But oddly enough, she’d bounced back quicker than he’d expected, and things between them changed practically overnight.
While before she’d been reluctant to move into the house she’d picked out and decorated the month before, now she was ready to take the step. She started planning their future, claiming it was a good thing she hadn’t gotten the anchor position, as she’d studied his regular season schedule and figured out when and which cities it made sense for her to fly out to see him and how to make the most of his home games.
Everything happened for a reason, she’d echoed.
And he was happy enough to believe it, without question.
He’d been too caught up in his own dream coming true he hadn’t seen her pain. He’d seen only what he’d wanted to see. Heard only what he’d wanted to hear. He had everything he’d always wanted—a career on the ice, a beautiful home in the state he’d grown up in, family close enough not to miss, and a beautiful woman who loved him and wanted to spend her life living the fairy tale.
Not even his mother’s words of caution when he’d shown her the three-carat engagement ring he’d bought had rung loudly enough to make him pause. He hadn’t wanted to hear caution or warnings from family and friends, so he dismissed them as white noise. After all, he’d successfully silenced all of his own alarm bells.
Even the deafening ones going off the moment he’d walked through the front door after his game on New Year’s Eve to find her pacing in the foyer, looking nervous and on edge.
In the years since, every time he looked back on that moment he regretted not letting her speak first.
He’d dropped to one knee the moment she’d turned to look at him, instead of waiting until they were cuddled in bed with Champagne counting away the year, the way he’d planned.
“Oh no, wait, Ben.” Just those first few words should have been enough for him to realize he was about to make a mistake, but he’d stayed where he was and reached inside his coat for the ring box.
“Can I please say something first?” she’d asked, looking nervous. An expression, at the time, he’d mistaken for excitement.
“After you say yes to marrying me, you can say anything else you want,” he’d said. His love for her and his sudden clarity about what he wanted in life overshadowed the odd sense that something was off. Blinding him to the fact that maybe she wasn’t as ready, despite her claims.
“I can’t, Ben,” she’d said, taking his hands and lifting him up from his perch on one knee.
“What?”
“I can’t marry you…At least not right now.” Her gaze fell on the blue box, and he sensed the briefest of reconsiderations, before she continued, “I got a call this afternoon from Sports News Vegas. They offered me a job starting in January.” Her excitement only made the moment worse for him.
He was proposing. Giving her what she’d claimed to want—a life with him. And she was saying no—breaking him, while smiling? Displaying excitement over a job offer while she was crushing him?
It had taken years for him to realize his own selfishness in his lack of excitement for her. His own hurt and pain had made it impossible to feel happy for her. “So, that’s it? You’re accepting the position without even talking to me about it?”
Her smile had vanished, replaced immediately by a look of annoyed determination. A look he’d come to realize was far worse than anger. Anger dissolved. This look meant he was only adding fuel to her fire. “Did you ask my permission before accepting the deal from Colorado to play hockey? Did we discuss that first?” she’d asked.
“You knew that’s where I was headed.” She’d been there all along, watching him move through the ranks, celebrating with him when he was drafted, supporting him in his decisions…But a nagging voice reminded him she was right; he’d never actually asked her what she thought about him becoming a pro athlete, and they hadn’t discussed things before he’d made his final decisions.
Unfortunately, she’d spoken again before he could say she was right. “And you’d doubted my ability to secure the future of my dreams, is that it?” Anger had registered on her face. “All that talk of believing in me, that was all bullshit?”
The man he was now would have stopped the fight right then and there, taken her in his arms, apologized, and congratulated her. He would have pushed aside all talk of marriage and instead celebrated her success. Made the night memorable in a different way. Maybe then they still could have had a chance. Maybe they could have figured things out. Maybe the engagement might have happened eventually.
But at the time, he’d been a selfish kid who let his own hurt and disappointment overshadow logic and common sense. “I just thought you’d given up on that idea. I thought you wanted a different life now. You were the one who wanted all of this,” he’d said, gesturing to the house he could barely afford. “You were the one talking about marriage.” He shook the ring box. “Babies—how many did you say you wanted? Three? Four?” His anger rose at each aspect of the dream she was destroying.
“Ben, please…”
“Please what? Stop reminding you of the future you promised me?” How could she not understand where he was coming from? All of this—everything around them—had been for her. And now she was saying it wasn’t what she wanted? That she’d changed her mind for a job that might not even work out?
She’d sighed, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I did want all of that Ben, but I guess the truth is I was really just trying to make the best of plan B.”
He’d felt as though he’d been sucker-punched. Air escaped his lungs and he found it hard to focus. Plan B. That’s what he’d been to her?
She’d rushed toward him. “That wasn’t what I meant. It came out wrong.” She’d reached for his hand, but he’d pulled away.
“No. I think it came out exactly right.” He’d tossed the engagement ring onto the table next to the front door and grabbed his coat and car keys. The slamming of the front door had drowned out her pleas for him to stay and talk. There had been nothing left to say.
