“Mm-hmm… and witty and funny and,” Eloise sighed. “bull-headed and delusional.”
“Ouch.” Eloise could almost see Sophie cringing through the phone. They should have opted for FaceTime. “Talk about crashing to earth. Have you been able to breathe yet after having that wind knocked out of you?”
“He thinks I don’t fight for my ideals. That I’m somehow less than I could be by ‘working for the man.’ It’s not wrong to be the best at your job, is it? I made a commitment to the Rochester Riot when I accepted the position. What kind of person would it make me if I allowed my personal feelings to interfere with my job performance?”
“No. You worked hard for that job. Isn’t he the best at his job too? From what you said…”
“Exactly. Yet he’s mad because I have to do what the boss tells me and accuses me of taking sides. I don’t agree with the boss, but what choice do I have? I’m against the ropes. My entire career could be imploded with just one bitchy phone call from Sheehan Murphy. I’d never work in PR again.”
“Well, I’m no one to talk, especially since things are messed up with Phil. But we all have choices, and I know what Mom would say.”
“Love is more important than work,” Eloise sighed, reciting the familiar quote. How she wished her mom were in bed with her right now. She’d cry and use her massive bosom as a fluffy pillow. “I wish life was that simple.”
“Me too,” Sophia agreed. “Thanks, El. Hope you can come home for a visit. I’ll call you back once I know the deets, love ya.”
“Love ya too, Soph.”
Eloise hung up and ditched her phone into the folds of the white lace duvet. Even though her linens were pure as the driven snow, she wasn’t. Eloise felt tainted. Brushed red with the anger of two men she hadn’t wanted to disappoint. As Sophie had said, she’d been strong for her sisters but at a deep personal cost. Sadly, she’d been in exactly the same predicament as Sophia, and was not proud of her solution all those years ago. If it hadn’t been for Miss Conway, the high school guidance counselor, Eloise shuddered to think where her life path would have taken her.
She’d stumbled home on foot after Trevor had left her unconscious under the bridge that night. By midsummer of that year, she knew something was wrong, having missed two periods all while suffering some intense morning nausea. Miss Conway understood and helped her take care of the situation. Eloise sympathized with Sophia completely. If Mom and Dad ever knew she’d had an abortion, she’d curl up and die of shame. Trevor never knew about it. And even if she’d been able to find him, he wouldn’t have cared.
He’d raped her.
Worse still, after the procedure, she’d contracted an infection and had to be put on antibiotics. It cleared up, but a few years later she came down with mono while at NYU. Her mom had come to New York for a whole semester to look after her. What Linda Robertson didn’t know was that the doctor discovered a problem with her uterus. The repeated infections had left scars and a bacterial condition. It wasn’t conclusive, but there was a chance she wouldn’t ever be blessed with kids. A fact that shattered her very soul. The prognosis became one more reason to bury herself in her studies and avoid relationships.
Because men, good men, wanted a family.
She desperately hoped Sophia’s test would come out negative because she wouldn’t wish the situation on her worst enemy, let alone one of the people she loved and admired most.
With a deep sigh, Eloise dragged herself out of bed and gazed out the window, sighing her regret so deeply a white steam of condensation formed on the cool glass. Snow still lay on the ground in most places, but the bitter chill of February had loosened its grip on the city of Rochester. Not everyone liked to jog in these conditions, but Eloise didn’t mind. She’d put a priority on keeping fit and stayed committed to her morning run year-round. It also helped to clear her mind when things were bothering her, and today was no exception.
Because a lot was bothering her.
She dressed and went down to street level, exiting the rear of the building. Inhaling the crisp air, she did a few stretches to warm up before breaking into a light jog. Her feet pounded a brisk rhythm on the partially clear pavement, wearing spiked winter cross-trainers she’d invested in at a high-end sports store. Her breath puffed out clouds of vapor in the chilly air and her arms pumped in tandem with her legs. She loved the sensation of blood and oxygen coursing through her veins. She did her best thinking while running, her mind and body in a peak state.
