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Making a Play

Page 13

by Victoria Denault


  “Love you, too.” I give her a quick, uneasy smile and then slip into the back of the cab.

  I’m exhausted, both emotionally and physically, but I’m looking forward to working tonight. It will keep me busy and maybe this pain in my chest will go away.

  Chapter 24

  Rose

  It’s a fairly busy shift, especially for a Sunday night. Usually we only draw a small group on Sundays. They come in to watch baseball on the TVs by the bar or play some pool and discuss their weekend adventures or grab food after a weekend camping trip. But tonight, we had an above average crowd. Luckily, Billy, the head bartender and manager when Cole wasn’t in, had called in another waitress, Tamara, to handle the overflow.

  I like being busy. It keeps my mind off thinking about Luc. It’s been a week since we got back from Atlantic City. One long, torturous week. I’ve seen Luc three times. He came to pick up Jordan for a workout, he dropped Jordan off after a workout and I dropped by his house quickly on my way to work to give him the gift certificates that local businesses had donated for the auction part of the charity event. All three times were awkward and made me feel like my heart was withering inside my chest. He looked just as uncomfortable. Every other waking moment that I wasn’t around him was filled with the memory of our night together. I couldn’t stop reliving it—I didn’t want to stop, even though I knew it was making me feel worse. It was like choosing to go on a hunger strike and then watching the Food Network twenty-four hours a day.

  There’s a particularly rowdy group of college guys by the pool tables. They’re flirty in that kind of belligerent way that is not at all enjoyable or complimentary. One of them waves me over with a smile, holding up his almost empty beer glass. I walk over and patiently wait while he finishes the last of his beer and leans so close I can smell the musky, overbearing scent of his aftershave. “Another round please, sexy.”

  I smile tightly and start back toward the bar. As Billy pours me a fresh pitcher of Sam Adams, his hazel eyes move around the bar and then light up. “Hey, Luc!”

  My chest constricts and my heart drops.

  “Hey, Billy. How are ya?” he replies, and I can’t help noticing his voice is flat and devoid of its usual happy lilt.

  “Rose, can we talk?” He’s right behind me, and even though he’s not touching me a ripple of electricity shoots down my spine anyway.

  “I’m working.”

  “I can wait until you’re on break,” he says simply, his chocolate eyes soft. “The caterer called to confirm some things for the benefit and I need your help.”

  “It’s really busy,” I reply swiftly. “I don’t know when I’ll get the chance. Can you just email me or something?”

  “I’ll wait. I’m sure you’ll have a moment eventually.”

  “Luc, I can’t, okay?” I blurt out and spin to face him.

  He looks like a kicked puppy, which makes me feel even worse. Fuck. “Sorry. It’s just busy.”

  “I understand.”

  “Give me ten…” I relent and then storm over to the frat boy table. When I get there, I carefully place the pitcher on it and smile brightly. The tallest, blondest, most lecherous one smiles appreciatively and turns back to the dartboard. The shortest of the group winks at me. “Thanks… umm… I don’t know your name.”

  “Rose.”

  “Sexy name.”

  I try not to make a face. What a dumb line. “Thanks.”

  “I’m—”

  “Gotta go! Busy night.” I turn and walk back to the bar, stopping to clear the empty wineglasses off a deserted table, delaying having to face Luc.

  Luc is sitting at one of the barstools, absently pushing a straw through his Sprite and talking to Billy. He smiles tenderly. “You’re back.”

  “Yeah. Let’s get this over with,” I mumble and glance at Billy. “Can you keep an eye on my tables? Just yell if someone needs me.”

  I walk over to a small vacant table by the hall to the restrooms and Luc follows me. We sit down facing each other and both move to put our hands on the table at the same time. My fingers bump his and I automatically pull back, dropping them into my lap instead.

  “So what do you need?”

  “They called to confirm the food for the opening night event,” he explains.

  “All finger food,” I reply, eyes focused on the table between us. “Mini bruschetta, chicken skewers with tzatziki dipping sauce, lamb skewers with mint dipping sauce, lobster paté on toast and fruit kebabs.”

