Hard Hitter

by Sarina Bowen

  “All right,” he said, uncertain about the change of topics. “Can I pour you a glass of wine?”

  “I’d love one.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  SATURDAY, APRIL 2ND

  Ari woke up the next morning wrapped in Patrick’s arms. And she woke up happy.

  Then they shared a shower in his magnificent bathroom. It was a long and multiorgasmic shower, after which she had to go home for a change of clothes before work.

  “Meet me out for coffee and a pastry,” Patrick suggested as she got dressed. “You like that cookie place, right?”

  “Okay,” she said immediately.

  “That was easy,” he teased, kissing her cheek.

  But it was easy. It was a relief to just give in to her feelings for him. To say yes instead of “it’s a bad idea.” Not only did she enjoy his company, but it was her nature to lean in rather than to pull away. By saying yes to him, she was saying yes to herself, too. “I’ll meet you at One Girl Cookies in half an hour.”

  “I’ll be there,” he promised.

  And he was. Her eye was drawn to his handsome, solid form even before she’d made it inside the door. Lola—the counter girl—was smiling at him with stars in her eyes while he inquired about the offerings.

  “Hey,” she said, approaching.

  Lola looked up. “Hi, Ari!”

  Then Patrick turned to greet her, and his whole face changed shape. His eyes lit up, and he smiled in a way that she was pretty sure he didn’t show anyone else. “Missed you,” he said.

  “Well I’m back. Have you had the chocolate croissant? They’re awesome.”

  “Two chocolate croissants,” he told the young woman who waited with a plate and a pair of tongs. “And a large coffee.”

  Ari ordered a latte, and Patrick didn’t let her pay. He hadn’t let her pay for the groceries last night, or the wine, either. “I can buy my own food, you know,” she argued after the girl moved away to make their drinks.

  “Humor me.” He shrugged. “I’ve never had anyone to spoil before now.”

  Her heart melted into a puddle approximating the chocolate inside the croissant that Lola was setting down in front of her. “Well, if you put it that way.”

  His hand found its way onto her ass. “I’m trying not to scare you, sweetheart. But you’re it for me. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give you, or do for you. So have a croissant on me.” He pulled her in. And even though PDA was not Ari’s style, the kiss she received was worth it.

  “Ahem,” Lola prompted. “Your coffees are ready.”

  They broke apart, and Ari picked up her cup, not quite meeting the young woman’s eyes. “Thank you.”

  She turned around to scan for an empty table, and her heart stopped dead.

  There sat Nate Kattenberger at a table with his assistant, Lauren.

  She must have made a sound of dismay, because Patrick turned to look. Then he chuckled under his breath.

  “Don’t laugh,” she hissed, turning her face toward Patrick and away from Nate. “I told you I wanted to be subtle. That was less than ten hours ago and we’ve already blown it.”

  His blue eyes regarded her kindly. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s all my fault, but now I’m going to say good morning to Nate now. Come with me, okay? There’s no point in acting guilty.”

  She knew he was right. But heat crawled up her neck anyway as she followed him over to the table where the owner and his assistant had notes spread out. They were obviously in the midst of a morning meeting. Anyone who glanced at their table would be forgiven for confusing the corporate titan with the office manager. What a funny pair they made—Lauren in a killer suit, dark red with matching shoes—and Nate in one of his identical hoodies and a pair of his thousand-dollar designer skateboarding sneakers.

  “Morning,” Patrick said as he approached.

  “Good morning Patrick. Ariana.”

  “Hi.” He had to have seen that kiss. It wasn’t subtle. She couldn’t blame Patrick, either. It takes two to play tonsil hockey in a bakery.

  Lauren lifted her regal chin and gave Ari the once-over. “Nice show you put on over there. I didn’t know you were dating a player.”

  Just like that Ari’s blood pressure doubled. Thanks, Lauren. What have I ever done to you? She wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

  Patrick sighed. He set their tray down on a neighboring table and crossed his big arms. “Lauren, it’s always a pleasure to see you.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “. . . But Ari is about to kill us both right now, because she’s skittish about spending time with a player.”

