Her mouth flopped open, so he seized the opportunity and kissed her again. This time she merely held still and let him do it.
“Oh, and pack light,” he said. “You’re not going to be wearing many clothes while you’re there.”
Chapter Six
Friday night, Harper knocked on the door of Brandon and Gabe’s apartment an hour after her text message to Brandon about them needing to talk had gone unanswered.
She’d stewed over the plane ticket for a solid twenty-four hours, debating the best way to break it to him that she hadn’t changed her mind about calling off the bet, even if he’d held up his end of the bet. In the end, she’d decided that she didn’t need to explain her choice to him. She’d made her decision, and unless he planned to kidnap her, she would not be flying to Miami. Period.
At the sound of a lock unlatching, she held the plane ticket out in front of her and steeled herself to be firm, but polite, then leave before they could argue. She was so sick and tired of arguing with him.
The door swung open. Gabe stood before her, dressed in sweats. He held a beer bottle in his prosthetic hand. “Hi. Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Come on in.”
“Thanks, but I think it’s better if I stay right here.”
“Why? What’s up? Everything still peaceful at the bar?”
“Yes. Thank you for your help with that,” she said. “I’m looking for Brandon. Is he here?”
“Naw, sorry. He went to the Iceplex to skate after closing time. He does that sometimes when he’s got a lot on his mind.”
Brandon was fast friends with the Iceplex owners, as was Duke. They pretty much had the run of the place and it came as no surprise that he was given leave to be there by himself after closing time.
“I’ll go look for him there.”
“Hey,” Gabe said. “Maybe tonight isn’t the right time to bug him. He’s in a black mood again. Not sure why because he kicked some butt at Locks last night, but there you have it.”
“Yes, he did kick butt. You all did. Thanks for the warning, but I’ll take my chances.” She was in a pretty black mood herself.
“Suit yourself.”
The Iceplex lot was nearly empty, save for two cars, one of which was Brandon’s. Through the glass front doors, she could see Jay at the counter. She parked close to the entrance, then shrugged into her heavy jacket. From her trunk she retrieved the ice skates she’d swung back by her apartment to pick up. Over the years she’d lived in Destiny Falls, she’d learned to love ice-skating and now it was her favorite form of exercise.
When she pulled open the front door, Jay called, “We’re closing! Oh, hey, Harper.”
She held up her skates. “Good evening. I’m here to see Brandon.” Behind the counter, Brandon was clearly visible at center ice, his back to the main entrance, surrounded by a smattering of pucks that he was hitting into the goal net on the far side of the rink. Only about half the lights were on and the dimness lent the space a cavernous feeling. Every time Brandon’s stick slapped a puck, the echoing sound adding to the illusion of vast emptiness.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Jay said. “We’re closing, but I left a key with Brandon, so as long as you leave when he does and don’t unlock any of the other doors, you’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.”
She slipped into the team bench area and laced into her ice skates. If Brandon saw her or sensed her presence, he gave no indication.
As she was lacing up her second skate, Jay called his good-night. The words hovered in the empty space, as did the sound of Brandon’s reply, then the bang of the front door closing, then locking. They were alone.
With her skates laced, she donned the gloves she kept in her jacket pocket and stood. The first scratch of her blade on the ice sent a shiver up her spine.
Brandon never once looked in her direction, even as he said, “How did you know where to find me?”
“Gabe.”
“Are you here to tell me what your doctor said this morning, or are you here to renege on our bet?”
His bluntness had her scrambling for mental footing. “Both.”
He spun to face her, the end of his stick dragging against the ice next to his left skate. “You can’t renege on the bet. A deal’s a deal.”
She pushed off, gliding toward him. “But I am.”
He leaned into his stick, silently fuming.
“I’ve disappointed you, and for that I’m sorry,” she said. “But the hard truth is you’re not good for me, and I need to start thinking with my brain instead of my heart.”
“Your doctor’s appointment today wasn’t only a routine visit, was it?”
It was impossible to do this, to say it all again, to break the terrible news to one person after another. “No.”
His gaze dropped to the ice for a long, silent stretch. “Cancer?”
She reached the center of the rink and used her toe pick to stop an arm’s length away from him. “Maybe. They ran more tests on me today, but I haven’t gotten the results yet.”
“Go get a stick from the bench. Let’s play some one-on-one.”
She sighed. “I don’t think I’m up for that tonight. Can we just talk?” She spun away from him and headed toward the entrance.
“Damn it, Harper. Just . . . just stop. Stop thinking so hard. Stop making excuses. All I’m asking for is a few more minutes of your time. A last good-bye, since we won’t get one in Miami.”
She glided along the edge of the ice to the team bench. A last good-bye. How could she refuse him that? She was a good skater, but not in some of the ways that hockey demanded, with quick stops and pivots. She was certainly no match for someone with Brandon’s mastery of the game.
She heard him approaching before she felt his presence behind her. He brushed past her and onto the team bench, where his hockey bag sat. From the bag, he pulled a second pair of hockey gloves, which he outfitted her with, and then a second stick.
