Roughing (Ottawa Titans Book 1)

by Sarah Hegger

  “Who?” He frowned. “And why isn’t he here now then?”

  “He’s busy.” She made a cutting motion with her hand. “I’m not talking about Peter to you.” Mainly because she and Peter had ended a couple of months ago, to what she suspected, was mutual relief. “Besides which, I watch chick flicks. I know how these things end, and even the chance we might get together…” She shuddered.

  He glared at her. “Lots of women. Lots. Would love the opportunity to be my girlfriend.”

  “Then find one of them.” Gotcha, and she smirked.

  Sam backed down. “I can’t. Because they’ve already seen you and they like your image and what you say about me.”

  She wanted to hear this. “What do I say about you?”

  “That I’m boring as fuck.”

  “Out!” She stood and pointed at the door. He’d crossed the line.

  “I’m sorry.” He leaped up and grabbed her pointing finger, his grip warm and calloused. “Force of habit. You made me look like I’m a nice guy who cares about people and my community.”

  She snorted. “Nobody can do that.”

  “Look, Elizabeth.” Using her name the way she liked it used said he was desperate. “I need this, and I’m prepared to make it worth your while. Tell me what you want in exchange.”

  He’d dropped a cherry in her lap, and she needed a moment to capitalize.

  “And you don’t have to pretend to be my girlfriend,” he said. “All you have to do is hang out with me, pretend you’re having a good time, and if anyone asks, we’ll say we’re just friends.”

  “Which they’ll assume to mean something more,” she said.

  “We say nothing.” He pulled a face.

  She played for time. “What do I tell Peter?” No way she was letting Sam know there wasn’t anyone in her life. She couldn’t risk him thinking she was hanging around waiting for him to wander into her life.

  “The truth.” He shrugged. “We go way back and we’re hanging out together.”

  “I need to think about it.”

  “I’ll introduce you to Dawson.” His face got cunning.

  Damn, that was hitting below the belt. There wasn’t much a girl wouldn’t do to meet Craig Dawson. “I can’t promise any more than to think about it.”

  Sam’s face cleared into a smile. “Great! We can discuss terms tomorrow night. Over dinner.” He strode for the door. “And wear something sexy.” He grimaced at her sensible navy pencil skirt and white shirt. “I have my reputation to protect.”

  Asshole! Elizabeth chased after him to tell him she’d changed her mind, but he already had the door open and was trotting down the stairs. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “No, I—”

  “Eight, Lizzie.” He stopped outside Bonnie’s door and banged on it.

  The door opened and Randy stood there. “What?” His mouth dropped open and he stared. “Are you—”

  “You’re parked in my friend’s spot.” He pointed to the minivan. “Don’t be a dick, man. Move your car.”

  “S-sure, Sam Stone. Sure.” Randy yelled for Bonnie and the keys.

  Sam looked up at her and smirked. He drew a one through the air. His round.

  Chapter 7

  Neither Elizabeth, nor any of her friends, knew how to dress for a date with a professional hockey player. If it was a normal meeting with Sam, say one of the forced get-togethers their mothers had pioneered over the years, no problem. Diarrhea day track pants and that sweater you kept in your pajama drawer would do.

  But they’d made a deal and Elizabeth had worked out her price. She needed to show Sam what he was getting, in the “just friends” department. Also, what girl didn’t want to have her Cinderella moment? If only shove it down Sam’s throat.

  She needed to call in the big guns, and before she could overthink it, she dialed Maddy.

  “Hi, Maddy, I don’t know if you remem—”

  “Lizzie!” Maddy squealed.

  Elizabeth winced. “Only Sam calls me Lizzie, and he does it because I hate it.”

  “Oh.” Maddy’s voice got small. “I didn’t know.”

  “That’s okay.” Being a gigantic bitch was always a killer way to start a request for help. “I don’t really mind, but Sam thinks I do.”

  “I like Elizabeth better,” Maddy said. “It’s sort of queenly, like you.”

  Elizabeth looked down at her tatty sweatpants and T-shirt and grinned. “So, I was calling for help with—”

  “Yes,” Maddy said.

  “I’m going to dinner with Sam tonight, and—”

  “Eek, that’s so romantic.”

