by Lynda Aicher
“Damn it, Rach.” She could picture Rock scrubbing a hand over his buzz cut, lips pressed thin. “It’s not public knowledge yet.”
“So how do you know it? Oh wait,” she rushed on, slumping back as understanding hit. “I get it now.” Her brother’s military-trained hacker skills had to be behind this. Which meant he’d been snooping into Scott’s background and had undoubtedly found out way more than her simple Google search had. “I can’t believe you dug up crap on him.”
“What did you expect me to do?” His growled question matched the irritation brewing in her stomach. “You disappear with a guy you just met and barely know. Of course I’m going to check him out. It’s what I do.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to invade his privacy.”
“No. But it does give me the right to protect my sister.”
A stony silence stretched over the phone line, her jaw too tightly clenched to speak. The wind rustled through the treetops, bringing the soothing sound of the woodland ocean. It didn’t help her relax though. Her leg bounced out her anger for both Scott and herself.
“Rachel,” Rock finally said, a forced patience in his voice. “You’re my sister. I’m going to do what I think is right, no matter how you feel about it. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with that. But I can’t change who I am. Not where your safety is concerned.”
And how in the heck did she combat that? “Justify it however you want. It doesn’t make your snooping right.” But her anger was already fading. The coil of indignation loosened with each slow breath. Overprotective as he was, Rock was the one person she could always count on to be there for her.
“Should we agree to disagree on this?”
She rubbed her brow and wished she’d let Rock’s call roll to voicemail. The morning had been a luxury of solitude from the rest of the world that was now ruined. “What am I supposed to be here supporting Scott about?” Maybe she should let Scott tell her for himself, but now it would only bug her until she found out.
The French doors clicked open behind her, the small sound rocketing through the peacefulness to shoot another hole in her guilty conscience.
“Never mind,” she rushed to tell Rock before he could disclose his information. “But we’re talking more about this when I get back.” His groan was loaded with a misery she had no sympathy for. The man had brought it on himself. “I gotta go. Goodbye, Rock.”
She disconnected the call before he could respond. Yeah, that wasn’t the most adult move, but her annoyance at him overrode her manners.
“You didn’t have to get off because of me,” Scott said as he set a tray of food on the table. Two plates were loaded with fresh greens, topped with the sliced grilled chicken breasts. A side plate of pasta mixed with steamed veggies was next to one, and she really hoped it wasn’t for her. There was no way she’d be able to finish the salad, let alone a plate of pasta.
“I didn’t,” she reassured him. Sunlight slanted across his hair, blonder strands popping out among the darker hues of brown. “Is there anything else I can get from inside?” She rose, ready to help.
“I think we’re good.” His smile was full but appeared stiff around the edges. Or was that simply her looking for trouble, based on Rock’s elusive words? “You don’t mind eating out here, do you?”
“Not at all.”
He took a seat next to hers, and she sat back down. “Am I keeping you from something this afternoon?” he asked.
“No. I told you that before.” In the span of a phone call, their easy camaraderie had evaporated into a stumbling hitch of doubts. Why? Anxiety pulled on her chest, but she stubbornly ignored it. “Rock was just being overprotective again. That’s all. I’m sorry it interrupted our day.”
He glanced at her, his hand snaking beneath the glass table to rub his knee. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him doing that this morning. She’d spotted the long scar down the inside and several smaller dots peppered around the kneecap—a definite sign of past surgeries—before he’d slipped the brace on after breakfast.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, indicating his knee.
He jerked his hand away then froze, wet his lips and sat back, hands folding in his lap. “A bit. It’s nothing major.” The flatness in his voice had her teacher senses pinging.
She pieced together bits of their previous conversations about his career and pending changes. Was it more of an issue than he was letting on? Was it her business?
Not until he shared it with her. However close she felt to him, they’d only just met. There were no promises or expectations between them, and she had to remember that.
“So,” she said, forcing a lightness into her tone as she picked up her fork. “About this tour of yours.” His brow quirked up, shoulders relaxing. “I think I have the perfect next outing.”
“You do?” He leaned forward, that great smile of his creeping over his face. “Are you going to share it with me beforehand?”
She narrowed her eyes, relieved to be back on familiar ground. “I’m thinking...no.”
He had a hand on the back of her neck, tugging her toward him before she could even think to resist. His lips were inches from hers when he stopped. “Are you open to persuasion?”
Desire exploded through her that fast. She had no problem envisioning him taking her naked on the cushioned double lounger just behind them. Her groan was contained with effort. “It would definitely take a lot.”
His lids lowered before he claimed her lips in a soul-deep kiss. Food was forgotten as she got lost in the swipe of his tongue and the taste of him. She was ready to toss their plates off the table altogether when a phone buzzed. The low vibrating hum broke through to shatter the moment, breaking them apart. Dang technology.
He eased back, a crooked smile making her chuckle. “I’m guessing you’ll need more persuasion than that.” He dropped one more kiss on her lips before he shifted to dig his phone from the side pocket on his shorts. It buzzed again as he lifted it out.
His lips thinned, brows dropping when he stared at the screen.
“Something bad?” she asked. His shoulders had risen just enough for her to note the tension that clamped down on his muscles.
