Roughing (Ottawa Titans Book 1)

by Sarah Hegger

  “I thought you weren’t pretending to be his girlfriend.”

  Elizabeth let her feelings be known in her glare. “Stop being a smart ass and make me hockey smart.”

  Chapter 10

  Three days after his dinner with Elizabeth, Sam had reached the end of the available seasons of Orange is the New Black and was tired of staring at his phone waiting for Elizabeth to call. She had promised to help him, extorted favors out of him for her help and now she didn’t call. Sitting around waiting for Elizabeth left him with too much time to think.

  He lay on the kitchen floor and tossed a tennis ball into the air, the aim being to get it as close to the ceiling without connecting and making a mark. This sort of thing was great for hand-eye coordination. It also stopped the bullet train in his head that kept heading for a reality in which he never got to play hockey again.

  In desperation, he had even dispensed with the idea of getting in a cleaner and gone with cleaning up after himself. Cleaning, however, left him too much headspace to turn over the all too real possibility that after the league lifted his suspension the Titans wouldn’t want him back.

  Elizabeth had said she wanted to get stuff done and now she didn’t call. All those people who relied on Elizabeth to do things for them should know that she didn’t call.

  He tossed the ball up. It got to within three inches of the ceiling and came back at him. Mom would have his nuts if he got ball marks on her ceiling.

  Ball marks! He snickered and whipped the ball up.

  Dear God, he was annoying the crap out of himself.

  The ball came down faster this time and dinged him in the forehead. Even the tennis ball thought he was a dip shit.

  Rolling to his belly, he studied the grout between the tiles. It never stayed clean, the grout, and Mom was a clean freak. Someone should develop a stain free grout. He’d get right on that if his hockey career went down the shitter.

  While he was down there, he did ten pushups, and then ten more. And another ten because he couldn’t think of a reason not to and it felt good to work his muscles.

  He should go for a run. That would fix his antsiness.

  After changing, he let himself out into the early morning.

  Mrs. K peered through her kitchen window and he waved. She ducked out of sight.

  He headed for Lizzie’s place.

  The weather had stayed reasonably mild for March. Ottawa mild that was, which meant it wasn’t turning your nose hairs to icicles on contact this morning. He was wearing long thermal running pants with running shorts over the top. Nobody wanted that porno crotch shot of a man in spandex tights. A long-sleeve thermal workout shirt meant he could sweat and not freeze and because they hadn’t kicked him out of the team yet, he had covered that with a Titans T-shirt.

  Being out of the house improved his mood already. Sun sparkled off the white snow and a few cloud wisps drifted across a wall-to-wall sky.

  The chilly air hit his lungs with claws attached and he breathed deep. The sidewalk had been cleared of ice and he didn’t need to watch his feet.

  Two kids arguing in their yard stopped as he approached and gave him the big eyes.

  “Hey, guys.” He nodded.

  The smaller of the two went pink and squeaked a reply. The other stuck out his chest and deepened his voice, “Hey, Sam.”

  Two blocks over and his body chattered to him about every minute spent binge watching the girls in Lichfield, every beer and every sip of Jack Daniels. Another four blocks and he swore he could still taste the Baileys.

  Fuck a duck, he wouldn’t last two minutes on the ice. He’d keel over before the penalty kill was finished.

  A pickup came down the road and slowed. A bearded face hung out the window. “You suck, Stone!”

  Gotta love a fan. Sam showed his appreciation with the one-finger wave, which reminded him of Elizabeth. Mainly because flipping the bird was an instinctive twitch whenever she was around.

  It wasn’t right that he was out here pounding the pavement, and quite possibly, freezing his balls off, and Elizabeth was probably all tucked up in a Snuggie watching Little House on the Prairie reruns.

  He took a left at the next corner and headed for Elizabeth’s condo.

  Love Actually was more her style, but he bet she had the pink mermaid Snuggie. He may have spent more time internet shopping recently than he cared to admit.