  “So we went with lobster?”

  I nod.

  “Do you think we should add scallops? Or maybe something with tofu? In case someone is a vegetarian?”

  “It’s Silver Bay residents and hockey players,” I remind him. “They can’t spell vegetarian.”

  He laughs too hard at that and it makes the tension between us grow. He must feel it too because he stops laughing as abruptly as he started. “Okay. But what about—”

  “Luc, we don’t need more food or different food. We’re good.”

  “Seems like we’re far from good, Fleur.” I watch him lay his wide, strong hands palms down on the tabletop and slowly slide them toward me. “Look at me, baby.”

  He’s calling me baby now? My insides slowly start to dissolve, melting my willpower with it. My eyes lift to find his. Why does he have to be so beautiful with that angsty, sad look on his face? He’s killing me.

  “Luc, this is what you want,” I say as firmly as possible, which is not at all firm. I stand up, pushing back from the table. “If you need anything else to do with the benefit I will totally help you out, but maybe it’s better if we communicate mostly through texts and emails.”

  “So we’re avoiding each other now?” He sounds angry.

  “Is it easy on you to see me?” I demand. “Because it’s not easy on me. And I don’t want to make this harder.”

  His wide shoulders slump as Billy calls my name and points to my table of frat boys. I glance over and see that their pitcher is empty again. Great. I give Luc one last, long glance. He nods and I walk away. I can feel his eyes on me as I go and it makes my blood get warm again.

  “Everything okay?” Billy asks me quietly, concern plastered over his sharp features. “You look tense.”

  “They can invent a pill for restless leg syndrome, but they can’t invent a pill that stops your heart from wanting things your brain knows you can’t have? That’s horseshit,” I mutter and grab my tray off the bar, leaving a baffled Billy behind me.

  “We’ll settle our tab now, Rose,” the blond one says, his voice dropping an octave on my name, which he slurs as he steps toward me. I pull his bill from the glass on my tray where I have all my open bills tucked and hand it to him without so much as a smile. Drunk boys annoy me to no end.

  He pulls a twenty out of his wallet, collects another from his buddy and hands them to me. His bill is thirty-eight dollars and he’s given me forty.

  “I do have a tip for you,” he says. I glance up. He’s dipped his head down so he’s incredibly close to me. He hands me a scrap of paper with a number on it. “But you’ll have to call me to get it.”

  Is he fucking kidding right now?

  Before I realize what’s happening, he clamps a hand down on my shoulder. The unwanted, unexpected contact makes my whole body recoil instantly and I jump back. “Don’t touch me.”

  He reaches for me again and I take another step back, flipping the piece of paper with his phone number back at him. “Get out of here before I have the bartender throw you out.”

  I turn to walk away as his phone number drifts to the floor. “Fucking bitch.”

  I’m going to ignore him and just leave but directly in my path is Luc. I don’t know how long he’s been behind me but I can tell by the way he’s clenching his jaw that he heard what I was just called.

  “What’s wrong, Rosie?” Luc asks quietly, his eyes on the drunk kid. It’s the kind of quiet that is scarier than screaming.

  “Hey,
hockey star, why don’t you mind your own business,” the guy says to Luc with a cocky smile on his face. Now all three of his buddies and some of the surrounding tables are paying attention too.

  I feel a wave of panic swell in my chest. This is not good. This is so not good.

  Luc takes a step toward the guy. “Rose is my business.”

  “Aren’t you dating an underwear model?” one of the friends chimes in, and then his eyes land on me and a snarky grin spreads across his features. “Wait a minute! She’s the chick from the TMZ Sports thing!”

  So this is what hell feels like.

  “Shut the hell up. I will knock you on your ass,” Luc says in a low, irate whisper.

  “If you’re so tough, why can’t your hockey team unload you?” the one who hit on me asks. “Because everyone says they’re trying and no one wants you.”

