Reforming the Playboy

by Karin Baine

  ‘It’s getting late and I still have some work to do here. Another night, bud.’ He knelt down and Alfie rushed towards him, hugged him so tightly it brought tears to his eyes. He didn’t care he could barely breathe because he’d never been as happy as he was in this second. This was the beginning of the family he’d never had and the pieces were finally slotting into place.

  ‘Come on, Alfie. It’s bedtime.’

  Although Hunter was thankful for the opportunities afforded him to get to know his son, he was looking forward to the days when there wouldn’t be a time limit set on their relationship.

  He slowly and reluctantly peeled Alfie from around his neck. ‘I’ll see you again soon. You be good.’

  The kiss he dropped on his son’s head inadequately expressed the love he felt for this child he’d been without for too long but it was all he had to give for now.

  Someday they’d be watching the games and eating popcorn together before going home to their own house. Until then they’d have to snatch whatever time was granted by those who thought they knew what was best.

  ‘’Night, Dad.’

  ‘’Night, son.’ He waved the trio off, watching them safely across the road until he was too misty-eyed to make them out.

  He sucked in a deep breath of the cool night air to fortify his aching heart and blinked away his sentimentality. It was time to focus on the positives. Alfie was happy and safe and he had a job to do. He’d prefer to keep it that way.

  * * *

  It was close to midnight before they were able to leave the arena. His, or Anderson’s, personal problems had to wait until the players who actually hung around after the game were properly cooled down. Ice baths and stretches were equally as important as the warm-up to keep the muscles in prime condition. He knew Charlotte had a few nicks and grazes to treat on both teams but nothing serious or unusual for men in close contact with sharp blades every day of the week. He came to knock on her door just as she was lecturing her last patient.

  ‘Remember: RICE. Rest, ice, compression—’

  ‘And elevation. I got it, Doc,’ a weary Evenshaw replied as she strapped up his ankle.

  Hunter gave him a hand down off the bed and watched him limp away. ‘I hope that’s nothing serious.’

  ‘A slight sprain,’ she said as she packed away the dressings and other bits and bobs she’d used to patch players together again.

  Now she’d ditched her zip-up outer layer he could see she was wearing a white round-neck T-shirt. It wasn’t a particularly remarkable piece of clothing, forgettable, if it wasn’t for the fact she’d unwittingly exposed her toned midriff as she’d yawned and stretched.

  He coughed away the sudden surge of awareness heading south of the border. It had been a long time since he’d had the pleasure of seeing a female body who wasn’t a patient, otherwise he wouldn’t be responding like a virgin seeing a naked woman for the first time.

  ‘I hope you’re not too tired to go Anderson-hunting?’ Although it might be better if she was. Regardless of Gray’s insistence and the prospect this could somehow improve working relations between him and Charlotte, he was beginning to have doubts this was a good idea.

  He kept losing focus when he was around her, not concentrating on the game or the arrival of his VIPs but watching spots of colour rise in her cheeks as he baited her. There’d also been that moment when she’d stood up for him against Gray. That had been unexpected. From both sides.

  Clearly he and his one and only friend still had unresolved issues. Although Hunter knew Gray had said those things in the heat of the moment, there was truth behind them. He’d let him down in the past and though the words had hurt, he’d deserved them and Gray had needed to say them. He just hoped now he’d got it off his chest they could move on again. He wouldn’t dwell on it when he knew how much more pain could be caused by letting a grudge fester out of control. It had already ended one career and he didn’t think he had it in him to start over again if this didn’t work out.

  No, it was Charlotte’s attitude that had been most surprising when she’d been the most outspoken about his reputation so far. Perhaps they were starting to make progress after all and she was no longer seeing him as the Ballydolan Demon come to life. Whatever it was, it had felt good to have someone on his side after all this time. Someone whose opinion of him appeared to be turning and she wasn’t afraid of saying it out loud.

  ‘Of course I’m not too tired,’ she snapped.

  ‘Of course you’re not,’ he replied. For a woman who appeared so delicate on the outside she wasn’t afraid of much. He got the impression she’d trawl the whole of Ireland even if she was dead on her feet if it meant sticking two fingers up at the doubters.

  ‘Where do we start?’ Charlotte was back at his side, refusing to let him forget her.

  ‘Wherever’s within walking distance.’ He set off at a brisk pace, determined to get this over with and get back to his bachelor pad as soon as possible. Minus company.

  ‘How do you know he hasn’t just gone home or taken a six pack off into the woods?’ Charlotte was almost running to catch up with him as she struggled back into that hideous jacket but he didn’t slow down for her. With any luck she’d get fed up and go home.

  That was as likely as Anderson being tucked up in bed.

  ‘I know we Canadians are a hardy lot but we’re not stupid. That would mean having to go into the bar to buy booze and take it away. Dark woods might appeal to a brooding romantic hero but he’s a hockey player, he needs to blow off steam fast.’

  ‘He could have gone home like any other disgruntled employee after a hard day at work,’ she grumbled under her breath, but she didn’t know hockey players the way he did.

