“Please don’t pee your panties on account of his arm porn.”
“Only if he asked me to.” Fee gave Bex a playful wink, then leaned across the bar and lowered her voice. “Too bad he’s only got a hard-on for you, babe.”
Bex rolled her eyes and gave Fee the finger, but that was all the fight she had left for that tired old argument. She needed to save her strength for her best friend. Jokes aside, he was heading down a dark road faster than she could follow, and she needed to reign him in. The conversation was long overdue.
Henny strutted up to the bar and sat down like he owned the place, all muscle and hard angles and that damn attitude that would eventually get him thrown out of the league, even if it had earned him the title of NHL’s sexiest athlete. What had the newspaper coined him last week? The Bad-Boy Bachelor of Buffalo? God. She cringed to think what all the bunnies were saying about him on the hockey forums.
“Don’t say a word,” he said, resting his arms on the bar. He was wearing a black cashmere sweater, sleeves pushed up to the elbow, and okay fine, the man had really nice arms. But muscles would not save him from Bex’s wrath. Not tonight.
Bex folded her arms over her chest and stared him down. “You’re in serious trouble.”
“I’ve been beat up enough for one night, thanks.” He finally met her gaze.
He was definitely sexy in that make-a-good-girl-go-bad kind of way, but when he fixed those ocean-blue eyes on her now, Bex saw only Henny. Her Henny. Not the macho, bad-boy NHL star who’d broken as many hearts as he’d broken records, but the sweet, big-hearted friend she’d known for twenty-five of her thirty years on this planet. The one who’d walked a mile out of his way every day all through grade school just to keep her safe from the junior high bullies who’d once chased and catcalled her. The one who’d taught her how to drive stick and check the oil and change a tire. The one who’d cut short his vacation in Spain this past summer and hopped a plane to San Francisco instead, packing up her tiny apartment and bringing her back home to Buffalo when she’d barely had the strength to get out of bed.
Six months had passed since that move, most of which was still a blur. But every day since then, Bex had gotten a little stronger. A little better. All because she had a friend like Henny who cared enough to show up, give her a hug, and then promptly kick her ass.
Now it was her turn.
She ducked out under the server’s entrance at the end of the bar and hopped up onto the stool next to him, her knees brushing against his thigh as she looked him over. The team docs had taped some of his fingers together, stitched up a small cut near his hairline. His upper lip was puffy, his jaw red and swollen beneath a few days’ stubble, and there in his eyes—just behind the still-smoldering rage—were a thousand regrets.
“Let me see,” Bex said softly. Taking his big hand into hers, she ran her fingers lightly over the tape, tears stinging her eyes. Hockey was a brutal sport, and he’d been playing since they were kids, but she’d never get used to seeing him so banged up. “Oh, Hen.”
“I’m good,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. “Really. I’m okay.”
Bex nodded, stowing the worst of her fears. At least he wasn’t seriously hurt. “Eva figured you’d show up here.”
“She called?”
“Just after the game,” Bex said. Eva was the team’s skating coach. They’d become fast friends after Henny had introduced them a few months back, and Eva often texted her after the games—sometimes to meet up, sometimes just to say hi or get Bex’s opinion on the latest wedding plans. She and Walker Dunn were getting married later that summer.
“Women.” Henny gave her hand another squeeze. “If I’d known you two would make a habit of gossiping about me, I wouldn’t have introduced you.”
“Well, us womenfolk do talk about other things on occasion, Kyle Henderson. Believe it or not, the sun doesn’t rise and set on you.” Bex’s teasing smile lasted only a second before melting into a frown. The truth was, most of their recent texts had been about Henny. “She’s worried about you. We all are.”
The way Eva had put it, it was as though Henny had been erecting a wall this season, one brick at time. He was showing up at every practice, playing every game, scoring enough goals to keep justifying that insane salary. But he was mostly going through the motions, drifting out of reach from the people who cared for him. Bex had sensed it, too; even in the relatively short time she’d been back in Buffalo, she’d watched him pulling away. Already he was spending less time with his friends, less time at the team’s social and charity events, less time even on hookups—a first since high school.
Something was definitely going on with him, but she couldn’t figure out what. He claimed to love hockey. He was one of the top paid players in the league, still skating at the top of his game. He had a good group of friends. And even though his schedule kept him busy with constant travel, practice, and games, he’d still managed to find time for Bex and her mom.
So what was missing?
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. But Bex saw the lie in his eyes, that now-familiar darkness settling into their blue-green depths.
“Hen, just tell me what’s going on with you. You can’t keep—”
“You tell me something, beautiful.” Henny tugged on one of her curls and turned up the megawatt smile, melting a bit of her anger. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a beer in this place?”
“Don’t even try that charm on me,” Bex said, finally releasing his hand. She hopped off the stool and ducked behind the bar again. “For your information, we are officially in a fight.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to fight?”
“Yes, and that’s working out brilliantly, isn’t it?” She filled up a pint of Labatt Blue from the tap, then set it down on a cocktail napkin in front of him. “Are you trying to get fired? Or put into a coma? Or killed?”
