by Box Set
Out of the corner of my eye, I see three women enter the bar, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise in recognition. One of them’s Pepper. And I know I have to make eye contact with her before she has a chance to see me and leave.
I drag the chalk across the board, marking my score, and stalk her way. My knee, still wrapped up tight, gives me no trouble, though it does make my gait stiff. Her head lifts at that moment, and her gaze locks with mine. A cocktail of emotions rises up within me and powers my steps. The lust and rightness that’s always there, sure. Chief among them, though, is contrition.
I’ve gotta man up and apologize. I’d let my pride get in the way. Trust goes both ways, and I shouldn’t have just assumed I had hers. I need to earn it, and I’ve done a piss-poor job with that.
They congregate around one of the high tables dotting the place, and when I arrive, I stick on a smile. “This round’s on me. What will it be, ladies?”
“Luke?” says one of the friends with her, and I finally look at her companions.
“Tricia? Hey, sorry, it’s been a long time. How are you?” We’d had a physics class together senior year, and I always thought she was a level-headed chick. We do the polite, quick catch-up one does when running across someone you don’t know too well, and I’m soon back with their drinks.
Pepper hasn’t said a word other than her drink order. I wish I had a chance to do this privately, but she’s here now, and fuck if I let the opportunity go by. Her silence, though, is almost like a physical push against my side.
“Pepper.”
“Luke?”
Her tone is cool, but there’s a faint thread of playfulness, and I snatch that thread as if it leads to a life preserver. The words that need to come up through me, they’re like razor blades, but I force them through. “I’m sorry.”
There. That wasn’t so bad. Still won’t make the outcome any different, but there’s a strange catharsis with the words, as if the razor blades are scraping off unneeded junk inside me and leaving me cleaner.
I edge closer. “I’m sorry I was such an ass. And that I worked against you with the team. Kept my injury from you. I also would never ask you to compromise your professional ethics. You need to know that.”
I sip from my beer to clear the burn left from the words, but I don’t regret saying them. Still makes me an ass for having done all that, but that’s reality. Her judgment will be deserved.
Pepper nods and watches me for a short bit, her face unreadable. I resist the urge to squirm. I’m a fucking Navy SEAL, but what this woman does to me makes me act outside of the normal parameters.
She lifts her drink in a toast-gesture. “Apology accepted.” She sets her drink down without taking a sip. “But I need to talk to you privately.”
“Sure. I’ll be at the darts board when you’re done here.”
I lift off the stool—I said what I came to say—when a blond jock approaches the table, his gaze fixed on Pepper. The table immediately grows quiet, and Tricia darts a glance my way. The newcomer’s a little too smug for my taste. I’m sticking around for this. I don’t care if it sounds all primitive. If she asks me to leave, though, I will.
He leans down, clearly going for a kiss, but Pepper turns her head and changes it to a cheek-kiss. Still makes my blood boil.
Doesn’t faze Blond Schmuck. Instead, he says smoothly, “Hey, babe.”
My fists clench. Babe?
But I’m watching the non-verbal cues, and this isn’t welcome on her part. Her friends also only look tolerant. Yeah, I’m sticking around for this, but not to piss a circle around her and mark her as mine, just as back-up. Three friends at the table are better than two, right? Though of course I do want to piss a circle around her. Some things are hard-wired in the male brain, I guess.
Pepper gives a tight smile and turns to us. She barely glances at me and says to the group, “Everyone? This is Phil. My ex-boyfriend.” Is it my imagination, or does she place an extra emphasis on the ex purely for Phil’s benefit and not mine? “Phil, this is Tricia, Susan, and Luke.”
Phil puts on a huge grin and glad-hands everyone as if he’s some fucking politician. I give his handshake an extra squeeze, but he doesn’t flinch or retreat.
“Luke. I’m glad you’re here,” she says to me, and I perk up, thinking she wants me to play the Love Interest to deflect Phil’s obvious interest. Their relationship might be over for her, but this guy hasn’t accepted that memo.