Together, they returned to the center of the ice and faced each other. Though they were both fiercely competitive, this was the first time they’d ever competed against each other in a game other than darts or pool.
“Go easy on me. This is my first hockey game,” she said.
His cheek twitched. “You score at the net you’re facing. I score at the one behind you.”
“Do we really have to keep score?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t we always?”
He let the puck drop between them, but his attention never strayed from her face. Maybe he meant to rattle her. If so, he was going to be in for a shock because Harper was going to give this game everything she had. She put her shoulder down and slammed into his chest, digging for the puck.
She came out the victor, but the sweetness of victory was lessened by the knowledge that he’d let her have it.
She skated backward, one eye on the puck at the end of her stick and the other on Brandon. “You wanted this game, so play it, damn it.”
“You told me to go easy on you.”
“I’m changing my mind.” She burst forward, around the side, thinking she might sneak past Brandon in pursuit of a goal, but her speed overpowered her puck-handling skills and she lost the puck behind her.
The next thing she knew, she was flying backward. Brandon’s arm came up behind her to stabilize her even as he checked her into the boards.
She didn’t hit hard, but it still took her a moment to catch her breath. “This is a no-contact game.”
His face was stone, save for the fire shining fiercely in his eyes. “My bad.”
He released her, then raced to the abandoned puck. Harper pushed herself as fast as she could, but he skated the puck over the blue line and, with a flick of the wrist, made an easy goal. She expected gloating, but his stone mask never faltered.
“Again,” he said. “Get
the puck and we’ll try that again.”
Harper fished the puck out of the net, then skated with it to center ice, practicing a side stop when she got there. She was a little wobbly, but not bad.
She handed him the puck. “You drop it.”
He did, watching her again, letting her win the face-off. Again, she hooked the puck with her stick and skated away from him. He played defense at her blue line, his eyes still on her face and not the puck.
She stopped moving, taking a moment to strategize her play. Since her puck-handling skills sucked, there was only one solution. She slapped the puck, sending it out in front of her, then skated to catch up to it. When she crossed center ice, Brandon crowded her, poking at the puck. She spun, trying to keep him from it, but failed. He hooked his stick around the puck and pulled it away from her. Without worrying about handling the puck, she was faster. Not as fast as he was, but good enough to meet him near the boards.
She swiveled sideways, squaring her shoulder and bracing in preparation to hip check him. But, with a speed he hadn’t revealed to her yet that game, he reversed their positions and slammed her back against the boards. The plastic sheeting rattled. Stunned by the brief flash of discomfort from the hit, and ticked off that they were so unevenly matched, she released a guttural growl and jabbed at the puck with her stick, fighting for control of the game.
Before she knew what was happening, Brandon’s stick had pinned her hips against the wall. His other hand cupped her cheek and wrenched her face up. Then his lips descended over hers and he kissed her. Shocked, she let it happen. She let his tongue in and let him take her.
He pulled away, breathing heavy, and skated after the puck.
Harper stayed put. Her lips remained parted, dewy with the taste of him. “You’re trying to rattle me to throw me off my game. That’s low-down.”
He lingered near his own blue line with the puck at the end of his stick. “I already warned you. Nothing says I have to play fair where you’re concerned. My only question is, is it working?”
“Never.” To prove it, she pushed away from the board and zipped around him in a tight circle. She’d never know if he let her have the puck or if she took it from him fair and square, but the point was that she did have it and she’d broken away. She skated over the blue line, wound back, and scored.
At the next puck drop, the tension was thick. This time, she dropped the puck between them.
“You’re so competitive,” he said as they scrounged for control of the puck. “I love that about you.”
“I’m the competitive one? You’re the one who’s been trying for five years to get me in your bed for nothing but the challenge of it.”
The next time he body checked her against the boards, she knew what would rattle him the most. She hooked her hand against the back of his neck and pulled his face to hers. She kissed him hard, openmouthed, with her tongue. She liked being the aggressor for a change, the sense of power it infused within her.
When he tried to flip their positions against the boards and take over the kiss, she ducked and twisted away, then skated out of reach, leaving the puck with him at the boards.
“It’s not for nothing but the challenge of bedding you. You should know me better than that.”
She skated a wide circle around him. “Not really. I barely know anything about you except how badly you want to fuck me. That’s all we ever talk about.”
He raced toward his net in pursuit of another goal, but she cut him off at the pass and lunged at him, tipping the puck with her stick. He checked her again, harder this time. She had to gasp to catch her breath, but already his lips were on hers. The kiss was angry this time. Good. This felt right, letting off the steam from all the frustration she’d felt that week, all the fear and resurging grief from thinking about the other women in her family who’d suffered and died—all that she might suffer.
When he broke the kiss, he panted through parted lips and flared nostrils. “You should see the way you look right now,” he growled. “The fight in your eyes. The fire. I live to see you like this.”
