by G. K. Brady
He looked down at her. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
She straightened and moved away—damn!—taking a sip of her water. “And that would be?”
“In your text earlier today, you said something about an agent contacting me? What was that about?”
Ellie filled him in about this ICE agent, a guy named Clemente, who had questioned her about her new van. “Sonoma told him to contact you to verify the story, and he sent me an email saying he had done just that, so I was in the clear.”
“Clear from what? You didn’t do anything wrong to begin with.”
“Tell Agent Clemente that,” she huffed. “I think he subscribes to the ‘guilty until proven innocent’ motto.”
Dave’s pissed-off-o-meter climbed for reasons as yet unclear, and he acknowledged his next complaint. Why the hell was this dude fucking with Ellie? “Sounds like he’s harassing you.”
“I think he felt bad about it, and the email was his way of saying sorry.”
“Did he actually apologize?”
Her eyes traveled to the ceiling. When they landed back on him, she gave a little shoulder shrug. “No, but he asked me out for coffee to explain”—air quotes on the last word—“so I assume he was planning to apologize in person.”
He wants to get in her pants. Fucker! “If he gives you any more shit”—he stabbed at his chest—“tell him you have a big, bad Wookiee on speed dial.”
“But I don’t have a Wookiee on speed dial.” She laughed, and the melody of that laugh lifted his stormy mood.
He pointed at her phone. “Yeah, you do. Check your texts. My cell number’s there.”
“Oh, that’s right! Sonoma handed out my number, didn’t she?” Pretty blue eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Is it okay that I have it?”
She flicked her wrist. “It’s fine. I just don’t want her writing it on bathroom walls.” Before he could respond with, “She wouldn’t, and if she did, I’d take care of it,” Ellie zeroed in on his hand. “How’s the hand doing?”
He flexed it and lied. “Feels great.”
Her soft pink mouth parted to say something, but her head jerked to the side when Viktor tapped her forearm. Dave fired him a special Grims glower, but the rookie didn’t acknowledge it. Across the table, Sonoma’s eyes darted between him and Ellie, and a knowing smile tipped her lips, as if she were saying, “See? I told you you’d like her.” Too late. I’ll be traded before the all-star break. A needle of regret pierced him.
No, he didn’t need to get caught up in anyone right now—not beyond a one-night stand anyway, and Ellie was definitely not on his one-night stand radar. Not that anyone else was either. Or that his one-night stand radar was operational these days. Maybe he needed to fire that puppy up so he could ignore the traitorous tug in his chest toward the woman beside him.
Finally, they went from seven to four at the table. Viktor would have made it five if Quinn, Viktor’s ride tonight, hadn’t dragged his ass away. Vik had had the Hulk balls to ask Dave to give him a ride instead, his eyebrows bouncing in Ellie’s general direction, which gave Dave the pleasure of shaking his head and saying, “Not tonight, rookie.”
Then Vik had tapped Ellie’s arm and appeared to be on the verge of asking her to give him a ride. A totally different ride that didn’t include four wheels, Dave was damn sure. The rookie wised up and caught the look Dave sent him this time. When Dave answered for Ellie, repeating, “Not tonight, rookie,” Vik said his good nights and trailed Quinn and Sarah. I’m gonna have to clue that kid in on Wyatt’s seniority code. Except I’m not trying to date this girl. But I don’t want him dating her either. Shit. What’s wrong with me?
Sonoma pinched Finn’s sleeve, motioning him to slide beside her as she settled herself across from Dave. “So did you hear?” She raced on, not waiting for his answer. “Uncle Stan’s coming to Denver.”
Oh no. He was afraid to ask his next question. “What for?”
“Some old buddy is hosting a big box social at his spread in Sterling, and Stan’s going to be the caller.” A grin Dave didn’t like was spreading across her face. It signaled trouble. “He’s asked us to be there to help him out and because he wants to see us.”
A look of confusion scrunched Ellie’s features. “What’s a box social? And what’s a caller?”
Dave opened and closed his mouth, afraid to say something that would either incriminate him or have him stepping into whatever trap his cousin was laying.