“Phil’s a goalie for a semi-pro hockey team in Gainesville. I invited him here to replace Eamonn if your team’s captain will have him.” She waves at me and turns to her ex. “Luke’s on the team and can get you up to speed on the rules and where they practice. Introduce you.”
He grins at everyone like he’s just saved the day. “Great. Glad to be here. Sounds like an interesting sport.”
“It is,” I say cautiously. Pepper called him in to help our team? I don’t know what to make of that. “We have a practice tomorrow actually, despite not having enough to make a team. I can give you the details.”
Phil curls a hand onto Pepper’s shoulder, and it’s all I can do not to launch across the table and knock that hand away. But Pepper’s a grown woman and can take care of herself. I might have growled, though, and Tricia gives me an amused eyebrow lift. I pretend it wasn’t me.
“I look forward to it. Anything to help out Pepper.”
Tricia swirls her margarita glass and licks up some salt from the rim. “I thought you two called it quits.”
Phil chuckles. “What does that matter? I’m here now.”
Pepper shrugs his hand off her shoulder, and I do a mental fist pump. “I’m sorry, Phil. I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression here. My invitation had no ulterior motive.”
Some of his swagger fades, but he gamely presses on. “You tell yourself that, but we both knew you’d come around.”
“Come. Around?” There’s a chill in her posture, but Phil is completely clueless. For the first time tonight, I’m feeling a little light. This event has popcorn potential. Heck, I’m getting popcorn. Like any good bar, Aiden has a machine for patrons, and it’s right behind me.
I hotfoot it over, grab a bowl, and settle in for the show. I return in time to hear Pepper say, “You broke it off to get me to quote, ‘see the light’?”
Uh-oh.
Chapter Seventeen
Luke
I take a handful of popcorn and pass it to Tricia. Phil seems completely oblivious that he has an audience.
He tries the shoulder-rub move, and Pepper shrugs him off again.
“Aw, babe. We were good together. I just needed to give you time to see it.”
She levels him with a get-real stare. “Phil. You called me a cold fish.”
Wait. What? I glance at Pepper and then at Phil. He’s even more of a bonehead than I thought. I almost feel sorry for him. Not really.
Phil digs his hands into his front pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I just needed to push you some. Get you to see what you were missing.”
Pepper straightens and pulls up a bright smile. “It worked.” It fools Phil, who steps closer, a corresponding grin on his smarmy face, but it doesn’t fool me. I eat another handful of popcorn. Pepper’s got this.
“I learned exactly what I was missing.” She pauses. “Nothing.”
Phil stops mid-step and rears back, a look of disgust and disbelief on his face. “God. You really are a cold bitch.”
I must have tensed, because Tricia puts a cautioning hand on my thigh, but I brush it off. “Watch it, Phil.” I put full-on testosterone into his name.
The asshole starts and glares at me and then at Tricia and Susan. His lip curls. “Whatever.” He pushes away from the table. “I don’t know why I bothered.” He points a finger at me. “And don’t fool yourself into thinking you can get in her pants by defending her. That shit don’t work with her, so you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
What a tool. Before I can say a wor
d, Pepper throws a napkin on the table. “I don’t know why I thought this could be a solution for the team. I believed you had one mature bone in your body, Phil. Looks like I was wrong.”
He whips his gaze back to her. “I don’t know what your problem is. But it’s no longer mine. You’ll end up alone with your attitude.”
I unclench my jaw and my fists and say calmly, “And what attitude is that?”
Yeah, I should back off for a number of reasons. Pissing him off won’t convince him to stand in for Eamonn. And I do know Pepper well enough to know she doesn’t need a man to fight her battles. But I can’t let this stand. I’ve already screwed up with her anyway, so I have nothing to lose.
And the thing is—Pepper’s part of my inner team even though she doesn’t want to be there. Maybe this jerk could work out for the team, and we’d go to the playoffs. But not at the expense of Pepper.
