It’s a side of Eddie I can’t imagine. It’s nice to know that about him.”
“He’s not always a tightwad.”
Will took away the empty salad plates and returned with overflowing plates of pasta. There was no way Allie could eat it all, but after taking the first bite, she vowed to try. She wanted to plant her face into the gooey cheese and not surface until she’d eaten it all. It was by far the best pasta she’d ever had.
“I could eat this every day,” she said between mouthfuls.
“I made lots. You can take some home.”
Her face brightened. “Yes, please! How are you single?” The moment the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. “I mean, I presume you’re single, you said you don’t have a wife, which is none of my business, by the way. I shouldn’t even have asked. It’s prying.” Her fumbling made her cheeks turn crimson red.