  “She should be,” Lauren said, capping a fancy-looking silver pen. “Because that always ends so well. I’m heading into the office now. We’re all set, right, Nathan?”

  Ari’s eyes cut to Nate, who nodded at Lauren. He wore the usual inscrutable Nate face—partly amused, a little smug, and only half present. “Have a seat, you two.”

  Oh, goody. Face time with the big boss just after he saw you making out with his star player. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Patrick grabbed their tray off the other table and put it down in front of her. She picked up her cup to give her hands something to do.

  Nate drained his own coffee and watched Lauren depart. “She doesn’t pull her punches.”

  “Never has,” O’Doul agreed calmly.

  “She’s a great office manager,” Nate said. “Everyone has different methods, but Lauren rules through intimidation.” He chuckled, then met Ari’s gaze. “Try not to be too irritated with her. Lauren is out of sorts because I asked her to work in Brooklyn for the duration of the Bruisers season. She’s not happy with me.” He gave the famous Nate smirk. “But you should know that I don’t share her pessimism for whatever relationship you have with our captain here.”

  “You don’t?” Ari asked a little too quickly.

  Setting his cup down, Nate shook his head. “The people I employ work some of the longest hours in New York. I don’t mean just the hockey team right before play-offs—I mean everyone at my software company, too. What kind of asshole would I be if I discouraged my employees from finding a partner at work? Where else would my employees meet people? I’m not heartless, and I’m not stupid. If workplace romances were forbidden, I’d lose good employees to my competitors. Besides—the employees I want are the ones who know how to forge strong relationships.”

  “That is a good point, sir,” Patrick said.

  Ari studied the foam on top of her coffee. She liked the sound of Nate’s words, but she didn’t trust them. The rules for women were sometimes different than the rules for men. She’d seen the way he reacted to Becca’s flirting. Speaking of Becca, Ari’s consciousness stumbled over something. “Why did you ask Lauren to work in Brooklyn?” she asked suddenly.

  Nate leaned his head in one hand. “Rebecca is going to be out for a few days, if not longer.”

  “She is?” Ari broke in. “Why?”

  The owner’s mouth formed a thin line. “She hit her head yesterday. She said it didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.”

  “Oh god,” Ari gasped. “I was there. She insisted she was fine.”

  Nate winced. “In the night she had a lot of pain, and felt really ill. Her sister took her to Brooklyn Methodist. They’re running some tests.”

  She and Patrick exchanged a glance. Becca hadn’t looked too bad yesterday. And she’d denied hitting her head. Poor girl was probably trying to save her dignity. “That is terrible. What can I do to help? Does she need anything in the hospital?”

  “That is an excellent question. When we hear more, I’ll let you know. In the meantime . . .” He turned his gaze to Patrick. “Could you let your teammates know that they need to take it easy on the office until she’s back? I’ve asked Lauren to step in, because she’s
terrific in a crisis. But things won’t go as smoothly for a little while.”

  “Sure,” Patrick said. “Though I’m probably the worst offender. I’ll tell my guys they have to take a little extra care with travel arrangements and receipts. To not make anyone chase ’em down.”

  Nate turned to Ari. “And how are you feeling? Do you need any additional time off?”

  She shook her head quickly. “We’ll be back to yoga tomorrow morning. No worries. You and the rest of your team have been extraordinarily helpful to me.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled. “All right. I’m heading into Manhattan, but I’ll see you both at the game tonight.” He got up and left the cookie shop.

  * * *

  Ari had two people to see in the Bruisers offices that afternoon. She had a message from Georgia asking her to swing by. And she needed to pick up her pay stub from Queen Lauren.

  She went to Georgia first, of course, because she was still mad at Lauren.

  “Hi, gorgeous!” Georgia called from behind her desk. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “What’s up?” She flopped down into the visitors’ chair.

