“I hope it’s not that serious,” she said in a soft tone. “For your family’s sake.”
Jax nodded.
When she yawned, he said, “I didn’t mean to keep you out so late listening to my woes.”
Meg lifted her head and squeezed his hand. “Sorry, I’m not usually such a baby.”
Their gazes connected, and everything inside Jax told him to kiss her, but he held back. He didn’t want to presume she was attracted to him as he was to her.
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll probably stop in and say hi to the Northbrook guys—they’re at a hotel together, and they’re not taking no for an answer.”
“I haven’t even heard your phone.”
Jax pulled it from his pocket. The screen showed two missed calls and thirty-two texts.
“Oh wow.”
“It’s the group chat,” he said.
Jax popped open his door and held it open for Meg to scoot out.
She was sitting in the middle anyway, so it was closer to the driver’s side door.
When she landed on the pavement, she looked up at him. “Good luck tomorrow,” she said, taking a step away from him, toward her car.
“You should come.” The look in her eyes mirrored his own surprise. He wasn’t used to being so spontaneous.
“To the hockey camp?” Lines appeared between her brows. “What would I do?”
Jax shrugged. “Hang out. You know, see my old digs. I could introduce you around.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, merely gazed at him as if she was trying to determine his motivation. Hell, he didn’t even know his motivation. But it would be cool if she came.
“I’m doing inventory tomorrow,” she said, but her tone was easy.
“Well, if you finish early, stop by.”
Her mouth curved into a smile, then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He pulled her close. Yeah, his heart was racing, but it wasn’t that kind of hug. It was more of a friendship hug, which was fine with him at this point.
“Thanks for everything, Jax,” she said against his ear, her breath warm. “And whatever you do, don’t quit hockey.”
She released him and stepped away then. He had no response whatsoever. How did she know that exact thought had worked its way into his psyche? How did she know he’d lost sleep over it for several nights in a row? She couldn’t know, that’s what.
He watched her walk the short distance to her car—the one with the dented bumper—and climb in, then drive away. He wasn’t sure how long he stood beside his truck, but when snowflakes began to fall from the sky, he finally climbed back in.
Twenty minutes later, he walked into a swanky hotel bar with thumping music. A few couples were on the dance floor, but most of the patrons were at the bar, save for one set of tables where five guys were all seated.
The first one to notice him was Dice. “Jax! It’s about time!”
Dice rose to his feet and greeted Jax with a bro hug and solid slap on the back.
“Don’t dress up for us,” Clint said, shaking his head.
Yeah, so Jax was the only one in a T-shirt and hoodie. “Didn’t want to upstage you, Fido.” Everyone laughed at Clint’s nickname. It had carried over from his Marine days, and since his St. Louis team had started using it, so had the Northbrook guys.
The Rock pulled Jax into a tight hug, then kissed him on the cheek. It was part of his Italian culture, and the guys were used to it by now. “Looking forward to tomorrow night,” Rocco said. “Get ready to wipe your teammates off the floor.”
“We’ll see who needs the broom,” Jax teased.
Rocco slapped him on the back, and Jax moved to Zane, the most mature of the lot at the table. As a single dad, he had a more serious perspective of life. “How’s little Hope?” Jax asked after clapping Zane on the back. Hope was his five-year-old daughter.
“She wanted to come,” Zane said with a laugh. “I told her in a couple of years, and that she’d have more fun with my aunt and uncle.”
“She’s welcome anytime,” Jax said.
“Thanks, man,” Zane said, sincerity in his tone.
“Bring it in,” Declan said, rising to his feet.
“How are you, Dice?” Jax asked. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s putting up a fuss,” Dice said with a grin. “Doesn’t want to move to be near me. But I think I’m wearing her down.”
“Keep working on it,” Jax said. Dice’s mom was recently widowed. “She’ll be glad she did when all is said and done.”
