by Meader, Kate
“Thanks, it belongs to my parents. So tell me all about your tryout.” Bethany plunged the French press of coffee. “Cal, babe, could you do the honors?”
“Sure. Mia, have a seat.” While Cal poured the coffee, Mia launched into an animated babble about her time in Biddeford, while keeping an eye out for signs of domesticity. Every now and then she reached out to pet Bobby O to fill any awkward pauses and keep her hands busy.
“So are you two …?” Bethany waved a hand between Cal and Mia.
“Us?” Mia shot a look at Foreman who chose that moment to be as quiet as the grave. Of course he didn’t want anyone to know because of Vadim, but maybe because of this woman here.
Or generally, not interested.
“Cal’s been helping me get ready for my tryout.”
“Okay.” Bethany smiled knowingly, and Mia looked for some sort of angle. She didn’t understand this relationship at all.
But this was Cal. Friends with all his exes, according to Tara, and here was Exhibit A.
For the next hour, they chatted like normal people. Mia tried to villainize this woman who had hurt someone she cared about but if Cal was okay with her, what right did Mia have to get mad on his behalf? He’d had years to get over it, so perhaps it didn’t matter. Mostly Mia watched for hints that they might be more than exes or dog co-owners. Maybe they had a long-standing separated-with-benefits arrangement. Visit the dog, get some hot lovin’. But nothing pinged her radar there, either.
Cal just had a healthy, well-adjusted relationship with the woman who broke his heart. There was something humbling about that. They had moved on to another phase in their relationship and still saw good in each other.
It would be a cold day in hell before Drew Fabien received one iota of similar consideration from Mia.
“We need to get going,” Cal said to Mia after she’d inhaled two croissants and was eying a third. “You ready?”
“Sure, I should visit the little girl’s room but first let me clear up here.”
Bethany wouldn’t hear of it, so Mia visited the restroom, kept it classy (barely) by avoiding a medicine cabinet snoop, and came out to find Bobby O waiting for her.
She bent down to rub behind his ears, missing her own puppy terribly. Poop progress updates didn’t cut it. “Hey, fella. Who’s a good boy?”
Heading into the living room, she had to pass by the kitchen, where Bethany and Cal were talking in low voices. Phrases like “too young” and “Petrov” from Bethany made her feelings clear on the matter. Mia bristled. This woman had no say in whatever was happening here.
Not that anything was happening.
Except …
… Mia was hanging with Cal Foreman, training mentor, brother’s bestie, eight years her senior, expert deflowerer, Boston Red Sox-loving hockey player. Something was happening all right, and she was trying to assure herself that she was cool enough to handle it.
She strained her ear, listening for Cal’s reaction. All she heard was that low, sexy rumble of a voice that did things to her. Bobby O barked, announcing their presence, so Mia rounded the corner trying not to look like a dirty eavesdropper.
“You ready?” Cal looked her up and down, and there was something appreciative in it, though next to Brittany, she resembled a tree trunk.
“Yep.”
Bethany laid a hand on his arm. “Oh, Cal, could you take him out for a quick poop n’ scoop?”
“Not a problem.”
“And Mia can help me with the dishes.”
Cal cocked his head. “Bets, not subtle at all.”
Bets shooed him away. “Just leave us girls for a bit so I can warn Mia about all your bad habits.”
Cal grabbed the leash off a hook in the kitchen, some plastic bags from a cupboard—his familiarity with Bethany’s kitchen rankled—and turned to Mia. “You okay here for a few minutes? If Bethany gets too personal, tell her to shut it.”
Bethany didn’t intimidate Mia, no matter how great the two got along. “I’ll be fine, Foreman. Go spend a little boys’ time with your buddy.”
With one last quelling look at his ex, Cal headed out.
Bethany leaned against the kitchen sink and took Mia’s measure. “He’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”
“Sure is.”
“You probably think this is a pretty strange setup.”
