Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  Landon patted her knee. "Open the door, chérie. You'll see, it won't be that bad."

  Right. I'm sure they've got the welcome mat laid out. She shook her head and sighed. "You don't get it. Oriana isn't speaking to me. This is her house and—"

  "She's your sister." Landon frowned at her shrug and got out of the car. He came around to her side and opened her door. "Come on. You'll feel better after you two hash this out."

  She sincerely doubted it, but she took his hand and joined him on the sidewalk before slamming her door with resounding finality. Landon was wrong, this wouldn't make anything better, but at least she could say she'd tried.

  His solid grip on her hand gave her strength as they approached the house, but as they started up the stairs and the door opened, she jerked her hand free. Holding on to him would make her look even more pathetic.

  Landon paused and looked back from a step ahead.

  "You okay?" He mouthed.

  Giving him a curt nod, she forced herself onto the porch and smiled at her sister who held the door open for them. "Hey."

  "Hey." Oriana pressed her lips together, then turned to Landon with a brilliant smile. "I'm so happy you took Max up on his offer. Come in. I'll show you to your room."

  "Thanks." Landon reached back and put his hand on the small of Silver's back, propelling her forward with him. "I really appreciate this, but . . . well, maybe Max can show me the room while you two talk?"

  "That's a mighty fine idea." Max came to Oriana's side and whispered something to her before gesturing to Landon. "It's not the biggest room in the house, but I think you'll be comfortable."

  The men disappeared behind a door just off the large living room. Silver nibbled at her bottom lip and tried to ignore the fact that Oriana was glaring at her. "Look, I know you're upset, but—"

  Her phone buzzed in her purse.

  "You should get that." Oriana turned away and said lightly. "Would you like something to drink? I have wine—not the stuff you're used to, but it's pretty good."

  Silver swallowed. "No, that's okay."

  At another buzz she reached in her purse and checked her phone. Dean's number flashed on the screen.

  "Diet coke? Beer?" Oriana called from the kitchen.

  "Diet coke, please." Silver glanced over to where Sloan watched her from the sofa and decided to take Dean's call. She held the phone up to her ear and tried to keep her voice level. "Hello?"

  After a brief pause, Dean spoke, his tone gruff. "What's wrong?"

  "Umm . . . ." She peered up at Dominik as he sauntered down the stairs halfway across the hall. "I'm going to take this outside, if you don't mind?"

  "Go ahead."

  Outside, she took a deep breath and let out a light laugh. "Why would you think something's wrong?"

  "Silver, don't play games with me. You sound tense and so far you've failed to make one smart-assed remark."

  "Ah." She giggled and wrapped her pony tail around her hand as she gazed up at the pinprick star laden sky. "Sorry. How's this—miss me already?"

  "Of course. Why wouldn't I miss your sass?" He chuckled, but for some reason she didn't think he was joking. "I know I told you I wanted to be professional at work, but neither of us is at work now. I'd appreciate some honesty."

  "Honesty? Well, I'll give you one thing. You have excellent timing."

  "How so?"

  "I'm at Max's place and . . . things are a little awkward." To put it lightly. She made a face. "Oriana isn't happy I'm here."

  "I see." Dean paused, then sighed. "Why are you?"

  Resting her hip on the railing, she tried to put her thoughts into some semblance of order. "Landon thought it would be a good idea for us to talk—but that was after I'd already agreed to come hang out. Max invited him to stay and . . . I guess told me I could come along expecting me to say no."

  "So naturally you didn't." Dean snorted. "I would have liked to be there to see his reaction."

  Silver let out a sharp laugh. "I would have taken a picture if I could have. But now—I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time . . . ."

  "What is the problem exactly? If you don't mind me asking?"

  "Oriana found out I'd considered trading Sloan."

  "So what?"

  So what? Her brow furrowed. This from the man who'd almost blown a gasket when she'd brought it up? "You're kidding, right?"