“Is this, like, a multiple choice thing or—”
“It’s an I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass thing. Henny…” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. God, he was infuriating. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so many warnings and what-ifs and can’t-you-sees. But that was just it—he could see. Eva might think that Henny was lost or confused, but Bex knew better. Henny knew exactly what he was doing—always had. Nothing about him was ever accidental, and that scared the hell out of her.
Because for the first time in more than two decades, she couldn’t figure out his end game.
“Why did you go after Fellino like that?” she finally asked.
“He was screwing with my boys.”
“Isn’t that part of the game?”
“He’s dirty, Bex. Needed to be taken down a notch.”
“You could’ve put him in the hospital. Was that your plan?”
Henny’s eyes lowered to his beer, hands wrapped around the glass. His jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
Before she could press, Bex was called away by a customer claiming the jukebox ate his twenty bucks.
By the time she got it sorted and returned to her spot behind the bar, Poison was blaring out “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” and Henny had finished his beer.
She was beginning to think he’d leave without answering her when he finally said, “That’s why you bailed? Because of what I did to Fellino?”
“They ejected you from the game. No point in sticking around after that.” Bex put her hands on her hips, trying to look tough, but she couldn’t lie to him. Resigned, she said, “I have to close with Fee tonight. Mom’s still in Florida.” Her mother had taken off a few weeks ago to go stay with Bex’s aunt, who was recovering from a double mastectomy. She’d left Bex in charge of the pub. They really needed a second cocktail waitress—another bartender and cook, too—but right now they couldn’t afford new hires. Bex was working on a plan, but until things got rolling, she’d have to pick up the slack.
Henny drummed his fingers on the bar, a grin lighting up his face. “So where’s my sign?”<
br />
“Maybe I chucked it.”
“Maybe you’re full of shit.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s in the car. But you’re not getting it until you tell—”
“Got time for a bite?” Henny nodded toward the booths behind the pool table at the other end of the pub. “I’m starving.”
“You deserve to go hungry tonight, jerkface,” Bex said. But she ducked into the kitchen and put in an order with Nico anyway.
“Black-and-bleu burgers, huh?” Henny said when she came back out. “That’s new.”
“To match the shiner I’m about to give you.” Bex raised a fist, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. No matter how badly he’d fucked up, Henny could always bring the smile right back to her face. She felt it now, stretching from ear to ear as Henny grabbed her fist. The tape on his fingers felt rough and foreign against her skin.
“I don’t know why I put up with you,” she said.
“Because you love me.” Henny kissed her fingers. “Now shut up and feed me, woman.”
Chapter Three
Ten minutes and three 80s rock ballads later, Bex grabbed their food from the kitchen and headed over to their usual booth, gesturing for Henny to follow.
In the four months she’d been working at her mother’s place, this had become an unspoken post-game routine, another familiar comfort in a lifetime of familiar comforts they’d shared together. Some nights, half the team was with him, everyone piled into booths or shooting pool with the locals, singing right along with all the retro rock tunes this town seemed to love so much. Other times it was just Henny and his closest teammates, Walker and Roscoe.
But once in a while it was just him, and those were the nights Bex savored. Even though they were living in the same town again, just like when they were kids, they didn’t get to spend much time together. Henny did his best to make it happen, but Bex was usually working nights, and Henny was either on the ice, on the road, or sleeping in preparation for the ice or the road.
Bex sighed, her heart heavy. Despite the fact that he’d made time for her tonight, he’d broken his promise, and she wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. They had a deal: he’d stop fighting and screwing up on the ice, and she’d start taking action on her plans for the pub. So far, she’d been keeping up her end of the bargain. Couldn’t say the same for Henny.
“What’d Gallagher say?” she asked, stuffing a sweet potato fry into her mouth.
Henny grabbed his burger. Then, “Strongly suggested I sit out morning practice, get my act together before tomorrow night.”
“What’s tomorrow night?”
He wolfed down half the burger in a single bite. “Wow. This is really fucking good.”
“Henny!” She kicked him under the table. “What happens tomorrow night?”
“Phone hearing.”
Bex winced. Hearings could go either way. Fellino wasn’t seriously injured, which would work in Henny’s favor. But it wasn’t Henny’s first offense. He’d been racking up fines and penalties this season, and the Department of Player Safety wouldn’t look favorably on that. “What does that mean for—”
“It means I get to sleep in tomorrow, so you’re buying me another beer.” He took a monster bite of his burger, then another, chasing it with a handful of fries. “Damn, girl. This burger has best-seller written all over it.”
“Glad it passes the Henny test.”
“It passes every test. This is seriously good, Bex. What else you working on?”
She got him a fresh beer, then gave him an update on her plans.
“I checked out the building records downtown, talked to a bunch of the locals and regulars,” she said. “This town is definitely ready for an upgrade.”