“Such pretty words,” she sneered, shoving at his chest. “If only they weren’t empty.”
He huffed and held her pinned to the boards. “You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to give you up.”
“Stop saying that as though it means something.”
He peeled away, giving her the space she needed to catch her breath.
“Then what do you want from me?” he said, the volume of his voice rising. “You want me to lie? Tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do and I’ll do it. What will it take to get you in my bed?”
“Okay. I’ll tell you what needs to happen. Tell me why you’re so afraid of us as a real couple that you think all we’d be good for is a quick screw.”
He skated the equivalent of a slow prowl around her. “Let’s not forget that you rejected me first. And you’ve been rejecting me ever since. I’m the one begging here. It’s always me. How is that fear? You’re the one who’s afraid to live.”
Too agitated to stay still, she pushed off, tracing the same slow circle as he did. Damn, it felt good to fight. She hadn’t realized how desperately she’d needed to vent after the fear and lack of control she’d felt all day. “Your idea of living sounds like hell to me.”
“You’re so afraid to live that you sit there in that brick building like one of the three little pigs, waiting for the big bad wolf to come huff and puff and blow your house in.”
Without warning, he rushed at her. She skated backward, but she was no match for him. Right there in the middle of the ice, he took hold of her face and kissed her.
“Admit it, baby. You think I’m the wolf, don’t you?”
She rubbed her face against the stubble on his cheek, turned on and pissed off and full of so much adrenaline she didn’t know which way was up. “Stop calling me baby.”
She twisted away from him once more and took possession of the puck, then skated as hard as she could toward his net.
Brandon made no attempt to give chase. “You did this same thing after your genetic testing results. You were so afraid of the future that you cancelled our second date and shut me out of your life.”
She stopped short of the net and flicked the puck in, then spun to face him. “That wasn’t going to be a real second date, anyway. Just a second chance for you to try to get under my skirt. I deserved better than that. I still do.”
He ignored her excellent point. “And here you are again, cancelling on me and running away the moment that the going gets a little rough in your life.”
“A little rough? I might have the same cancer that my mother died of when she was only two years older than I am now. That’s more than a little rough. That’s life changing. Maybe life ending. Why would I want to waste a minute of the time I have left on a man who would never want anything more from me than my body?”
“I’m attracted to the rest of you, too. There’s a lot of space on the spectrum between a one-night stand and being married. Why does it have to be so black and white to you? So I don’t want to get married? Big deal. I’ve never wanted to get married, even before I was injured. I don’t want to settle down in some suffocating little town. I’m not interested in turning into that guy. I want to travel everywhere. I want to spin the globe and pick a random place to live every year. I want to do it all. I survived that IED explosion for a reason and it wasn’t to be shackled to some ball and chain for the rest of my life.”
She skated back in his direction at center ice. “Better not let the Meet the Groom producers hear you say that.”
“Don’t turn this into a joke. You keep trying to change me, which sucks. It sucks because I want you exactly the way you are, but you only want me if you can mold me into your perfect mate. At the risk of repeating myself from earlier this week, that’s fucked up, Harper.”
�
�If it’s so fucked up, then why do you want me still? If the way I am and the security I want in my life are so unappealing to you, then why bother with all of this? Why bother with me?”
Why on Earth had she asked that when she already knew? He wanted her because he loved the game, the chase. The more she turned him down, the more he persisted. She didn’t want to hear him say it.
His shoulders rose and fell with the efforts of breathing. “So that’s it, huh? You need to know why I want you.”
“No, I really don’t care about that. I was making a rhetorical point. Go to Miami. See the world. Seize the day. Meet your TV bride. We have a game to finish.”
In the drop circle, Brandon’s eyes were on the ice where the puck would fall. “I want you because when you’re pouring beers at Locks you always hum “Ode to Joy,” and when you’re nervous, you finger your earrings.”
Harper stood, the face-off all but forgotten. What was he trying to accomplish?
“I want you because you’re better at darts than anyone I’ve ever met, but you can’t hustle worth a damn because you’re a terrible liar.”
“Stop it,” she whispered.
“You make a killer beef stew, but you can’t bake a cake that rises,” he said, absentmindedly pushing the puck back and forth, his eyes on her. “You help every stray animal who comes to the alley behind Locks, and you take every bet someone offers you. You’re generous and beautiful and sexy as hell.”
Teeth clenched, she charged at him again, giving it everything she had to get the puck away from him, but the moment she got close enough, he threw down his stick, dropped his gloves, and lassoed her around the waist.
“Game over,” he said.
“What are you—” Harper started to ask.
His hands cradled her cheeks. “Harper, I want you because when I kiss you, it’s never enough.” He took her mouth, bending her back, demanding her surrender.
She dropped her stick and kissed him, pouring five years of desperate longing into her lips and tongue, into her hands. He was right. Game over. It was time to call his bluff and end the chase. Let him take from her what he thought he wanted.
Game Changer Page 9
