Breakout (A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance)

by Ellis, Aven

  I head into work bright and early on Tuesday morning for my session to do Demons Magazine. I take a sip of my gingerbread latte as I walk down the empty hallway. It’s a Kimberlee day, but even she can’t ruin the positive space I’m living in right now.

  I smile as I think of where I am in my life. While Cassandra’s message hurt—and still does, if I allow myself to dwell on it—it did prove to me what an incredible family I have surrounding me. I’m putting Cassandra in the past, where she belongs, and I’m moving forward.

  But one thing Cassandra’s message did give me was a sign of how Niko handles a crisis. I already knew he was an amazing man, but this proved his strength, his ability to stand beside me and give me what I needed when I was falling apart. Niko is a solid partner, and I still count my blessings every day that he is mine.

  Niko. My heart flutters as I think of him. We spend every day together when he’s in town. Luckily the Demons have had a nice home stand. He leaves this afternoon for the East Coast and won’t be back until Saturday. I can’t wait for him to return, because on Sunday we’ve made plans to go Christmas shopping at NorthPark Mall. And I’m eager to take in that holiday experience with him.

  I throw my ID badge up to the sensor and the door opens for me. I head to the edit bay. As I enter the suite, I find Chip working at the other computer.

  “Morning,” I say, taking off my shoulder bag and dropping it next to the computer I’m working at.

  Chip doesn’t even look at me. “So did your boyfriend get you the Demons opens back?”

  Okay. That cat is out of the bag, apparently.

  “No,” I say calmly, “he did not.”

  Chip snorts. “Right. I’m sure you complained to him and he went straight to Tony to get me reassigned.”

  I go from happy to pissed-off in a second.

  And I’m not taking this crap from him.

  “Wrong. In fact, Tony came to me and asked me why my open looked like shit. That’s when I told him it was your open, not mine. So before you go flinging accusations around, you might want to look at your own work first.”

  Then I pull my chair out and sit down, trying not to look as furious as I feel.

  Chip is silent. Obviously he wasn’t expecting to hear that Tony thought his work was crap, and that’s why he lost the assignment. I take a sip of my latte in an effort to look nonchalant.

  I start up my computer and hear Chip stand up from his seat. He goes to the door and clears his throat.

  “Well, that’s great you can edit hockey, Lexi, but what are you going to do when hockey season ends?”

  I turn around and look at him. “What?”

  “What else are you good at? We do have a full-time staff here, and we do baseball. Your skill set is limited. So you’d better stash your paychecks now. Because, heads-up, you aren’t needed this summer.”

  Then he walks out the door.

  I turn back around, staring blankly at my computer. As mad as I am, deep down I wonder if there is truth to Chip’s words. Will Wyatt and Tony not have a need for me once summer rolls around?

  And if that is the case, will they even remember to bring me back once Demons training camp starts up in September?

  “So next week I’m doing a special feature on JP,” Kimberlee tells me as she puts on her fifteenth coat of shiny nude lipstick. “I need you to bring your A-game to that video. I told JP it was going to look slick, you know.”

  I need more suns to match my level of hate for Kimberlee.

  “Mmm-hmm,” I say, working on adding motion to a graphic.

  Kimberlee sighs. “I love that he’s French. It’s soooo sexy to hear him speak it.”

  French? I turn and look at her in confusion.

  “He’s Swiss,” I correct.

  And seriously, between dealing with Chip this morning and Kimberlee this afternoon, TATS should keep me over the summer simply as payback for dealing with these two idiots.

  Kimberlee’s brows knit together. “No, he’s not. He speaks French, not Swiss.”

  Oh dear God. She doesn’t understand that “Swiss” is not a language.

  “People in Switzerland speak French, German, or Italian, depending on what part of the country they are from. JP is from the French part, so that’s why he speaks French.”

  “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Of course they speak Swiss!”

  I pick up my phone and pull up JP’s profile on the team website. I turn it around and show her JP’s bio.

  “You’ll see it says ‘Country: Switzerland’ on his info,” I say.

  Kimberlee’s eyes widen as she reads it. Then her face turns blood red, as there is no way around this one.

  It’s all I can do not to laugh. She’s beyond stupid.

  “Whatever.”

  “Just make sure you say Switzerland in your voiceover,” I say carefully.

  “I need to run,” she abruptly says, scooping up yet another designer tote. “I have an audition for a commercial this afternoon.”

  Oh please let it be for something like toilet bowl cleaner. I would find tremendous joy in watching her try to look happy about cleaning a toilet.

  Kimberlee sashays out the door, and I refocus on my work. And it’s so ironic. Here I am, a good editor who knows the sport backwards and forwards, who could be out of work by summer. Kimberlee, on the other hand, is an idiot who will retain gainful employment because she’s hot. They’ll no doubt stick her on baseball coverage for that reason alone.

  It’s enough to make my head explode. But if there is one thing I’ve learned in my short time here, the workplace isn’t perfect. Even though this is my dream company to work for, it’s not Utopia. Unqualified people have jobs. Get promoted. Receive better assignments.

