The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Cari Quinn

  “I need players that are going to be focused. Did you know the team is predicted to reach the playoffs this year? That will sell tickets, but if I can’t count on one of my star players to deliver the best game, then the fans aren’t going to come back.”

  “Angela’s gone, Vince.” Strangely, it didn’t hurt that much to say. “There won’t be any distractions.”

  “There better not be.” Jenkins let out a long breath. “Alright, Darren. Here’s the deal. If you don’t perform, you become a free agent. The Highlanders won’t resign you.”

  Darren’s muscles tensed. A heavy lump stuck in his throat, like a hockey stick turned sideways. “I’m focused on hockey, Vince. I promise you that’s my priority.” He didn’t have anything else now.

  “Hope so. For your sake. That’s my terms, Darren. Take it or leave it.”

  “No distractions,” Darren growled.

  “Dad,” Ellie said. “Perhaps some incentive to actually stay?” Her prod was met with a stoic expression.

  Then he sighed, resignation in his eyes. The power of Ellie’s stare was too much for her old man. Darren tried not to laugh, even though his heart was pounding with anxiety. His future was being decided here and the very thought sickened him.

  “Fine.”

  Darren’s eyes shot up to Jenkins.

  “We’re scheduled to sign your renewal at the end of this season. You play well, it’ll get signed.”

  “Dad…” Ellie prodded again.

  Jenkins glared at his daughter. His lips pursed tightly. “Fine!”

  He leaned forward. “You get us to the playoffs, Moran, and you get a ten percent raise and a three year contract. Stanley Cup finals, twenty-five percent and a fucking kiss.”

  “I got it.” Darren nodded and stood up. “You’ll have your Stanley Cup, Vince. I’ll tell you though… A kiss from you isn’t really incentive. Just saying.”

  Leaving Vince’s office, Darren had to smile. This year was going to be much different.

  * * *

  Football, basketball and hockey season crept up fast, which meant busy for the Penalty Box. Not that Val minded. Busy meant tips, and she needed it. Three weeks without a day job. Her bank account was anemic, her savings nearly gone. Her apartment was getting too rich for her blood.

  Val handed a chardonnay to the strawberry blonde woman at the bar since Nick was on break and poured another beer for her table. Jen was a new regular to the bar. She’d started coming in with Darren’s group, but now she came on her own. Men dogged her at the bar, but she didn’t show them any interest. Mostly, she sat quietly, talked to Nick, and drank her wine.

  Not that she’d seen much of them at all lately. After a rash of away games, it’d been three weeks since she’d gone out with Darren. But he was there tonight. After their kiss, she’d wanted to be unavailable, because trying to have a complicated relationship while unemployed was not a good idea. But then he vanished himself. She should have been happy. That was what she’d wanted.

  She scowled and wondered when Nick was coming back from his smoke break. She had a new beer ready to replace the nearly empty one in Darren’s hand, but she couldn’t leave the bar unattended. Not that she was super anxious to go back over there. While she waited for her boss to come back, she scrubbed the bar top and wondered if using bleach on the counter while the bar was open would be a bad thing.

  Darren was just out of her league. She was an unemployed counselor working as a cocktail waitress. She wasn’t even a speck of dust he’d wipe away with a three hundred dollar feather duster.

  Valerie’s boss slipped back into the bar area, smelling of sweat and cigarettes and that ridiculously overpriced cologne he wore. Nick’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Stop cleaning my bar.”

  “Someone has to. God knows, you won’t.”

  “It looks like a busy bar.” He snatched her rag away from her and thrust the beer into her hand instead. “People tip better when you’re busy. Now, stop cleaning and shoo.” He waved his arms away from himself. “Go annoy your own customers.”

  She glared at him, until her gaze slipped over his shoulder. “Jesus, Nick. Can’t you just keep things organized?” She pushed him to the side, set the beer down, and hopped on the counter to grab a Smirnoff bottle from beside the Jack Daniels. She jumped down and set it beside the left of the Skye and picked up the beer again.

