He rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt, the bag jerking his arm as it slid off his shoulder.
Well, if she did, she was already gone, because there wasn’t a beat-up red car anywhere in sight.
Fuck. Now what?
Disappointment swept through him. Disappointment? Who the fuck was he kidding? He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it was a hundred times worse than disappointment. Disappointment he could live with. But this—no, this was something worse. An emptiness that chilled him from somewhere deep inside, so deep he hadn’t even realized that part of him existed. And the emptiness was growing, spreading out, taking over his entire body until he thought he’d just disappear.
Fuck.
He wanted to hit something, to ram his fist into the wall over and over until he couldn’t feel anything at all. This—whatever this was he was feeling—he hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t expected the misery he’d been feeling the last two weeks, the almost desperate need to see Bridget, to talk to her. To apologize.
Yeah. To grovel.
But she hadn’t been home the few times he stopped by, wouldn’t answer his calls. And when he saw her tonight…yeah, maybe he had made an ass out of himself, but he didn’t care. He had hoped—
Well, it didn’t matter what he hoped. It didn’t matter, because Bridget wasn’t talking to him, period. And he didn’t know what else he could do, what else he should do.
The elevator dinged behind him, the sound sharp and surprising in the damp concrete space. Another ding echoed on top of the first one, signaling the arrival of the second elevator. Then laughter and voices, too happy, too cheerful, bounced off the walls, grating on his nerves. It wasn’t right that people could still be laughing, not when he was pretty sure he’d never laugh again.
“Hey, Caulton. What are you still doing here? The way you flew out of the locker room, I thought you had someplace else to go.”
Great, just what he needed. Mat, of all people. And who knew who else was with him? The last thing he needed was to have Mat lecture him, because there was no doubt in his mind that Mat knew exactly what he had been doing.
Or trying to do.
Derek swallowed back the sarcastic reply that he wanted to scream and forced a smile on his face. Or maybe it was a grimace. He didn’t know, didn’t care. Then he turned around, ready to tell Mat and everyone else with him to just get lost, to go to hell. Something.
Except no words came out at all, nothing more than a barely audible hiss when the group moved closer. Mat, Brad, Kenny. Even Justin, looking too pale, too shaky, too out of it.
And dammit. There was Melanie and Ciarra, another one of the girls from the dance team. He didn’t miss the warm smile Melanie gave him, didn’t miss the seductive way she pushed pass Brad as she moved toward him.
But he didn’t bother smiling back. Hell, he barely noticed her. His eyes were completely focused on Bridget, with her baggy track pants and oversized sweatshirt. With her thick curly hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, the color glowing deep red like warm fire. And her eyes, those deep emerald eyes staring at him from behind wire-rimmed glasses.
“Bridget.”
Her eyes widened. In surprise? Something else? Derek didn’t care. He stepped forward, not paying attention to anyone else, wanting only to reach Bridget.
A hand closed around his wrist, stopping him. He glanced down, irritated, then looked up as Melanie inched even closer, pressing her ample chest against his arm.
“Derek. Are we finally going for those drinks you’ve been promising me?”
Fuck. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not now. He looked over at Bridget but she was already walking away. Dammit.
“Well? Are we?”
“Not interested, sorry.” Derek yanked his arm from Melanie’s grasp and stepped around her, ignoring her outraged gasp, ignoring the chuckles and comments from everyone else. “Bridget. Bridget, wait!”
Derek hurried his steps, finally catching up to her. He tossed the bag to the side and grabbed her hand, threading his fingers through hers and tugging. “Bridget, wait. Please.”
“What, Derek? What do you want?”
“You. I want you.”
“Really?” She pulled her hand from his grasp and fisted it on her hip. “Been there, done that, remember?”
“No, not like that. I want you. To spend time with you, to just…be with you.”
Her eyes widened, but only for a brief second before they narrowed. He held his breath, expecting her to take a step back, to walk away. What would he do if she did? He didn’t know.
“I’m not interested, Derek.”
“Why?”
“Seriously? You have to ask me why, after what you did the other week?”
“I was an ass. I know that. I—there’s nothing I can say to make up for it, and I know saying I’m sorry won’t help. But I am sorry. I just…all I’m asking for is a second chance.”
Bridget didn’t move, just kept staring at him with those huge green eyes. He held his breath, waiting, hoping. Then she shook her head and took a step back.
“Why? Why do you even care?”
“Because—” He swallowed and looked over his shoulder. Yeah, sure enough they had an audience. Fuck it, he didn’t care. He’d do whatever he had to for that second chance.
He turned back to Bridget then dropped to his knees, the concrete hard, cold, unforgiving. Bridget’s eyes widened, her gaze bouncing from him to the crowd behind them, then back to him. An expression of horror crossed her face and she tried to take another step back but Derek reached out and grabbed her hand, holding her in place.
“What are you doing?” Her clipped words were nothing more than a hissed whisper, meant for his ears only. He shook his head and tightened his hand around hers. And when he spoke, he made sure it was loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I’m groveling. I was told groveling helps.” He ignored the choked laughter coming from behind him and tugged on Bridget’s hand, pulling her closer. “I like you, Bridget. Really like you. And I think we could really have something good between us. Just—all I want is a second chance. To prove that I’m not as big an ass as you think.”
