She wasn’t sure which expression was worse, but she couldn’t stand the pressure. “Fine! Go.” This was one battle where she had to wave the white flag. Giving in to her daughter’s bad attitude wasn’t something she felt good about, though. Now more than ever, she had to be the enforcer of rules and not let her single mom status and the guilt Dani could inflict on her weaken her in her daughter’s eyes, otherwise the teen years would be hell. “But—because of the eye rolling and not-so-nice comments—you’re staying in this weekend.”
Dani either didn’t hear or didn’t care as she jumped up to hug her quickly. “Thanks, Mom! You’re the best!” she said, rushing off to get her jersey.
Taylor ran off to join her.
“Wow, I go from worst to best in the matter of seconds lately,” she said, sitting back down with the brochures.
Jackson laughed. “Becky can tell you all about it. Preteen girls,” he said with a shudder. “Kinda makes me glad Neil is in the military and carries a gun.”
“Yeah, I may have to hire him,” she said.
He came closer and glanced at the brochures. “These look great. You design them?”
She nodded, feeling her hand shake slightly at his closeness. She could smell the same cologne she’d noticed lingering in the house after he’d been there a few days before, a smell she’d been hoping would linger just a little longer and feeling stupid about it.
He picked one up and turned it over. “I should get you to design some for my real estate business.”
“Thank you, but they’re not that good.” She took the brochure back. “Just hopefully good enough to convince the local businesses to support the school programs.”
“I’m sure they will.”
“It’s so odd that Taco Hut backed out. Paul seemed so eager to help when I met with him.” Of course he’d also made her want to take a shower, the way he’d sized her up making her feel uncomfortable. She’d made a note not to be the one delivering the recycling bin or picking up the bottles. Which was why she’d sent Jackson.
“Yeah, it’s weird,” he said.
“And you’re sure he didn’t say why?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“Nope.”
His phone chimed with a text message and he looked relieved to escape the conversation. “Excuse me,” he said, reading it quickly and then tucking the phone away as the girls reappeared.
“Ready!” Dani said, dressed in her own Avalanche jersey and baseball cap.
“Let’s go, Uncle Jackson. The first five hundred people get a free foam finger.”
“We certainly wouldn’t want to miss out on that,” Jackson said with a wink.
Her stomach flip flopped. “Well, have fun,” she said quickly, standing and kissing the top of Dani’s head. “Wish I was going to a game instead of grading papers all night.”
“You can,” Jackson said, beside her. “That was Darryl who just texted. He had to bail on us, so we have an extra ticket.”
Dani’s eyes lit up. “That’s great. Come with us!”
Shit. No, she hadn’t really meant it. The idea of going with them made her stomach hurt for too many reasons. She hadn’t gone to a game in over a year. She would have to drive an hour and back trying to make small talk with a man whose sexy body kept resurfacing in her mind, and sit through an entire game in those close-quarters seats? Nope. No thank you. “I can’t. I said I’d like to, but I have work to do.” She gestured to the cluttered coffee table. “And still lots of unpacking to do,” she added for good measure, motioning to all of the yet to be unpacked boxes in the corner of the living room.
“Please, Mom,” Dani said, surprising her with her genuine want of including her that evening.
Which made it so hard to say no. “Maybe next time,” she said.
Dani’s face fell. “All right,” she mumbled.
Damn it! Over the last few weeks, things had gotten so much better between them. Dani seemed to be adjusting well and their relationship was getting stronger. She hated the thought of disappointing her. “You know what? Screw it. I can pull an all-nighter grading the papers when I get back. Who needs sleep, right? Just give me a second to freshen up.”
“You look beautiful,” Jackson said.
All three females stared at him.
He swallowed hard, and clearing his throat, he shrugged and said, “What? We’re going to be late.”
The girls seemed to accept the reason for the compliment as they hurried out to the truck, but Abigail continued to stare at him.
“Was that a compliment?” she asked.
“Yes, well, you’re going to have to try to look a lot less beautiful if you expect me to keep those things from slipping out.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You managed so successfully for years. What’s changed?”
“Nothing. Or maybe everything.” He took a step toward her, and the look in his eyes reminded her of the one he’d had in the kitchen the night he’d tended to her foot, the night she’d been certain he’d been about to kiss her.
Her mouth went dry as she stood frozen in place, a million thoughts running through her mind. What was he doing? What was she doing? And why was she just standing there waiting for something to happen? What did she want to happen? Her eyes searched his for any clue of how he was feeling. To see if he too was suddenly struck with this odd churning in his stomach or tightness in his chest.
The hallway felt as though it were closing in around her as he came closer. Her breath caught and held in her throat, and her eyes were unblinking as she continued to stare at the crystal blue eyes staring right back at her, giving nothing away…and saying so much at the same time.
He stopped inches from her, his warm breath against her forehead, his gaze still locked with hers. Then taking her by the shoulders, he gently turned her around in the direction of her bedroom.
Huh?
He gave her a little shove and she stumbled forward, glancing back at him with a confused frown.
“Hurry. We don’t want to miss out on the foam fingers.”
Right. The foam fingers. Wouldn’t want to miss out on those.