  Nick crossed his arms indignantly. “I’m busy. And it’s not a freaking requirement if the bottles aren’t in alphabetical order, you know.”

  She snagged her towel back from Nick and fixed him with a glare. “It’s easier to find things in alphabetical order.”

  “You know what else is easier?” Nick glared at her. “When you stop annoying your boss and get back to your own customers. Get out from behind my bar before I fire you.”

  She muttered expletives as she left the bar area, carrying the Shiner Bock she’d poured for Darren. As she approached, she fought the trembles that surfaced, the memory of his lips on hers. Why did Darren have to be such a nice guy? He’d never be her nice guy. He hadn’t even called.

  Case in point as she walked up to the table. His attention wasn’t on the rest of the bar, or the television, but on the gorgeous Jen.

  Jealous heat coursed through her, both embarrassed at having been taken in by the man’s charms, and by the fact that he was openly ogling another woman in front of her. Apparently a kiss was nothing to him.

  It was worse that the woman wasn’t mean or horrid. Jen was a freelance photographer. In fact, Nick had just hired her to do shots of the bar for the website he was building. So not only was she a genuinely nice woman, Val would have to see her a bunch now.

  Val stared hard at Darren, his long, thick fingers wrapped around his almost-empty beer bottle as he tipped it back and finished the last of it. Deep in her imagination, he was a super-secret spy with the government, sent to infiltrate the local bar scene for a master-mind criminal that liked to frequent the place.

  Or… He was a super-secret agent on the run and his enemies would catch up to him and see how taken he was with her. Then he’d have to take her away to protect her from his enemy, and they’d hole up in some dark hotel room together, and then one thing would lead to another, and he’d kiss her, and the warmth of his arms would surround her and they’d fall into oblivious ecstasy.

  The control freak in her hated that the idea of losing that grip on her life, but a smaller part was excited by the prospect of him touching her and being the protector.

  Maybe she was taking this too far, she thought. Her heart fluttered with nerves. Really, he didn’t even see her anyway. The fact that he’d not even given her a thought in three weeks was proof of that. And she refused to be the whiny woman chasing after the man that obviously didn’t give a shit about her.

  Val scowled and cleared her throat, but he didn’t look at her. As she came to stand next to him, she shook her head. She wasn’t even on the man’s radar. So much for the spy fantasy.

  * * *

  Darren emptied his third beer and leaned back in his seat as he studied Misha’s ex-girlfriend. He’d been fascinated by her all night, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because the woman never talked to anyone anymore, nor returned anyone else’s interest. Misha had said she wanted to see other people, but she was turning everyone away. It was not the behavior of someone who wanted to play the field.

  She wasn’t really his type, with her light strawberry blonde hair and her too-skinny figure. Darren liked the more girl next door look. Women that were nothing like his ex-wife, Angela. Like Val, who was a little neurotic about the cleanliness, but fun to poke at. He liked her shiny dark curls and the way her hips flared in that so very feminine way.

  “Are you ever going to talk to her?”

  Darren glanced at the woman in question as she came up to the table and set a fresh beer on the table. Val had been on his mind lately, but he needed to concentrate on hockey, so he hadn’t allowed himself to call her. The way sh
e’d taken care of him after his divorce finalized, the way she’d eaten her frozen yogurt in that weird circular pattern, and the way she’d taken picking up Misha and Gavin in stride… There wasn’t anyone nicer than her, more deserving of all his attention.

  And the softness of her lips… He’d never forget that kiss. He regretted not calling her, but he’d made a deal with Jenkins. He had to see it through. There was a Stanley Cup in his future. At thirty-three, he only had a few years left and he wasn’t going out as a has-been. He was going to be on top, and he would stay there.

  “Please. The woman hates people.” Darren sounded more easy-going than he felt. He hadn’t thought seeing Valerie again would be so… frustrating? Awkward? Exciting? What was it, anyway?