Sonoma darted her gaze to Ellie, and before he could stop her, she said, “A box social is a get-together where women bring boxes they’ve decorated and packed with a meal, and men bid on the boxes. The idea is the man doesn’t know which box belongs to which woman, and he wins the box and the woman that goes with it for the meal. They’re really fun.” Sonoma seemed to wiggle in her seat, as though she was just getting down to the good stuff. “A caller is the person who gives direction at a square dance, who sings out things like ‘Swing your partner.’ Our Uncle Stan is a famous singing caller, which means he actually sings while he tells the dancers what steps to take. He lives in Oklahoma now, but he’s traveled all over the country.” Sonoma’s grin widened. “When Dave and I were kids, our families used to take us along. We got to watch Uncle Stan and dance at the same time.”
Ellie’s head whipped toward Dave, her expression a study in astonishment. “You square-dance?”
He winced. “Not since I was a kid.” And had no choice.
Sonoma fluttered her eyelashes “Oh, but you still know how, Dave.” With a conspiratorial tone, she leaned toward Ellie. “We haven’t seen our Uncle Stan in forever, and he’s getting up there in years, so you need to help me convince Dave to go.”
“No way, Nome,” Dave growled. “I’ll go see Uncle Stan, but we can catch breakfast with him or something instead.”
Acting as though Dave weren’t in the same room—let alone seated at the same table—Sonoma added, “And the way we convince him is you come too.”
Ellie’s gaping mouth telegraphed her stun factor. “I don’t dance.”
Finn busted out with a laugh. “Because we won’t let her. It’s a disaster of epic proportion. She embarrasses the whole family.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to get fired?”
“No, just speaking the truth, El.” He turned to Sonoma. “She’s been known to stomp and maim small children who get in the way.”
Surprise flashed through Sonoma’s eyes. “On purpose?”
“No, not on purpose. She’s just an incredibly klutzy dancer.”
Dave felt Ellie squirming beside him, and two forces collided inside him at once. He felt a powerful pull to make her discomfort disappear, and another part of him heard the siren’s call of a solid challenge. She was stirring up emotions inside he didn’t want stirred. He peered at her, biting back a smile. “You stomp?” Somehow it didn’t come out with the humor he’d intended.
She dropped her face in her hands. “I stomp,” came her muffled voice. When she raised her head, her cheeks glowed bright pink, giving her a look that was part-Bambi and part … he didn’t have a word for it, but it was tantalizing AF. His mind took a fleeting detour to leaning down and kissing that cheek, then trailing his lips to her mouth. His dick perked up and cheered. Chill the fuck out!
“Don’t worry, Ellie. Dave’s a very good lead. He’ll teach you the steps, and he won’t let you stomp on anyone. Will you, Dave?” She gave him a syrupy smile.
I swear, when I get my hands on you, Sonoma …
“Oh. And did I tell you?” she continued singing. “All the money raised by the box social goes to Heifer International.” She patted Dave’s arm. “A few hours of dancing for a worthy cause, and getting to see Uncle Stan, what’s not to love?”
“Uh, wearing a western shirt and cowboy boots?”
“Cowboy boots are sexy! You didn’t get rid of all that stuff, did you?” She added a huge dose of drama to her tone.<
br />
Now he felt his cheeks blazing. He had way more country clothing than he’d ever want to fess up to, and Nicky had always given him crap about it. But it wasn’t because he liked the stuff. It was simply because he seemed to move houses every few years, and with hockey eating up all his time, he’d never gotten around to purging.
“Doesn’t matter if you did. We’ll get you new stuff.” Sonoma’s bright eyes gave her a slightly unhinged look. “And, Ellie, I’ll take you shopping to get what you need. C’mon. It’ll be fun! Finn already said he’s in.”
Finn’s eyes popped. “I did?”
Sonoma shot him a look that said, “I have a voodoo doll with your name on it, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
He gave her a wide grin. “What the hell? You only live once, right?” He reached over and gave Ellie’s arm a soft punch. “C’mon, Sis. This’ll make a great story for this year’s Callahan Christmas. Might even prevent a fight or two.”