She picked up the pace as she turned onto the multi-use path through the park a few blocks away from her home. Soon, the endorphins would kick in and chase away the pain of her recent crash and burn. And her past.
Sophia’s phone call had awakened her on a number of levels. She’d let her past experiences lead her to believe that she didn’t need a relationship to be happy; didn’t need love or commitment; that education and career were all that mattered. All her energy had gone into those pursuits, and she had been convinced they would fulfill her. And for the most part, they did. But there would come a time when it wasn’t enough. Sophia’s distress over Phil and her dashed hopes and dreams for a family proved that. Why did love have to be so hard? Why did she habitually push away the men in her life with her cut-above attitude and her brainiac pedagogy? What did it accomplish except assuring her future loneliness?
When all her achievements and laurels lost their luster, what would be left except the people she loved and her own happiness? With tears stinging her eyes and threatening to freeze her eyelids shut, Eloise confronted the hard truth. She did want a relationship – someone to love and be loved in return – a home and family, just as her own parents had. Christ, she was going to be thirty on her next birthday. She cried harder at the realization that time was running out. She truly didn’t know if she could have children, and if not, what did she have to offer a potential partner in that regard? Antiquated thinking or not, all the successes in the world paled in comparison to that one failure.
It’s a bitter road of life that one walks alone.
By the time she finished her route and reached the steps to her building, she was taking great gasps of air between painful sobs. The ugly cry. She knew where she had to go. After showering and dressing, Eloise headed straight downtown, to Blues & Brews.
Her pulse accelerated as she gripped the handle of the entrance door. She had no right to be here, to expect him to be here, or to even want to see her again. But she would never know unless she walked through this door.
She stepped inside, the warm, coffee-scented air wrapping around her in greeting, enveloping her in its toasty, nutty scent. Customers dotted the interior, singles and couples and best friends grouped randomly at the bar and around tables. With a sigh of relief, she spotted Cole behind the bar, tinkering with the coffee machines, looking right at home. Eloise strode toward him.
“Hi,” she said, stopping alongside the bar. “I know I have no right to ask, and you can tell me to go to hell, but I hope you won’t. Can I talk to you?”
He looked up, tilting his head back a bit. His eyes scanned her up and down, a look of pain on his face. “Sure,” he said, his voice quiet. “Make you a brew?”
Eloise smiled and took a stool, unraveling her scarf from around her neck. “I’d love that.”
As the machine hummed and gurgled, her eyes drank him in, from the top of his spiky head, down his ripped midsection covered in a tight t-shirt, to his bare feet shod in sandals. In February. Cole Fiorino’s mind worked in mysterious ways, and Eloise found it intriguing. She chuckled at his optimism in sporting flip flops in Minnesota. His cool blue irises intermittently flicked in her direction as he worked.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the Town Hall,” she began as he pushed the coffee cup across the counter toward her. “I know you felt I was siding with Sheehan, but I was only doing my job. I do appreciate you coming to my defense. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting him, and I have to admit… I… I.” She blew out a breat
h.” Well, I didn’t have his permission to hold that Town Hall. I thought I knew what was best, and I performed a blatant act of insubordination. Things got out of hand, and I guess it shook me up a bit. I was confused when my work and my feelings shot the first bullet in my internal war.”
Cole remained still for a few moments, the silence between them deafening. Why didn’t he say something? Even if it was fuck you? “So you do have feelings in there somewhere,” he said tonelessly. “Funny. That’s not what I heard.”
Eloise stiffened, her hands wrapped around the warm concoction he’d prepared. Squeezing it so hard the hot ceramic threatened to burn her palms. She welcomed the searing sensation. It seemed less acute than the burning in her gut. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He took a step back, clearing the coffee tools away. “I mean, your reputation precedes you,” he answered. “The ice-queen, wearing her career as her crown. I had hoped it was a bunch of bullshit perpetuated by an asshole that hadn’t gotten laid since Kanye West dissed Taylor Swift the first time. Seems like it’s all true.”