  He took the stairs to her condo two at a time.

  Randy had gotten the message and the red minivan was still parked in visitor’s parking. As if Sam’s thoughts had summoned him, Randy poked his head out his door. “Morning, Sam.” He sipped from a large white mug. “Good to see you keeping up your condition.”

  “Thanks, Randy.” He loved being referred to as if he was a fucking racehorse. Irritation put an extra zest to his pound on her front door. “Let’s get busy, Lizzie.”

  It was Saturday morning. No way she was out. Unless she’d had a hot date with Peter the night before and was sleeping it off. Dear God, what if Peter was there and he would have to face the man who had been getting his leg over Lizzie all night long?

  Asshole had no business crawling into Lizzie’s bed when she was Sam’s fake friend.

  Randy ventured further out and peered up. “Did you watch the game last night?”

  “Yup.” He’d watched the Titans obliterate the Clash and heard Marc Gracie talk all about how his team didn’t need him. “Great result.”

  He hammered at Liz’s door again then looked at Randy. “She in?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Randy crossed his arms over his chest and shifted from one bare foot to the other. He’d get frost bite if he didn’t go in soon. “She had some friends over last night. One of them was the chairman of your fan club or something.” Randy rubbed one foot on the top of the other. “She left first.”

  Maddy must have been over.

  “So.” Randy cradled his coffee mug as if he could draw the warmth down. “What do you reckon to the playoffs? Gotta chance?”

  “Sure.” Sam could see the hockey talk fervor building in Randy. He didn’t want to talk about how his team might make the playoffs without him. Might even win the cup while he warmed the bench. It still felt like an exposed nerve ending. “Lizzie Baby!” He put some power to his door pounding. “Get your sweet ass out here.”

  “What?” Liz wrenched open the door and glared at him.

  “Babe.” He winked at Randy. “Look at you all warm and sexy. Want me to come in there?”

  Randy cackled and gave him the thumbs up. “Go get her, Sam. You’re the man.”

  Liz crossed her arms over her rack, which objectively speaking, were some fine-looking lady bumps. Even braless they sat up nice and pretty, with her nipples almost poking through her pajama top.

  She narrowed her eyes and hissed the words at him. “Stop staring at my boobs.”

  “What?” He gave her a casual shrug. “They’re right there looking back at me.”

  Liz grabbed the door and swung it. “You’re a pig!”

  “So true.” He grabbed the door before it could shut in his face and stepped inside her apartment.

  Randy was still watching and getting every detail down.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Liz glared at him from beneath a serious case of bedhead.

  Sam shut the door and leaned on it. He played it cool. “Our deal?” A raised eyebrow added the right touch of condescension. “We made a deal. I even shelled out for dinner. Then I bought a bus.” He managed to add a little wounded to his expression. “Now, it’s been three days and nothing from you.”

  “It’s eight am on a Saturday.” Liz scowled at him. “Get out of my apartment.”

  “Opportunity waits for no one.” He managed to keep a straight face. “We could be out there, right now, showing the world my new face.” He spread his hands in front of him. “We made a deal, Liz. Two deals in fact.”

  She glared at him, and then caved on a guttural, inarticulate yell and stomped int
o the kitchen. The thing with Liz was that she always played fair. It gave her a distinct disadvantage when dealing with a dick like him. He almost felt guilty taking advantage of her.

  Liz downed a glass of water. He really liked those cute plaid pj bottoms she had on. Especially the way the waistband dipped to below the jut of her hipbones.

  “Okay.” She put the glass on the counter. “What’s the plan?” Her focus sharpened on him. “And why are you dressed like that?”

  “Because this is the plan.” He widened his arms and let her get the full extent of super-athlete Sam. “We’re going running together.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “We will be one of those cute couples who exercise together.” His enthusiasm for his idea grew as he spoke. “You in those yoga pants that hug your ass, and me looking all manly and sweaty.”

