Roughing (Ottawa Titans Book 1)

by Sarah Hegger

  Elizabeth pressed closer. Sam’s mouth was so close she could shift her head to the left and touch it with hers.

  And why the hell would she want to do that?

  She twinkled at the camera and Sam took the shot. Clearing his throat, he swallowed and eased away from her. He kept his gaze on his phone, but he looked a bit flushed. “What are we thinking for hashtags?”

  “BFF? Besties? Oldfriendsarethebestfriends?” If she had been his girlfriend, she would have taken that left shift and kissed him.

  “You’re good at this.” Sam’s fingers flew over his phone.

  Tyrone slid her wine in front of her, and placed Sam’s beer in front of him. He gave her a conspiratorial look and mouthed. “Lovely couple.”

  If only he knew. Elizabeth resisted the urge to laugh.

  Sam took a slug of beer. “Give me your next shot.”

  “Oh, boy, Sam. You’re in trouble now.” Elizabeth couldn’t stop her evil chuckle. The Humane Society always needed money. “I would like an item of your clothing to auction off for the Humane Society.”

  He grimaced. “Does it need to be sweaty?”

  “Sweaty would be lovely.” Elizabeth smiled at his look of distaste. “I know.” She shrugged, the only sane woman in this crazy world. “There is actually someone out there who would be prepared to pay money for Sam Stone’s sweat.”

  “Ah please.” Sam sat back and folded his arms. “My jock strap is worth the national debt of a small nation.”

  Sometimes he set himself up so beautifully. “That’s probably because it’s a small jock strap.”

  “Damn!” He winced and grabbed his chest. “Shots fired!” Leaning his elbows on the table he stared at her. “How many of these conditions are there?”

  “A few more.” She avoided eye contact. The trick to Sam was not to show weakness. Or let him play with your toys. The image that popped into her mind was warning enough to keep her from thinking Sam and toys in the same mind drift. “Item three is about Chris’s hockey team.” She took a sip of her wine. It was really very good, and she hummed her appreciation.

  Sam’s gaze flicked to her mouth and away again. “I didn’t know Chris had a hockey team.”

  “It’s a kid’s team she inherited about two years ago.” Elizabeth let Sam take a sip of his beer before she hit him with the full demand. She’d been on the receiving end of him spitting his drink before and she didn’t want to undo all Maddy’s hard work. “They’re really bad.” Chris would admit as much herself. “But they could really do with a few tips from you.”

  Rubbing his chin, Sam groaned. “Are you really going to make me coach kid’s hockey?”

  “Yup.” She gave him a bright smile. “And for that I might even let you get a bit handsy with me. For the cameras.”

  “How handsy?” Sam’s gaze sharpened and he leaned forward.

  Heat climbed into Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Not like that. I meant maybe an arm around my shoulders. Or maybe even I’d put my arm through yours. You know, a bit more like a couple.”

  “For coaching kids I’m going to need hand holding and kissing,” Sam said.

  “Kissing?” Was he insane? “I’m not kissing you. You know what happened—”

  “We don’t go there.” Sam jabbed his forefinger at her. “Ever!”

  He was right. They had a deal. They’d even pinky-sworn on it. “Sorry.” She backed right down. “I can offer you a cheek peck.”

  “I’ll take it, and also one mouth at a time of my choosing.”

  That seemed harmless enough, and really Chris’s team could do with all the help they could get. “Done.”

  Tyrone sailed over and put their starters on the table. At a discreet signal from Sam, he refilled her wineglass. Sam asked for water.

  “Item four is tiny.” Elizabeth tasted her soup and moaned. “This is delicious.”

  Sam waggled his fingers for a taste, and she held her spoon out for him. He sucked her spoon into his mouth, tasted and nodded. “It is good.”

  His mouth was the only softish feature in the carved lines of his face. It saved him from looking too severe. She’d heard sensible women eulogize over Sam’s mouth. Maybe because they hadn’t heard all the crap his lovely lips could spew.

  “Tell me about item four?” He ate his carpaccio quickly and neatly. “And by the way, these had better be some smoking pictures you’re committing to. I might have to rethink the pretend boyfriend thing.”