  Even from the corner of his eye, he saw the tight ponytail with loose strands framing her face. Her dark eyes surveyed the woman. He couldn’t read her thoughts, but from grimace on her face, something ate at her.

  It was the way she meticulously wiped off his table in slow circles. She always wiped it in the same way too—twice counter-clockwise, and twice clockwise—which amused Darren. And the way her cheeks flushed when he called her on it.

  “How do you figure?” Valerie frowned at the woman, and then leaned forward on the table, her towel clenched in her fingers. Her arms pressed her breasts together in the low-cleavage shirt. He bet she had amazing tits. God, he wanted to find out.

  “Look, she snubs everyone that comes near her,” Darren said. “She’s turned away three different guys tonight, alone. Now is that the behavior of a woman who wants to see other people?” When he turned to meet her eyes, she looked away from him. Had he maybe made her mad somehow?

  Valerie shook her head. His spine tingled as she turned and her attention shifted to him. “I don’t think she hates people. If she did, she wouldn’t be here. This place is like… a jamboree of people.”

  “Jamboree?” Jamboree wouldn’t have been the word he’d have used. A snicker escaped him before he managed to bring it under control.

  “Shut up. You know what I mean. People come here because they want to be around other people.”

  “Yeah,” Darren agreed. “But I hate people, and I’m here.”

  “You don’t hate anyone. You like to think you do. But you don’t.” She straightened up when he pressed his lips together in doubt. “What? You’re the world’s expert on people? I not only bartend for a living, but at one time, I worked with hormonally-insane teenage girls all day. Having people skills is sort of important. Know what I think?”

  “What?” Darren sat back.

  “I think she’s picky. That she likes people, but hasn’t found the right sort. She’s still looking for the right person. Maybe she’s been burned, and she’s angry and hasn’t come to terms with it yet.”

  Darren considered that. Jen had broken up with Misha fairly recently. Maybe she had some anger herself. Misha wasn’t an easy guy. He was temperamental, and young, and immature. The fact that Jen, in her thirties, had gone for twenty-two year old Misha was strange.

  “How is the day job hunting going?” He asked her, changing the subject. It didn’t seem right to talk about other women with Val, especially women who dated his teammates.

  She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Uh… it’s not.”

  She gave him a soft half-smile, but her lips were tense and she couldn’t quite pull off the nonchalant look she was going for. She loved helping others get their lives together and now she needed that help herself. Her struggle made his chest ache.

  “So, how are things?”

  The answer seemed to be caught in her throat, or she was deliberating trying to keep it caged within her. He started to reach for her.

  “Valerie…”

  “Difficult.” She admitted, cutting off what he’d started to say as she pulled back from the table. The deliberate move to keep him away turned his stomach in knots. He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her everything would be okay. That seemed to be the last thing she wanted from him.

  “Are you… I mean, do you need—”

  “I’m fine.” The snap of her voice was like ice cutting the air. He didn’t say anything. The force of her answer surprised him.

  Her face fell, the steel he’d just seen collapsed under the weight of her grief. “I’m not taking money from you. But I can’t afford my own apartment right now. I’ll probably move to my parents’ house in Dallas in another month if nothing comes up.”

  “You’d move? Dallas is hours from here.” There was a whiny quality to his voice he hoped she didn’t hear. It wasn’t very manly of him.

  “I can’t survive on a waitress’s hourly wage or the tips I make here,” she told him.

  Disbelief and disappointment streamed through his body. In her position, he doubted that he’d be anywhere as calm. But then again, he’d grown up differently. His father had been a professional hockey player. Darren had been on the ice as soon as he could walk. She turned toward him like she wanted to say something, but an uproar in the corner cut her off. Her long ponytail flipped around. The back table had a party going, guys in similar colored shirts jumping around and swearing at the televisions.

  Darren turned his gaze to one screen. Baseball playoffs.