Dice slipped his hands into his pockets. “Thanks, dude. I hope so.”
“Good to see you, Emerson,” Diesel said next. The biggest guy of the lot, Trane Jones was one of the top goalies in pro hockey. He was formidable on the ice, but his heart was as good as gold.
“You too, Diesel.”
“All right,” Zane said over everyone’s conversation. “Now that Jax is here, it’s time for the announcement.”
A hush fell over the table.
Rocco let out a low whistle.
“It’s nothing like that,” Zane said, although his face was strangely flushed. “Clint, your turn.”
“Thanks, Z,” Clint said. “I have some good news. I called Coach when I got into Chicago, and he agreed to come tomorrow.”
Jax blinked. He’d reached out to their former club coach, Hal Fenwick, last week, but he hadn’t been able to make it. Huh.
“Nice,” Jax said with a slow clap. Everyone else joined in. It would be good to see the man who had set a different example of what it was to be a man, one who was pretty much the opposite of Jax’s dad.
“Annnnd . . .” Clint drew out the word. “My brother Grizz tweeted the event on Thursday and Friday.”
“Woot! Woot!” Rocco called out.
Dice whistled, and the other guys hooted and clapped.
Grizz McCarthy was Clint’s older brother. He played pro baseball and was a phenomenal catcher. The guy had over a million followers on Twitter. With the added publicity from Grizz, the Northbrook arena could very well sell out tomorrow.
“Hey guys, I hate to do this to you, but we need to get a picture together,” Jax said. “Then we should all post it to our Insta or Twitter or whatever.”
A couple of good-natured groans circled the table, but a moment later, Jax had stretched out his arm and taken a selfie with the other five crowding behind him. Then he texted the picture to the group chat. He uploaded it to his Instagram and added a line about the camp, then tagged the Northbrook Hockey Elite Club page.
He pocketed his phone, and for the next hour he talked and laughed with his former teammates. After his talk with Meg and all his confessions, he felt lighter somehow, as if he didn’t always have to be alone in his issues with his dad. He knew that not all of these guys had stellar home lives growing up. Some came from broken families, and Diesel had a pretty dismal upbringing with an abusive father. He’d been a scholarship kid to the club and was practically a son to Coach.
It was nearly one in the morning by the time the group broke up. They’d see each other bright and early in the morning. Jax didn’t check his phone again until he was in his truck, warming it up. Nothing from Meg. Not that he expected her to text him or anything. It wasn’t like they were really a thing. Still, he felt oddly disappointed.
Then he switched over to Instagram and saw that he already had about two hundred likes and several dozen comments on his post of the team picture. One of most recent comments was by an Instagram account named Meg’s Loft.
Jax clicked on it.
Good luck tomorrow, it read, followed by a blue heart emoji.
Jax wasn’t sure how long he had stared at the blue heart, but when he finally pulled out of the hotel parking lot, his truck was plenty warm.
The first thing Meg noticed about the Northbrook Hockey Elite Club arena was that the place was freezing. She’d left her coat in the car, but now she didn’t know what she’d been thinki
ng. There was only about an hour left of the camp, at least according to the website schedule. She’d gotten a good part of inventory out of the way and decided what she could resell wholesale, what should stay in the store for the time being, and what she’d discount for the website.
Her online orders were usually slow, but she just needed to add features to the site to make it more competitive, such as free shipping and emailed return labels. She should also sell some basics like camisoles and hosiery. It seemed her love of fashion was going more commercial.
She wondered if she’d find a seat. She walked through the portal and paused to scan first the arena, then what was happening on the ice. The moment she caught sight of Jax backwards skating with a group of about ten kids, her heart started thumping. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and even from her position, she could see his strong profile. He wore a dark-green jersey that said Northbrook Elite Sabercats and skating pants, but no pads. She watched him move with such grace and agility and a confidence born of someone who’d spent years on the ice.
