"I understand."
She watched Aiden skate up next to Alex and immediately take his hand while the large defenseman gave Jordan a knowing glance. She didn't want to call him out on it, but it was pretty obvious Alex was playing wingman for his captain. Rachel and Adam took off after their son, who was actually doing pretty well on his skates as he and the Pirate tried to weave their way through the crowd.
Jordan slowed down a bit and took up a spot next to her. "It's good to see you again."
Charlotte scoffed. "Please. You made that way too obvious," she said under her breath so the crowd couldn't hear her.
Jordan looked down, a flirtatious smile crossing his face as his eyes focused on his skates. "You can hardly blame me, can you?"
"I was with a date," she replied.
"I think he's found someone better."
Charlotte looked up to see Aiden was at the other end of the rink now, trying to shove Alex into the boards. "Once again, I'm left with a broken heart."
She turned to see Jordan giving her a serious look. "I can't imagine anyone would be stupid enough to break your heart."
She gave him a tight smile and tucked her hair behind her ear, using the end of the rink as a distraction to actually pay attention to her skates.
"So, Charlie—"
"Hey, Jordan!" The two of them looked up to see a trio of teenage boys speeding up to skate next to him. "I think you're the best hockey player on the team, but my friend Bobby says it's Logan Moore."
Charlotte smiled and slid her blade along the ice to slow herself down. "Go ahead," she said quietly before lightly squeezing his arm as he passed by her.
He gave her a strained smile, then turned back to the boys. She could see the captain's charm immediately emerge, his smile big and wide for the boys as he egged them on. "So which one of you has no idea what you're talking about?"
The boys all smiled excitedly at him and started talking as Jordan sped up to catch Logan so they could debate it together. The three teenagers didn't notice it, she was sure, but she watched as Jordan pushed a little faster than they expected after they cut in on the captain trying to flirt with her.
She waited by the boards as Aiden came back around with his new buddy in tow, and she could also see Alex's eyes wandering towards the ice girls dressed in their Detroit Pirates uniforms.
"Aiden!" she yelled out as the boy got closer. "Do you think it's time to let your buddy skate with some of the other fans?"
His head bobbed in agreement. "It's really hard to keep up with him."
The defenseman laughed. "You kept it close, kid. I'll see you soon, OK?"
"OK!"
Charlotte saw the look of awe on Aiden's face as the defensemen skated away. Apparently, Birdie made quite an impression.
"So did you have fun?" she asked him.
"It was totally awesome! But he kept asking me about my girlfriend and your television show."
She gave him a questioning look. "What did you tell him?"
Aiden shrugged. "I said you were just my friend."
"Gotcha."
The boy may have not noticed, but Charlotte knew exactly what that line of questioning was about. Alex was definitely the wingman for his captain.
"Besides, girls have cooties," Aiden added.
"Right. Of course."
The Wards and Charlotte continued to alternate as Aiden's partner, and she was glad to have them around. But as the crowd began to thin out, she was also keeping an eye on Jordan, who continued to socialize with fans. He would skate a lap or two around the rink with a group of teenage boys followed by talking to an older gentleman. Then he got checked into the boards by a small girl in a pink Pirates jersey, and she couldn't help but smile as he pretended to crumple on the ice.
"I saw that, Charlotte."
"What?"
Rachel had an amused look on her face. "You were checking out Jordan again."
Charlotte could feel her face starting to go red with embarrassment. She tried to focus on the cool air against her cheeks, hoping it would get rid of the flush that she was sure had taken over.
"I wasn't checking him out," she muttered.
"It's OK. He's been checking you out too."
Charlotte turned to her friend, who had a devilish smile on her face. Perhaps it had just been obvious to Rachel because she was paying attention. There was no reason for anyone else there to suspect that she had a crush on the captain. Hell, there were plenty of teenage girls on the ice at that very moment who had crushes on Jordan as well. They just never had him over to see their homes for dinner.
Rachel picked up some speed to catch up with her son and husband. "Boys! It's time to go!"
"Aw, but can't we stay a little longer?" Aiden pleaded.
"No, you have school tomorrow," his mother said.
"But Charlotte is my date so I can stay with her."
Charlotte laughed at him. "I thought I had cooties."
"Ugh, fine," the boy said.
They skated towards the entrance to the visitors' bench and Charlotte said her goodbyes to the Wards.
"You coming?" Adam asked, only to get a stern look from his wife.
"I'm actually going to stay out a little longer," she replied.
"Right, so good night," Rachel said quickly, ushering her family away before giving her friend one last encouraging look.
Charlotte thought about trying to catch up with Jordan, who was skating a bit farther ahead of her with a few of the fans who were still around. But as she moved with the ice under her feet, she decided to stay back for a bit. This had always been a calming thing for her. Right now, she was simply skating, looking up at all the empty seats, feeling as if she was the only one out there.
"See something you like?"
Charlotte was pulled out of her meditative moment to see Jordan had skated up right next to her.
"Sorry," she said, giving him a shy smile. "I was just in a zone there I guess."
"And what does exactly does that zone look like?" he asked, a smile teasing at his lips.