  “Not a chance.” She raised an eyebrow and dared him to argue. “Item four, high school dunk tank.”

  Sam gaped. “It’s winter.”

  “They do it inside and they heat the water.”

  For several breaths he looked like he might balk and then he nodded. He sat back in his chair.

  Tyrone slid in and removed their empty plates.

  “You know, Quizzy Lizzie, if you wanted to see my body, you didn’t have to invent a wet T-shirt scenario.”

  “Really, Sam.” She let her voice go all breathy. “You’ve made me the happiest girl alive. Especially if that body of yours looks better than it used to.” She faked a wince. “I mean, it couldn’t get worse.”

  Sam threw back his head and laughed. Ego not even slightly dented. Then again, he did have that killer bod to prop it up. Or so she’d been told. Okay, she may have googled. Also might have snuck a look at the pictures from a vacay he’d taken Danica on to Turks and Caicos.

  “Dunk tank it is.” He threw an arm over the back of his chair. “Final demand. You better make it a good one, Lizzy.”

  So far, he’d been more than reasonable. “This one really is easy,” she said. She was having a good time too. “There’s a charity walk for the children’s hospital. It’s a sponsorship thing and I thought you could walk it with me.”

  With a slight frown, Sam sat forward and pulled her list toward him. He read it in silence. “These demands are all for other people.”

  “No, they’re not.” She pointed out the items. “Chris is my best friend. If you don’t buy the bus, I’ll be fundraising for the rest of my life. I belong to the women’s auxiliary and they run the high school fun day, and I visit a couple of the children in the hospital.” She sat back with a smirk. “And the clothing auction is an opportunity to make you squirm.”

  Sam grinned at her. “Gosh, Lizzy, who knew you were such a self-centered, selfish bitch.”

  Chapter 8

  “You’re So Vain” being played at ear drum bursting volume wrenched Sam awake. He shot up in bed and searched for the source.

  “Oh, hi.” Liz leaned against his doorjamb with her cell phone in her hand. “Glad you’re awake.”

  “What the fuck?” Not even on his best day was he a morning person, which of course, Liz knew. He dropped back to the pillows.

  Dressed in jeans and a sweater that loved the curve of her breasts, Liz sauntered closer and put a coffee mug on his bedside table alongside the Beats Pill she must have put there earlier. “I thought we might go shopping.”

  “Eh?” Sam reached for the coffee like a dying man. “Even for you, Liz, this is a new low.”

  “Thank you.” She beamed at him. “It took a bit of planning on my part. Lucky for me you didn’t put the security chain on this morning.”

  “So say stalkers everywhere.” Sam sipped his coffee. She really did make great coffee. “Did Mrs. K see you?”

  “I waved to her on the way in.” Liz perched on the edge of his bed. “Right now, she’s telling your mom, who is telling my mom.”

  He’d slept soundly last night for the first time since his suspension. “Is that wise?”

  “It’s strategic.”

  He couldn’t wait to hear this. “Oh, yeah?”

  “With both our moms daydreaming about the heady prospect of little Sam and Elizabeth babies”—they both shuddered—“the moms will spend less time obsessing about your mental anguish.” Leaning closer she nabbed his mug and took a sip.

  Taking a man’s coffee first thing in
the morning was not right. He reclaimed his mug. “It beats me why everyone thinks you’re so sweet.”

  “I am sweet.” She looked affronted. “With you it’s self-defense.”

  “Uh-huh.” And if he believed that she had a piece of swamp to sell him. “More like you hide your Mister Evil behind your Mary Poppins.” Last night came back to him. “Are you really going to make me coach kid’s hockey.”

  “Yup.” She gave him a bright smile.

  He might have given in too quickly last night. “I’m thinking in exchange for kid coaching, we should up our couples’ game.”

  “Eh?” She looked horrified at the idea.

  He almost laughed, but the opportunity to give her shit got the better of him. “I mean, if being photographed with you has brought me such a positive response, what about some canoodling shots.”