Bridget blinked and looked around, her hand relaxing just the slightest bit in his hold. “Derek—”
He shook his head, interrupting her. “I like who I am with you, Bridget. I like who I want to be with you. Please. That’s all I’m asking for. A second chance, to see if we’re as good together as I know we can be.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” She squeezed her eyes closed and tilted her head back, her jaw clenching. Shit, she was going to say no. He knew it, could feel it in his gut. Something like panic, cold and heavy, gripped him, shaking him.
“Bridget.” Her name was nothing more than a whisper, broken and desperate. But she didn’t pull her hand from his like he expected, didn’t turn and run away. She took a deep breath and finally opened her eyes, looking down at him. Then she shook her head and tugged on his hand.
“This is ridiculous. Stand up. No—” She shook her head again, stopping him before he could say anything, and pulled on his hand. “Stand up.”
Derek tightened his grip on her hand and pushed to his feet, helped by her tugging. He didn’t pause, didn’t stop to think, just pulled her into his arms and held her against him.
Bridget placed the flat of her palms against his chest and for one horrifying second, he was afraid she was going to push him away. But she didn’t. Instead she tilted her head back, her brows creased in confusion as she stared up at him.
“Why? I don’t understand. Why me?”
“Because you’re nothing like anyone I know. And because I need someone like you in my life.” He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Bridget. But I do know I want to at least try. Will you give me that second chance? Take a chance on me? On us?”
She stared up at him, her e
yes wide and dazed, her mouth slightly parted. And Derek held his breath, waiting, trying not to lose himself in the depths of those eyes. “I think you’re insane.”
“So is that a yes?”
“I still don’t understand why.”
“Then you’ll just have to hang around so I can show you.”
“Groveling? Really?”
Derek laughed. “Did it work?”
“Maybe. A little. I’ll let you know after.”
“After what?”
“After you kiss her, asshole. Shit, do I have to teach you everything?”
Derek cringed then looked over his shoulder. “Dammit Mathias—”
Bridget’s palm closed over his cheek, turning his head back to face her. He didn’t miss the amusement in her eyes. Amusement and something else, something that radiated out and filled him with warmth.
“He’s right, you know. This is the part where you kiss me.” Then she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his, her lips warm, welcoming.
Derek tightened his arms around her and held her close, losing himself in the kiss until it was just the two of them.
No, he didn’t know what would happen, what the future held. But he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t give up, not until Bridget was his.
Not even then.
###
Thank you.
Thank you for purchasing this copy of PLAYMAKER: A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella. All proceeds from your purchase will be donated to support cancer research and patient care.
Please take a moment to visit Seduced By The Game to learn more about this project and find out latest donation amounts.
Other titles by this author:
THE BALTIMORE BANNERS
Crossing the Line, Book 1
Game Over, Book 2
Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3
Body Check, Book 4
Break Away, Book 5
Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella
Seduced By The Game Cancer Charity Collection
Delay of Game, Book 6
Shoot Out, Book 7
Available April, 2016
FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN
Once Burned, Book 1
Playing With Fire, Book 2
Available May, 2016
Breaking Protocol, Book 3
Available July, 2016
STAND-ALONE TITLES
Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)
Finding Dr. Right
Time To Heal
About the Author:
Lisa B. Kamps is the author of the best-selling series The Baltimore Banners, featuring “hard-hitting, heart-melting hockey players”, on and off the ice. Her much-anticipated new series, Firehouse Fourteen, features hot and heroic firefighters and will launch with ONCE BURNED in March, 2016.
Lisa grew up with an overactive imagination, strong encouragement from her parents, and an insatiable infatuation with the Peanuts gang. That infatuation—along with an impatience she has yet to outgrow—jump-started her love of writing. After all, why should she be forced to wait a whole week to read the stories of her favorite characters when she could create stories for them whenever she wanted?
That love of writing continued to grow, along with all those voices in her head, even during her assorted careers: first as a firefighter with the Baltimore County Fire Department, then a very brief (and not very successful) stint at bartending in east Baltimore, and finally as the Director of Retail Operations for a busy Civil War non-profit.
Lisa currently lives in Maryland with her husband and two sons, one very spoiled Border Collie, two cats with major attitude, several head of cattle, and entirely too many chickens to count.
Interested in reaching out to Lisa? She’d love to hear from you, and there are several ways to contact her:
Website: www.LisaBKamps.com
Newsletter: http://www.lisabkamps.com/signup/
Email: [email protected]
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorLisaBKamps
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LBKamps
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/LBKamps
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/lisabkamps
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lbkamps/
Do you want to connect with a great group of hockey romance authors and like-minded hockey fans? Then please join me at The Sin Bin!
The Sin Bin is a fun place to talk to other hockey romance readers and hockey fans, discover new books you might enjoy, interact with romance authors, drool over the male physique, and to generally bask in the board-bashing, emotional, testosterone-filled world of hockey romance.
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