by Sarah Hegger
“I didn’t ask for it.” His breath misted in the air. Faint ambient light outlined his stark profile. “I don’t think I encouraged it either.”
“No, you didn’t.” To be fair, it had always made Sam a bit uncomfortable. “And I didn’t hate you. I don’t hate you now either.”
He scoffed. “Really?”
“Okay, maybe I hate you now a little bit.” She bumped his shoulder, harder than he’d bumped hers. “It pisses me off that you got rich and famous. It pisses me off even more that I don’t have a gift like you do.”
“It’s a curse.” He managed to say it without cracking up and then ruined it with a chuckle. “I’m one of a lucky few who gets to make money doing what they love to do.”
“Yeah.” She’d never found that thing she wanted to do.
“What about you?” He glanced at her. “Didn’t you want to be a veterinarian?”
“When I was eight.” She laughed. “And only until I realized how much math and science I would have to do to be one. Not to mention my aversion to blood.” The silence between them was more comfortable now. “No, but I would like to work for a charity. I like feeling like I’m making a difference, and organizing is my superpower.”
“More like nagging.” Sam sniffed. “Why don’t you do that then? Instead of working for your dad, because I know that you—”
“Don’t start that again.” She couldn’t have that conversation with him because she didn’t have the answers. “I’m only starting to hate you a bit less.”
“Good to know.” They reached her complex.
She motioned her car in its spot. “Randy hasn’t parked in my place since you spoke to him.”
“Good.”
Elizabeth knew she should go in. It was cold anyway. “I should go.” She jerked her thumb at her door. “You did good tonight, Sam. You turned it around.”
“I think it was the T-shirts.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
Their breath ghosted between them. “The T-shirts and the pizza helped,” she said. “But mainly it was you. And I don’t want this to go to your head, but you might even have improved their skating.”
He shook his head and laughed. “It’s cold tonight.”
“It is.”
Dropping his head back, he stared at the moon. “You know, during the season I’m often too busy to do things like this. Just take a walk on a beautiful night with a…friend.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sam.” She poked him. “And you’ll be back to being busy and famous soon.”
“I sure hope you’re right.” He caught her finger and held it. “For the record, I never hated you.”
“Bull.” She regained her finger before she decided to leave it in his grasp for the rest of the night.
“It’s true.” He spread his arms and shrugged. “You can ask my mother if you don’t believe me. I used to bug you because I had a crush on you and wanted you to notice me.”
“No, you didn’t.” He had to be teasing her with his crap. “You’re just saying that.”
“Ask my mom.” He raised his brow. “Anyway, what’s next on our agenda?”
It gave her a particularly evil pleasure to say, “The high school dunk tank.”
Sam grimaced. “Oh, joy!”
Chapter 16
Elizabeth parked outside Danica’s house and braced to go in there and haul Sam out of bed.
Tapping on her window jerked her memory away from the last time she’d hauled Sam out of bed. Clutching two travel mugs and a kit bag, Sam peered in through the window.
Elizabeth unlocked the doors and he slid in. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Her voice came out not sounding like hers at all.
Sam gave her a what-the-hell look, handed her one of the mugs and tossed the kit bag into the back seat. “Caramel creamer, no sugar.”
“Yes. Thank you.” The sweet way he remembered stuff about her really wasn’t helping. Nor the way he always quietly carried bags and other stuff for her, opened doors, hovered about her on icy ground. These were the things nice guys did. The sort of nice guy she’d like to date.
“It’s a cold one today.” Sam rubbed his hands in front of the heater vent.
And did he have to smell so freaking good? “Ready to get naked?”
“Don’t I get dinner first?” Up went one of his eyebrows.
Her face burned all kinds of hot, and she pulled away from the curb rather than face him. Sam and naked were not paired concepts that should exist in her mind. Ever!
She hated him for every mud pie she’d made and he’d thrown at her. For every time he’d teased her when she was a painfully shy teen. For the way he insisted on calling her anything but Elizabeth.