  Liz laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No.” He loved this idea more and more. “This will be perfect selfie material. I’m a pro athlete so obviously, exercising is my thing and there you are, my “just friend” exercising right alongside me. Supporting me.”

  “I don’t run, Sam.” Liz sneered. “Unless something is chasing me.”

  “But you do have those hot yoga pants, right?”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Yes.”

  “And trainers.” He pointed at his feet.

  “Maybe.”

  He gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. Liz had a killer ass and chasing that for a mile or two sounded better and better. He bet she worked out all the time. “It’ll be great.” He yanked open the blind over her kitchen sink. “It’s a beautiful day out there and I’ll go slow.” Then he delivered the knockout. “Come on, Lizzie. I bought you a new bus. I went above and beyond.”

  She huffed, crossed her arms, uncrossed them and then glowered. “Fine! But I hate exercising and I hate you more.”

  He could afford to be magnanimous in victory. “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m not your girl.” She stomped off to her bedroom.

  “You know that, and I know that, but the rest of the world thinks we’re adorable. I’m thinking this might have YouTube potential.”

  * * * *

  Elizabeth kept the exercising in her life to a minimum. Because she hated it. Sweating was for sauna’s and running was for motors. This trailing after Sam, lungs burning and everything else bouncing and quivering, made her want to break something. Preferably the man-machine gliding along the road in front of her.

  He wasn’t even sweating, and she could see her life flashing before her eyes.

  Turning and running backward, he frowned at her. “You don’t do much running, do you?”

  She heaved up a reply that came out more grunt than word. There was a reason why she enjoyed yoga and not this crap.

  “With your body, you look like you work at it,” he said and spun again and kept them running down the sandy path that circled the pond in Brock park.

  Not even that veiled compliment would get him off the hook for this. She should have asked for an entire fleet of buses. Then one of them could come and pick her up and end this torment.

  Sam ran up to a bench beside the park and did pushups against it. “Come on, Lizzie.” Biceps bulged as he pumped his perfectly straight body up and down. He turned and started doing triceps dips.

  The only reason she knew those things were called triceps dips is because she liked to watch beautiful men workout videos on Instagram.

  Liz took the opportunity to rest. Hands on her knees she hung her head and prayed for God to take her now. They’d been at this for—she checked her phone. “Ten minutes!”

  The phone must be faulty. Sam had been torturing her for at least three hours.

  “Let’s do this!” Sam gave a spry little leap that made her want to kick him and set off again. He increased his pace to a sprint, then stopped, dropped to his front and did a pushup. Rolled over, another pushup and stood. He sprinted back to her and did the whole stupid thing again.

  That tore it. Elizabeth stopped running. Every muscle she owned sent her a profound pulse of thanks. Her lungs heaved to get enough air in them, and her face felt like it might combust.

  “What are you doing?” Sam stopped and put his hands on his hips. Narrow man hips that he got from doing all this silly crap.

  Elizabeth sat on his bench and sucked back water.

  “We’ve still got another hour to go.” Sam ran on the spot. “We can’t stop now.”

  “Yes, we can.” She wasn’t moving from this spot without a latte and doughnut.

  Sam leaped onto her bench and down again, shaking the entire thing as he did step-ups.

  If she could catch her breath, she’d yell at him. She settled for baring her teeth instead. The entire morning was an exercise in humiliation and physical pain. She should sue him for unnecessary duress.

  She shoved him off the bench.

  “Hey.” Quick as a cat, Sam caught his balance and started that pig stupid roll over, push up, sprinty thing again. Whatever those were called, she hated those too. “You’ll never get your heart rate up like that.”

  “Go away, Sam.” Watching him be all super athletey only made her madder.

  Sam did walking lunges around the bench. “We’re cute workout couple.” He poked her shoulder. “Come on.”

  Not if her life depended on it. “Leave me alone.”

