When he heard her tell Matt to leave her alone, Negan decided to make his presence known. She'd be at her car at that point anyway, so she wouldn't know he heard everything she said. That she wasn't bothered by his playful harassment, which made him feel... curious. Content. Maybe a tad happy at the prospect that she might enjoy their banter as much as he did.
"What the fuck, asshole?"
So Matt hadn't scampered off to his car. Negan pressed his brows together, feigning annoyed confusion, and cut him a look.
"Just walking to my car, man," he said.
"So you're telling me you didn't overhear that?" Matt asked, not believing him for a second.
Negan had grown up in a household where his father taught him never to hit anyone with glasses. The problem was, this asshole hipster ran his mouth, and if he could talk a big game, he should be able to back that up. As such, Negan did what he did best: he instigated. He got under his opponent's skin and into their heads, using his mouth to start a fight. It was his specialty.
"I heard Hanson tell you to leave her the fuck alone," Negan replied, continuing to walk to his car. He knew he shouldn't leave his back exposed. He knew that there was a good chance he could get jumped, especially when Matt had been looking for a fight from the get go. But he did it anyway because he didn't take Matt seriously; he didn't see Matt as a threat. And by turning his back to Matt, he was letting Matt know he didn't see him as a threat. "Which is probably the smartest thing she's said, and that says something, considering she's a smart girl."
Negan should have seen it coming. Even as he said the words, he knew that something was bound to happen. How could it not?
Negan should have been prepared but he wasn't. Matt leaped toward him and socked him in the face. Negan was taken aback by the attack but only for less than a second. He went for Matt and managed to get a good couple of punches before he let him go. They were roughly the same height with the same build. Negan felt a satisfied thrum burn through his veins at the sound of Matt's glasses hitting the concrete.
"Back off," Negan said. "I'll kick your ass if you touch me again. It's not my fault Hanson realized what a piece of shit you are and decided to be with someone who treats her better than you ever did."
"I'll kick your ass if you go after Katella," he replied, his breathing ragged.
"What makes you think I haven't?" Negan asked, pushing up his brows.
Negan furrowed his brow. What the hell? Instead of responding, Matt rolled his eyes and dusted himself off. Why had Negan responded that way? He hadn't needed to do that. And there were other ways to rile him up than using Katella. He shook his head. What happened, happened, and he couldn't take it back. He wasn't sure he even wanted to.
Chapter 4
Sunday was Katella's day to sleep in. She never planned anything Sunday morning because she liked this time of solitude. Every now and then, she would wake up early for some unknown reason. If such an occurrence did happen, she would schedule in an early nap.
Katella woke at eight, ate eggs with cheese, yogurt and granola, and organic orange juice from Costco. There was no need to rush, no place she needed to be. Most people hated Sundays because they came before Monday but she loved them. This was an atypical Sunday, given that she had somewhere to be at noon. Instead of worrying about her appearance, she threw her hair up in a messy bun, pulled on black yoga pants, knee-high brown boots, and a long-sleeved scoop-neck maroon shirt that hugged her curves. She put on some pink gloss and black mascara - only Clinique - and pulled on a light black jacket due to how overcast it already was in Newport.
The drive to South Coast Plaza wasn't busy but the mall itself was. There was always a sale going on somewhere and shopping was practically a national pastime. Luckily, she managed to find a spot relatively close to the store and she grabbed her purse before heading into Nordstrom's.
She met everyone in the back of the store. The majority of the team was already there, all in various stages of appropriate undress. They all looked incredibly handsome in their fitted slacks and their white collared shirts. Kyle was joking around with Zachary, both in their undershirts, waiting for their collared shirts to be given to them. Thorpe was hanging out behind the group, listening in but not contributing, a small smile on his face. Even Matt looked relaxed. Handsome, definitely. There was even a sense of longing that took hold of her entire heart just before it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Katella went up to Kristen, a cute blonde girl who was in charge of the fitting, so she could go over the measurements, what was needed, what was taken care of. Katella wanted everything finalized today, considering the event was next week. She looked over the numbers and everything seemed to be going smoothly. She thanked Kristen and decided to talk to the players to ensure they were all good and there was no issue between them.
At that moment, she saw Negan emerge from the dressing room, dressed in a complete tuxedo save for his tie, which hung undone around his collar. Katella couldn't appreciate that just yet, considering he had a black eye that distracted her from everything else.
Where did that come from? Granted, this was James Negan. The fact that he had a black eye wasn't terribly unexpected. He had a mouth that could get under people's skin and he was proud of that. He liked being able to piss people off. It was probably why he was such an asset to the team. But she couldn't let him look like that at a charity event unless he got that black eye as a result of some tension on the ice, not in some bar fight or wherever he got that shiner from.