“Who said this?” she demanded, feeling equal parts insulted and embarrassed. But her heart pummeling to her boots said she already knew.
“If the shoe fits, does it matter who’s the cobbler?” He asked the rhetorical question all puffed up and arrogant. This was the NHL bullshit she was used to. Somehow, she’d thought this one was different. But he was just a sleazy jock like all the others, only out for himself and his own interests. But there was another sleazy jock who’d pay.
“Ryder Martin,” she whispered angrily, her eyes narrowing. “Ryder doesn’t know his ass from a dressing room drain. He’s stuck in the past, mourning his lost chances as a pro hockey player. He doesn’t know anything about me, other than I wouldn’t sleep with him on a first date. Our only date. Are you saying a girl shouldn’t have scruples? Or standards? Or taste? That’s not how you felt when we had dinner together.”
Cole blinked, seemingly taken aback by her vehemence. Then a slow grin burgeoned on his face, bringing that beyond-cute dimple out to play.
Have mercy! If this man keeps boomeranging me, I might never recover.
“So you two never…” he waved a finger in the air in place of the completed sentence.
Eloise shivered in spite of the warm interior temperature. “No.”
Cole nodded, looking smug. Then he winked. “Well, you’re right,” he said. “I like a woman who has high standards. Especially in baked goods.”
Eloise smiled and relaxed her shoulders. His sense of humor was like a soothing balm, relieving the tension and making the world seem right again. Her world would be so right with him in it. “Ditto,” she said. “But before I was so rudely interrupted, I was trying to tell you something.”
He cocked his head, waiting for more.
She took in a deep breath to steel her quivering nerves. “I came to tell you that I feel some crazy connection between us and I want to explore where that leads. And I hope you do too. But if so, we’re going to have to make some compromises. I can apologize for my behavior, but I won’t apologize for my work ethic. Can we agree to keep work and dating separate?”
“Dating?” he asked, sounding dubious. “Are you saying you want to go out on another date? And then another, and another?”
She bit her lip, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I am. Willing to give it a try?”
The smile on his face could have lit up the Twin Cities in a power failure. He moved around to her side of the bar and plucked her up off her seat. He spun her in a three-sixty then set her down again. “Cool!”
“Okay, okay, hold on,” she said, laughing breathlessly. “We’ve got to set some ground rules.”
“Okay, shoot,” he said, his arms still around her waist.
“We won’t talk about work when we’re alone together, and we won’t talk directly to each other during any business meetings, fair enough? The last thing we need is to start rounds of gossip and make the media start sniffing around. I might not be able to PR my way out of my own negative PR.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed, his eyes meeting hers in a lustful visual embrace.
Eloise felt electricity shoot through her as he moved his body close, wedging his hips between her knees as she balanced on the tall stool. He slipped one hand to the nape of her neck, cupping her head beneath her thick mass of brunette curls and tipping her face upward. The kiss he gave her rivaled and exceeded the one from the Town Hall night, and Eloise could feel the exuberant passion of this man in the power of it; that he would love fully and freely and give it everything he had, just as he did on the ice. She reveled in the spicy scent of him, the touch of beard on her face and his lips on hers, their tongues exchanging wordless, magical promises.
When a few customers sent wolf whistles, they broke their heated kiss amid smiles and giggles. Eloise felt her face heat up.
“Hey, wanna know something?” Cole asked. “A lot of people liked your Riot for Rochester concept, and they’re organizing a talent showcase, a kind of ‘battle of the bands’ with local groups and artists. Congrats, PDL!”
“PDL?” she asked on a sigh of continued desire. She couldn’t think straight after that kiss.
“Pretty doughnut-lady,” he said with a grin. “Sorry, El, but your nickname has been sealed since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“I suppose it could be worse” Eloise smiled in relief. “It could stand for public display of lethargy. What about your friend Trey? Was that him with you at the meeting? Did he like the idea?”
Cole gave an ambiguous nod. “Yeah. Trey has his own agenda, but he’s thinking of doing a karaoke sing-off here at Blues. I’m going to ask some of the team to come out as celebrity guests. Will you come watch?”