Ellie turned pleading eyes to Dave. “Get me out of this,” that plea said.
His inner Yoda picked just that moment to take command of his mouth. “Finn’s right. It’s always good to try new things.”
“I’m clearing you for the road trip.” The trainer spoke the sweetest words Dave had ever heard. The icing-and-ibuprofen routine for the past week, combined with the hand-rest regimen, had paid off, though the pain was still there. Exchanging texts with Ellie hadn’t hurt either because she’d invariably scolded him about his hand. Truth be told, he wanted it to get better so he could play again, but he had extra motivation: if he was being forced into square-dancing, and he was going to dance with that girl, he wanted to do it with both hands functioning properly.
Once more, he thought about the quicker, easier route. He and Bobby had been exchanging texts, but neither one had mentioned hooking Dave up. Which was a good thing because Dave wasn’t sure he would have been able to say no.
After practice, he called his agent. “Herb? I’m going on the road trip. You can put the feelers out there again.”
“Not so fast, Dave. Like I said before, let’s see how it goes your first few games.”
He grudgingly agreed. At least he was headed in the right direction—for now.
An extra spring in his step had him bounding onto the team bus headed for the airport, and he was able to overlook Nelson and the guys who barely acknowledged him. So what if they treated him like the Invisible Man? Their loss, not his. He plunked into an isolated seat in the back and stared out the window at a few of his teammates in the parking lot hugging on their girls and kissing them good-bye.
T.J. was one of those guys, and when he finally let Natalie go and lumbered onto the bus, he parked his big frame in the seat across from Dave. “Glad to see you’re coming with us, Cap. Bet you’re glad too.”
“You have no fucking idea.”
T.J.’s eyes flared. “Actually, I do.”
“Oh shit. Yeah, you do, don’t you? Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.” When T.J. had been acquired by the Blizzard, he’d been serving a twenty-plus-games suspension for sucker-punching another team’s player. If anyone knew about self-inflicted downfalls, it was this guy. After a beat, curiosity had Dave asking, “How did you come back?”
T.J. shrugged. “I stopped blaming everyone else and feeling sorry for myself. Then I worked my ass off.”
“I remember. Turned out so well I’d forgotten it happened.” Dave recalled T.J. being the hardest-working guy at practice, staying behind to sharpen his shooting skills on his own, even though he couldn’t be in the lineup. And he hadn’t limited his efforts to the ice. In his spare time, he volunteered, coaching a sled hockey team.
“That’s the whole idea. And from where I sit, you’re crushing the whole working-your-ass-off part of the equation. But the other? Something to think about, Cap.” T.J. plugged in his earbuds and leaned his head back.
Wait. Does he mean I’m blaming everyone else and feeling sorry for myself? What the hell? Dave’s blood heated to a slow simmer. Those two situations were totally different.
Weren’t they?
Chapter 14
Wookiees on Ice
"Ouch! What did you do that for?” Finn rubbed his head.
“Sorry,” Ellie sang. Not sorry. She’d just tossed a fully loaded walnut at his head and wished she had a bag full. Though more than a week had passed since she’d been roped into a hokey square dance, she was still steaming. The date was coming fast, and she pictured herself in some rancher’s field, stuck on a scratchy hay bale eating a box dinner with some bowlegged stranger. Finn was the closest target for her frustration.
Cross-legged on her couch with a big bowl of popcorn, she stuffed a few kernels in her mouth and flicked a few at him too.
“Knock it off, El! I thought you liked Captain Dave and wanted to go to the dance with him.” Finn snickered. “High school déja vu all over again.”
“I don’t like him like that, and don’t call him Captain Dave! You make him sound like some goof wearing white pants and a navy blazer in an Old Spice commercial.” Exactly why was she protesting on Dave’s behalf? No idea. “And by the way, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Sonoma—”
He cut her off—a little too quickly. “We’re just friends.”
Wait. Finn’s never “just friends” with women. “Whatever. Just don’t … sleep with her. And if you do sleep with her, do not toss her away like you do everyone else.”
He looked affronted. “What’s it to you who I do—or don’t—go out with?”