Asshole crosses his arms. “Her cold bitch routine.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say as I kiss the playoffs goodbye. “She’s a cold bitch because she knows her mind, can express it eloquently, and the end result is that she doesn’t want you?”
All three women turn to stare at me. But I can’t stop. “News flash, buddy. The world doesn’t revolve around you. And maybe, just maybe, you only think she’s cold because you didn’t have the heat to be admitted into her circle of trust.” We’d had that heat. But I’d broken her trust. And now I’m back outside. Doesn’t make her cold, though.
Pepper jerks toward me at that and looks at me with surprise and then…Jesus…heat.
Phil looks poleaxed for a moment. Clearly, no one’s ever called him on his shit, but he also notices the undercurrent between Pepper and me, and what it means. “Fuck you.” He walks around the table as if he’s going to have a go at me. I stand to my full height, and he stops.
“No, thanks.” I cross my arms. “I don’t swing that way.” It’s a cheap, throwaway line, but most of my mental energy is being spent in not punching this asshole in the face.
Phil pivots back to the table and sneers at Pepper. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”
She serenely nods. “I’ll get the team details and text them to you.”
He rears back. “You must think me an idiot if you think I’ll play for this team of yours.” He gives me a parting look and storms off.
I watch him retreat until his ass is on the other side of the door. Then I turn back to the table. I nod to Tricia. “Let the record show, counselor, that I did not punch that asshole and bust his nose like he deserved.”
I nod at Pepper and step away, because the last thing I want her to think is that I’d done it for show. That I’d done it to ‘get in her pants’ like Phil insinuated.
No. I’d done that because it burned me, searing my guts, to have someone disparage Pepper. She didn’t deserve that. At all.
Playoffs be damned.
I head for the door, palming my keys. Pepper’s gaze behind me feels physical—a weight at my back, urging me to turn around. But I resist.
Her attempt to help the team is…awesome, but I don’t fool myself that it means more than what it is. Besides, it doesn’t hold the same importance for me as it once did. My narrow-band focus on the team and their wants spoiled any chance I had with Pepper. I rub my chest where a hollowness seems to have become my new norm.
I’m halfway around the corner, when the door opens behind me. It’s not her, I tell myself, though the dumb part of my body perks up with hope. But then light steps hurry toward me, and the skin on the back of my neck prickles.
“Hi, Pepper,” I say softly without turning around. And without any discussion, she falls into step beside me as we stroll to the parking lot. I see the bumper of her Volvo and steer us toward it. I have no clue what to say or what to make of this. My throat is choked up with words, and none of them will probably be right. All I know is that I’m vibrating with the energy I feel whenever I’m around her. And I’ll stick to her side to keep feeling this until she tells me to scram. Which will probably be soon.
At her car, I’m prepping my goodbye. She has no more reason to come to our practices. I do need to thank her for trying to get Phil here, even if he turned out to be a douche.
We both stand at her car door. Awkwardly. As if we’re back in fucking high school. She twists her key fob in her fingers, and I say, “Pepper” at the same time she says, “Luke.”
We both laugh, and that gives us forward momentum. She angles her head to her car. “Can we talk?” She hits the unlock button and opens her door.
My heart gives a hard kick. Hell, yes.
I fast-walk around the hood before she can change her mind and lock the doors. My mind flashes back to nearly two weeks ago when I’d messed up bad and got in this car and stumbled through an apology.
I fold myself into her passenger seat and gently shut her door. She’s got her A/C on full blast, but the radio is turned down, a bare suggestion of a jangly tune coming from the speakers.
I twist my bulky body around so that I’m facing her but remain quiet. She’s steering this convo, and I don’t want to fuck it up by saying the wrong thing. Again.
She mirrors my position and stares at me a minute.
Fuck, it’s killing me to be this close and not be able to touch her. In the close confines of the car, her soft breathing and her scent starts to fill the space.
“I want to apologize,” she says softly but with strength.