"I was just wondering what it feels like when all these seats are full."
Jordan glanced up at the empty arena, a look of awe on his face. "It's really amazing," he said. "There's so much color and energy, and it's just the coolest feeling in the world."
"The coolest? Really?"
Jordan laughed. "I'm a hockey player. What else can I say?"
They continued to skate for a lap as two of the other players finally left the rink with the last of the season-ticket holders. It was just them on this quiet patch of ice, together, with the sound of their blades echoing off the boards.
"So I noticed your date left already."
"It was past his bedtime."
"Ah, of course." Jordan turned and put his hand on the small of her back, the way he did that night at her place. It had the same effect on her too, sending chills up her spine and she couldn't help but smile. "Not to rush you, but the team's esteemed Zamboni driver is getting impatient with us."
Sure enough, Charlotte saw the crew by the opened doors at the end of the rink, waiting to start the Zamboni. She slowed herself down and hopped off the ice by the visitors' bench, turning when she realized that Jordan was still on the rink.
"Don't you have to leave too?"
He looked like he was disgusted by the idea of following her. "I avoid that whole visitors' part of the arena."
"Right," she replied. "Hockey player superstition or something."
"I prefer, 'hockey player ritual.'"
"Ah, because that makes it better," she said with a teasing smile. "I guess this is good night then."
Jordan took her hand and looked up at her with his blue eyes. "Good night, Charlotte." He gave her a wink and headed towards his bench, letting her hand slowly slip from his.
"Good night," she said.
She could barely feel her feet touch the ground as she headed back to the visitors' locker room. It was all so sweet and romantic but as
Charlotte began to unlace her skates, she realized she had no idea what to do next. Were they just going to have these clandestine meetings at team events? Or could she actually call him? Because she still didn't have his phone number. The dinner party was planned through the Pirates' press office. So then was she supposed to call the office? And what kind of excuse would she make up? "Jordan forgot something at my house," or "I wanted to send him a thank you note... over the phone." Charlotte thought leaving New York would mean she would leave all these stupid games with men behind. And yet here she was doing some of the same things she had always done. Why was it that all of the characters in her books were so smooth and had it together, and she was a romantic mess?
Charlotte sighed and shoved her sweaty hockey socks into a bag in her purse. She put on her blade guards and tied the laces together, swinging them over her shoulder.
Perhaps this was for the best. Perhaps her confusion was a sign that she should forget Jordan King.
He could hear the clicking of her high-heeled shoes against the concrete before he even saw her, imagining what her legs looked like with them on. When she finally made her way into his line of sight, he easily verified that he was right.
"I have to tell you those heels look much better than your skates."
Charlotte jumped, clutching at her chest as she turned to see Jordan leaning up against the wall near the Pirates' locker room.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said.
"Not a problem."
"I just couldn't let you go that easily again."
"Excuse me?" she asked.
Jordan pushed off the wall and walked over to her. "I was about to let you walk away without asking you for your phone number." He stopped a little too close to her, but he didn't want to back away now. "I didn't want to make the same mistake twice," he murmured.
He could tell she was staring at him, trying to figure out what to do next. His own mind was racing with some idea on what he could do to make her stay just a little bit longer in his presence.
"Since you're here, do you want to take a quick tour of the locker room?" he offered.
Then he realizing what he had said. The locker room was a sacred space to him. He never took a woman in there — ever! It would just taint the place when he stopped talking to her. So why did he even suggest it?
"You can't call yourself a real hockey fan if you turn down my offer."
He cringed inwardly. Why was he even pushing something he shouldn't have suggested in the first place?
"Okay."
The voice in Jordan's head quieted and he smiled before quickly regaining control of his emotions. He nodded his head, wordlessly inviting her to follow him down the hallway covered with the team's history. Their Hall of Fame players were listed on one side, the retired numbers on the other. Row after row of the team's records like who scored the most goals or the league's MVP award recipients.
Through a set of dark wood doors were photos the wall, starting with a black and white one of some older women surrounded by bottles and bottles of liquor.
"What is this about?" Charlotte said as she stared at the photo.
Jordan couldn't help but smile as he stood next to her. "Those are the river pirates."
"Those grandmas are pirates?" she asked skeptically.
"Yep." He pointed to a woman in the picture with a scowl on her face. "That was the mother of our team's first owner," he explained. "During prohibition, she and her friends would smuggle alcohol from Canada to stock up her son's restaurants in Detroit. So when Walt started the team a few years later, he named it in honor of his pirates."
"So he named the team after a bunch of old-lady bootleggers," Charlotte said.
"A bunch of badass old-lady bootleggers."
She laughed, and he couldn't help but feel the need to turn up the charm higher if he could that kind of response from her again. So Jordan kept going, pointing to a 50-year-old photo on the wall with a grin on his face. "That's the last Pirates team to win a cup, and against your New York Admirals no less."
"And I don't see any photos after that," she replied, easily matching his teasing banter.
He smiled and ducked his head. "I like you, Charlie."