She’d been using him as a backup plan when her real dreams had seemed to fail. And now that she was getting another chance at the life she really wanted, she was abandoning her promises to him.
Opening the door to his car, he tossed his coat over onto the passenger side and climbed behind the wheel. The sound of fireworks in the distance told him that it was midnight. The old year was gone, the new year was here.
And in that moment, he swore he’d never be another woman’s plan B.
Chapter 19
Ben hit Send on a text message to Olivia and then reluctantly turned his phone to airplane mode for the team’s flight to Boston. He smiled thinking about how amazing she looked in his bed this morning. Her dark hair a tangled mess on his pillow, her discarded clothing still littering the bedroom floor. He’d hated to wake her that early, but coming out of the bathroom and seeing her naked back and the top of one hip as she lay on her side sleeping, he hadn’t been able to resist. He’d quickly decided that morning sex was by far his favorite, and her send-off had started the day on an incredible note.
“No one smiles like that this early in the morning unless they’ve gotten laid,” Owen said, boarding the aircraft and sitting in the seat next to him.
“Who let you in first class?” He refused to admit shit.
“Miller lost everything but his Maserati at poker last night. So, who is she?” he asked. “That sexy little reporter that was undressing you with her eyes while she interviewed you after the game last night?”
He shook his head. He barely remembered the woman in question. Damn. That hadn’t happened before. He’d been in a rush to get through the mind-numbing standard questions he answered after every game, get showered, and be with Olivia. The next three nights away would suck.
That hadn’t happened before either—the idea of not seeing the same woman again after an incredible night of sex bumming him out.
“Nah…it’s no one you know.”
It was true. The night before he’d scored two goals and made three assists. “Yeah, I feel better. Still need to get my scoring rhythm back.” The team was winning, but he couldn’t claim to be the player leading them to victory so far this playoff season, and that had to change. As captain and MVP, the other players, the coaches, and the fans expected far more from him than he was delivering. He wanted to dispel the playoff choking myth that plagued him.
Luckily, Olivia hadn’t seemed disappointed in his performance on the ice or between the sheets.
He wondered how she would feel about things with more time and distance between them. She’d been fine that morning, but he worried that without him there to remind her of his affection, she’d start to doubt him. Doubt them. His reputation could overshadow what she knew to be real.
Just the fact that it worried him made him uneasy. He’d always wanted the women he’d slept with to move on as quickly as he did, to not expect more…
Things were so different with Olivia. His attraction to her was far more than just physical.
But did she feel the same way? They hadn’t discussed feelings, instead letting their bodies do the talking, but he sensed she was falling just as hard and fast for him as he was for her.
And he needed to make a decision to be either all in or out. In less than nine months, the woman he was falling in love with would be a mother, and it wasn’t fair to either of them or the baby to play this game without being fully committed.
He sat back in his seat, his gaze lost out the window. The problem was he couldn’t imagine going back to life without Olivia.
His heart had already made the decision to commit somewhere between meeting her and kissing her goodbye that morning.
He was all in.
No regrets.
* * *
Curling her legs beneath her on the sofa that evening, Olivia stared at the Skype window open on her laptop. Seeing her reflection in the screen, she ran a hand over her hair and tugged a little higher on her sweater. Online video chats always made her nervous. Skype and FaceTime were too much pressure.
Tonight’s would be torture.
In thirty-six seconds, Ben would be calling. And she would be ending things between them.
She had to. She should never have let things get so far out of hand. She was starting to fall in love with him, and smart women did not fall in love with sexy professional athletes who had reputations like Ben’s.
Especially not smart, pregnant woman who didn’t have the luxury of wasting time with a man who, despite all attempts at sincerity, wasn’t willing to commit. Ben had said marriage and family were not in his future…therefore neither was she.
She bit her lip as she waited. Trying to distract herself from the back-and-forth thoughts, she’d been working on case files, with the hockey game on in the background, but had only paid attention to the screen enough to see that they’d lost. The game had gone into a first round of overtime, and Boston had scored three minutes in. The series score was now tied, and the team would be playing one more game away before returning later that week to play game four on home ice.
The timing of tonight’s loss wasn’t ideal, and she hated giving him more bad news, but she couldn’t put this off. Doing it while he was away, through a Skype connection, was lame, but even that was hard enough. If she tried to do it when they were together, when he could wrap his arms around her, kiss her, make her experience mixed feelings of comfort and passion at the same time…She’d never be able to do it. This was easier—for her.
He’d be fine. He was Ben Westmore. He’d probably be relieved that for once he wouldn’t have to be the bad guy. No doubt he was probably on the verge of breaking things off himself. The moment he disconnected the Skype connection, he could have any one of—or the entire—Boston cheerleader squad in his hotel room. The thought was supposed to make her feel better, but it only made her nauseous. The idea of him with anyone else…
She jumped as the Skype connection rang. She took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart raced and her hands felt clammy on the keyboard as she accepted the call. “Hi,” she said, when his face appeared on her screen.