  I jump in between them as soon as the words leave the kid’s mouth. I reach out and grab Luc’s arm as he starts to raise it, fist curled. In the same second, I put a palm flat against his chest and push him back.

  “Stop it!” I yell.

  Billy suddenly appears in front of us. “What’s going on?”

  “These drunks were giving me a hard time and being rude.”

  Billy looks at me, then at Luc. He swears under his breath. “You two leave this to me. Go. Now!”

  Billy looks as serious as a heart attack. Luc backs down, storming off to the bar again. I follow but when I reach the bar I drop my tray on the counter and storm toward the back of the club, past the restrooms and out the back door.

  I kick open the door as hard as I can. It slams against the brick wall outside and I jump down the one step onto the cracked concrete of the alley. I take a deep, cleansing breath of the warm night air and close my eyes tightly.

  I go over the tense scene in my head trying to remember if I saw anyone with their phone up. I really don’t want to be tabloid fodder again but, more important, I don’t want Luc to be tabloid fodder again.

  The side door swings open and bangs against the brick beside me and I look up. Luc is standing there.

  “What the hell are you doing, Luc?” I demand hotly.

  “I was getting ready to beat the shit out of an asshole, that’s what I was doing,” Luc snaps angrily.

  “Why are you acting like such an idiot?” I snap fiercely. “No team is going to want a guy who brawls in bars! I shouldn’t have to tell you this!”

  He runs a hand through his hair, sending it flying every which way, then balls up his fists and shoves them into his pockets. “He was slobbering all over you and you were upset. I’m not going to let some drunk fuck treat you like that!”

  “This is why we have to stay away from each other!” I step forward and give him a small shove. “Now go home!”

  I close my eyes, slump against the brick wall again and will myself to calm down as I wait to hear the side door slam behind him. But the door never slams. When I open my eyes Luc’s leaning over me with dark, hungry eyes and his massive hands pressed flat against the wall on either side of my head, trapping me. I’ve never seen him look like this. He’s either going to cry or punch something.

  He opens his mouth to speak; only he doesn’t. Instead, he presses it to mine. The second our lips make rough contact, my blinding rage ignites crushing lust. I move my hands up and grab fists of his hair, tugging on it aggressively. His one hand stays on the wall by my head. His other grabs my ass so hard I think he’ll leave fingerprints as he roughly pulls my groin into his.

  Our tongues battle for dominance. His hand leaves my ass, moves under my thigh and yanks it up over his hip while his other one moves from the wall to grope my breasts through my tank top. I move a hand to the side of his face and then down to his chest, balling up his shirt in my hand and yanking him even closer to me. I tilt my hips and grind against the bulge developing in his pants. Oh God, I want it. I want him.

  The side door flies open again and we fly apart just as quickly as we came together. Billy is standing there, stunned. He obviously saw something. How much? I don’t know.

  “Rose…” He says my name and hesitates and then looks at Luc, who is wiping his mouth. “I need you back on the floor.”

  I nod and rush toward the door, slipping past Billy quickly and darting back into the crowded bar. A second later, as I’m taking an order from a bunch of rowdy tourists, I see Luc and Billy come back in. Without so much as a backward glance, Luc storms through the bar and disappears out the door. I walk shakily back to the bar and give Billy the order I just took.

  He stares at me. “What the hell just happened?”

  “I have no idea,” I admit in a shaky voice. “I honestly have no idea.”

  Chapter 25

  Rose

  By the time I get home it’s after two in the morning. My feet ache and so does my heart. I’ve convinced myself that even if one of those patrons didn’t snap a picture or film a video on their phone, one of those drunken jerks will probably contact the tabloids themselves. Either way, I’ve caused Luc more trouble.

  I kick off my shoes by the door and wander through the dark house, into the living room and toward the stairs. When, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Callie sitting alone in the dark, I jump. With my hand on my chest, my heart hammers as I whisper, “What are you doing?”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she replies quietly. “I’m always on edge in this house. Old habits.”

