"This is so stupid."
Savannah leaned to the side, saw Brooke walking toward them, her steps slow and reluctant. Even in the shadows, she could see the teenager's frown. And she could definitely hear the attitude in her voice.
"Brooke, please." Aaron's voice sounded tired, almost defeated. "Ten minutes. Can you just lose the attitude for ten minutes?"
"But I don't care about any stupid space station. I don't even know why I have to be out here."
"Because I said so, okay?"
"Then what are we doing over here?"
"I just wanted to see if Miss Savannah wanted to watch it with us."
"Sweet Pea, Miss Savannah is busy. I don't think—"
"Savannah would love to watch it with you. Wouldn't she?" Tessa narrowed her eyes at Savannah, her unspoken message not quite as clear as she probably thought it was. That didn't matter because Savannah was able to decipher it anyway. She started to shake her head, to tell her friend that her lame attempt to do whatever she was trying to do was a bad idea—a really bad idea.
"I don't think—" But Tessa was already moving. She grabbed Savannah's hand and pulled her from the overstuffed seat, causing her to stumble before catching her balance.
"Tessa—"
"I'll just go turn out the light and hang out inside while you guys watch. I was getting chilly anyway."
"Tessa—"
"In fact, it's about time for me to head home anyway. I've got an early day tomorrow."
"Tessa—"
"Come on, Miss Savannah. I already picked out the perfect spot." Isabelle grabbed her hand and tugged, leaving Savannah no choice but to follow. Her toe caught on the edge of a paver and she stumbled again, would have fallen if Aaron hadn't caught her with one steadying hand on her arm.
"Great. She's drunk."
Savannah opened her mouth to deny the accusation but Aaron spoke first, his voice harsh. "Brooke. Enough. She just tripped."
"Yeah, right." The girl didn't say anything else, which made Savannah wonder if Aaron had given her some kind of silent warning. She glanced over her shoulder but couldn't make out his expression in the dark—because it truly was dark now, the only light coming from the small flames of the firepit on her patio.
Isabelle lead her across the yard then stopped and released her hand. "Right here. Now all we have to do is wait. How much longer, Daddy?"
"Just a few more minutes." Aaron's voice was right behind her, so close she imagined she could feel his breath on her neck. She closed her eyes, refusing to let her thoughts stray down that particular path, and focused on the feel of the grass under her bare feet. Cool, damp, just rough enough to tickle the soles of her feet. She wiggled her toes in the short blades then caught herself as she swayed to the side.
No, it was Aaron who caught her, his large hand resting on her waist and steadying her. She glanced over her shoulder, saw the brief flash of his smile in the darkness. He leaned toward her, his mouth close to her ear, his voice pitched to a low whisper.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Mhmm."
"A little buzzed?"
Savannah raised her hand, thumb and forefinger spread a half an inch apart. "Maybe a little."
He chuckled, the sound dangerously low and warm. Her skin pebbled and heat unfurled in her belly, traveling through her body and settling between her legs. She pulled in a deep breath and tried to put more distance between them. Aaron's hand tightened around her waist and pulled her against him, her back flush against his body. Warm. Solid. And tempting. God, so tempting. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him, reveled in the touch of his hand as he traced small circles against her hip. It would be so easy to lean her head back, drape her arm around his neck as he kissed her, touched her. Dampness spread between her legs as she imagined the feel of those large hands dipping down the front of her pants, the feel of those long fingers teasing her hardened nipples.
"Okay, look west. It should be any second now."
Savannah's eyes snapped open, her body stiffening at the sound of Aaron's voice. Dear God, what was she doing? They were standing in his yard, with his daughters not three feet away, looking for a flash in the night sky, and all she could think about was his hands on her naked body? Savannah uttered a silent prayer of thanks for the blackness of night, knowing it hid the embarrassment burning her face.
"There it is! I see it! I see it!" Isabelle jumped up and down, her finger pointed skyward, following the trail of the steady dot of light as it moved overhead.