  It was much easier to understand Anderson’s state of mind when you’d been there yourself. If he was anything close to following the same pattern he himself had, not only would he be somewhere, getting drunk quickly, he’d be spoiling for a fight to unleash some more of that aggression they’d witnessed earlier.

  ‘It’s possible but if we’re thinking logically, there are about six bars on the route back towards his house.’ He’d asked around for details, not that there were many forthcoming. Although he knew where Anderson resided there was little information about his personal life. It wasn’t because the players were reluctant to share with him—in that respect they seemed quite open to him, probably because of his hockey background. No, it seemed no one knew much about Anderson outside the team or alcohol-fuelled nights out. That in itself was dangerous. Hunter understood only too well how isolating it could be out here with no family around to catch you when you fell and pull you up by the scruff of the neck. Perhaps if he’d had someone do that for him he might’ve salvaged something of his sports career.

  ‘I don’t know why they need so many pubs in such a small space anyway,’ she bristled, every inch the reluctant partygoer, and he was beginning to wonder why she was so against the idea of calling in at the local establishments when it was the obvious place to start their search.

  Maybe she was teetotal, although that seemed as far-fetched out here as leprechauns and their crock of gold.

  ‘So you have somewhere to go when you get kicked out of the last one?’ Well, that’s how he’d treated the place when he’d done his fair share of drinking and brawling here. Strangely, it had only seemed to ingratiate him more with the locals. Until he’d taken it too far, of course, and cost them the championship.

  There was a very unladylike grunt behind him but he refrained from continuing the argument. Anderson was close by, he’d put money on it. The sound of the craic coming from behind the doors and the draw of the liquor would be too much to resist.

  They started their bar crawl at The Ballydolan Inn, the first dingy building no bigger than one of the nearby cottages at the bottom of the hill. Once they made their way
past the smokers outside they were hit with a wall of noise as the doors swung open. The deafening roar soon died down to a curious silence as the locals eyed them suspiciously. If this had been a Western his trigger finger would be itching, waiting for someone to make their move.

  Voices rumbled low but Hunter caught the mutterings about ‘that hockey player’.

  He scoured the interior, imagining an angry, drunk, Canadian forward would stand out in this crowd of regulars. When he saw nothing but curious Irish eyes staring back, he was ready to leave too. He wasn’t up for another round of twenty questions about his personal life after leaving this place under a dark cloud and turned to chivvy his companion back out onto the street. ‘Let’s try the next one.’

  They received much the same welcome there at The Hillside Tavern.

  ‘Isn’t that the big hockey fella who went nuts a few years back?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Thought he’d be dead by now.’

  ‘Used to play hockey. No longer nuts. Definitely not dead but very much older and wiser.’

  Hunter tackled the rumours head on as they flew around him.

  There was much more back-slapping after that, propelling them both towards the bar.

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘Sure you’ll have a wee drink for old times’ sake.’

  It wasn’t long before a space was cleared at the bar for them.

  ‘Your local drinking establishment?’ Charlotte mocked with a raised eyebrow, finding difficulty imagining him partying in here during his time with the Demons. In her head he’d been living it up in the clubs in Belfast or exclusive house parties for the rich and famous. If she’d known he was only down the street she might have socialised a bit more herself.

  ‘Once upon a time. It hasn’t changed much.’

  ‘I doubt it’s changed at all in the last century.’ It still had the dark wood interior she remembered, permeated with the smell of the peat fire and sweat.

  ‘I suppose we should really find out if there’s more than one hockey player they’ve been doling out booze to tonight.’ She was beginning to see how easy it would be to fall into the drinking culture here. Honestly, there wasn’t much else to do at night. When the game had first come here over a decade ago it had been a godsend to the young inhabitants like her, giving them somewhere fun and exciting to go without getting into trouble.

  He shook hands with the landlord. ‘Sorry, not tonight, Michael, I’m still on the clock. Have you seen one of ours in here? Anderson?’

  ‘There was a big, blond fella who talks like you in here earlier but he was a bit worse for wear. He made a nuisance of himself, to be honest. Spilt a few drinks, broke a few glasses. I had to chuck him out. Sorry, if I’d known he was with you—’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll not be too far away. How long ago was this?’

  ‘A good hour ago, I’d say.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Hunter grabbed her hand and bolted out the door with a renewed sense of urgency. The electric touch of his strong fingers clasping hers sent her pulse racing as they stole back out into the night.

  He let go of her long after they had an excuse to be holding hands.

  She absent-mindedly rubbed the palm of her hand where his had crossed it, mourning the loss of his touch already.

  ‘Do you really think we’re going to catch up with him?’ She was a little on edge, spending so much time with Hunter. Every minute together altered her perception of the man she’d loved and hated in equal measure without ever knowing him beyond his public image. It was unsettling to find out he was as normal as anyone else. She’d moved past her crush a long time ago but she was worried it might take her somewhere more dangerous than a shallow physical attraction if she wasn’t careful.

  ‘Oh, aye.’ His attempt at the local accent couldn’t fail to make her laugh and she was rewarded with a toothy grin.