  She’s wrapped in a blanket, curled into the chaise by the window. Jessie and Jordan finally got rid of all the bad plaid furniture Grandma Lily had in here. The place really doesn’t look anything like it did when we lived here as kids but I understand that instinct of being nervous here. When we were kids and Grandma Lily moved to Florida, I was so terrified at night. I was convinced a serial killer was going to break in. It took years for me to be able to sleep through the night. Instead of heading upstairs, even though I’m exhausted, I move to the couch and stretch out on it, facing her.

  “Bad night at the office?” Callie questions with a smile.

  “Luc showed up,” I explain. “And drunk frat boys were being drunk frat boys and he tried to defend my honor.”

  “Aww…” Callie coos. “Did the French Disaster knock the drunk right out of the frat boys?”

  “I stopped him,” I inform her and yawn. “He would have ended up in the news again.”

  “Nah. Sex sells and bloody frat boys aren’t as sexy as you getting groped on the dance floor.” She laughs at her own little dig. I roll my eyes even though she can’t see it in the dim light.

  “You’re never going to stop bugging me about that photo, are you?”

  “I’ll tease you until you tell me the truth,” she replies. “The whole truth and nothing but.”

  She’s been hounding me since I ran out of the airport. Callie has been nothing but blunt, direct and honest her whole life and she’s got the uncanny ability to detect when other people are being anything less. Maybe it’s because I’m tired. Maybe it’s because I’m worried I made Luc’s situation worse, again, or maybe it’s just that I don’t want to feel so alone, but I take a deep breath and confess. “I slept with him and now I love him more than ever and we can’t be together because he can’t risk another TMZ story.”

  Callie is quiet for so long I actually sit up to see if she fell asleep. But she’s awake, smiling softly at me as the moonlight from the window beside her dances over her face. “Can you please say something snarky and inappropriate because if you get all sentimental and mushy, my heart will break for the millionth time in a week.”

  “Does he have a big dick?”

  I laugh. “Thank you.”

  “So… which one of you decided it was a one-night stand?”

  “It was mutual.”

  “So you’re both stupid,” she laments with a sarcastic smile.

  “What else are we supposed to do, Callie?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low so we don’t wake Jordan and Jessie upstair
s.

  “Luc is one of the toughest players in the NHL,” she counters. “I don’t get why he’s letting this situation own him instead of making it his bitch.”

  “What?”

  She stands, the blanket falling to the floor, and reaches out with her hands. “Come with me.”

  I place my hands in hers and she yanks me up and pulls me toward the tiny sunroom that Jordan had Cooper turn into an office. She flips on the overhead light and as I blink, trying to adjust, she plops down in the sleek office chair and opens Jessie’s MacBook. “The one thing I’ve learned living in L.A. and working in the industry is that it’s all about spin.”

  Spin? Before I ask her what that means, she tells me as she punches TMZ Sports into the web browser. “The truth can be spun more than one way. The key is to be the one who does the spinning.”

  She hits the Got a Tip button at the top and a form pops up. I lean over her shoulder and watch as she types, repeating out loud every word she writes. “I was at a restaurant in Silver Bay, Maine, called Last Call tonight. A bunch of drunk guys were harassing me and my friends and the waitress too. Out of nowhere an NHL player named Luc Richard walked over and totally saved us from the jerks. He got the bartender to throw them out and then he bought us a round of drinks and gave the waitress a hundred-dollar tip. Sweetest guy ever!”

  “Okay, now you’re just lying,” I mutter.

  She shrugs and gives me a devious smile. “Restaurant, bar, it’s almost the same thing. Luc’s bought me a drink before, it just wasn’t that night. And we either lie and say he gave you a hundred bucks or tell the truth and say he gave you an orgasm. You decide.”

  “Hundred bucks,” I mutter.

  She finishes the anonymous tip and hits submit. Then she smiles up at me. “Control the spin.”

  “You’re so Hollywood,” I quip but I reach down and hug her. “I hope it works.”

  “Well, it can’t make things worse,” Callie says as we head back into the living room and she puts her hands on my shoulders and gently guides me toward the stairs. “Let’s get some sleep.”

 

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