And quickly disappeared.
"That was lame."
"Was not!" Isabelle turned toward her father, excitement still clear in her voice. "Daddy, can we go to the Air and Space Museum this weekend? I want to see all the spaceships and stuff."
"Maybe Sunday, we'll see."
"Miss Savannah, do you want to go with us?"
"No, stupid. Why would she do that? She doesn't care about stupid space stuff. Nobody does."
"I'm not stupid!"
Cool air washed over Savannah's back as Aaron stepped away from her. "Both of you, enough. Get inside and get ready for bed, I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm going to walk Savannah home."
"That's okay, I don't need—"
"I said, I'll walk you home."
"You heard her. She said she didn't need you to." Brooke's voice was laced with bitterness. Savannah couldn't make out the expression on the girl's face, but she had no trouble imagining it: the unseen scowl was as clear as the displeasure in her voice.
"Doesn't matter, because that's what a gentleman does. Now inside, both of you. It's already past your bedtime."
Both girls groaned but the argument Savannah expected didn't come. That didn't stop either one of them from muttering under their breath as they headed toward the house and disappeared inside.
Aaron breathed a sigh of relief, his muttered words too low to make out. Savannah bit back a grin and started walking back to her house. "I take it that means progress is being made?"
"Maybe. I'm afraid to get my hopes up, though."
"Like I said, it just takes time." The pavers of her patio were cold under her feet as she moved to the firepit and turned it off. Pitch black darkness surrounded them and she blinked, trying to restore her night vision. She turned and collided with one of the chairs, stubbing her toe in the process. Aaron's hand wrapped around her elbow, his warm chuckle echoing in the chill air around them.
"I guess it's a good thing I did walk you home."
"You didn't have to. I'm fine." And she was—she even found the back door with no problem. She curled her hand around the handle and started to push the door open. Strong arms wrapped around her, spinning her around. And then Aaron's mouth was on hers, the kiss hot and wet, demanding. Needy. She sighed and leaned into him, her hands clinging to his arms for support.
He pulled away too soon, leaving her breathless and needing more. She felt his hand caress her face, felt his fingers trail through the strands of her hair before tucking them behind her ear.
"That's why I walked you home."
"I—" She swallowed, nodded, swallowed again as she tried to catch her breath. "Okay."
She saw the quick flash of his grin then his mouth was on hers again, just as demanding, feeding the frantic desire spiraling out of control. She leaned into him, ran her foot up his leg and back down, wanting to leap into his arms. Wanting to wrap her legs around his waist, wanting to feel him deep inside her.
Needing to feel him.
But once again he pulled away, his breathing harsh and ragged. She heard him swear, the soft words disappearing into the surrounding night. "I need to get back."
"Oh." She swallowed her disappointment. Of course, he needed to get back. She knew that. Of course she did.
But God, how she wished he didn't.
"Our home opener is Saturday. Did you want to go? I can get tickets."
Savannah blinked, her hazy mind not making the connection right away. His game. He was talki
ng about his game. "Oh. Um, sure. Okay."
"Did you want me to get a ticket for Tessa?"
"For who? Oh. Yes. I mean, if it's not too much trouble."
"It's not." He leaned forward, kissed her again, slow and deep. "About Sunday."
"Hm?" And God, why was she having such a hard time following his conversation? It had to be the wine, even if she wasn't drunk.
"Would you mind hanging out with an old man when he takes his two daughters to the Air and Space Museum?"
Was it her imagination, or was that hesitant hope she heard in his quiet voice? It must be her imagination. Or maybe the wine again.
And she should say no. She really should. This was different than going to lunch, or sneaking a kiss in the darkness on her patio. This was almost like…she wasn't sure, didn't know if she really wanted to analyze it that closely.
It didn't matter because she should still say no.
"Okay, yeah. That'll be fun."
Aaron chuckled, the sound just a little surprised. "I don't know about all that, but we can always hope." He caught her mouth again, the kiss entirely too short before he stepped away.