  “You’re mad.” He stared at her and then laughed. “You’re really mad.” He lunged past and gave her thigh a poke. “You can’t be mad at me.”

  Poke.

  “Is this because you can’t keep up with me?”

  Poke.

  “I’ve never seen someone so red in the face.” He chuckled.

  Elizabeth tried to kick him, but he danced out of the way. If she could stand, she would, but then she’d never catch him anyway.

  He danced outside of her reach looking smug and grinning at her.

  Elizabeth whipped off her shoe and threw it at him.

  His eyes widened as he ducked out of the way, so she threw the other one at him. “What are you doing?”

  “If I could catch you, I’d smack you.”

  Shaking his head, he laughed harder and picked up her shoes. “You know you’re having a grownup tantrum, right?”

  “Yup.” She lobbed her water bottle at him. “But I’m tired and I’m sweaty and I hate this and I don’t care.”

  “Liz.” He brought her shoes to her and sat beside her. “You get that I do this for a living, right?”

  She made some sort of noise and turned her head away.

  Hand beneath her chin, Sam turned her head back. “You could have said if you were tired.”

  “Would you?” She crossed her arms. “If you were me, and I was you. Would you?”

  “Probably not.” He lifted her foot to his lap and put her shoe back on. Then the other one. “Shall I buy you breakfast to make up for it?”

  “Maybe.” She could eat.

  He nudged her shoulder. “With bacon and pancakes.”

  “I want maple syrup.”

  Standing, he held his hand out to her. “Then you shall have maple syrup.”

  A man ran past them, stopped and jogged back. He glowered at Sam. “You’re Sam Stone.”

  “Yup.” Sam stood and put himself between her and the man.

  “Yeah, well, you’re a dickhead.” Aggression poured off the man. He stepped right into Sam and shoved him. “You’re not that tough, Sam Stone. I could take you.”

  “What are you doing?” Elizabeth leaped to her feet. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Sam doesn’t want to fight you.”

  “Step away,” Sam said, his voice quiet. “I’m not going to get into this with you.”

  “Because you’re a big fucking pussy.” The guy shoved Sam again.

  Sam rocked back but held his ground. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes went icy blue.

  “Stop it.” Elizabeth got in front of Sam.


  He tried to get around her. “Liz.”

  “No, Sam.” She moved back between them and glared up at the man. He was much bigger than her, and part of her brain was screaming that this was one of her worst ideas, but Elizabeth hated a bully. “Get away from Sam.”

  “You let a girl do your fighting for you, Stone?” The guy shoved past her shoulder at Sam.

  His watch strap caught in Elizabeth’s hair and yanked. “Ow!”

  He tried to pull away and ripped out a hank of her hair.

  Sam growled and lunged for the guy. He was lighting fast, and Elizabeth almost didn’t catch the back of his shirt in time. He could not be seen fighting in a public park, not with his suspension and all.

  Elizabeth got tugged forward a few steps before Sam stopped.

  Glaring over his shoulder at her, he said, “Let me go.”

  “No.” She tightened her grip. “You can’t fight him. It will only make things worse for you.”

  “Pussy!” The idiot danced back into Sam’s reach.

  Sam cocked his fist and Elizabeth dived for the guy. Her shoulder connected his stomach and drove him back. They both went over in a tangle of arms and legs.

  “Get off me, you crazy bitch.” The guy shoved at her.

  Going on pure instinct, Elizabeth opened her mouth and screamed.

  “Jesus!” He shook his head and scrambled away from her. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Shut up.”

  Eyes locked on him, Elizabeth screamed louder.

  The guy bolted.

  She stopped screaming and drank from Sam’s water bottle.

  “He was right about one thing.” Sam held out his hand and helped her up. “You are one crazy bitch.”

  Then he laughed, a gut deep belly laugh that rolled over her.

  Her own laughter burst out of her. She couldn’t believe she’d done that.