“Lizzie?” He cocked his head and studied her.
There, see! She hated being called Lizzie. “What?”
“Your face looks weird.”
He may be hot, but Sam came with his own libido extinguisher. “You say the sweetest things.”
“What did I do now?” He crossed his arms and stared at her as she drove. “You’ve got that look you get when you’re about to rip me a new one.”
“I don’t.”
“Do too.”
He could keep this up for hours. “Anyway, the dunk tank. It’s to raise money for a local feeding scheme the high school supports.”
“Cool.” He sipped his coffee. “But I’d still like to know what I did wrong. You hate creamer now or something?”
She was being a brat, and she had to laugh at that. “No, I still love creamer. My jeans, not so much, but my taste buds adore it.”
“Lizzie.” He leaned back and studied her from top to toe. “Your jeans look fine from where I’m sitting.”
Elizabeth didn’t dare take her eyes off the road. She didn’t need to see that look to feel the way it slid down her body. Dear God, she couldn’t do this. “Are you flirting with me, Sam?”
“Why yes, lovely Lizzie.” He chuckled. “I am most definitely flirting with you.”
She braked too hard for the stop sign, and both of them jerked forward. “You see.” She faced him. “That’s what’s wrong. The flirting.” She ran out of words and fluttered her hand between them. “This new us. I don’t get it. It’s like the rules have changed, and I’m over here trying to play the old game.”
The car behind her honked and she got underway again.
“You want us to fight all the time again?” Sam kept watching her. “Because I’m not sure I can do that. I like the way things are now.”
She also liked the way things were now and didn’t know if she wanted to go back to the bickering and bitching either.
“I like the way you laugh at my jokes,” Sam said and sipped his coffee. “I like how despite the way we fight that you get me. And I get you. We don’t have to explain ourselves to each other.” He chuckled. “And I like how you know the worst of me, and I don’t have to pretend to be someone else around you.”
Put like that it made so much sense and was even more confusing at the same time. “Me too,” she said. “I do like all of those things, but it still confuses me.”
“You’re confused?” Sam shook his head. “Lizzie, you’re going to hate this, but I have to tell you that I most definitely am flirting with you. If you had any idea of the thoughts I’ve been having, you would toss me out of your car right now.”
Shock kept her eyes glued to the road. Sam was having thoughts about her, and she was having thoughts about Sam. Thoughts that could lead to dark, wet, delicious places together. “Me too,” she whispered.
“Say what?” Sam leaned closer to her. His attention entirely focused on her. “Say that again.”
Elizabeth thanked God she had the road providing a legitimate excuse for why she couldn’t look at him. “I’ve also been having…thoughts.”
Sam groaned and leaned back in his seat. “Damn, Elizabeth, you can’t say stuff like that to me.”
“I just did.” She felt so much better now the
air was cleared. Still confused, and uncertain of how to go forward but also clear she wasn’t the only fool.
They drove in silence for a while, both of them locked in their own thoughts. Not those kinds of thoughts. Okay, not only those kinds of thoughts.
The high school appeared in front of them.
Sam cupped her nape and startled her. His long fingers speared her hair and the warmth of his palm made her want to purr. Sam’s touch had never done this to her before. Then again, she’d spent years making sure he never got near enough to touch.
Had her subconscious always known more than she did?
“I have an idea for how we play this,” Sam said. “We’re both stumbling around in the dark here, but there’s no reason to rush into anything.” He stroked her neck to beneath her earlobe. “Thoughts are not actions. Why don’t we both chill and see where, and if, whatever this is goes anywhere?”
“Gah.” Elizabeth cleared her throat. The neck stroking made her want to arch like a cat. “Good idea.”
“You think?”
She nodded. “I definitely think.”
They parked and headed inside to find the dunk tank. Chris was meeting them there.
“Hey, Sam!” A middle-aged man called. “You did pro hockey a favor by taking out that wuss.”
Sam waved and kept on walking.