That throws me. “For what?”
“For pushing you out of my house the other night without talking things out with you. For assuming the worst of you.”
While her words make sense, I’m still tense, waiting for the proverbial blow. “You were upset with me. I totally understand.”
“No. You don’t.” She sighs and looks at a spot over my shoulder. “I was pushing you away because…because I didn’t want to wade through all this to see what could be.”
I cock my head. Some of my confusion must show, because she continues.
“I want to explore what we have going on between us, but…” She blows out a breath. “But you need to know why I overreacted.” She fills me in on how Phil had used her as one of his sources for pain meds. Good thing that fucker is gone, because I’d like to punch him even more now.
She continues, “I’m…I’m not so good with emotions. I think I knew deep down you weren’t asking me to be unethical, but it just reminded me so much of how Phil had used me. I was tired, and I panicked and kicked you out because I worried about my emotions affecting me professionally.” She looks directly at me and bites her lip. “And that’s not fair to you. Or me.”
My stomach churns. Part of me is elated, but the other part is scared shitless. Why is she giving me another chance? I fucked up. And I’ll fuck up again, I’m sure. She knows this.
Though it pains me, I gotta come straight. I can’t get into a relationship with her if it’s going to end in a flaming pile of my fuckups.
I clear my throat. “I can’t be what you need.”
Chapter Eighteen
Luke
She pulls back. Then her eyes narrow. “What do you mean? What do I need?”
My fist clenches, and I rub it against my knee. “Not me, for damn sure. I rarely mess up, but I seem to be prone to it with you. You deserve better.”
“I think I can judge what I need.”
“See? I don’t say the right thing.”
She stares at me for a moment. “What does messing up mean to you? I feel like I’m missing something here.”
I shift in my seat because she’s hit on something I can’t quite name. It’s like a big ball of confusion and hurt and inadequacy, and it’s been there, lodged in my chest, ever since I can remember. Most of the time I’m not conscious of it. But when I fuck up, it’s there, ready to wash me in inadequacy.
She leans forward. “You apologized. I accepted your apology and forgave you. I just apologized to you. Do you forgive me?”
I frown. “Of course.”
“Do you think any differently of me for having apologized?”
“Nooo…” Owning up to mistakes is the right thing to do. Only insecure cowards deflect. The trick was not making them in the first place.
I don’t know where she’s going with this, but it’s nudging at that ball, threatening to bust it open in my chest. I’m not sure I want that, but damned if I’ll get out of this car right now.
She cocks her head, looking at me as a bird might look at a questionable meal. “But you’re confused about why I want to pursue things with you.” She reaches forward and tentatively touches my knee. I jerk at the unexpected touch, and instantly the space feels smaller between us, zinging with awareness.
“I know you feel this. So it’s not that.” She pins me with her chocolate eyes.
Her hand travels up my thigh and back to my knee.
But I still can’t seem to articulate the contours of that ball and how it affects me. Because I have no fucking clue. It was shaped and solidified so long ago.
She continues her soft strokes along my thigh, encouraging me. I have to say something. “Yes, I feel what we have. I…feel that.” I feel your hand. I feel what you do to me. I feel how you help me see, hear, and touch the world.
“That’s good.” She strokes again. “So what is it then?”
I’m panting now. Because there’s a strange fear clutching my chest, as if I know that somehow I’m going to open up, show my inner workings, because I can feel it crawling up me, even though I don’t know its shape.
But it lodges somewhere. I still have no words.
And I need them. But they’re stuck and that tightness grows.
Her hand changes its usual course and begins a slow glide up my thigh, and then…oh Jesus, she cups my junk. I grow hard, my dick straining against my jeans. I close my eyes and groan.
“What is it?” she whispers.
She expects me to think? Now? When her hot little hand is stroking my hard-as-fuck cock? I can’t think, only feel. But I’m still struggling for words, because I want to answer her. She deserves it, even if it’s still the wrong thing to say. I have to trust her.