  "Silver, you know how I feel about the matter. Still, Oriana knows enough about the game to know these things happen. If we decided trading Sloan would benefit the team he would be traded." Dean waited, as if to gauge her response, then groaned when she didn't say a word. "You both have to understand something, and I will tell her myself if you don't. This can't be personal. If I can analyze my own brother's performance before deciding whether or not he's suitable as a coach, she'll have to accept that I will do the same for the players, whether or not they're in a relationship with the owner's daughter—or sister." He amended. "Do you understand?"

  "Yes, but . . . ." Silver held the phone with her shoulder and braced her hands to the railing. "She hates me for even thinking about it."

  "That's her problem, not yours." He spoke softly, soothing her with his deep timbre. "I would assure her that you won't make the decision based on your own opinion of Sloan as a person, but you cannot promise that he won't be traded just because he is, in essence, your brother-in-law."

  "Legally he isn't."

  "Don't be petty, dear, that won't help your case." He cleared his throat. "Now, I called because I sent you a text about the press conference tomorrow, but I wasn't sure if you'd seen it."

  She vaguely recalled the text. Hadn't she replied? "I got it and I'll be there. You don't need to worry, I'm good with the media."

  "Yes, but this isn't Hollywood. The press will come down on you hard for signing Demyan." He exhaled sharply into the phone. "I thought you should be warned that he'll likely prove that you made a mistake."

  Uck, not this again! "Dean, I know you don't like him, but give the guy a chance. You haven't even seen him play yet!"

  "No, but I should have today. He decided he was too sick."

  "Oh . . . well people do get sick."

  "He was faking, Silver. He felt well enough to hit on a trainer and Bower's sister."

  Silver winced. She didn't know the trainer, but she'd noticed the press badge on Rebecca's jacket. The guy was either cocky, or stupid, or both. "How do we deal with this?"

  "Let me deal with it. I just wanted you prepared. Most of the league knows you made this trade without me."

  "So I'll look stupid."

  "Not at all. I've made it clear I support the trade."

  Blinking fast, Silver straightened and shook her head. "Why would you do that? You didn't support it!"

  "And?"

  "And why should you look bad because of my decision?"

  "Don't worry, I'll survive." He chuckled again and goose bumps rose on her flesh. "We've got a good team. This is nothing. At worse we make him a healthy scratch for most of the season. That should get him in line."

  Not that she had any clue what a healthy scratch was, but his support had her ready to agree to anything. "Good. I can agree to that. But . . . I'm sorry if I made thing harder for you."

  "Just promise not to do it again."

  I can't do it again. Daddy made sure of that. But he wasn't rubbing it in, so she quickly agreed. And looked inside to see Landon in the living room speaking with her sister and the other guys. "I promise. But I should go in now. See you tomorrow?"

  "About that . . . ." Dean inhaled roughly. "I think we should meet before the press conference and make sure we're on the same page. I know a place that serves crepes if you'd be okay with a breakfast meeting."

  She bit back a smile. "I'd like that. But I've got to say, I'm surprised you'd go out for breakfast since you seem to be such a good cook."

  "What gave you that idea?"

  "You said you wouldn't let me and Landon in your kitchen. Must
mean you think you can do better than we can."

  "That's not hard. Apparently neither of you can cook without hurting yourselves."

  "I still can't picture you cooking."

  "Really? Maybe you should come to my place in the morning."

  "Sure. What time?"

  "It will have to be early. Can you make it to my place by 6?"

  Movie marathon and breakfast at 6am? It was already after 10. Still, she didn't want to cut her night with Landon short or miss seeing Dean bent over a hot stove. Her mouth watered as she imagined him in some low riding pyjama pants—or boxers. Unlikely, but . . . hell, sleep's overrated.

  "I'll be there. Can you text me your address?"

  "Will do," he said. "And Silver?"

  "Yes?"

  "Chin up. I wouldn't rub it in, but keep in mind, you sign these guys' checks."

  After a quick goodnight, she smiled at the phone and stuck it in her purse. Dean made her feel . . . worthy. Of the team and more. She re-entered the house with her shoulders back and her head held high.

  "—I know you aren't cleared for practice, Landon." Sloan was saying. "But I try to get the guys to hit the sack before midnight. You should get used to it."