A woman sidestepped them and sent Sam a vicious glare, clearly a Karlov fan or someone who only listened to Marc Gracie.
“How do you get used to it?” Elizabeth gestured the watching gazes following them. “The fame and the having everyone up and in your business.”
He shrugged. “There are good and bad points to it. Luckily I play hockey, and for the most part, we stay grounded. There isn’t a lot of time for the kind of crap young kids get into when someone suddenly throws a lot of money at them.”
“And the criticism doesn’t get to you?” Elizabeth really looked at how many people saw Sam and recognized him.
“Sure it gets to me.” Sam put his hand in the small of her back and guided her past a knot of staring teen boys. He gave them a nod. “As much as you develop a thick skin, there are still those things that sting. Most of those come out of Marc Gracie’s mouth.”
“He really doesn’t like you.” Elizabeth appreciated the hand he left in the small of her back.
“It’s worse because he’s right.” Sam pulled a face. “I screwed up badly. He’s not saying anything I don’t already know.”
“So, if you know all this, why did you continue to make all those hard hits?”
Sam winked at her. “Now that is the question of the hour. And we’ll have to figure it out before I get back on the ice.”
The we sounded really good to her, and she couldn’t even summon any concern about that.
Chris waved to them from her position beside the dunk tank. On her other side, Maddy looked stunning in her shaggy bomber jacket and jeans.
A hand painted sign read, “Take your shot at sinking Sam Stone. $1 a ball.”
“I like to think I’m worth more than a dollar a ball.” Sam grimaced.
“You’re here.” Chris grinned at Sam. “I thought, for sure, you’d renege on us.”
“Balls to the wall.” Sam draped his arm around Chris. “That’s me.”
“It would be a lot easier to like you if you didn’t talk about your balls,” Chris said.
“Hey, Sam.” Maddy went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “This is great that you’re doing this.” She waved her phone. “And I’m ready to capture the moment.”
A kid wearing a Boston sweatshirt and a snarl slouched over. He gave Sam a scowl of teen derision. “Is this thing, like, starting soon?”
“Right now.” Sam smiled back. “Think you can dunk me?”
The kid scoffed. “Sure I can.”
“Hope your aim is better than Tremblay’s.” He named the Boston center. “Because he can’t hit the side of a barn.”
“Oh, dude!” The kid gave Sam an evil smile. “It’s on now.”
“Wish me luck, Busy Lizzie.” Sam tapped his cheek.
Lizzie’s face heated, but she rose on her toes and kissed Sam’s smooth-shaven cheek. He didn’t use aftershave and smelled of soap, toothpaste and musky man scent. “Don’t freeze.”
He turned to Maddy and tapped the other side. “And you, Maddy.”
Chris crossed her arms and glared at him. “Don’t even think about it.”
With a laugh, Sam stripped his sweater and his jeans. He stood there in a swimsuit and a white T-shirt, pumping his arms to warm himself.
“Right.” He climbed the ladder to the dunk seat. “Hey, Boston!”
The kid looked up.
“Let’s see what you got.”
“Oh dear.” Maddy bit her lip. “He’s going to trash talk the room.”
“And you know this how?” Chris tried to sound stern but the calf-love beaming from her eyes deflated the effort.
Maddy twinkled back. “I’ve watched more hours of that man play than I care to admit.” She snuggled closer to Chris. “And he’s good at pissing other players off.”
Boston kid bought his first three balls and fired them at Sam.
The first two missed, which only seemed to embolden Sam to keep taunting the boy. “I’m over here, Boston.”
The third ball sailed past his head and hit the backboard.
“Great shot.” Sam faked a yawn. “Almost as scary as Tremblay’s slap shot.”
A crowd gathered around the dunk tank and the line for taking a shot at Sam grew longer and longer.
Another contender stepped up to dunk Sam.
“What’s your favorite team?” Sam called.
The man told him, and Sam got his trash talk on.
Four shooters and Sam still sat high and dry and cracking jokes.