  Sometimes the most qualified people are left behind.

  I swallow hard. I only hope with all my heart I’m not one of them. Because if TATS doesn’t think I’m good enough to keep on all year, or create a full-time position for me, I’ll be devastated.

  And I have no idea how I’d bounce back from losing my dream job.

  Chapter 23

  The One Online Dating Service Profile Question: How important is it to you that your potential partner celebrates holidays?

  My write-in answer: I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas with Niko. I know the holidays are going to be a wonderful, romantic celebration with him.

  “Niko,” I say as we stroll through NorthPark Center, “remember how you said Thanksgiving felt more real this year?”

  Niko squeezes my hand in his. “Yeah, I do.”

  “I think Christmas is more magical now that I have you,” I say, smiling at him.

  He looks down at me as we pause by a Christmas tree and a huge display of poinsettias. Holiday music is piping through speakers, the mall is crowded with shoppers, and I’m overwhelmed with joy. I’ve always loved Christmas, but this is different. I feel full of love and happiness, and everything I adore about the season seems heightened. The trees are prettier. The scent of gingerbread more heavenly.

  I gaze up at him, love surging through my heart. I long to tell him, but I don’t want to freak him out. We’ve only been dating a few weeks.

  But I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.

  A smile passes over his face, revealing the dimple in his cheek. Niko slides one hand around my back, drawing me into his chest. I put my one free hand on his grey sweater, as my other hand is wrapped around my gingerbread latte.

  “Is that right?” he asks, his Mediterranean Sea-colored eyes dancing at me.

  “Mmmm-hmmm,” I murmur, happily inhaling his cedar and spice cologne.

  “Good, because I feel the same way,” he says, dropping a sweet kiss on my lips.

  I relish the f
eel of his soft lips on mine. Niko lifts his head to look at me.

  “I wish we weren’t spending Christmas apart,” he says softly.

  I nod. “I hate it, too.”

  I know he needs to go back to Baltimore since he has three days off, but there’s a part of me that wishes I could go with him, even if it’s to spend the day after Christmas with him. But I’m sure in his mind it’s too soon to bring me home, and I understand that.

  And it’s not like you’ve invited him home to your house, and your parents live in Dallas, my conscience whispers.

  I swallow my guilt. I know Niko wants to meet my parents. But I need to reveal the truth about my background. I want him to understand while I come from great privilege, it’s not what I need or want in my life.

  Because as long as I have Niko, I have what matters most.

  “Lexi, where’d you go?” Niko asks.

  I blink. “Huh?”

  Niko grins. “You left me there for a second.”

  I shove those thoughts aside. “I was thinking of my Christmas list. I need to shop. Christmas is next week. And I haven’t started.”

  “So where should we start?” Niko asks.

  “Neiman Marcus.”

  Niko flashes me a wicked smile. “High rolling it on the gifts, baby?”

  So now probably would not be the time to tell him that my mother exclusively buys presents at Neiman’s and underneath our tree is filled with only their shiny holiday boxes.

  I clear my throat. “Well, my mom’s favorite skin care cream is there, and that’s what I’m getting her this year for Christmas.”

  Which isn’t a lie. It is her favorite cream.

  “Well, let’s go get it. I’m determined to cross some things off your list today.”

  I laugh. “Oh, is that so? What about your list?”

  We head in the direction of the store, Niko’s hand wrapped around mine, and my anxiety about my family loosens up at bit.

  “My list,” he says, “is done. My parents like gift cards, so that’s easy. Dimitri and I don’t exchange gifts. I got my nephew some toys from Amazon and had them shipped to Greektown, to Mom and Dad’s house, so they don’t have to lug them there for Christmas Day. And I got my sister-in-law a spa gift certificate.”

  “Well done,” I say as we enter Neiman Marcus.

  “But that leaves the most important person on my list, but I can’t shop with you right now,” Niko says, winking at me.

  My heart flutters. Oh, I love this man so much.

  “You’re enough for me,” I say truthfully.

  “Nope, I’m not. You can’t unwrap me on Christmas,” he says. “Well, you can when I get back, but you still need a present.”

  Oooh, I also love his sexy style.

  “I like that plan,” I say. “So maybe we can stop at the lingerie department after I get Mom’s gift.”

  “No way. Unless they sell flannel pants with sushi rolls on them.”

  “Niko, stop.”

  “You stop. Those are hot. How many times do I have to prove it?”

  I blush, and he laughs.

  I lead him through the bustling cosmetics area. It’s decorated elaborately for Christmas and filled with customers studying the perfumes and holiday makeup sets.

  I head to the counter for my mother’s very expensive line. Part of me wants to shove Niko over to look at cologne while I buy this, so he won’t see the price I’m about to pay for my mom’s cream.

  But maybe it’s a good thing, so I can reassure him I don’t buy this for myself. In fact, I’m really fond of my Carol’s Daughter cream and it’s only fourteen dollars.

  “May I help you?” the saleswoman asks.