He wasn't sure how serious he was when he said it, but he knew he was playing with fire at this point. At any moment, he could say something and light a spark that he hoped she would be more than happy to let burn. He had never felt that about another woman, and he wasn't sure if that made him feel more brave or more nervous.
Jordan led them down another hallway, this one lined with wood paneling and more photos of the teams from the past. Players with no helmets, goalies with no masks. The photos became more modern as Jordan and Charlotte walked, first changing from black and white to color. Then the hockey equipment began to transform into something more recognizable. Right at the end was a photo of Jordan, looking a bit younger, with a triumphant fist in the air.
"My first hat trick," he said from beside her.
Charlotte turned and gave him a warm smile. "That must have been quite a night."
"It was," he replied quietly, remembering how special that game was for him. Then he nodded his head towards a nearby room. "C'mon. Tour isn't over and the best is yet to come."
He slipped his hand into hers and gently pulled her forward, congratulating himself when she didn't pull it away from him. The team's locker room was empty by now, free of any last personnel and sound that would break the solace from standing in such a revered room. Jerseys were all lined up with the name placards and numbers facing out. Pads and skates were set up just right for a game the next day. The ceiling's lights were dimmed slightly to give the whole place a more magical feel.
He watched Charlotte slowly move forward, taking it all in before he realized she was walking into dangerous territory. He gave her hand a gentle tug, pulling her slightly off balance in her heels. She fell directly into Jordan's chest, his arm instinctively going around her waist to keep her upright.
"Sorry, couldn't let you step on the logo," he explained.
She looked down to see the team's trademark skull with crossed hockey sticks on the floor. "Another superstition?"
He gently slid his hand from her waist. "Ritual, not superstition," he said.
She flashed him a flirtatious smile, then turned to look at the room, giving him time to try and compose himself. He needed it considering the improper thoughts that were going through his mind now that he accidentally had his hands all over that gorgeous woman.
"Is that your locker?" she said, walking towards the number 61 jersey in the middle of the room.
"That's me," he said quietly as he walked over and stood next to her.
She grabbed the arm of his jersey hanging there, gently letting the fabric slip through her fingers. Seeing Charlotte delicately run her hand over his jersey in his locker didn't light a spark in him. It started a fire that he couldn't control anymore.
Jordan instinctively mirrored Charlotte's movement, reaching out and running his hand along the arm of her black cashmere sweater.
"So soft," he whispered against her ear.
He couldn't remember what had been stopping him from doing this. What about his determination to stay focused on hockey? He didn't care. The only thing he was thinking about in that moment was Charlotte's lips, red and plump and so close to him. He needed them.
Jordan nudged her shoulder, turning her slowly as his arm snaked its way around her waist so he could pull her closer. He looked into her eyes for just a moment and then he kissed her, tentative at first before she became more brazen as he pulled her closer. Charlotte's fingers threaded through his hair, making him groan into her mouth as his arm began to move up her bare skin under her sweater. She responded under his touch, arching her back to get closer to him, her teeth nibbling at his bottom lip, urging him on. This was more than fire. This was fireworks lighting up every part of him, urging him to keep going. Every response from her — every moan, every s
queeze of her hand, every nibble on his lip — told him she didn't want him to stop. And dammit, he was going to give her what she wanted.
Loud voices from the hallway outside suddenly filled the room, and she quickly pulled away from him, the moment between them coming undone. Then it was quiet again. He would've cursed his bad luck but standing away from her, he could see the flush in her cheeks and the redness that was now on her lips. It made her look amazing. Charlotte caught him staring, and the nervous smile she gave him made him feel something amazing.
She ducked her head and ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it out. "I'm sure I look a bit disheveled," she said quietly.
"You look beautiful," he answered.
"Listen—"
"Before you say anything, let's have dinner."
She looked up at him skeptically. "Now?"
"No, a real date with a real dinner." He could see the apprehension that came over her, and he couldn't quite figure out why. "Is this... Did I mess something up?"
She shook her head. "You didn't mess anything up."
"But you don't want to go out to dinner with me?" he asked, getting only silence in reply. "Just give me a chance, Charlotte. I don't know exactly what you think of me, but I can assure you that this isn't some—"
"It's not you."
Jordan stepped closer and reached for her hand. "So give me one dinner then. Just one."
Charlotte took a deep breath, slightly hesitating as she looked at him. Then she gently pulled her hand out of his grasp and held it up in front of him, palm towards the ceiling.
"What's that mean?" he asked in a confused tone.
"How are we supposed to arrange dinner plans if you don't have my number?" she asked. "Give me your phone."
He smiled and pulled his phone from his pocket, punching in his password before handing it to her. She sat down on the bench under his jersey, the fabric brushing her shoulder as she tapped a few numbers. Then he heard the phone ring in her purse next to her.
"Was that the James Bond theme song?"
She handed his phone back to him. "I'm thinking about writing a spy series some day. Figured I would try out the theme music first."
Charlotte Stone, always full of surprises. He smiled as he pocketed his phone and shrugged on his sheepskin jacket before reaching over to straighten out the collar on hers.
For the Captain (The Detroit Pirates Book 1) Page 6