She found a seat smack in the middle of about row fifteen, then settled in to watch. It was obvious who the other pro hockey players were—huge guys who were doing an incredible job of being patient with the kids of all ages. As she watched Jax talking to his group of kids, the memories of the night before flooded back. Him in her boutique, his teasing at the Italian restaurant, then his personal confessions while they sat in his truck. That hug. His arms around her had made her feel so protected. If he’d kissed her, she knew she would have welcomed it. But he hadn’t, and maybe her hug had been too forward. Yet it had felt right. There was no denying it. And that made her nervous enough.
Maybe I like older women, he’d said. I find you interesting, intriguing, and I want to figure out why, he’d said. You should come tomorrow, he’d said.
Now that she was here in an arena full of people, she wondered if he’d just been friendly. There were a good couple thousand people here. What did it matter if she was here or not? Or had Jax been sincere when he’d told her he found her interesting and intriguing? Was Jax Emerson interested in her? It was surreal to think about.
Then Jax looked up into the stands, and for a second, she thought he’d spotted her. But that was crazy. How could he pick her out among all of these people? Of course, this was Jax Emerson, who seemed to have eyes in the back of his head and could guide a tiny puck across the ice with barely a flick of his hockey stick.
Anyway, his attention was now back on the kids. Maybe she’d imagined that he’d noticed her. Meg dug her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans. At least she was wearing a wool sweater, although the merino was more for softness and style than it was for true warmth.
A whistle blew, and an older guy who couldn’t possibly be a current hockey player motioned for everyone to join him in the center. He held some sort of microphone he spoke through, telling the kids about the next phase of the camp. The coach’s voice boomed, and everyone in the arena could hear it.
Meg scanned for Jax again. He’d moved to the side of the arena that she was sitting on. He was talking to a guy that was huge—if possible, bigger than Jax himself. The huge guy was definitely one of the pro players.
She pulled up the website with the camp info on it, and matched the pictures to the guy talking to Jax. Trane Jones, goalie for the Michigan Comets.
When she next looked up, Jax was looking at her. This time there was no doubt. He lifted his hand in a half wave. Heat shot through her, and she waved back.
“Do you know Jax Emerson?” someone next to her asked.
Jax was now skating toward the group of kids, and Meg looked over at the woman.
“Yeah, I do,” Meg said lamely.
The woman, probably in her mid-twenties and all decked out with fake lashes, plumped-up lips, and a lowcut sweater that left little to the imagination, gave Meg a onceover. “Oh, wow. You his older sister or something?”
“Uh, no,” Meg said, getting annoyed now. “He doesn’t have a sister.”
The woman’s painted brows rose. “Don’t tell me you’re dating him, because he’s not dating anyone. My cousin knows his teammate Bones, and believe me, Jax Emerson’s way out of your league, honey.”
Meg could only stare. Who talked this way? Especially to a stranger. Meg had no response. None at all. But she couldn’t sit here listening to this bizarre lady who thought Jax was up for discussion.
She rose and moved through the row, going the opposite way of the crazy lady. When Meg got to the aisle, she headed toward the portal that would lead to the concourse. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. No, she wasn’t dating Jax, and even if they were, how was that anyone’s business?
She should just leave, but when she got to the concourse, she leaned against the wall. Maybe she’d overreacted. Still, she could probably go. Jax had seen her, waved, so what more would happen?
She and her grandma would go to the game tomorrow night. From there, she had no idea.
Her phone buzzed with a text, and she glanced down at it, surprised to see it was from Jax. Where did you go?
Meg texted back: It was pretty crowded. I’m going to take off.
Don’t leave yet, we’re almost done.
Okay, wow. Meg glanced at the time on her phone. There was at least thirty minutes left. He wanted her to wait for him? She blew out a slow breath. No, she wasn’t going to read into this, at least not more than she should.
Okay, she wrote.
Great, meet me in Portal A.