  “Um, yes,” I say. “I need the one ounce moisturizing cream.”

  She nods and goes to retrieve it.

  “This stuff is expensive,” I say to Niko.

  “Yeah?” He moves to study the product display.

  The woman comes back. “Is there anything else I can get for you today?”

  “No, that’s it,” I say.

  “That will be one hundred and eighty-four dollars and three cents,” she says.

  Niko’s head jerks up. “For one ounce?”

  “Yes,” the saleswoman says. “But it’s an amazing product.”

  Niko points to the larger jar of cream on display. “How much is this one?

  “That one is four hundred and sixty-five dollars,” she says easily.

  Oh shit.

  An appalled look passes over his face. I quickly hand the woman my debit card, and she disappears to ring up my purchase and wrap it.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Niko says, his voice incredulous. “Who would pay that much for face cream?”

  “Mom swears by it,” I say, avoiding his eyes.

  “For that price it should come with a person to apply it every day. That’s crazy.”

  “For the record, my facial cream is fourteen dollars.”

  “Now that’s reasonable.” Niko eyes all the expensive products. “But I don’t get paying this kind of money for skin care. Does your mom use all of this?”

  Fuck.

  “Um, yes,” I admit. I can’t lie to him.

  I pause for a moment. Is this the time? Should I explain all of this to him now?

  “Lexi!”

  I freeze. Oh no. No, no, no. That voice.

  It’s my mom.

  I slowly turn around and see my mom and dad heading toward us.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it!

  “Sweetie, are you shopping today, too?” my mom asks, smiling warmly as she approaches me, her arms filled with Neiman Marcus shopping bags.

  She stops when she realizes Niko is standing next to me.

  “I know who you are,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “You must be Niko. I’m Charlotte, Lexi’s mom. We’ve heard so much about you!”

  Niko smiles at them. “Likewise. And it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  He goes to shake her hand, but he can’t due to all the bags she’s holding.

  “It’s okay,” my mom says. “What can I say? I can never get enough of shopping.”

  My dad has an equal number of bags in his hands, and I see that Niko is studying all of them.

  “I’m Andrew,” he says, placing the bags on the ground so he can shake Niko’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  Niko grips his hand. “You, too.”

  “We keep asking Lexi to bring you over,” my mom says, “but she always says you two are busy.”

  Panic grips me. She couldn’t have said a worse thing to Niko!

  Niko’s eyes reflect surprise. “Oh?”

  “We’ve been eager to meet you,” my dad interjects. “And it looks like now is the time, right, Lexi? You two should join us for lunch.”

  “Yes, why don’t we go to the café and get to know each other?” Mom adds, referring to one of the restaurants inside the department store.

  Niko turns to me. “What do you say, Lexi? You’re good with us having lunch with your parents, right?”

  My stomach tightens at the edge in his voice. It’s subtle, my parents would never detect it, but I do.

  Niko is hurt that they’ve wanted to meet him, and I’ve not introduced him to them.

  “Ms. Stewart, may I get your signature?” the saleswoman asks.

  “Of course,” I say, trying my best to stay calm when an icy fear has gripped me.

  I scrawl my name on the receipt, and she hands me the bag. Then I turn back to Niko.

  “And of course to lunch,” I say.

  Niko’s eyes question me, which is like a kick to the gut.

  “Fantastic!” Mom says eagerly
. “Let’s go get a bottle of wine and have something to eat.”

  They walk ahead of us, but I feel nothing but tension from Niko as he walks beside me, which breaks my heart. He thinks I’ve kept him from them, which I have, but not for the reason I’m sure he’s thinking. I was protecting him, but he doesn’t know that.

  Now he’s about to find out, without warning, my background.

  And I pray he won’t change his mind about me afterward.

  “So cheers to finally meeting you, Niko,” my mom says, raising her glass.

  “Thank you,” Niko says, smiling as we all clink our glasses together. “I’m happy I can finally meet both of you, too.”

  I take a sip of the chilled chardonnay, and it burns my stomach. I’ve been in full on anxiety mode since my parents bumped into us at the skin care counter.

  And more to the point, my stomach is knotted up because I know Niko is hurt, but he’s going to sit here and act like nothing is bothering him at all.

  Which makes it worse.

  I reach for his hand underneath the table, needing to touch him. I find his hand, but instead of intertwining his fingers with mine like he always does, he moves his hand away.

  My heart crashes into my stomach. He’s pissed. And the fact that he’s so furious and hurt makes me want to bawl.

  Instead, I shift my gaze to the menu, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

  “Niko,” my dad says, “Lexi has told us so much about you. And how talented you are and how well you suit the Dallas Demons.”

  I lift my eyes, and Niko smiles at my dad.

  “Lexi is incredibly generous in her description,” Niko says softly.

  “Own it,” my dad says, going into power businessman mode. “That’s how you move ahead in the world. You own your strengths and others’ views of you.”

  A wave of nausea hits me. My dad and Niko are complete opposites when it comes to approaching a career. My dad is about climbing, climbing, climbing. More titles, more money, more prestige.