His phone buzzed yet again with another message before he could respond. It was quickly followed by a series of others, tumbling almost on top of each other. Each one had his frown deepening until long grooves were carved into his forehead.
Her heart rate picked up, concern building. She laid a hand on his arm. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head and set his phone facedown on the table. A long breath expanded his chest before he blew it out. His gaze was fixed on an unknown spot in the distance when he shifted forward to rest his chin on his clasped hands. She let her hand fall away, at a loss.
“Scott?” Worry turned her stomach. “Did something happen? Are you okay?” She rubbed his back, not caring if he noticed.
His phone buzzed again in two quick successions. He jerked then scrambled to turn it completely off before slamming it back to the table. Her worry jumped straight to distress. Freaking out wouldn’t help him though, and once again, she called on her years of dealing with teenage crisis and parental righteousness to center herself.
She eased his chair around, thankful that it swiveled. He bent forward to cover his face, fingers digging into his temples. A dozen questions were poised on her tongue, but she managed to hold them in. Mostly because she had no idea what to ask. He’d talk when he was ready, or so she hoped. If not, then she’d simply be here for him.
The hushed quiet of his yard settled in as she stroked the skin over his knees, the light covering of hair soft beneath her fingers. Birds sang, squirrels scampered up the sides of trees and the wind rushed through the leaves in a subtle reminder of the solitude that surrounded them.
It was several long minutes before he finally lowered his hands and lifted his head. Sadness, pain and a hint of fear stared back at her. What had happened? Tears pricked her e
yes for him, her throat suddenly raw with the need to help him.
But how?
He breathed deeply, exhaled slowly. “The announcement went out,” he said in a monotone voice, face expressionless. “The Glaciers aren’t renewing my contract. As of right now, I’m officially a free agent with no team for next season.”
She scrambled to understand. Her limited knowledge of sports allowed her to grasp the basics, which was his career was in limbo. Essentially, based on his wording, he’d just been laid off—or fired. Was this what he’d alluded to that first night on the balcony? A forced job transfer?
“That’s what all the messages are about then?” Reassuring him that everything would be all right would come out fake, since she knew nothing about his circumstances.
“Yeah.” He scowled at the phone then shook his head, huffing out a cutting laugh. “Apparently everyone is shocked.”
“But you’re not.” He was hurt and sad, not surprised.
“No. I’ve known it was coming.”
It didn’t take a leap of genius to figure out that was what she’d been distracting him from. A tinge of hurt rippled through her chest. Was that the only reasons she was here? She discarded the doubt almost immediately. There was more between them than simple distraction. She would swear by that, even though they had no promises outside of a nice evening and some shared fun, which they’d had.
“And now you have to deal with all that.” She pointed to the now-silent phone.
“Some of it.” He rubbed his eyes, sighing. “A lot of it I can deflect to my agent. But I’ll need to deal with the guys on the team. My friends. Family... Fuck.”
She couldn’t fathom having her life on public display like that. At least if she lost her job, she controlled who found out and when—if ever. He’d had no choice in the matter. If it was unexpected, then she imagined the speculation on the whys would be rampant.
No wonder why he’d wanted a distraction. She couldn’t blame him for seeking a bit of normalcy outside of hockey.
“Anyone who truly cares will support you.” That was true no matter the situation.
He lowered a hand to clasp hers, and she took the squeeze as a silent thank-you.
His eyes were closed now, head reclined against the back of the chair. With his legs spread around hers, it was an intimate pose, yet the distance between them seemed to be growing even with his touch.
He was lost in his own thoughts, and she let the silence stretch, giving him the quiet he obviously wanted. She doubted he wanted to eat, and she certainly didn’t. “I’ll put our lunch in the fridge,” she said, standing to grab the tray. He didn’t argue or move to stop her.
She was sealing plastic wrap over the salads, contemplating what else she could do, when the deep bong of the doorbell startled her. She froze, gaze shooting out the back windows to Scott. He hadn’t shifted since she’d left him.
Had he heard the bell through the closed doors? Did he want to talk to anyone? What if it was a reporter? Would one actually hunt him down at home for a quote?
She was at the French doors, ready to ask Scott if he wanted her to answer it, when the lock clicked on the front door. She spun around, panic spiking her pulse. It was a straight shot across the great room to the main entrance. The door creaked open before she could react, two young boys racing through.
“Uncle Scott!” one called.
“Is it true?” the other one added, voice pitched high with dismay.
“Boys!” The sharp command of the woman who followed them in had the two boys skidding to a halt at the corner by the kitchen. “I told you not to pester him.”
The taller boy had spotted Rachel by then. His mouth dropped open, eyes bugging out in a comical effect that shoved back her initial concern.
“Mom!” he shouted, wide eyes glued on Rachel. “Someone’s here, and it’s not Uncle Scott.”
“What?” The woman’s head snapped up from where she’d been digging in her purse after closing the door. Her gaze skimmed past her kids to land on a now-stunned Rachel. “Oh.” She straightened and came around the room, her sandals tapping out a quick beat. “Sorry. I’m Scott’s sister. I hope we didn’t scare you.” Her smile was so close to Scott’s, Rachel had no problem seeing the resemblance.