“Sort of. I don’t know how I could be friends with someone after they’d betrayed me like that.”
“Ah, so he told you. That says something.”
“Does it?”
Bethany rinsed a coffee cup and placed it in the dishwasher. “No other guy would have kept that to himself. Cal was such a gentleman—such a decent guy—in covering for me. My parents are kind of conservative and it would have killed them. He did that for me.”
Mia didn’t want to hear about their special relationship or the reasons why this woman had stomped all over Cal’s heart. She suddenly felt hot and itchy. “And now you share a dog.”
Bethany gave a secret smile that Mia hated. “We’re better friends now than when we dated. The thing about Cal is that he’s not one for making a fuss. He didn’t even get truly mad at what I did.”
Mia hated wanting to know. “Why do you think that is?”
“He’s conflict-averse,” Bethany said definitively. “Always has been. Some psychologist would say it’s because his parents argued a lot, then used him as a pawn during and after their divorce. He won’t fight for something if he knows ahead of time he’ll lose. He’s good at making those calculations—it’s what makes him a great forward. Amazing hockey IQ. But in his life, he’s not going to put himself out there if there’s even the slightest chance he won’t get the result he wants.”
Mia considered that and Bethany’s underlying agenda—if any.
“It’s okay to pick your battles.” Mia spoke from experience. “Which hills you’re willing to die on. People do that all the time.”
Bethany cocked an eyebrow. “So I wasn’t worth the effort?”
“You think he should have fought to win you after what you did? Wow, I’d love to have an ego as inflated as yours.”
The woman laughed, seeming incapable of taking offense. “I suppose I wanted my cake and ice cream, too. I’d like to see him with someone who would make him happy.” Her eyes turned troubled. “I worry that I might have broken him.”
Mia worried about that, too. But she worried more about how much she wanted to be the person who made him see his true worth. Someone who would never take advantage of him like Bethany did—and still did, as far as Mia was concerned.
“You haven’t broken him. Maybe a small hairline fracture, but it’s treatable and he’s fine. I don’t think he could play this happy families business if he wasn’t. If it still hurt, the sight of your dumb face would make him sick.”
Another laugh, and Mia wondered how Bethany could find her so entertaining. There was something patronizing about it. Mia had never felt younger.
“That’s probably true. You seem different from the women Cal has dated over the last few years—”
“We’re not dating.”
Bethany waved that clarification off. “You’re definitely more of a challenge. Only … don’t expect too much.”
“Right now, I want to be his friend. That’s more important to me than anything.” Did she mean that? She told herself she did. Every day, she had to remind herself that Cal wasn’t the mission. “I want someone else. Foreman’s a—diversion.”
Bethany assessed her, seeking out the scent of lies. Finally, she said, “Poor Cal.”
Before Mia could respond, the front door opened and Cal called out, “Time to go.”
Their hostess offered her hand, then changed her mind and pulled Mia into a hug. “It was great meeting you, Mia. I’ll be rooting for you to get your place on Team USA.”
“Thanks. And thanks for breakfast.” With one last scratch behind Bobby O’s ears, Mia followed Cal out to his rental car.
Once inside, he turned to her. “Okay, you’ve got sixty seconds to let it all out.”
“Sixty seconds? I’d need sixty years to understand what happened there.”
“You said you wouldn’t judge.”
“I’m not!” At his wry smile, she backtracked. “Okay, I’m totally judging. I can’t help it. How can you still be friends?”
“Our dog is a great healer.” He started the car and pulled into traffic. “She’s not a bad person. She did something bad but it doesn’t make her a bad person.”
Mia could only raise her hands in a what-the-what gesture, to which Foreman merely chuckled.
“I’m not a grudge holder. I don’t need that kind of negative energy, and I’m guessing if I’m not angry, it means I wasn’t as hurt as I could have been. Or I’m not the kind of guy who wants to dwell on it.”