  Odd disappointment filled his blood, flushing out the icy anxiety he’d felt when Val said she’d be moving. Every year since his professional life began, he’d been excited for the season to start again. Hockey was his life. It was all he knew. But he liked coming there, both to relax and to see Valerie. She always had a smile on her face. When he didn’t get to come in, he missed it. Without her there… it just wouldn’t be the same.

  Valerie sighed heavily and wiped the table one last time with her towel. “Ugh. I gotta get. Those guys will be power drinking for the next half hour after that home run.” She looked at him. “Will you be here later?”

  The only thing that made him happy these days was thinking about how he’d come back and there would be a new hockey season, and Valerie at the bar every Tuesday. His game had been crap last year. Until he’d met her. She was his good luck charm.

  That admission scared him. It was too soon after Angela.

  “Nah,” he said, “I’m about to jet. Early wake up in the morning for practice.”

  “Next week?” She asked.

  He shook his head. “Road trip next week. Might be a couple weeks before I get back.”

  He wished he could read women better. Was that disappointment on her face?

  “Alright. I’ll see ya later then.” She left, her hips swaying as she approached the table with the guys. Jealousy surprised him, stabbing through his chest straight to his heart, crippling him as she took their drink orders.

  Valerie spoke easily with everyone. It was something Darren envied in her. Also, he hated that she had that easy way with everyone. She turned on the charm every moment she worked, and it drove him crazy. Sadly, her easy demeanor was her money maker. He knew that, but it didn’t make it any better to watch her flaunt it for the world.

  He finished his beer and stood up. He pulled out some cash and set his wallet down to thumb through them. He dropped some of the table to cover his tab and Valerie’s tip. In the corner of his eye, he could see Jen getting up too. He thought about going over there for a good long second to talk about Misha, but one glance at Valerie, and all thoughts of other people fled from his mind. It was only Val he wanted. And that realization side-swiped him entirely.

  Chapter Four

  Darren truly had no idea what he did to her. There wasn’t a man out there that wore a t-shirt better than he did. His shoulders were a snug fit inside the fabric. She imagined his muscles were hard as a rock, too. And his crooked smile created fantasies in her head that were just simply sinful.

  His stare turned to her, so intense her body felt like flames licked at her skin. The weighty focus burned through her body like a supernova, leaving her knees weak and wobbly. She turned away from him, trying to concentrate on h
er work, but she could feel him boring his way through her back. It made her chest flutter as she delivered shots to her table. After that, it took her only a moment to pull the other waitress aside to watch her tables while she stepped outside. Darren didn’t know it but he’d burrowed his way under her skin and stuck there like a burr.

  She blew out a breath.

  He was just a guy. Nothing special. Attractive, yes. She especially liked the way his smile was just a little bit crooked, the left corner of his mouth slightly higher than the right. It still made her laugh to think about the night he’d come in with a missing tooth. It messed up the symmetry of his face, but it still seemed to complement him, and his crooked smile.

  She was only out there a minute and a half when Nick appeared in the doorway, interrupting the first calm she’d had all night. She liked being busy most nights, but sometimes, she just needed a break.

  “Hey, Val?”

  She looked up just as he tossed a black leather wallet at her. She caught it with one hand and cocked an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

  Nick shrugged. “It was left at one of your tables. I gotta get back.”

  He left and Valerie stared at the wallet. The outside was black and textured. There was a money clip in the center but no cash. The right side had several credit cards, but it was the driver’s license on the left that caught her eye, making her heart skip a beat. She ran her fingers over the face as she read the name. “Darren Moran.”

  Valerie knew the address on the license. It was a housing subdivision off in Westerly Falls. A pretty expensive one, too, on the richer side of town.

  Curiosity swept over her. What would his house be like? She knew he’d recently renovated after his divorce. He’d talked about it weeks ago, had already hired the contractors. He’d called it “Purging the Bitch” from his life.

  Rifling around through his stuff seemed like a shitty thing to do, so she resisted the urge. She just needed the address to send it to him.

  “Val?” One of the other waitresses stuck her head out. “You got a phone call.”