"I'll bring those tickets over tomorrow."
And then he was gone, leaving Savannah standing there in the darkness, wondering what she had just agreed to.
And cursing herself for having that fourth glass of wine, even if she hadn't finished it.
Chapter Nine
Legs stretched, muscles burned, lungs struggled to pull in air. Aaron clenched his jaw and pushed through it, ignoring the pain, forcing his body forward.
Move. Move, dammit.
He bent at the waist and slid right, pain shooting through his knee with the move. He forced the pain to the back of his mind and reached around with his stick, shoving at the puck. His blade tipped it, sending it sliding to the left and earning him a hard elbow in the ribs for his efforts. He ignored the hit, ignored the way his breath left in a sharp hiss, and spun around. He jabbed his elbow behind him, catching the player from Syracuse in the side, then took off up the ice.
Just a little bit of payback.
Jason moved forward with the puck, dodging to the left, crossing into the zone. Aaron was right behind him, Harland to his right, racing to get into position.
"Emory!" Aaron called Jason's name and tapped his stick against the ice, the clacking sound muted and hollow. Jason pivoted, shot the puck toward Aaron, a perfect pass against his tape. He moved forward, his mind registering the activity exploding around him. Syracuse's d-man, coming in hard and low. Harland, spinning around and getting into position. Syracuse's goalie, already anticipating Harland's shot as he slid to the right, dropping to one knee.
And Jason, wide open on the left. Aaron tightened his grip on the stick, flicked his wrist, and sent the puck straight to Jason's tape. The other man turned and shot, sending the puck straight to the top shelf.
Something heavy crashed into Aaron from behind, sending him sprawling face-first as the blare of the horn ripped through the cheers filling the arena. He got to his knees, moving slower than he wanted, then jumped to his feet, his stick and gloves already flying. The ref was there before he could throw the first punch, pulling him back as Harland and Jason and Ben and Dustin Rios rushed to his defense, ready to join in the fight.
But there was no fight, because the ref had acted too quickly, stopping it before they got the chance to start.
"Stupid fuck." Aaron muttered the words under his breath as he shot a stream of spit to the ice. And okay, maybe the words were louder than they should have been because the idiot from Syracuse spun around, ready to charge him again. Aaron just laughed, collecting his gear from Harland before making his way to the bench.
The kid was new, playing his first year, and had been trying to prove himself the entire game. Prove what, Aaron had no idea. He was hitting too late, anticipating the wrong moves, waiting too long to pass or take a shot. Yeah, it was the first game of the season, there was plenty of time to smooth the rough edges. But if the kid had dreams of getting called up—and Aaron knew he did, hell they all did, that's what they were here for—then he needed to work a little harder on finessing those rough edges.
He slid to a stop in front of Syracuse's bench, jabbing Scotty Wells on the side of the arm. He was another old-timer, just like Aaron. Fuck, probably older. They had played together for two seasons in Buffalo, a lifetime ago.
"Your boy needs to work on his timing."
"Yeah, no shit." Scotty leaned to the side and spit, then grinned at Aaron, revealing a hole where his front tooth had once been. "Noticed he still put you on your ass, though. Old man."
"Not as old as you. Or as fucking ugly."
"Yeah. Says who?"
"Your wife."
Scotty threw his head back and laughed, then reached out and bumped Aaron's fist with his own. "We'll catch up later."
"Sounds good." Aaron skated forward and pushed through the door of the Bombers' bench, resting his stick against the boards behind him and reaching for a water bottle. A sharp pain shot through his side and he winced, straightening with a hiss.
Travis Bankard slid closer, his brow lowered in concern. "You okay, Pops?"
"Yeah, fine." Aaron yanked at his jersey and pulled it up, craning his neck to study his side. A bruise was already forming, mottling the flesh along his lower rib cage. He gently poked at it with the tips of two fingers, pushing and prodding around his ribs, lower along his side, back up again. Didn't feel like anything was broken. That was always a positive sign.