* * *
The stadium in Denver was a buzz of excitement as fans flowed in, had their tickets checked, and received their foam finger. Abby repressed a sigh as she accepted hers—how many of these things had she gotten rid of before the move? At least this one said Avalanche and not Kings. The girls waved theirs proudly as they rushed on ahead, and Jackson shook his head, refusing one from the cheerleader dressed in the team’s colors of blue and burgundy.
Abigail frowned. “I didn’t know saying no was an option.”
Jackson laughed. “I have a million of those things already.”
She shot him a wary look, and he took hers and jogged back toward the cheerleader. As he handed it back, he leaned closer to her and said something that made her giggle, and a crazy, irrational sense of jealousy made Abigail’s cheeks grow hot. She turned away, keeping an eye on the girls as they headed toward their seats, desperate to push the feeling aside. Hockey players and cheerleaders—not her favorite visual.
“There,” Jackson said rejoining her.
“She was bubbly,” she said, hating the note of jealousy in her voice.
He grinned at her. “I’m pretty sure they’re getting paid to be. Trust me, it didn’t go to my head.”
Strangely enough, his words had a reassuring effect on her, and she was embarrassed for having let the sight bother her in the first place. Being with him that evening had an odd, relaxing vibe to it. One she hadn’t expected. After their awkward, tension-charged exchange in her hallway, she thought the hour-long drive to Denver would be filled with long silences as they both contemplated what had just happened.
Instead, he’d hooked up Taylor’s iPod to his stereo system and they’d all rocked out to the G-rated version of all the latest hip-hop songs.
“You know the words to Lady Gaga?” she’d asked in disbelief as he’d belted out the chorus of “Applause.”
He’d grinned, turned the music louder, and removed his hands momentarily from the wheel to perform a crazy chair dance that had the girls giggling so hard in the back, Dani had sprayed soda out of her nose.
Nope. The ride to Denver hadn’t been weird at all, and around the girls, the sensually charged electricity between them seemed to fade to a manageable spark. Now, as long as the girls were around whenever they were together, they might be able to keep their undeniable attraction under wraps. Where it belonged.
* * *
As they followed Taylor and Dani to their front row seats behind the home team players’ box, Abigail asked the obvious question. The one everyone always asked their family. “Is it tough having Asher and Ben on opposite teams?”
He smiled as he took her drink from her while she removed her coat and sat. “It’s fun, actually.”
“Really? Thanks,” she said, accepting her drink and setting it between her knees.
He sat next to her and nodded. “Really. I mean, we love teasing Asher that he’s a traitor, playing for an opposing team, but the guys know we support both of them equally.”
She raised an eyebrow, calling his bullshit.
“Okay, maybe Ben’s our favorite, but I’ll deny saying that.”
She laughed as she nodded and the sight and sound created a warm feeling in his chest. He was happy she’d agreed to join them that evening for the local game. The drive from Glenwood Falls had been much more fun with her in the truck with them. He hadn’t even minded acting like a fool, singing and dancing. It was worth it just to see her laugh.
Unlike their usual tension, the evening felt comfortable…As comfortable as it could be with her sitting so close that their legs and arms brushed, and the smell of her soft perfume made him want to bury his nose in her neck and kiss the hollow there to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. No doubt their two smaller companions were helping to keep his thoughts on the PG side.
“How often do their teams play one another?” Abby asked.
“Twice a season, and they are the two games of the year that we never miss.” He always took Taylor to see her uncles battle it out on the ice. Their coaches liked to play them—Asher, a defenseman, and Ben, a left wing—on the same shifts, knowing their blood ties meant nothing to either of them when they were on the ice. If anything, their sibling rivalry drove them even harder to be the best player in the Westmore family and in the league.
“Which brother is the better player?” she whispered, as the lights in the arena dimmed and the opposing team skated out onto the ice from an entrance covered for protection from irate fans.
“Me,” he said with a teasing grin. He saw Asher skate out onto the ice, and he and Taylor cheered loudly, earning them looks from other fans seated nearby. It didn’t bother him. These games were always intense: he and Taylor cheered when their team scored and they cheered when the opposing team scored. The regular season ticket holders seated around them, consisting of mainly other players’ family and friends, knew their situation and thought their spilt loyalty was humorous. And once the rest of the fans realized the situation on the ice, Ash received some love from them for a good play as well.
“That’s a given,” Abby said next to him.
“Seriously, though, it would be impossible to compare the two. I mean their players’ cards would suggest Ben’s scoring this year so far makes him the better player, but Ash’s defensive skills have been credited for a lot of wins this season.” He remembered the many years he’d spent with his younger brother, who was determined to play offense, teaching him his skills and natural abilities were better suited for the defensive line.
It wasn’t until Asher didn’t make the A-list Bantam team when he tried out that he decided to listen to Jackson and become a defenseman.
The home team’s music started and the strobe lighting in the stadium started to spiral through the stands, the red and blue lights flashing and the scoreboard overhead playing highlights of the team’s historic moments. As the players skated onto the ice, the board lit up with their pictures and profiles.
The same involuntary pang in his core hit him as it always did when he saw the Westmore name light up the screen next to the picture of his brother.