“I’ve known her a long time. She’s sweet, and she’s … she’s my friend. I don’t want to see her get hurt. She’s also my stylist, and she’ll take her revenge out on my hair, which means I’ll have to kill you. And no one will ever find out because I will scatter your body parts in every landfill along the Front Range.”
“Right. I think I’m in way more danger from her cousin, who actually could tear me limb from limb. Nome says he’s uber protective.”
Nome? Oh, this might be serious.
“Heard from Keira lately? Or the other one? What was her name?” Yeah, that was mean, but Ellie couldn’t help herself.
“We’re done, over,” Finn mumbled.
Ellie turned to him. “Seriously?”
He leaned over and snatched a handful of popcorn from the bowl. “Dead serious. She called the other night, and I brushed her off.”
“Just like that? No booty-call reprisal?” Ellie feigned a gawp. “Are you sick?”
He gave her an eye-roll. “No. I just don’t want to hang out with her anymore. She’s too young. Besides being annoying, she doesn’t have a lot to say that’s worth listening to.”
“I didn’t know conversation figured on your priority list.”
“Haha. You’re a laugh riot. Seriously, El, I told her and ‘the other one’ I’m not interested anymore.”
“Because why? You’re interested in someone else whose name starts with S?”
“El,” he huffed. “We’re not in high school anymore.”
Ellie turned toward him, a quip forming in her brain. The wistful expression on his face as he stared straight ahead caught her by surprise, and she veered in a different direction. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to a square dance.”
“We’ve lived in Colorado our whole lives, and neither of us has ever been to anything like it. Middle school PE class doesn’t count. I can’t wait to see what it’s all about. Besides, it’s only for a few hours.”
“Not exactly, since we’re staying overnight in the host’s ranch house slash mansion, remember? So we’ll hang out with these people for at least twelve hours.” A light bulb winked on in her head. “And these people have money and may need landscaping help. I can turn this into a business opportunity.”
He picked up the walnut Casper was pushing around with her nose. The popcorn that had hit the floor was long gone. “Christ, El, when did you get so boring? Business, business.
Cut loose and live a little, for fuck’s sake. Get outside your uncomfortable comfort zone. You’re a ninety-year-old woman in a twenty-eight-year-old’s body, wasting away. Hell, I know ninety-somethings more fun than you are.”
The words clobbered Ellie, and she gaped at him, trying to come up with a retort. But then realization struck her like Colorado dry lightning. Shit! He’s right. When did I become so damn serious? After Will left me with a mountain of debt, that’s when. Thanks again, douchebag. After a beat, another brainwave struck her. Does that mean I let what he did control who I am?
She shimmied in place, as though it would shake off some of her grumblies. “Casper!” Ellie tossed a kernel that the dog caught like a champ. Then a few more.
Finn pressed the remote. “This oughta cheer you up, El. Grown men beating each other up.”
“Are we watching boxing?”
“Better. We’re watching the Blizzard play the Flyers.”
“Oh.” Ellie didn’t know much about hockey beyond a general idea that skates and ice were involved, but it occurred to her she should learn. If she was going to an overnight hoedown with a hockey player—who had bought her a van!—she should at least understand a little about what he did for a living. Not only did he know what she did, he’d seen her at work.
Such an odd concept. Skating around with a stick and chasing a puck was his job.
“I’ll explain as we go, El, but with each shift, pick out one player on the ice—could be from either team—and follow him. Watch what he does,” Finn said.
After he explained what a shift was, Ellie tried to focus on individual players but only seemed to keep her eye on big number ninety-two. Halfway into the period, she realized there was a whole heck of a lot more to his job than skating. His main role was defending, and every time he was on the ice, he was doing something. Moving. Passing. Skating fast. Barking out orders. Taking shots at the net. Muscling the puck away from an opponent. Clearing guys out of his goalie’s way with his stick, his hands, his entire body. Sacrificing himself, as Finn put it, by getting in the way of wicked, lightning-swift shots—which made Ellie cringe. That’s how they lose their teeth! And the look on his face? Burning intensity. Pure, unadulterated determination verging on hunger … as if he was hungry for the puck. Lordy, that’s all kinds of hawt!