As Mia spent much of her time dwelling on the people who had wronged her and all the ways she’d torture them if she wasn’t such a coward, this turn-the-other-cheek paragon beside her was beyond her comprehension.
“Why did you take me along today?”
“I did try to get rid of you.” At her look of duh, he added, “Yeah, I know I could have made some excuse and dropped you somewhere, but …”
“But, what?”
He blew out a breath. “I wasn’t ready for our time together to be over, even if it meant we had to spend it with my ex-fiancée.”
Heart goes boom. That’s why she’d tried to prolong the trip as well. She liked how Foreman made her feel: like herself.
He coughed, clearing his throat of the significance of what he’d said. “So what did Bethany say when I was gone?”
“Not to expect much. Seems to think she might have broken you.”
He didn’t say anything for a while. When he spoke, it sounded like he’d given it some thought. “I’m not broken, but I’m not a good bet, either, Mia. I don’t do relationships or happy-ever-afters.”
“Good thing I’m not looking for anything from you. You’re merely a weigh station on the road to world domination.” Ooh, you little liar. She needed to rein it in here because Tommy Gordon had never looked more distant.
After a minute’s silence, she said, “I told her something else.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She fought around the thickening in her throat. “I told her we were friends. Good friends. That it was more important to me than anything.”
She caught him smiling out the window. “I thought we were getting there and I was worried I might have ruined it.”
“You haven’t. You couldn’t.” I’ll have the friends and lovers combo, please.
A few minutes later, they pulled up outside the team hotel and Cal put the car in park. “What’s the plan for the day?”
“Check in. Hustle Harper into buying me lunch. Grab a can of spray paint.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “For?”
“Just a little redecorating job at Fenway. Is “Losers” spelled with one O or two?”
“It’s spelled Y-A-N-K-E-E-S. You want the car?”
“Nah, I’ll take the T. Been a while, but I’m sure it’ll all come back to me. My old stomping ground.”
He took a good look at her, a naked perusal that felt like a blessing. “You mad at me for taking you to see my ex and dissing happy endings?”
A strange brand of joy fizzed inside her, and she leaned in to kiss him softly. “You can’t help how you feel, Foreman. So I’ve chosen to see it another way. I’m not going to let a bad experience drag me down.”
Determination undergirded the words. She was a fighter, had been through the ringer, and had come out the other side, ready to tell the world to go fuck itself.
He returned her light kiss with a deep one of his own. Maybe they could go to her room for a quickie, but she’d already monopolized so much of his time.
“Off with you,” he said after letting her up for air. “I’m going to return the rental to the branch a couple of blocks over.”
“Okay, pop the trunk, would you?”
Trunk opened, he jumped out of the car and nodded at the valet to indicate they’d need a wheelie thing for her gear.
A shadow caught her eye, a recognizable form over Cal’s shoulder. “Oh, hey, Reid.” Durand stood there in running gear, pulling buds out of his ear, looking marvelously sweaty.
“Mia.” With a dubious glance at Foreman, he headed into the lobby.
“Fuck,” Cal muttered.
The valet pulled the trolley with Mia’s gear on it and they both watched it trail Durand through the doors.
“So you gave me a ride,” Mia said. “No one has to jump to any conclusions.”
“Unfortunately that fucker’s my roommate for this trip. Jumped-to conclusions are his stock-in-trade.”
“You don’t like Reid?”
“Oh, it’s Reid, is it?” At her smile of you’re an idiot, he added, “Guy’s been on my case since he arrived. Don’t know why but he doesn’t like me.”
“Must suck to have to room with the one person out of millions who doesn’t fall at your feet.”
He frowned at her. “Mr. Atypical Canadian is a troublemaker. He’ll start spreading rumors and I don’t want you to go through that.” More like he didn’t want her brother to know. Which was fine. She didn’t want Vadim to know either.
“You worry about your own rep. And, Foreman?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming to my game and for taking my virginity. It’s been a real education.”
He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe how saucy her mouth was. “Mia.”