  “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything.”

  Her friend folded her hands on her desk and licked her lips nervously. “Would you be a bridesmaid in my wedding? I know it’s kind of a pain, with the fussy dresses and all the . . .”

  “Yes,” Ari said firmly. “I’d be happy to.”

  Georgia’s face lit up. “Really? Thank you! I hate asking for things like this. Not everybody likes pomp and circumstance.”

  “It would be my pleasure. And do you need help with the planning?” It had just occurred to her that Becca’s concussion was going to affect more than the Bruisers’ front office. “I don’t want you to worry because Becca is sick.”

  “I’m not worried about the wedding,” Georgia said. “It will be fine. But I am worried about Becca. I’m heading over to her apartment right now, actually. Want to come with me?”

  “Of course. I just have to swing through the GM’s office to get my pay stub.”

  “Me too,” Georgia agreed. She got up and tossed some things into her bag, and then grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go.”

  When they entered the office it was Lauren who was seated at Becca’s desk. She wore a sour face as she sorted through the stack of pay stubs with her perfect, shiny nails.

  It pained Ari to see her sitting where Becca should be. “Thank you,” she said as Lauren slid her document across the desk.

  “So,” Lauren said, handing Georgia’s over, too. “Doulie, huh? Interesting pick. I always thought of him as a cold fish, but I think he likes you.”

  Ari realized she had a problem. She was supposed to work with Lauren for the next couple of weeks, even though she was horribly mad at her. The only thing to do was to clear the air. “Lauren, I didn’t appreciate your making a big deal of it in front of Nate this morning. That was embarrassing to me.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t care. Hell, that man loves gossip.”

  “Well.” She cleared her throat. “In Becca’s experience, even when she’s just joking around with . . .”

  Lauren laughed suddenly. “Stop right there. Rebecca’s experience is not relevant.”

  “Why?” Georgia asked, her eyes flashing with curiosity.

  Lauren leaned back in Becca’s desk chair and smirked up at both of them. “Really? You haven’t figured it out?”

  Slowly, Georgia shook her head.

  “Nate gets crazy when anyone flirts. With Becca.” Lauren snorted. “Wake up, ladies.” She slammed the pay stubs folder shut. “Nate has it bad for little Miss Perky. I’ve been watching that little charade for years now. It never gets old. I just hope Rebecca recovers quickly, because I cannot wait to get out of this building.”

  Georgia’s gaze collided with Ari’s. A pair of startled eyes asked a question. Did she really just say that?

  My god, I think she did, Ari tried to communicate.

  Georgia’s mouth opened and then shut. Then it opened again. “Lauren? Why do you hate hockey so much?”

  Lauren’s sneer deepened. “You really aren’t up on your gossip, are you?” She gave both of them a look of irritation. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you both at the game tonight, unfortunately.”

  Ari and Georgia walked outside in silence, heading toward Water Street.

  “What just happened there?” Georgia asked eventually.

  “I don’t know,” Ari said slowly. “Maybe she’s crazy.”

  They turned the corner, crossing the cobblestone street where Becca lived across the street from Georgia’s new digs. “Let’s order an early dinner at Becca’s,” Georgia suggested. “That way we can make sure she eats.”

  “All right.”

  But just as the words left her mouth, a black stretch limousine glided past them. It slid to a stop about a half a block up, in front of Becca’s little building. The driver got out of the car and walked around to the passenger’s side. He opened the door.

  Nate Kattenberger got out, carrying a flower arrangement the size of a compact car. In his other hand, he carried a giant shopping bag from Dean and DeLuca, a gourmet food shop in Manhattan. The limo driver stepped up to the buzzer panel of Becca’s apartment building and pushed a button.

  Georgia and Ari halted in their tracks.

  “Huh,” said Georgia.

  “Um . . .” said Ari.

  “Early dinner elsewhere?” Georgia suggested.

  “Good plan. My place?”

  “Yeah!”