He let the hem of the jersey fall back into place then accepted the water bottle Travis held out to him. He took a long swallow, his gaze meeting Coach Torresi's. The other man moved toward him, his green eyes carefully blank.
"Everything good?"
"Yeah."
"Need tape?"
Aaron glanced at the scoreboard and noted the time. "It can wait."
"You going to be pissing blood?"
"Don't think so."
Torresi nodded, the motion short and efficient. "Let me know if anything changes."
Aaron nodded then turned his attention back to the game. They were just over a minute away from the end of the second period, and the Bombers were still two ahead on the board. Not a bad start for their first game.
And not a bad way to impress Savannah. Maybe. The woman knew absolutely nothing about hockey so she might not be impressed at all.
He resisted the urge to look around for her, figuring he'd catch even more shit from the guys if he did. He had let it slip earlier that he had a guest here tonight, that she might be joining him at Mystic's after the game. From the stunned looks he received, you'd think he had just announced that Mr. Hockey himself had been resurrected and was coming to York to be their new coach. And Christ, if he had known it was going to be that bad, he would have never said a word.
The horn sounded again, long and loud, signaling the end of the period. Aaron rose to his feet with everyone else and grabbed his stick, waiting to follow the rest of the team back through the tunnel. He shifted his gaze to the left, trying to study the crowd without being obvious about it. It didn't matter because he couldn't see a damn thing, not with the way everyone was standing and moving around, heading out to the concourse for refreshments or to use the bathroom, or whatever the hell else people did during intermission.
The interrogation started near the end of the intermission, after Torresi had given them his usual spiel, after cuts had been bandaged, ice packs handed out, and Aaron's ribs had been taped. He felt like he was holding court, right there from the bench as he pressed his arm against his side and willed the pain to go away.
Six of the guys hovered around him, curiosity mingled with concern as they watched him holding his side. Well fuck, did he look that bad?
He dropped his arm and eyed his teammates, wondering if he should just draw fucking numbers to see who went first. It didn't reach that point because Jason broke the ice by jumping right to the p
oint.
"Okay, Pops. Who's this date and why haven't we heard about her?"
Aaron blinked, ready to shake his head at the stupid question. Zach beat him to it by elbowing Jason in the side hard enough to cause the other man to stumble. "You are fucking stupid. You know that, right?"
"What?"
"Are you really that unobservant? It's his neighbor, you stupid fuck."
"His neighbor?"
"Yeah. Remember her? You should, you fucking walked in on them at Aaron's house this summer."
Recognition finally flared in Jason's pale eyes, a quick grin spreading across her face. "So you guys are together now? Cool."
Aaron swallowed back his choked laughter and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. One of these days, things would finally click for Jason. Until then, Megan had her hands full.
"We're not together. I just got her tickets for the game tonight, that's all."
"If that's all, why are you bringing her to Mystic's?"
Aaron glanced to his right, his gaze meeting Travis' solemn one before sliding away. "I just invited her along. You guys are reading too much into it."
"Bullshit, I know better." Zach dropped to the bench beside him then leaned forward, stretching his back with a few sharp pops. "What about the girls? You're not actually going to bring them to Mystic's, are you? I mean, I don't think you can. It's a bar."
"Isabelle and Brooke are home. My mom's watching them." He still felt a little guilty about that, and probably would have changed his plans if his mother hadn't insisted. Brooke had been throwing a fit about coming tonight anyway, telling him every chance she got that hockey was stupid and she didn't want to waste a Saturday night watching him play some stupid game.
Yeah, because spending it in her room was so much more exciting.
Isabelle had been the one who was disappointed—until he gave her a choice between staying up late and going to the game tonight, or going down to DC tomorrow. The Air and Space Museum had won, hands down.
But yeah, he still felt a little guilty. Would it always be this way? His gaze slid to Harland, the only other guy on the team with a kid.
Playing It Safe Page 7