Katella rolled her eyes. She did not want to deal with this but she knew she had to. As such, she huffed a breath and headed straight for him. Almost as though he knew she was coming for him, he shifted his weight and turned his dark gaze toward her. The corner of his lips curled up and he kept his eyes on her, his hands sliding in his pockets casually. She had to ignore the fluttery feeling in her stomach, the way her eyes noticed his broad shoulders, how the white collared shirt fit him well, how the slacks were practically made for him. His dark brown hair was messy and long to the point where it was just starting to curl. He looked good but he needed a haircut. And possibly a shave, although there was something about the scruff that added an edge to his commanding presence.
"If I had known wearing a tuxedo was going to get this kind of response from you, Hanson, I would have thrown one on months ago," he told her in his deep, rough voice.
Katella all but growled, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him back into his dressing room.
"Easy, easy," he said as she closed the door behind them. This room was only meant for one person so they were forced to stand closer than they've stood together before. Her chest was inches away from his and she was forced to tilt her head up to look at him. "I know you're a passionate girl but manhandling me in the dressing room could have implications."
Katella clenched her teeth together, ignoring his remark. "What happened to your face?" she asked. She was proud of the fact that she kept her voice under control so it came out as more of a growl than a shriek.
"Ouch, Hanson," he said, tilting his head back so he could look down at her. "I know I'm not the best looking guy but I can't fix my face."
"Shut up," she told him. "You know what I mean. What happened to your face?" She reached up as though she was going to touch the bruising just underneath his eye. She watched as he sucked in a breath but he didn't pull away. She wanted to touch his skin, to see what it would feel like, but she hesitated. She didn't follow through and dropped it back down to her side. "This. What happened?"
His grin turned into a full-fledged smirk. "Why do you ask, Hanson?" he questioned, tilting his head down and lowering his voice so he was closer to her. "You concerned about me?"
The way she was clenching her jaw made her worry she might have to visit the dentist about grinding her teeth. That, and she worried she might pop out a brain vessel.
"Fine," she told him, looking away from him and placing her hands on her hips. She took a step back, prepared
to leave, when he reached out and grabbed her forearm gently to stop her. Katella's brows shot up, her eyes going to his hand on hers. Skin on skin. There was a jolt, something that sparked between them, and the hairs on her bare skin stood erect. And it was all because of his touch.
"Wait," he told her.
"I just want to know if you're okay, Negan," she told him, her tone flat but serious. He hadn't dropped her hand, not yet, and she found his touch rough and pleasant. "If you're going to scare the children with a non-related hockey hit, I would like to know about it. I need to prepare some kind of explanation." Her eyes caught sight of the loose tie and she pulled her hand free from his in order to grab the silk material.
He swallowed - she could tell by the way his Adam's apple bobbed - and her fingers slowly but skillfully began to tie his bow tie.
"So," she said softly, trying to control her breathing due to the fact that she knew her breath would creep up his neck and she couldn't remember if she had eaten anything for breakfast that would cause her breath to reek, "are you going to tell me what happened?"
"So you are concerned then?" he asked. When she shot him a look, his lips curled up. "Ask your ex."
Katella furrowed her brow and stopped what she was doing so she could look up at him with an inquisitive gaze. "Matt?" she asked. "Why? What did you say to him?"
"How do you know it was my fault?" Negan asked. "How do you know he didn't start it?"
She gave him a flat look. "Come on, Negan," she told him, dropping her eyes and continuing to tie his tie. "We both know you're notorious for running your mouth. Don't pretend like yesterday didn't happen in the locker room where you and him were going at it."
"Which, I’d like to point out, he started," he told her. "He was getting defensive of you when anyone who knows you knows you're fully capable of defending yourself."
"You must have said something bad," she continued. "Matt is a Pacifist until he gets on that ice. He wouldn't even kill a spider. He's a vegetarian, for crying out loud. But you're standing in front of me saying he started it?" She quirked a brow. "If I look at Matt's face, am I going to find any bruising there?"
"He looks worse than I do," Negan admitted, "but that's because I'm a better fighter than he is. I also only allow one punch and one punch only. You manage to hit me, you'll never be able to hit me again."
"And what could possibly have gotten you so riled up that you felt it was necessary to throw a punch?" she asked.
"He threw one first," Negan corrected.
"That I'm not surprised by," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
He gave her a flat look. "And what is that supposed to mean, Hanson?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and crossing his arms over his chest. Katella made a point not to look down at his arms as they strained against the tight sleeves of his shirt. It didn't deter her ministrations of putting his tie together and she swallowed and sharpened her focus in order to moisten her throat. "That I'm a lover, not a fighter? That I wait until the first punch is thrown before I do anything?"
She snorted and shook her head. Her eyes were on her fingers. She had always been good at tying bow ties. Anytime her grandfather needed assistance because he had to attend the NHL Awards or some kind of event, he asked her to help. Seraphina was typically his go-to girl, which never bothered Katella, but she appreciated she could assist with something. As such, she got extremely good at doing this so he would never need to worry about it or ask anyone else to do it for him again. And even though it had been a year and a half since she last did this for him, she hadn't forgotten how to do it.
Huh.
She was struck with the thought that this was the first time she had done this for anyone but her grandfather. Not even Matt asked her for her assistance when it came to getting ready. Negan hadn't even asked but for whatever reason, she felt compelled to do it. It might have been because she needed something to do with her hands.