  “No.” Lizzie shot to her feet. “I’m not intensifying our couples’ game because we’re not a couple. I’m helping you because my mom asked me to, and also because of the charity auction, and Chris’s hockey team, and the bus. Nothing more.”

  “Come on, Lizzie.” Wearing only his boxers, he climbed out of bed and took a long, slow stretch. “Are you sure you don’t want to get a bit handsy with me?”

  He meant to tease her, but she was really looking at him. And not looking like a friend looking either. Even weirder, he really liked her looking at him like that. The low hum of libido crept through him.

  She snatched up a T-shirt lying at her feet and slapped his gut with it. “Quite sure. Now get dressed and buy me a bus.”

  “Last chance,” he called as she stalked out of the room.

  She slammed something in the kitchen, loud enough for him to count the win.

  By the time he’d showered and dressed, Lizzie had cooked him eggs and was plating them with toast. At least she followed dragging a guy out of bed—where he had been having a most enjoyable dream that may or may not have involved some double-jointed cheerleaders—with breakfast and more coffee.

  Taking his reproductive health and possibly his life into his hands, he sidled up beside her and nuzzled her neck. “You can wake me up any morning you like, Lizzie.”

  “Ugh.” She slid away from him and brandished the egg pan his way. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?” He spread his arms wide, ruining the innocent act with the grin he couldn’t stop.

  “Eww.” She shuddered and looked ill. “Do not give me your sex face.”

  He couldn’t remember hearing anything about it before. “I don’t have a sex face.”

  “Yes, you do.” The pan hovered too close to his jaw. “You’ve got it on now. It’s the face you make when you’re going to ooze over to some poor girl and hit on her.”

  Sam checked his reflection in the microwave door. “I don’t—what the hell? I do! I have a sex face.”

  “Damn right you do.” Lizzie slammed his plate on the counter and poured another cup of coffee. This one she kept for herself. Shuddering, she wrapped her hands around the mug. “Don’t ever give me that face again or I don’t care how many buses you buy me, the deal’s off.”

  “According to last night’s negotiations, I might have to give it to you in public.” Sam sat down to his breakfast. The eggs made him moan. She got the perfect balance between silky and properly cooked.

  Elizabeth held up her forefinger. “Nope. I can’t guarantee my reaction if you give me the sex face.”

  “As in you might rip off my clothes and have your way with me?” Sam bit into his still warm toast.

  Liz curled her lip. “As in, I might vomit.”

  Oh, he couldn’t let her get away with that one. “And yet you looked at my naked body this morning as if you wanted to lick me up and down like an ice cream cone.”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “You’re smitten by my boyish good looks.”

  “I’m bored of this conversation.” Liz sipped her coffee.

  Fair enough, but he knew what he’d seen, and she knew better than to think he would forget. Feeling reconciled to being woken at the ass crack of dawn, Sam finished his breakfast. He rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher.

  Liz was drinking her coffee and reading her phone.

  “You said something about bus shopping.” He helped himself to another cup.

  She looked up and then ducked her head again. “Um…yes. You said you were okay with buying the bus for the retirement village.”

  “That’s what I said.” He tried to get a bead on the sudden reticence. “And that is why you broke into my home this morning.”

  “I know.” She bit the inside of her cheek and held up her phone. “But I’ve been pricing them online, and now I’m changing my mind.”

  “Why?”

  Rolling her eyes and trying to pass it off like it was no biggie, she said, “It’s a lot of money, Sam. Too much money.”

  “Hmm.” He pretended to give it some thought. “You may have a point.” He counted items off on his fingers. “There was that exorbitantly expensive dinner last night. My usual monthly expenses; the hookers, the blow, the maintenance payments to all twenty of my illegitimate children. I’m tapped out, babe. Would you accept a hover board as a replacement?”

  She threw a cloth at him. “Don’t be a dick. I’m serious here.”

  “So am I.” A deal was a deal. He stood right in front of her and for the hell of it put his hands on the counter, bracketing her hips. “As you have pointed out on numerous occasions, I make a stupid amount of money for chasing a piece of vulcanized rubber around the ice. I can afford to buy your wrinklies a bus.”