Eloise beamed. “I’ll be here with doughnuts on.”
Chapter Ten
The phone on Sheehan Murphy’s desk rang in shrill warbling tones as multiple lines lit up. Kylie collected her notes and prepared to leave Murphy’s office where they’d been going over the bar’s opening night checklist. “Will that be all, Mr. Murphy?”
Sheehan looked across his desk as he reached for the handset. “Yeah… I gotta take this call. Tell your boss the TV promo looked great.”
Kylie nodded and turned toward the door, grateful the old goat had shit some goat pellets all over his trash pile and calmed the fuck down. As she reached for the handle, the door opened from the other side, and Kristoff Helios breezed in. All she knew about the guy was that he’d done El a bad turn and for that, she didn’t like him.
“Kristoff,” she said, a bit startled. He stood aside as she exited.
“Close the door, will you?” Sheehan barked. Kylie did as he requested and as she walked away, heard the lock slip into place. What the hell would be so important a discussion that the two men would need the office door locked? Kristoff was in charge of sales, advertising, and merchandise. Seemed like something beneath Sheehan’s notice.
She continued down the hallway to her own office.
“Hey, El,” Kylie said, walking up to Eloise’s desk. “Here’s the checklist. Murphy says he liked your commercial spot.” Eloise sat with her eyes fixated on her computer screen and didn’t look up, seemingly lost in her own little world. “El?” She placed her notes on the desk and waved her hand in Eloise’s line of sight. Eloise jumped and pulled a set of earbuds from her ears.
“What? Sorry, Kyles.”
Kylie laughed as she saw the Bob Marley YouTube video playing on her screen. “OMG, Satan called and reported it’s frostier than a polar bear’s ass crack down there. You’re listening to reggae?”
Eloise made a face. “I don’t want to listen to it, but since Cole likes it so much I thought I should at least give the classics a chance. I still don’t get it. It all sounds the same to me.”
“That’s a big step for you, cottoning to a man’s likes and dislikes. This must be serious between you and Cole. What else does he like?” Kylie
asked, waggling her eyebrows.
Eloise telegraphed a warning look. “None of your business, Miss Nosey Rosie. We’ve gone to dinner a few times, some movies, live music. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe you. Hockey jocks don’t waste any time getting ‘into the slot,’ if you know what I mean,” Kylie said, chuckling at her very inappropriate reference. Luckily, El didn’t care, and no one else was within earshot.
Eloise hid a shy smile but refused to comment. Her slot remained closed. “Hey, miss social media. They’re having a karaoke competition at Blues & Brews tonight. Cole’s doing a song and so are some of the guys on the team. You should come. And tell your legion of followers to come too. It’s a good idea to support the local businesses.”
Kylie pursed her lips and gave a nod. “Sounds like fun, maybe I will. Oh, Murphy likes your commercial, by the way. Seems you’re making everybody happy lately. See what a little love in your life does?” she teased.
“Who said anything about love?” Eloise scoffed. “Sheehan’s only happy that we’re on schedule to open April fifteenth and the protesters have disappeared, thank goodness. They’re all busy organizing acts for the talent showcase.”
“I’ll say it again El, the Riot for Rochester thing – a stroke of brilliance. Now I know why you make the big bucks.”
“Stick with me, kiddo, you’ll go places,” Eloise said with a wink.
***
The inside of Blues & Brews was warm and festive despite the late-March cold snap that had settled over Rochester. Spring couldn’t come fast enough, Eloise thought, then her blood might finally thaw. She entered the establishment dressed in black leggings, a long V-neck sweater tunic, and tall riding boots, drawing unabashed stares from several men as she passed by in her form-fitting attire. She’d paid extra attention to her hair and make-up tonight, knowing he’d be on stage performing and wanting him proud to have her by his side.
She scanned for Cole and found him near the raised structure, arranging the microphone, amps, and control board. His eyes raked her up and down as she approached, clearly appreciating the view.
The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance Page 8