  The two of them turned around and headed back in the other direction.

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  Patrick O’Doul had never been very interested in weddings.

  College Boy’s wedding reception was the good kind, though. It was outdoors, for one thing. And casual. O’Doul was wearing a suit, not a tux, thank god.

  He was drinking a summery cocktail, watching lit up sailboats pass under a pink-streaked sky over the Long Island Sound. Beside him, Ari and Rebecca were having a conversation with Leo Trevi’s college pal, a sweet young woman named Corey Callihan. They were discussing adaptive yoga, as Corey had a couple of physical issues which prevented her from doing some of the poses.

  “Pilates works better for me, honestly,” Corey said. “Since a lot of it takes place seated. I can’t fall when I’m on my backside.”

  “I’ve managed it,” Ari said, and the two women laughed.

  It was a struggle not to stare at Ari all day and night in her sleek, strapless bridesmaid dress. The way the satin skimmed across her chest made him want to run a finger across her smooth skin.

  After just a couple more hours, he could.

  He looked around at all the happy people. Some were chatting here beside the docks, some were dancing under the white tent. College Boy had a lot of friends. There was Hartley—the Boston forward he’d met a few months ago, and John Rikker, another player he’d matched up against during the season. And Rikker’s boyfriend, the sports journalist Michael Graham.

  “Oh, man, a journalist,” O’Doul had grumbled, shaking Graham’s hand for the first time. “Don’t quote me.”

  “Don’t worry.” The big blond guy laughed. “The whole weekend is off the record. Unless you want to give me an exclusive on your team’s final game of the season.”

  “New rule,” Leo said, wrapping an arm around Graham’s shoulders. “No talking about the play-offs at all. We’re here to relax, right? Don’t get my, uh, new father-in-law all spun up. He’s likely to ask us to do some sprints just for fun.”

  “But wait,” Rikker had argued. “If we can’t talk hockey, what else is there to talk about?”

  “You can talk hockey. Let’s just not relive the most intense four weeks of my life. We’re
here to celebrate. I’m going to Hawaii tomorrow, where they don’t even have skates.”

  O’Doul felt a zip of excitement himself. In a couple days, he and Ari were also headed for a vacation—to Mexico, because Ari said she wanted to try snorkeling.

  Now he reached forward and took her hand, and she turned to him. The band was playing a slower jazz tune. “Dance with me?”

  Ari’s eyes widened. “Patrick O’Doul, you keep surprising me. I had no idea you danced.”

  “I don’t,” he said, leading her toward the dance floor. “But I want to hold you. And I doubt you’d let me throw you over my shoulder and haul you back to the hotel.”

  She made a happy sound as he pulled her in, bringing a hand to her slender waist. He inhaled her lavender scent and felt nothing but optimism.

  “Did you like the wedding?” she asked.

  “I liked watching you in it,” he answered truthfully. “You?”

  “I love seeing Georgia so happy, and seeing Becca healthy again.” She looked around. “Where did she disappear to? Anyway—it wasn’t a long wedding, either, so I didn’t have to hold still for a long time in these shoes.”

  “Those are all good points,” he said, guiding her around the dance floor slowly. The makeup that she’d worn today made her eyes look even bigger and more dramatic than normal. Had there ever been a man as lucky as he was? “What do you want to do on our vacation?” he asked. “Aside from the obvious.”

  “Aside from swimming with fish?”

  “That’s what I meant. Yeah.”

  She smiled at him. “I just want to lie in the sun with you. I’m bringing SPF 50 sunblock for you, though. Can’t get you too sunburned. You won’t want me to touch you.”

  “Oh, yes I will.” He kissed her quickly. “Fish aren’t the only thing I’m doing on this vacation.”

  Ari snickered. Then her eyes darted toward Georgia and Leo. “We’ll have to start watching Georgia for a baby bump in the fall.”

  “Already?”

  “You never know.” Ari shrugged. “They might get carried away on their honeymoon.”