  She’d always thought him attractive—that was a no-brainer. What teenage girl wouldn’t have had her head turned by a handsome sportsman from a distant land? Finding out Hunter hadn’t the hero she’d imagined him to be had been the biggest betrayal of all. Her mistake had been compounded by watching him fall apart before her eyes in those last matches until he’d convinced her there wasn’t actually anything more than good looks and bad attitude there.

  His short time back in the country was already beginning to change that opinion when he was doing whatever was asked for him to aid the team. That eye-opener spurred her on over the crest of the hill towards the old brick building with the faded green ‘Kelly’s’ sign.

  She was saved from further personal revelations as a rather large, unkempt figure came barrelling out of the pub door to land at their feet on the pavement. It didn’t take a genius to work out what the cheer from inside and the sight of a burly barman dusting off his hands at the door meant.

  ‘Anderson?’ Hunter hunched down and brushed the dirty, bloody mop of hair out of the face of the unfortunate who’d been swiftly tossed from the premises.

  ‘That’s me,’ he said with a slur. ‘Gus Anderson. Man of the match. The crowd go wild.’

  He was cheering now, swaying from side to side and pumping his fist in the air.

  ‘Someone’s got a high opinion of himself.’ Charlotte was having second thoughts about helping if he really was this deluded. He’d almost cost them the match, the play-offs and their very jobs tonight.

  ‘He’s wasted. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.’ Hunter struggled to get him onto his feet and although he didn’t ask her to, Charlotte felt compelled to help.

  She ducked under one arm of their patient, bolstering his left side. He weighed a ton, even though she knew Hunter was probably shouldering most of the weight.

  ‘Er...now what? How are we supposed to fix this?’

  ‘We can take him back to my place.’ Hunter was already a bit breathless bench-pressing the man mountain so she hoped he lived somewhere close before all three of them ended up in a ditch by the side of the road.

  They half dragged, half carried their wayward charge until they came to a cottage down the lane past Kelly’s.

  ‘This is your house?’ The pretty chocolate-box cottage and garden didn’t seem very him.

  ‘Here, hold him until I get the door open.’ He deposited most of Anderson’s bulk around her shoulders and stopped her asking any of the questions flooding her head as she fought to stop her body being concertinaed into the ground.

  Are you renting? Did you inherit? Does your girlfriend live here with you?

  In hindsight she suspected that was the very reason he’d been so ungentlemanly in the first place. Whatever the secret, he wanted to keep it to himself. Thankfully, once he opened the door and found the light switch, he shared the burden with her until they were able to dump Anderson into a nearby chair.

  ‘We’ll need to get him cleaned and sobered up.’ Gray would be expecting results and now under the glare of the living-room light she could see Anderson was a bit battered and bruised.

  ‘Let’s see if we can get him up to the bathroom.’ Hunter steered them towards a narrow staircase and they somehow managed to manoeuvre him into the shower cubicle, still fully clothed.

  A grinning Hunter switched on the water and closed the bathroom door on Anderson’s shrieks as he underwent some sobering cold-water therapy. He backed out of the room, bumping into Charlotte in the cramped hallway. She stumbled back, tripping over the upturned edge of the faded hallway carpet. There was that helpless moment when she felt herself overbalance and tip over the edge of the staircase. All she could do was brace herself for the hard, painful landing she knew was coming.

  Hunter shot out an arm around her waist, catching her before she fell off that top step and pulling her roughly against his chest, knocking the breath out of her.

  ‘Sorry. I
thought we should get out while he’s cooling off. I didn’t mean to nearly break your neck in the process.’

  Her adrenaline was pumping as much from the near miss as being pressed against his hard body.

  ‘You’re forgiven.’ She aimed for a friendly smile to hide the fact he’d unnerved her by being so close but her heart was pounding so hard she could no longer hear anything but the rush of blood in her ears.

  For an instant their eyes locked, this intimate moment between the two of them frozen in time. His eyes darkened as they lit on her smiling lips and the conspiratorial joviality seemed to fade. He was watching her with such hunger, such focus there was no denying what it was he wanted, what he wanted to do to her. Just as before, she felt herself submit helplessly to gravity, only this time it was pulling her ever closer to his lips.

  ‘Hey, you guys are too cruel. What, are you like SAS trainers or something?’ Anderson yanked the door open and exploded the fantasy.

  Hunter wrenched away from her so quickly he’d probably left friction burns in the carpet.

  Charlotte was more appalled by her own behaviour. They’d almost kissed. Totally inappropriate with a work colleague, especially when there was every chance he was involved with someone else. So they hadn’t actually made lip contact but she was pretty sure the intention had been there on both sides and that was bad news all around. Clearly she hadn’t yet reached her lifetime’s worth of humiliation where this man was concerned.

  ‘I’ll get some coffee on the go.’ Hunter took the stairs two at a time in his obvious haste to get away.

  She waited until she heard him banging about in the kitchen before she dared follow. At least Anderson, who’d ditched his sodden clothes for a bath towel, made for a distraction from the sudden atmosphere in the house.

  She reached for her trusty first-aid bag, which she’d been carrying all night, predicting it would end in some sort of medical emergency, and pulled out an alcohol wipe to cleanse the deepest scratch on his face.