  "I've got some pretty good routines set up, Captain." Landon grinned at Silver and held out a Diet Coke. "But today's been a trying day. Max invited Silver, so I hope you don't mind if she hangs out with me in my room for a bit." He winked at her. "We'll be careful not to disturb anyone."

  Silver took a sip and choked a little at the implication in his words. His teasing didn't usually bother her, but did he have to make it sound like they'd be . . .

  Sloan muttered under his breath. "Why am I not surprised?"

  Landon patted her back and arched a brow at Sloan. "What can I say? Silver cracks me up with her impersonations."

  I do? Once, during a Clint Eastwood movie, she'd repeated a line. Okay, maybe more than once. But she'd tried to be quiet. Had he really 'cracked up' because of her?

  Dominik laughed, put his arm around Oriana's shoulder, and inclined his head to Silver. "Apparently it runs in the family."

  Oriana pursed her lips. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm going to bed. Landon, do you need anything? You're about the same size as Max—maybe he can lend you some pyjama pants?"

  "Naw, I'm good," Landon said. "Thank you."

  Before Oriana could leave, Silver stepped forward and blurted out. "Can we talk?"

  "Go ahead," Oriana said, tersely.

  "Alone?"

  Her sister folded her arms over her chest. "No. I know what this is about and I'd rather not talk about Sloan behind his back. If you have something to say, have the guts to say it to his face."

  "Fine." Silver ran her tongue over her teeth and recalled Dean's words. Chin up. Landon's presence steadied her resolve as she faced Oriana. "I'm sorry you heard about the trade I considered from Anne, but I won't apologize for considering it. And I can't promise that I won't consider it in the future. But if the general manager and I decide selling his contract would benefit the team, I will let you know before you hear it from anyone else."

  Sloan grunted and held up his beer in a sarcastic 'cheers'. "That's good to know."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Callahan, were you expecting special treatment because you hooked up with a family member?" She watched Dominik and Max through the corner of her eye and relaxed when she saw at least they got it. "The Dartmouth Cobras are just like any other club and I think you have enough experience to know what that means. You'll be a free agent at the end of this year. There will be a lot of discussion over whether or not to re-sign you. It's nothing personal."

  Lips drawn in a tight line, eyes narrowed, Sloan nodded.

  Oriana slid her hand down Dominik's arm to lace her fingers with his, then reached out to put her free hand on Sloan's shoulder. "So you won't go after him just because you don't like him?"

  "No."

  "Okay." Oriana closed her eyes and inhaled. "Okay. I can accept that." Her eyes met Silver's, still slightly guarded, but not resentful. "Do you want me to show you how to set up the DVD player? Or get you some snacks?"

  A peace offering? Despite how easily Oriana had forgiven her before, this time, she'd wondered if she'd gone too far. But Dean's advice had saved her. She wasn't hungry, but she could hear Landon's stomach growling. The corners of her mouth lifted. "This man eats for twenty. I'll come help you get the snacks. I'm sure he can figure out how to set things up."

  All the men seemed to let out a sigh of relief as one. In the kitchen, Oriana pointed out the cupboards with the snack foods while she put together a plate full of sandwiches. After a long span of silence, Oriana came to her side and nudged her with an elbow.

  "So, what happened with the lawyers?"

  Silver put some freshly popped popcorn in a bowl and shrugged. "It didn't work out."

  "Oh." Oriana frowned and set the plate on a large silver tray. "And you and Landon . . . ?"

  "Are just friends." Suddenly she wanted to tell her sister everything, but she had no idea where to start. She'd never had any trouble giving her sister all the gritty details, and yet, well, there weren't any. Her nose wrinkled. "It's . . . different, but good. And neither of us wants to ruin what we have by . . . you know."

  Oriana blinked. "What? You've got to give me something. I'm usually begging you to stop sharing and—"

  "There's nothing, sis. Landon wants to stay friends. So do I. It's pretty simple."

  "Is it?"

  Nope. Silver shrugged again, picked up the tray, and headed to Landon's room, trying not to think about how good it felt just to be near him, about how hard it was to ignore the way her body reacted to his touch. She never answered her sister, but as Landon sat up from the bed and took the tray from her, she answered herself.