Her breath stalled, and she had trouble getting ahold of it. How’s that friends plan going, idiot? “There you go again with the name thing. Like it’s an answer to something.”
“It is.”
“What’s the question?”
“I don’t know, only that your name’s the answer.”
* * *
Your name’s the answer.
Cal headed into the hotel lobby, those words still knocking about in his head. What a dumbass thing to say. It made no sense at all, yet at the same time felt like the only words his lips could shape.
Taking her to Bethany’s might not have been his best move, either. He searched his mind for motivation. Sure, he wanted Mia to meet Bobby Orr—who wouldn’t want to share your best bud with the woman you like? Another part of him wanted to show her off. Standing beside her, basking in the glow of her feminine power, he could assure Bethany that he was long over her. She often poked at him, wondering when he was going to start dating someone seriously. Having a woman like Mia in his life would definitely be uplifting in all kinds of ways.
But telling Mia that she might have broken him by what she had done? Bethany had bruised his ego, no doubt. But he wasn’t some wounded animal, waiting for the healing balm of true love. He had hockey for that.
Durand was in the shower, so Cal checked his messages. Tara had sent him a text asking if Erik Jorgenson was dating anyone, which made him smile. He was glad she was moving on or at least putting up a good front. Was that what he was doing by bringing Mia to see his ex—putting up a front? He didn’t think so.
If he wasn’t careful, he might develop a thing for Mia Wallace.
Might? He was already obsessed with her and he was not enjoying the new influx of feeling that accompanied it. Everything was distorted and amplified. Whereas before, he didn’t like the idea of her targeting this other guy, now he absolutely despised this mystery motherfucker. In olden times, a mention of Durand would have merely irritated him. In this modern, post-Mia era? She was on a first-name basis with the tool and Cal was ready to tear his competition for the first line limb from limb.
Cal never got jealous. It just wasn’t in his makeup. Even with Bethany, there hadn’t been any jealousy around it, just wounded pride. His feelings toward his ex had been positively lukewarm compared to Mia, centered on a sense of accomplishment that he’d landed a woman of such
quality. A marker of success. The combination of his strong legs and great hands paid him a fortune and bought him access to things he wouldn’t have if he’d stayed in Southie and never made it to the NHL. Cal paid for Bethany’s fine things, a gorgeous apartment in Montreal, a beautiful house on the Cape. He looked okay in a suit and didn’t show her up at charity galas or weddings.
He wasn’t a sophisticated guy who could spot the right salad fork at twenty paces or knew Scotch varieties inside out. He was nothing like that asshole Bethany had run around with for months behind his back. He was just a regular guy who lived and breathed hockey, and while his connection with Mia felt real and special, that would never be enough for her. She wanted something else for the long-term.
The door opened, bringing a cloud of steam and Durand in a towel.
“About time.” Cal ripped off his shirt and headed into the bathroom.
Durand merely arched an eyebrow.
“Something to say?”
“Petrov will kill you, Foreman. Surely, you know this.”
“It’s none of your fucking business.”
The Canadian shrugged, with a Continental air to it. Cal hated those kinds of shrugs and he especially hated it when offered with a smug expression like the one Durand was sporting now.
“She’s a good friend and I went to see her Olympics tryout which was open to the public. Anyone could have gone.” Why he was explaining this to Durand he had no idea.
“Sure. You’re a good friend. We could all do with friends like you.”
Fuck this. Cal stepped forward, toe to toe with Durand who didn’t back off. “What is your problem with me?”
The answer to that should be no problem, you’re imagining things, or some point in between. It should not be: “I don’t buy it.”
“Buy what?”
He waved dismissively. “Cal ‘nicest Guy in the NHL’ Foreman.”
“You don’t know me at all, Durand.”
“No, but I know guys like you. The ones who care so much for what everyone thinks of them that they will suppress all their feelings. You would be a better player if you let go of the facade.”
First his “act,” now his game skills. This guy was cruising for a beatdown.