"No," she told him, shaking her head. "I think you do strike the first blow with your mouth rather than your fists. I've learned firsthand what you can do with your mouth."
His brow shot in and his lips curl into an amused grin. "Not firsthand," he told her, "but I'd be happy to show you personally."
"Oh, my God." Katella started laughing and shaking her head. She knew she walked right into that one so she couldn't exactly argue with him or reprimand him for his comment. It was also difficult to do considering how close he was standing to her, the way his eyes sparkled as they looked at her.
How was it that he wasn't afraid to look at her that way? How was he not afraid to be so close to her? Didn't this affect him at all? Or was it only she who was bothered by how close they were. She was nearly finished with his bow tie but she wanted to draw this out, she wanted to be around him this close that she could smell his body wash on his skin.
Oh, shit.
Fuck.
This was a problem.
"What?" he responded, dropping his hands from his chest. "You know I’d take care of you, Hanson. Give me a job and I'd do it well."
She perked her brows. "Wow," she drawled out in a low voice. "I didn't think you needed instruction. I thought that something like that would come naturally to you."
Now it was he who seemed surprised by her comments, but he grinned like he approved and even admired her quick wit. It caused her heart to do that weird little jump. She liked when he smiled at her like that, she realized. She needed to change the subject, to think about something else.
"So what did you say?" she asked, dropping her eyes back to his tie.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"To Matt," she said.
Katella could have imagined it but Negan seemed to be shifting uncomfortably. His eyes flickered away and he cleared his throat.
"Oh, God," she said through a groan. "What did you say?"
"What makes you think I said anything wrong?" he asked through a chuckle.
She shook her head. "Fine," she told him, smoothing down his shoulders once she finished. "Don't tell me." She let her hands linger on his shoulders longer than what was necessary. She hadn't expected his shoulders to feel so broad beneath her hands. They felt sturdy, masculine, and he was looking down at her with a dark flame in his brown eyes. There was something there, something unreadable. A hunger, perhaps even a desire.
She swallowed, needing to get her throat moistened as quickly as possible. She didn't want him to think she had to clear her throat or couldn't speak properly because of him. He probably already did.
"You're an expert at tying bow ties," he told her.
Why did his voice sound husky? Why did it cause a shiver to slide down her spine like a snake did as it tracked its prey? Why did this room feel even smaller than it should feel? Why did it feel as though the air was being sucked out of the room and she could barely breathe as she looked at him?
"Yeah," she told him, nodding her head. She couldn't look him in the eye. She was a coward and couldn't bring herself to do something as intimate as look him in the eye even though she had a feelingl that that was exactly what he wanted. "I used to do that a lot for my grandfather."
He nodded once - she saw from her peripheral - and she clenched her jaw.
"May I say something?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
Katella couldn't help but snap her eyes back to his. He never asked permission to say anything. This was new. This was unexpected. When she looked into his brown eyes, the playful sparkle was gone. This was also serious.
"No one really talked about how you handled your grandfather's death," he pointed out. "Everyone talked about your sister, how she's coping with his death, how she's handling becoming the new owner of a national hockey team, but no one really talked about you."
Katella shrugged but the action felt rigid, uncomfortable. "That's okay," she told him. "I don't care either way, and I would rather the media not care about me at all with what they say about Seraphina."
This was true. Katella had never cared
one way or the other that people seemed to forget that Seraphina had an older sibling who was going through the same loss that Seraphina was. To be honest, she preferred it that way, especially considering her escapade with Xander had never been found out in the first place. When Matt broke up with her, that was news. When he came back, that was news. But other than that, Katella made it a point to try and keep out of the spotlight as much as she could.
Without warning, Negan reached out and curled a stray strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear. His fingertip lingered on the curve of her ear and she suppressed a shudder that threatened to overtake her body.
She was forced to clear her throat. She didn't even care if it made her look bad.
"Well," she said, "just don't get into any more fights, okay?" She took a step back, forcing his hand to fall to his side. "The tux looks - keep it, okay? Order it, I mean." She turned and nearly ran into the door.
Her entire face turned red and she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, walking outside and leaving Negan behind.
Chapter 5
Katella felt herself take a deep breath once she was safely out of the dressing room. Shit. Shit! This was not good. She recognized the fluttery feeling buzzing around in her stomach, she recognized the way her head got light when she breathed in the clean, masculine scent that spilled off of his skin. She was attracted to Negan. She was attracted to James Negan.
How the hell did this happen?
He was annoying and pesky and liked to get reactions out of her. Not exactly the sort of guy she wanted to be around on a consistent basis. He bugged her and pushed her and annoyed the heck out of her.
But.
But she did enjoy being around him. She wouldn't admit it to anyone and definitely not to him but she looked forward to the moments when he was around. He was like the class clown in high school, and that had always been her type. The fact that the class clown was a hockey player and a fighter made him even more attractive.
Black Eyes & Blue Lines: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 2) Page 3