“Hey, pretty girl. Sorry to be so late. That overtime period put us off schedule, and the bus on the way back to the hotel made several food stops.” He held up a bag of Chinese food.
A memory of their first date, eating Chinese food and trying not to fall in love weakened her resolve, but she shook it off. She had to do this. She had to stay strong. She could not be swept along with something that would eventually end. “It’s no problem at all. It’s still early here.” God, did he have to look so good? Hair wet from the shower. His short playoff beard had just the right amount of stubble on his face. And the plain black T-shirt he wore was hugging his chest and biceps so nicely. She’d be on the next plane to Boston if he asked. She missed that chest and those biceps. Waking up in them this morning had been a fantasy. But it was just a fantasy.
Ending things remember. “Listen, Ben…”
“Man, you are a sight for sore eyes,” he said smiling as he spoke at the same time she did. The stupid Skype delay made him pause a second later. “Sorry, what were you saying?” He leaned closer to the screen.
Who knew what she was saying? She could barely remember her own name when those icy blue eyes held so much affection and sincerity she could almost fool herself into believing they had a future together. “Um…Sorry about the loss tonight.” Okay, so she’d chickened out.
He nodded. “Such a close game. They needed this win, though, and they worked for it. Hopefully, we’ll take back the lead in a couple of nights and then be at an advantage for the next home game. You’ll be there, right?”
He looked nervous as he waited for her reply, but she refused to make any promises or commitments beyond this Skype chat. “Do you think the team will win the cup?” Why were they talking about hockey? She needed to tell him things were over. That she didn’t want to see him anymore. She had to lie to him and herself and tell him that she’d had a great time, but she wasn’t interested in seeing him again.
Do it. Say the words.
“I think we got this, but anything can happen.” He ran a hand through his hair and his expression clouded slightly. She could sense his unease, or maybe it was her own anxiety…Either way, his vulnerability made her rethink her words.
“Where’s my cocky MVP?” she asked softly, offering an encouraging smile. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him.
He laughed, and the sound warmed her heart. God, she was so screwed. She was defenseless against him. “Yours?” he asked, leaning closer to the screen.
Her cheeks flushed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Why not? I like it,” he said.
Oh shit. Even through computer screens, he had her. The way he was looking at her with those adoring eyes and soft smile—an expression she saw only on his face when he was talking to her—weakened her. “Ben, I’m not sure about this.” That was a lie. She was sure. Sure it was a terrible idea. Sure it would only end in heartbreak.
He frowned. “You don’t think the team can win?”
He thought they were still talking about hockey. Damn.
Just tell him! Say it. Say you can’t see him anymore.
Right. Break things off with a guy in the Stanley Cup finals whose confidence already seemed shaky.
Excuses.
She’d take them. “I think the team can win. You just need your confidence back. You’re the MVP for a reason, and I expect to see a great game on home ice later this week.” Chicken. Shit.
Or too in love to do the right thing.
“Does that mean you’ll come to the game?” he asked with a wink.
Oh that simple blink of an eye could get a girl into a whole lot of trouble. She nodded slowly, giving up the fight.
Ben smiled.
<
br /> And all thoughts of ending things got lost in cyberspace.
Chapter 20
Ben had never been distracted by a woman in the stands, but resisting the urge to glance Olivia’s way each time he passed her seat was a challenge. Three nights on the road away from her had been tough, and he was looking forward to getting her back to his place after the game.
Playoff game, he reminded himself. He was the MVP for a reason. He couldn’t lose focus on the ice because of unwanted distractions, he couldn’t let anything else jeopardize the season. This was game four of the Stanley Cup finals on home ice, with his team losing the series 2–1. The pressure was on—everyone from his teammates to the fans was counting on him to tie it up.
If only Olivia didn’t look so freaking gorgeous, her red scarf draped over a white, off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater like a beacon, calling his attention whenever he skated past. In the sea of blue and burgundy jerseys, she stood out…and in a crowd she was the only one he saw.
“Westmore, you’re in,” his coach yelled, as several players approached the box.
He jumped over the boards and headed straight for the puck.
From the corner of his peripheral vision, he saw Dennis Carson, a Boston left wing skating toward him. Again. What the hell was with this guy tonight? They’d played on the same team two years ago when Carson had spent a season in Colorado, and they’d gotten along fine. Hadn’t he even gone to the guy’s wedding last summer?
Now he was acting as though they had their own score to settle.
Ben scooped the puck as it sailed toward the boards and dodged several players, including Carson, as he skated toward center ice. He heard some trash talk behind him, but that was standard. The finals brought a lot of emotions to the surface, and the key was to continue playing a smooth, clean game, keeping a clear head.
The Avalanche was winning one to nothing, so the other team was trying to make up for their crap ice skills by irritating the players earning their paychecks. That was fine. Let them try to throw him off his game. That night he had two goals—win on the ice and then score back at his place.
Maybe This Love Page 19