  “And I’m not sure what to wear. I don’t really have that sort of wardrobe.” Elizabeth got the words in fast.

  Maddy sucked in a breath and then gave a breathy giggle. “Oh, Elizabeth. I’ll be right over.”

  Her phone rang, and she spent five minutes updating Ashley, who ran the Humane Society, on the new potential adoptees. Leonard also needed about seven minutes of soothing over some shoddy painting of palm trees on the sets for South Pacific.

  Jane texted to harangue Elizabeth for not ironing her shirt the other day, because a day without getting the shaft from her family wouldn’t be a normal day. She sent Jane a YouTube video on ironing and got a WTF in exchange. Pretty much a normal day in the Rogers clan.

  Maddy must have dropped everything because she appeared at Elizabeth’s apartment in fifteen minutes. Even more impressive was the generous armload of clothes and shoes she’d brought with her.

  Elizabeth eyed the bounty with reservations. “Are those yours?”

  “Yes.” Maddy beamed and bumped the door closed with her hip. “I’m sure we’re the same size.”

  Elizabeth restrained the urge to snort laugh.

  “I brought my makeup kit as well.” Maddy brandished a family sized valise. Looking uncertain, Maddy slid the valise behind Elizabeth’s couch. “I mean, I don’t want to overstep or anything. I assumed—”

  “You’re wonderful.” Elizabeth gave in to the urge and hugged her. Maddy had the sweetest, loveliest heart, and was turning out to be the best part of busting in on Sam. “Where do we start?”

  A knock at the door had Elizabeth praying it wasn’t someone else wanting her to do them a favor. She hadn’t gotten around to working on her no yet.

  Looking sheepish, Randy stood on her doorstep. “Hey, Elizabeth.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “I parked in the visitor’s today.”

  “Thanks, Randy.” In the eight months he’d been dating Bonnie, he’d never spoken to her. She was surprised he even knew her name.

  “You’re welcome.” He beamed. “So, the thing is, and I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a big hockey fan. Huge.”

  She wasn’t even having dinner with him yet and Sam had shoved himself into her life. “Yes?”

  “Hi.” Maddy nudged her away from the door and held out her hand to Randy. “I’m Maddy.”

  Randy did an admirable job of keeping his gaze above Maddy’s chin, but ultimately it was a doomed effort and his eyeline drifted south. “Hi.”

  “Sam’s fans are super important to him,” Maddy said. The quiet authority took Elizabeth by surprise. “Now, we can’t offer you tickets to a game, unfortunately.” Maddy batted those lashes, probably starting a typhoon on the other side of the planet. “And gosh wouldn’t that be the bomb dot com if we could?”

  “Er…yeah.” Sweat slid down Randy’s temple as he kept his eyes locked somewhere in the region of Maddy’s right ear.

  “But I can certainly hook you up with a signed jersey.” Maddy made the pronouncement as if she was offering Randy the Holy Grail.

  By the look of awe on Randy’s face, he thought so too. “Seriously?”

  “I’ll make sure you get it as soon as I can.” Maddy winked at him. “Sam is so appreciative of his hometown support.” She leaned in and whispered, “You local fans are super special to him.”

  Now her willing sl
ave, Randy stared at Maddy with stars in his eyes. “Is there any chance Sam will be back here?”

  “Now, Randy.” Maddy pressed her hand to her cleavage. “I can see that you’re a sensible fan. Not one of those crazies who doesn’t think Sam has any right to his own time.”

  “Er…gurgh.” Randy’s gaze got stuck.

  “And we wouldn’t want Sam thinking he couldn’t pop around and spend time with Elizabeth whenever he felt like it.”

  “Nuhaghyon.” Randy blinked rapidly.

  “I knew I wasn’t wrong about you, Randy.” Maddy pressed her hand to his chest and encouraged him out the doorway. “I’ll make sure you get that signed jersey.”

  She shut the door.

  Elizabeth had a whole new level of respect. “You’re an evil genius.”

  Maddy grinned. “Wait until you see what I can do with you.”

  Three hours later, primped, powdered, plucked and pouffed, Elizabeth walked down the stairs from her apartment to Sam’s car.