  It's not simple at all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bzzzz.

  Dean shook his head as he rubbed his hair with a towel and glanced at the clock. 5:30am, now that surprised him. He took Silver for the type of girl who'd show up late just to make an entrance. Not to mention the time it took her to get all primped. Two hours was standard for most of the women he dated. She probably hadn't gotten much sleep, if any.

  This isn't a date, Richter.

  He acknowledged the unwelcome thought with a nod and made his way to the door, hesitating for a moment to consider his unbuttoned white shirt. Whatever people said about Silver, one thing was certain—she took her job seriously. If she considered this a business meeting, shouldn't he keep up appearances?

  Bzzzzzzz!

  Impatient little thing. He sighed, unlocked, then opened the door. "You're early."

  "Oh." She tongued her bottom lip and stared at his bare chest. "I'm sorry. I lost track of time and I didn't want to be late." She shifted the black suit bag slung over her shoulder and ducked her head. Her hair, usually perfectly styled, bobbed in a hastily done ponytail. "I was hoping I could get ready here—if you don't mind . . . ?"

  "Not at all." He let her in and smothered a grin as he looked her over. T-shirt and jeans, both so rumpled he was willing to bet she'd slept in them. Probably not in her own bed. His withheld grin vanished. "I just took a shower, so you might want to wait a bit for the water to heat up."

  A blush spread over her cheeks. "You'll let me take a shower?"

  "Why wouldn't I?"

  "I don't know—I just—well you don't want to—" She swallowed. "Uck, I'm going to shut up now."

  Apparently the Delgado princess wasn't the woman who'd come to his door. She'd show up if Silver got too nervous, but he'd keep her at bay as long as he could.

  Shaking his head, he traced her bottom lip with an index finger. "I do want to, Silver."

  She hissed in air and her tongue touched his fingertip. "Then . . . ."

  "You will give yourself to me at the club, pet. Not before."

  "Says who?" She looked away and crossed her arms over her breasts. "Even if I go back, why t
he hell would I hook up with you? Been there, done that. We're both here now. It's convenient."

  "I wouldn't say that."

  With perfect timing as always, his daughter slinked out of her room, her blanket creased face pale and a little grey. "Coffee, dad?"

  "Try some orange juice first, sweetie." Dean moved away from Silver and grabbed his daughter's arms as she teetered in the general direction of the kitchen. "Vodka?"

  "Tequila." Jami groaned as he helped her to the table. "Never drinking it again."

  If only . . . he went to the fridge and took out the orange juice. At the counter, he poured his daughter a tall glass and glared out the window while he regained his composure. It was just a phase, not a reflection of his parenting. Still, as much as he tried to convince himself this was true, part of him knew it didn't matter. He was failing his daughter. And he had no idea what to do about it.

  Asking Silver to come here had been a mistake.

  "Try this." Silver took the seat at his daughter's side and handed her a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. "If you're not still feeling pukey, it should help."

  Jami twisted her lips and laughed. "Who the fuck are you? One of his 'pets'? He doesn't usually bring them home."

  The muscles in Silver's jaw tensed, but her expression didn't change. "I'm your daddy's boss."

  "So he's not fucking you?"

  "Jami!" Dean stepped up between the women and shook his head. Damn it, he'd raised her better than this! "Apologize this instant!"

  "No." Silver held up her hand and leaned close to Jami. "You really want to know, or are you just hung over and pissed off? I'm guessing you're at least eighteen because otherwise daddy wouldn't let you go out and get plastered, would he? You've got all the freedom you want, and you know what, that's fine. But if you fuck up, that's your problem, not his. Be a big girl and own it, Jami."

  "Who the hell do you think you are?" Jami pushed away from the table and almost tripped over her chair. "You don't know me! You don't know what my life is like! How dare you judge me!"

  "I'm not judging you." Silver shrugged and peeled the banana. She took a big bite, chewed, swallowed, and smiled. "But I don't see Dean raising a stupid kid. You'll get it eventually."