Meg didn’t move for a moment. He really wanted her to wait for him. This was not what she had thought might happen. She’d planned to check out the camp, then maybe the next time they talked, she’d bring it up.
But this . . . was much more official.
She looked for the portal and found it at the end of the arena. It was completely empty, but by the time the camp ended, she realized it was where the coaches and players came through from the locker room. She leaned against the wall and focused on her phone. He’s not dating anyone, the woman in the stands had told her. Jax had talked about his last girlfriend, Lacy, and how that had ended in a disaster.
Had he not dated since then? He’d said it had been about a year since the breakup. Meg pulled up her Google search bar and typed in Jax Emerson Lacy. No articles came up, but in Google Images there were some pictures. Lacy was blond and beautiful in a Barbie-like way. Pretty much the opposite of Meg. She clicked on the first picture, and it led to Lacy’s social media. All the pictures with Jax in them were over a year old.
Meg kept searching, this time on Jax’s social media profiles. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook. He was only active on Instagram, where he posted pictures of random hockey stuff, including the one from last night that she’d commented on. Any pictures he was tagged in that had other women in them were clearly platonic. Huh. So maybe he hadn’t been dating. Maybe his heart had truly been broken by Lacy. Or maybe he just didn’t have time or hadn’t found someone interesting and intriguing?
A warm shiver danced across her skin as she thought again of the way Jax had been last night. So attentive. Touching her in small ways. Playing with her braid. Linking their fingers when she’d grasped his hand. Pulling her close when she’d hugged him.
Footsteps in the portal brought her attention up. One of the hockey players was coming toward her, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He was fully focused on his phone as he walked past.
Another player entered the portal. But this one slowed his step as he neared. He was a tall, sandy-haired guy, good-looking in that Scandinavian way. “Well, hello there,” he said with a crooked grin. “Waiting for someone?”
Was he a teammate? He looked familiar, then she realized he was one of the Flyers. His name was on the tip of her tongue.
“Don’t worry, I’m used to it,” he continued.
“Used to what?”
“Oh, you aren’t speechless in my presence,” he said with a wink.
Was this guy for r
eal? “I was just trying to remember your name—Nate Rochester, right?”
His smile widened. “Right. But you can call me Razor, everyone else does.” Another wink. “Who is a pretty woman like you waiting for?” he asked, stepping closer.
Since Meg was already leaning against the wall, there wasn’t really anywhere for her to go.
Nate was at least as tall as Jax but maybe not as broad. Still, he was in her space.
“I’m waiting for Jax,” she said.
“Is that so?” Nate said, his blue gaze scanning her face, then dipping lower. “I didn’t know Jax was keeping a little hottie under wraps.”
Meg’s neck prickled with heat. She folded her arms. “I think this conversation is over.”
Nate’s eyes flashed with mirth. “Ah. A tiger, I like it. No wonder Jax has been keeping you out of sight.” He lowered his voice. “If you don’t like talking, texting is just fine with me.”
She said nothing, but she didn’t drop her gaze.
Nate gave a slow nod, his gaze again combing over her. She wanted to slap him just for looking at her like that.
“How about it?” he prompted.
“How about what?”
He shrugged innocently. “You know, give me your number, and when you’re done with Jax, hit me up. Or during. I’m not picky.”
“I don’t think so.”
Nate laughed. “I’ll make it easy, sweetheart. Just give me your phone, and I’ll do all the work.”
Then, to her shock, he pulled the phone out of her hand.
For a stunned moment, she didn’t react, then before he could type anything into her contacts, she grabbed the phone.
But Nate was faster, and his huge hand clamped around her wrist. “Now, I was just trying to be friendly, sweetheart. But I can play dirty too, if that’s how you like it.”
“What the hell are you doing?” someone said.
Nate went spinning away from her. And suddenly Jax was there, his back to Meg. Somehow with one motion, Jax had Nate pinned up against the wall.
Powerplay Page 7