Big Laurie’s was the perfect location, too. Not too far off the highway, not stuck in the middle of all the downtown hotspots. It was also far enough away from the university district that they didn’t have to worry about underage drinkers or the obnoxious frat crowd. There were a few other local dives nearby, but if Bex had her way, Big Laurie’s would be the only one of its kind in the immediate neighborhood. A few key expansions and upgrades would allow them to offer a bigger menu, book bands on the weekends, even host special events, all while maintaining the hometown feel the place was known for.
“All in all, the perfect storm of opportunity,” she finished up.
Henny stopped inhaling food long enough to smile. “You know what I love about you? No matter what’s in front of you, you just tackle it. All the way. You’re a fucking badass, Bex.”
Bex lowered her eyes, picking at the fries on her plate. She didn’t feel like a badass. More like a scared little girl who’d run back home to Buffalo after letting a man stomp all over her life. Sure, she got all excited about her grand plans for the place—her mom was barely breaking even on it now, and soon she’d be retiring. She had to sell the place or she’d lose her shirt. Bex would love nothing more than to be that lucky buyer, to pick up where she’d left off with her catering business in California, to follow through on all of her big ideas. But at the end of the day, that’s all they were. Dreams and plans that lived only in her imagination.
“If I was such a badass,” she said, “I wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t even be in Buffalo.”
Beneath her smile, Bex seethed with fresh anger, unable to dislodge the image of her ex from its permanent position in her brain. Over their three years together, he’d lied, schemed, and smashed her heart, draining her bank accounts and destroying her business in the process. If it wasn’t for Henny, Bex was pretty sure she would’ve stayed curled up in her bed forever.
Bex blinked away fresh tears. Buffalo was supposed to be her fresh start. Not her dream life—certainly not what she’d planned for herself after culinary school and California—but a nice reset. And so far, it really had been. She enjoyed working at the pub, and she was secretly proud her mom had handed over the reigns while she was down in Florida. She’d made a few good girlfriends, occasionally went on a date with a cute guy, and her best friend was back to being a permanent fixture in her life.
But fresh starts couldn't erase the past, no matter how fast you ran to get ahead. And no matter how great her business plan was, no matter how big and bold her dreams, no bank would ever approve her for a business loan. Those were just the cold hard facts.
When Bex finally looked up at Henny again, she found him watching her intently, thumb rubbing his lower lip, the space between his eyebrows creased. It was the same look he’d given her in the ambulance when she’d fallen off her bike in junior high. The same one when she’d had a pregnancy scare her freshman year of college—false alarm, thank God—and didn’t want to tell her asshole boyfriend. The look that said simply, I’m in your corner. I’ve got you.
"Hey." Henny’s voice was gentle, warm, and she knew he was reading her thoughts. Henny could always tell when she was obsessing about the past. “That part of your life is over.”
“The effects of it aren’t,” she said. She’d never told him all the ugly details about the breakup and financial mess, but he knew she’d lost her business, and it was pretty obvious she wasn’t rolling in cash.
“Let me help you,” he said. “I could put up the down payment, or just buy it outright from your mom. We’ll put it all in your name.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
Henny shrugged. “A loan, then. No interest, take as long as you need to pay me back.”
“Hell no.” She blew out a breath. “The only thing that’d ruin our friendship faster would be sleeping together.”
Henny nearly choked on his beer.
“See?” She pointed at him with a French fry. “Better let me do the thinking, okay?”
“You always were the brains of the operation.”
“And the looks.”
“Touché.”
She raised a brow, popping the fry into her mouth. “You got the balls, Hen. Don’t complain.”
“Nah. Pretty s
ure you got those, too.” He inhaled the last of his burger, pausing only to steal a few more fries from her plate. Through a half-full mouth, he said, “Will you at least let me set up a meeting with my finance guy at Bluepoint Bank? Miguel can take a look at your plans, see what your options are.”
“Henny—”
“The other option is to put me to work. I might be out of a job soon anyway.”
“Can you even pour a drink?" she teased.
“Hire me and find out.”
“No way. This bar would fill up with screaming women flashing their boobs and flinging their panties at you faster than your slapshot.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is.”
Henny grinned. “My money or my smiling face, babe. Which one do you want behind the bar? How about both?”
“How about piss off?”
“You might as well say yes now. You know I always get what I want in the end."
“Charming. I bet you say that to all the girls."
By the time their laughter subsided, Bex had come to a decision. Henny was right—talking to a financial advisor couldn’t hurt. Maybe there was some special grant program for local business owners. Ones who’d lost their shirts for trusting idiots who’d promised them the moon and delivered a bill instead.
“I’m not taking your money,” she said, “and I’m definitely not hiring you. But I’ll think about Bluepoint. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it. For now.” Henny balled up his napkin and dropped it on the plate, barely stifling a yawn. Nothing like a little food coma after a big game. “You off soon?”
Bex shook her head. “Another two hours.”
“Want me to stick around?”
“I’m a big girl now, Kyle Henderson. You don’t have to walk me home from school anymore.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Henny got out of the booth and reached for his wallet, but she swatted his hand. It was a familiar game.
“Let’s go, Brawler.” She looped her arm through his and led him to the front. “I’m officially kicking you out.”
Down to Puck (Buffalo Tempest Hockey Book 2) Page 2