Mostly people laughed. All of the original four bought more balls and joined the back of the line. Some shouted a question to Sam, which he answered with a lightning quick comeback.
Maddy sidled closer to Elizabeth. “He’s making a lot of money.”
Glancing at the growing crowd, Elizabeth had to agree.
The crowd egged on the shooters, yelling encouragement and groaning as ball after ball missed.
Sam kept the trash talk flowing, and he kept it clean.
Eight shooters, and Sam still hadn’t taken a bath.
A tall, well-built man stepped up to the plate.
“Uh-oh.” Maddy laughed. “Sam is going down.”
“You!” Sam pointed at the new shooter. “You’re disqualified. Lizzie!” He glanced her way. “Make him pay double.”
“Who is he?” Elizabeth whispered to Maddy.
Chris turned and gaped at her. “That’s Guy Pelletier.”
“Goalie for the Titans,” Maddy whispered.
Guy had all three balls in one hand. He tossed one from one hand to the other and grinned at Sam. “Hey, Stoner!”
“Don’t do it.” Sam tried to sound serious, but he was laughing. He raised his voice. “Who thinks professional athletes should pay a hundred dollars a ball?”
An affirmative chorus swelled around them.
Guy smiled and it made his grave, almost stern, face surprisingly handsome. “Make it two hundred a ball. It’s worth it.”
The crowd cheered, and Sam laughed.
Sam wiggled his fingers. “Come on then, Trapper! Let’s see if you can fire as well as you block.”
Bouncing one ball on his huge palm, Guy focused on Sam. He aimed, drew back and fired the ball.
The target pinged and bobbed. The trap opened and Sam hit the water with a huge splash.
The crowd roared its approval.
Sam swam to the surface of the tank and hauled himself out. His T-shirt clung to every line of his torso. Every. Single. One.
Elizabeth’s mouth went sandpaper dry. Holy crap that was a thing of beauty.
“Shut your mouth. You’re drooling,” Chris hissed in her ear.
She
refused to apologize. That body deserved to be ogled. “Damn!”
“She’s a goner.” Chris nudged Maddy.
Maddy gave Sam a look and a lascivious grin spread over her pretty face. “Come on, Chris. You’d have to be dead from the knees up not to get a charge out of that.” Putting two fingers in her mouth, Maddy wolf whistled.
The crowd laughed and several people joined in.
Climbing back onto his seat, Sam blushed and laughed.
Guy held up his hand with the remaining balls in it. “I still have two shots.”
The hall erupted in cheering and Sam went swimming twice more.
Chapter 17
Sam stayed in the dunk tank until his fingers had pruned and it would take a bottle of scotch to warm him up again. He ducked into the nearest bathroom to get changed.
Someone from the school had called Lizzie away. She would warm him up fast enough. The look in her eye when he’d been dunked and gotten wet had been worth the entire thing. It had almost gotten embarrassing as well. Only the presence of a crap ton of gawkers had kept his reaction under control.
“Stoner!” Guy strolled into the bathroom, handed him a towel and a punch to the shoulder. “This is a nice thing you’re doing here.”
Sam scrubbed his cold skin with the towel. “You think?”
“Yeah, I think.” Guy was one of the largest reasons for the Titans success. Large in both stature and ability, calm and easy going, he provided the chill energy in the dressing room the team often needed. “How you doing, anyway?”
Sam shrugged. They went way back, him and Guy, and there was no bullshitting each other. “This whole suspension and banishment from the team sucks.”
“Yeah.” Guy nodded. In one word he conveyed the depth of his understanding. When your life had revolved around hockey for so long, it was difficult to think of a time when you wouldn’t play. “But you’re doing all the right things.”
“I hope so.” Sam stripped his T-shirt and found a dry one in his bag. He leaned against the sinks and looked at Guy. “I don’t know who I am if I don’t play hockey.”
Guy gave that some serious thought. This is part of why he was so well loved on the team. The man was a thinker and more often found with his head in a book. “Sooner or later that happens to all of us.”