  Maddy had insisted she not wait for Sam to come to the door. Chivalry took second place to strategy with Maddy. “Give him time to get a good look at all you got going on.”

  Poured into a little black dress, her eyes smoky and her lips full and red, Elizabeth clung to the balustrade and hoped like hell the heels and stairs equation didn’t bite her in the ass.

  “Work it!” Maddy hissed from the crack in her apartment door. “You own the sexy. Be the sexy.”

  It did Elizabeth’s confidence no small amount of good that she and Maddy were the same size. So, she lifted her chin and owned the heck out of her sexy…ish.

  In a suit and open-necked shirt, Sam strolled around the hood of his car toward her.

  Her confidence took a hit. She might not be a Sam fan, but the annoying boy had grown into a fine-looking man. Tall, broad shouldered, and as fit and muscular as only a professional athlete could be, he provided a treat for the eyes.

  The right eyes. Eyes that gave a crap that was.

  It helped to picture him as a towheaded eight-year-old blowing spit bubbles and telling fart jokes. It gave her the confidence to put an extra swing to her hips. “Sam.”

  “Lizzie.” His deep blue gaze did a slow meander from her shoes to her hair. “You look ho—lovely this evening.”

  She almost bought it too. He might have succeeded if she hadn’t caught the flash of his eyes to the side.

  “You can’t lie to me, Sam. You were about to say something else.” She brushed close to him where he held the door open. For good measure she allowed the dress to slide an extra inch up her thighs as she sat. Whatever Sam had to say, she would not let it dent her confidence.

  From outside her apartment, Maddy bopped up and down behind Sam giving her the thumbs up. She sucked in a bit of courage from Maddy.

  Sam climbed behind the wheel and glanced over at her. “I’m being serious, Lizzie. You look very nice.”

  “Uh-huh.” He really did think her stupid. “You going to spit it out.”

  “There’s my Quizzy Lizzy.” He eased the car onto the road. “All this because I said you looked lovely. Which you do. You’ve always been a great looking girl, Liz.”

  “I know you were about to say something insulting.” Despite lying through his teeth, Sam smelled good and Elizabeth took a discreet sniff of his fresh, sharp aftershave. The last time she’d seen Sam in a suit had been their prom. They’d both had different dates, but their mothers had insisted on a joint photo opp. He filled out his suit a lot better now.

  Sam gave her the side eye and took a breath. “You’re right.” He cleared his throat. “I was about to say you look hot.”

  “What?”

  “Hot.”

  “Who me?”

  “Yes, you.” He glared at her. “You look hot for fuck’s sake.”

  The bizarreness of the situation got the better of Elizabeth. Sam and her all dressed up and going out to dinner, like they were on a real date.

  Elizabeth couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up inside her. “This is weird.”

  “Yeah.” Sam flashed her a wry grin. “I promise not to pull your hair tonight.”

  “Wow.” She widened her eyes at him. “You are on best behavior.”

  Sam did his eye slide. “I know how to behave.”

  “But do you?” She grinned to let him know she was teasing.

  Sam laughed and the atmosphere in the car eased into something more familiar. It lacked the usual antagonism though, and that still left her feeling slightly off balance.

  Sam drove the forty minutes into Ottawa and took her to an upscale restaurant in the ByWard market. A perfect place to see and be seen, which was the point of tonight anyway.

  His hand spread over the small of her back as they followed the maitre d’ to their table. Her dress seemed an insubstantial barrier against the warmth of his touch and she shivered.

  Heads swung and gazes locked on them as they took their seats.

  “Ignore it,” Sam whispered as he slid her chair in for her. “They’ll have a good look, maybe take a picture or two, and then forget all about us.”

  “On with the show.” Elizabeth smiled at Sam, the sort of smile she imagined a girl who wanted to be out with Sam would give him.

  “Dude!” A young guy sidled up to their table. “You’re the fucking bomb.”

  Sam gave him a fist bump. “Thanks, but the bomb is now sitting next to the ice.”

  “Don’t stress it, Stoney.” The guy grinned. “They’ll be begging you to come back.”

  “I appreciate the support.” Sam motioned her and leaned into the guy. “Not to be rude, but I’m here with my girl.”