Just once he’d like to see his own picture up there.
“Uncle Ash looks like he’s favoring his right side,” Taylor said, leaning toward him and speaking above the cheering crowd.
His eyes landed on his younger brother, stretching and warming up with his team at their end of the rink, and he immediately noticed what his niece was referring to. Asher did seem to be in some sort of discomfort as he leaned to the left. “Probably just an injury. I’m sure he’ll work through it,” he said.
Neither of his brothers had ever willingly sat out a game. Their father’s “suck it up” motto ran deep in the family bloodline.
As the game started, he sat back in his seat, then leaned forward again, his gaze glued to the play. His knees bounced and his hands clasped and unclasped on his lap.
“Are you always like this, or just when both of your brothers are playing?” Abby asked, and her voice almost made him jump. He’d momentarily forgotten she was there. Hockey did that to him, stole his focus and concentration. A lot of women had sat on the dejected side of his passion for the sport, part of the reason he was still single.
He forced a sigh and sat back. “I take my hockey pretty seriously.”
“Understandable.” She looked about to say something more, but her lips clamped together.
“Go ahead and ask,” he said.
“Ask what?”
“How I feel about being the Westmore brother not in the NHL.”
“Oh, that’s not really any of my business.” She glanced toward the ice.
“It sucks.” No sense lying about it. It did. It sucked every time he played a game of local league hockey with his buddies and they won effortlessly because they had him on the team. It sucked whenever he came to a game like this one, when the memories of the three of them playing together plagued him and he felt like the odd man out. And it really sucked when he remembered the woman sitting next to him had married an NHL player and would never settle for a mere minor league coach. “It sucks,” he repeated, as the first penalty was called against Asher’s team.
He felt her hand on his and suddenly it sucked a little less. His gaze flew to her hand and then back up to her eyes. His heart pounded and it took every ounce of strength not to turn his hand and link fingers with her.
“You’re a fantastic coach…and player,” she said.
He barely heard the words. All he could focus on was the look in her eyes that told him so much, yet revealed nothing at the same time. A look that could mean they’d finally reached some sort of truce or a look that could mean she just might be feeling some of the things he always had. Reading too much into it could potentially break his heart, but reading not enough put him back into the stalemate with his feelings where he’d always been.
“Thank you,” he said after a long pause, as the crowd erupted around them.
“Woohoo, Uncle Ben!” Taylor said, jumping to her feet to bang on the glass next to him.
His gaze never left Abby’s face.
“I think Ben just scored,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.
For the first time, maybe ever, he had something more important holding his attention. Abby Jansen was looking at him. Touching him. And even if there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it right now, he would enjoy the moment. Turning his hand, he linked fingers with hers and squeezed tight. “Good for Ben.”
Chapter 13
He was favoring the right side again, wasn’t he?” Ben asked as he handed over the mashed potatoes the following evening. They had all taken their usual places around the dining room table for what was a true rare occurrence—a family meal together before Asher flew back to New Jersey with his team.
“You know I don’t play favorites,” Jackson said, dish
ing a large scoop onto his plate before handing it to Becky at the end of the table.
“He was though, right?” His older brother insisted as Asher joined them at the table, carrying the roast for their mother.
She followed him with the gravy boat.
Ben eyed Asher as he sat. “You injured little brother?”
“Wouldn’t you love to know?” Asher reached for a roll, tearing it apart before taking his seat across from them.
“Hat off at the table,” their mother, Beverly, said. “And enough hockey talk. Let’s eat.”
The boys knew better than to go against their mother, and by the end of dinner, the conversation had turned to his business. “So, have you sold the house over on Oak Avenue yet?” Ben asked, pushing his licked-clean plate away.
“No. I decided to rent it out for a while.”
“I thought you were planning to move into that one yourself,” his mother said, looking at him in surprise. “It’s such a beautiful place and right on the lake. It would be perfect for you.”
Only Becky knew that Abigail and Dani were living in the house, and he’d been hoping to keep it that way for a while. “I don’t know yet,” he said with a shrug, sending a silencing look at Becky the blabbermouth.
“He can’t move in there. Dani and Ms. Jansen are living there now,” Taylor spoke up.
Oh, right, the shorter blabbermouth.
Becky grinned and shrugged as if to say, There’re no secrets around kids, as she stood and started collecting the plates. “Taylor, help me clear the table for dessert,” she said. “Before your uncle murders you,” she whispered to the little girl sitting next to him as she passed.
Taylor stood to help.
“Abigail Jansen?” his mother asked.
“That’s right, I heard Abby was back home.” Ben studied him.
Don’t give anything away, or they will pounce like vultures on prey, he thought, avoiding his brother’s gaze as he handed his empty plate to Becky. “Yes, she is back, and yes, I’m renting her the house. She was looking for a place for her and Dani…” He shrugged. “Besides, don’t all of you look at me like you know something you don’t. This was Becky’s fault. She and Abby are best friends these days.” An image of her fingers entwined with his at the hockey game the night before, and the way she’d looked at him before climbing out of the truck, told him maybe they were friends now, too…more than friends?
Maybe This Time Page 14