  “But Sam.” It must be bad for her not to rise to the term wrinklies. “What if you get…fired?”

  The last thing he ever wanted to think about. “Then it’s not your fault. Come on, Lizzie, don’t get yourself in a tizzy. You’re the first one to point out this is my fault.”

  “I never said that.” She frowned.

  That’s right, she hadn’t said that. He didn’t want to think about that, or he might start liking her. Too late, he did already sort of like her, or he certainly liked getting under her skin. “Let’s go and spend some of my ill-gotten gains.”

  “For the wrinklies.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked horrified.

  Sam laughed so hard he thought he might bust a gut.

  * * * *

  Elizabeth had woken Sam first thing this morning because she knew he hated mornings. He’d taken it remarkably well, and she’d gotten an eyeful that kept parading through her mind.

  It would have helped if Sam could have been his normal asshole self, but bus shopping with Sam had turned into fun. He had the salesman talk him through all the aspects of each bus. He checked the mileage, the warranty, the safety check, the ramps…everything.

  By lunchtime, she knew more about buses than she had ever hoped to. Normally she would blame it on him trying to annoy her, but that didn’t seem to be the case. In fact, it looked like he had forgotten she was even there.

  “Babe.” He beckoned her over.

  Elizabeth slapped a smile on her face and trotted on over. Later, when they were alone, they were going to have the boundary chat.

  “Babe.” He flung his arm over her shoulders and tugged her closer. “Brian has been telling me about the bus you like.”

  “Really.” She managed a smile for Brian, who was so star struck it had taken him ten minutes to produce an articulate sentence.

  Sam pulled a face. “And I’m afraid it’s not going to do it for me.”

  “No?” She had no idea where he was going with this, but the prickling of her Sam-sense put her on full alert.

  He cupped her nape, the callouses on his hands not an unpleasant abrasion against her neck. “It doesn’t have a ramp, or any of those tie-down areas.”

  Now he was going to try and get under her skin by pretending he knew about buses for the disabled. “Yes.” She gritted her teeth into a smile and gave him hell through the eye
s. “But this bus has enough room for most people, and we can make a plan.”

  “Babe.” Sam loaded the reproach into his tone. “What do I always say?”

  Oh, the dizzying, endless possibilities and his grin dared her to go there. “What do you always say…Muffin?”

  “If a thing is worth doing, then it’s worth doing properly.” He leaned forward and winked at Brian. “I know you feel me on this, Brian.”

  His palm landed on her butt in a resounding smack.

  Elizabeth breathed deep. And then deeper. But she still wanted to kill him.

  Brian must have read the murder in her eyes because he paled. “Umm…I believe Mr. Sto—”

  “Brian!” Sam spread his arms like he was working the shopping network.

  “I mean…er…Sam.” Brian went scarlet. “I believe Sam thought we might buy a new bus.”

  Elizabeth shook her head to clear her thinking. It didn’t help. “Eh?”

  “Yes, babe!” Sam gripped her waist and tugged her in. “A new bus would have a lift ramp, the tie down area for wheelchairs, and seating for twenty.”

  “But, Muffin.” She got her arm around him and squeezed right back. “A new bus is not in our budget.”

  “Sugar Lips.” He kissed her temple. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about budget. Big Daddy Sam the Man is here, and he’s going to make the whole thing go away.”

  Brian’s eyes started out of his head. He trotted for his office, yelling over his shoulder. “I’ll get some brochures.”

  “You’re insane.” Elizabeth disentangled herself.

  Sam tugged her right back and grinned. “Upping our couples’ game.”

  “Sam.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and kept them on topic. “A new bus is far too expensive. I never asked you for that.”

  “Elizabeth.” Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can’t have people saying I’m cheap when they see the ratchet-assed bus you had picked out.”

  Sure, it wasn’t the most beautiful bus. “The bus I selected is perfectly adequate for our needs.”

  “But I’ll look cheap.” Sam grimaced. “Can’t have people saying I’m cheap as well as a thug. It defeats the purpose of what we’re doing here.”