  Elizabeth choked the ‘my girl’ down with a hefty sip of water.

  “Oh, sure.” The fan looked at her. “Got it.”

  He drifted away.

  “What did I say about pretending to be your girlfriend?” She didn’t put much heat into it, because the notion was so ludicrous there was no need to get bitter and twisted about it.

  Sam lifted one dark eyebrow at her. “I didn’t specify in what way you were my girl.”

  “In no way.” Elizabeth picked up the menu. “And for that, I’m going to order the most expensive thing on this menu.” She peeked over the top at him. “And getting through dinner with you will require wine. Lots and lots of wine.”

  Sam shook his head, but he was smiling as he picked up his menu.

  “Sam!” Elizabeth couldn’t believe what she was reading. “Have you seen the prices?”

  He stared at her, mystified. “Yeah. And?”

  “And?” Outrage welled in her. “And it’s daylight robbery is what. Do you know how many shelter dogs I could feed with the price of the steak?”

  Looking amused, Sam put his menu down. “Comfort yourself in the knowledge that it’s my money you’re spending.”

  “It helps.” She couldn’t let him know not even that swayed her. “But still…”

  “Tell you what.” Sam went back to his menu. “I’ll donate the same amount I pay for this meal to the dog shelter.”

  “In that case.” Elizabeth didn’t feel nearly as bad anymore. The man made a ridiculous amount of money. “I’m starting with the lobster and moving on to the chateaubriand.”

  “There you go.” Sam winked at her. “Make sure to order French wine while you’re at it.”

  “Good idea.” She sat back and looked about her. A couple of gazes slid their way and away again. It was the sort of restaurant people went to in order to impress. It didn’t feel like Sam. Make no mistake, he had his faults and she had a detailed list of every one of them, but Sam wasn’t pretentious. “Why this place?”

  “It fits.” Sam put his menu down. “We want to be seen together. This is that sort of place.”

  That made sense. “Speaking of which.” She sat forward. “We haven’t come to terms yet. Tonight is starting to look alarmingly like a free pass.”

  “Dear God. Not that.” He rolled his eyes.
“Lay it on me twisty Lizzie. What do you want?”

  “I hate those rhyming things you do.”

  “I know.”

  Again, a fight they’d been having for too long for her to get bent out of shape about it.

  “Good evening, Mr. Stone.” The waiter appeared at their table. He oozed bonhomie at Sam. “Might I say how delighted we are to have you with us tonight.”

  Sam gave the man a polite smile.

  “If there is anything I can do to make your evening more enjoyable”—the waiter laid his hand over his heart—“you need only to ask.”

  “Tell you what, Tyrone.” Sam handed his menu to Tyrone. “Why don’t we order?”

  Tyrone brightened as if Sam had made his life worth living. “Perfect.”

  They ordered dinner, and Elizabeth went with the salmon and a soup to start.

  “Lovely.” Tyrone gathered their menus. “I will be right back with your drinks.”

  “Thanks, Tyrone.” Sam motioned him closer. “And there is one favor I would like to ask. My…friend and I would like to have a quiet evening. I know you take my meaning.”

  “Of course.” Tyrone drew himself up and went pink. “You will not be disturbed. You may rely on this.”

  Sam winked. “I knew that.”

  Elizabeth shook her head at Sam’s antics. It was good to be king. She waited for Tyrone to leave before pinning Sam with a hard look. “I’ll agree to be your photo friend, but in exchange the retirement village is going to need a new bus.”

  Sam gaped at her. “A new bus?”

  “Not a big bus.” She didn’t want him thinking she was going to be unreasonable. “About a fifteen-seater. To get the residents to and from events and stuff.”

  “Not a Lear jet?” He raised a brow at her.

  “Oh, could you?” Elizabeth simpered and batted her lashes at him. “That would be super.”

  Sam grunted. “How much is the bus going to set me back?”

  “We only need a second-hand one,” Elizabeth said.

  “Done.” Sam grinned like a shark. “Selfie time.”

  He came around the table and draped an arm over her shoulder. Pressing his cheek to hers he grinned at his phone. “Sell it, Lizzie. Make them believe you want to be here.”