With dusty blond hair cinched back in a ponytail at her nape and a rosy glow to her complexion, she radiated warmth that shined from her wide grin. Her round cheeks and dimpled chin were a feminine version of the man on the patio.
She brushed past her still-staring boys and headed for Rachel, hand extended. “I’m Natalie. You must be a friend of Scott’s.” There was no judgment in her tone or expression, despite having found a strange woman in her brother’s house.
“Rachel,” she responded, a smile merging with the relief that rushed through her. “It’s nice to meet you.” She shook the woman’s hand, a brief greeting that communicated honest welcome.
Natalie glanced behind Rachel and the woman’s smile slipped a little. Her brows lowered in concern that matched her quiet tone. “How’s he doing?”
Rachel turned to eye Scott, who still hadn’t moved. It was doubtful he hadn’t heard the commotion, yet he remained outside. Prolonging the quiet possibly?
“It’s not my place to say,” she answered. Everyone was entitled to privacy, and she wasn’t about to encroach on his, even for his sister.
She looked back to Natalie when the woman didn’t respond. An appraising moment passed between them, neither backing down. Now came the deeper curiosity and inspection that she’d first expected. She wasn’t retreating though, not when she had no reason to.
Was she being judged right then? Absolutely.
Eyes narrowing, Natalie scanned her before a little smirk appeared. Dressed in her capris from last night and a baggy T-shirt she’d borrowed from Scott’s drawer after a quick shower, she realized she looked exactly as she was. She had morning-after etched into her unstyled hair and mascara-only makeup. The knot at the waist to take up the extra room in the borrowed T-shirt wouldn’t be mistaken for an attempt at fashion either.
She was thankful once again for her professional background. It’d taught her to keep her defenses lowered when confronted with protective parents or siblings. Showing the nerves that gripped her stomach or giving in to the urge to fiddle with the seam on her jeans would only give the other woman more to judge.
“Mom?” The youngest boy had crept up to stand at his mother’s elbow. His blond hair framed a face that contained the Walters’ mouth but was paired with a bolder nose and sharper cheekbones. “Can we go outside?”
“How come I don’t know you?” Natalie asked, not even glancing at her son.
“We just met last weekend.” Was it only last weekend? It felt like she’d known him for much longer.
The boy tugged on the hem of his mother’s shirt, drawing Rachel’s attention to the rounded bump of Natalie’s belly that’d been hidden beneath the A-line cut of her loose top. Expecting then. Five or six months maybe.
“Give me a second,” Natalie said to the boy. “How about you guys grab a snack from the kitchen?”
“Okay,” the taller one said. “Come on, Bri. I know where Uncle Scott hides the good stuff.”
Rachel couldn’t stop her chuckle at that. She hoped by good stuff he meant junk food. The boys scampered away, shoes squeaking on the hardwood as they hustled to the kitchen.
“How old?” she asked, indicating the boys.
“Six and five. Jack’s almost seven, but I can’t wrap my head around that.” Natalie brushed a hand over her stomach, that unconscious protective gesture made by expecting mothers. “This one is due in early September.”
Six months then. The petite woman hid it well. “Congratulations,” Rachel said, meaning it. She’d perfected the sentiment once the baby rush hit with her friends. It’d followed closely on the heels of the wedding deluge that’d consumed two summers once the big Three-O had hit them.
Everyone but her, obviously
.
“So,” Natalie said, filling the awkward pause that’d fallen. “I’m going to head outside and speak to Scott.”
“Are you hungry?” Rachel asked. “There’s freshly made grilled chicken salads if you are.”
Natalie’s brows shot up, a small half smile curving over her lips. Again, it was so similar to one of Scott’s she found herself returning it.
“I like you. I’m glad you’re here for him.” The statement was said without inflection, which left Rachel floundering for a response. Fortunately, the doors swung open behind her to save her from having to find one.
“Hey, sis.” Scott’s deep greeting brought a round of calls for his nephews.
“Uncle Scott! Is it true?”
“Are you really leaving the Glaciers?”
“How will we see you play if you leave?”
The questions tumbled over the excited boys as they raced from the kitchen to launch themselves at Scott. He bent and managed to scoop them both up, one in each arm, to squeeze them in jarring hugs.
“What are you two loony birds doing here?” He reared back to eye them both. “Are those cheese flakes on your mouths?” He leaned in, sniffing obnoxiously, which sent both boys into a fit of squirming giggles. “It is! How’d you find my secret hiding spot?”
“You showed it to us,” Jack answered in child honesty. “Don’t you remember?”
His brother leaned in, his stage whisper carrying easily through the room. “I thought it was a secret.”
The scene about cracked Rachel’s heart. Right there, played out before her, was visual proof the kind of man Scott was. His love for his nephews was displayed without hesitation. The very fact that he’d buried his own burdens to make the boys laugh showed exactly what kind of father he’d be.
So why in the heck was he still single?
He set the kids down, head shaking in mock resignation. “At least you don’t know where I hide the chocolate milk.”
Bri’s eyes went wide, lips pinching tight as he bounced from foot to foot.
