by Elise Faber
And none of the complications of Brandon.
So when she yawned as it neared midnight, and he apologized for keeping her up so late then asked if she really did want to grab dinner, she accepted the invitation. She even went so far as to suggest a place to meet since he was new to town.
She was going to give him a chance.
Charlie.
Not Brandon.
Chapter Ten
Brandon
“I’m married, and my wife wants me to take another woman on a date,” Devon snapped (again, since he didn’t appear to be anywhere near ready to let it go) as he stormed into the conference room, bypassing the empty chair at the table and stomping to the coffee pot. As he poured himself a mug, Olivia glanced up from her phone and rolled her eyes.
Brandon smothered a smile.
It had been two days since he’d last seen Fanny. Well, fine. Technically it had only been one, if he counted that he’d trailed her home well past midnight the previous day. Not seeing her yesterday was hard as hell, but they’d made some progress at the rink, and he didn’t want to push her too far.
I think we had a lot of good times.
She hadn’t discounted what they had. Instead, she’d softened in his hold, had allowed him to touch her, to take care of her in one small way.
Progress.
But he knew he needed to play this carefully.
So, he hadn’t gone over to her house last night, and he hadn’t called her, even though he’d managed to get her number via Kaydon, who’d gotten it from someone in the Gold organization (which equaled Brandon being on the radar of the Gold and their gossiping hockey players, not that he cared). He’d gotten an in with Fanny, and he was going to do this slow and smart and steady. He would convince her to give him a chance, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up by playing the bull in a china shop.
“A date!” Devon said again.
Olivia sighed. “I thought we were beyond this.”
Devon scowled and stomped over, dropping into his chair and pouting. “I am. I’m doing it, even though I hate it.” He sipped, plunked the mug onto the table.
“For the children,” Olivia said, lips twitching, tone dry.
Dev narrowed his eyes. “Yes,” he gritted. “I’m doing it for the children.”
Olivia glanced at Brandon, which was really shit timing on his part because he was trying to hold it together, and seeing her blue eyes sparkling with mirth had him losing any hope of control. He burst out laughing, and Olivia joined in.
Devon glared at them. “You’re both assholes.”
“You love us,” Olivia said, wiping her eyes. “You know it’s true.”
“I tolerate you.”
“Love.” She pushed out of her chair, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and swiped his coffee, sucking down a long sip. “As in, you love us both because we bring you excellent clients and negotiate kickass contracts.”
“I hates you.”
“Hates?” Brandon couldn’t help but say.
Olivia started laughing again as she refilled his mug and plunked it back in front of Devon. “What, are you Gollum?”
Devon growled. “It’s my precious,” he muttered, snatching the mug.
“Which? The coffee or Becca?” Brandon asked.
Dev pointed a finger at him. “I don’t like that you feel comfortable enough to give me shit already.”
Brandon chuckled. “Bet you’re kicking yourself for giving me that signing bonus, too.”
“Fuck yeah, I am,” Dev muttered. “But now I’m looking for a reason to fire you.”
“And here I was going to offer to take your place,” Brandon said. “If you could sell the organizers on Dinner with a Sports Agent instead of Dinner with the Sexiest Man of the Year.”
“It was the Month. One fucking month, one fucking time.”
“Your life is so tough,” Olivia crooned. “Being a sexy hockey player.” She pretended to swoon, the back of her hand going to her forehead. “Oh, the humanity.”
Dev sighed. “I hates.”
Olivia grinned. “I know.”
Then Dev turned to Brandon. “You’d seriously do that?”
“After hearing you moan over this date for the past few days?” Brandon asked dryly. “Fuck, yes. Hell, I consider it a public service.”
He glanced at Olivia. “Think you can convince my wife to make the switch?”
A smirk curved her lush mouth. “What’ll you give me?”
Dev widened his eyes. “My undying love?”
“Pft.” She waved a hand and leaned back in her chair, and Brandon could only smile as he watched her put her negotiating hat on. There was a reason she was at Prestige, and that was because she was damned good at squeezing perks out of contracts for her clients. “I’m thinking a trip to Aruba.”
Dev snorted. “Like you’ll get Cole off that farm of his.”
One black brow lifted. “Who said I want him to go with me?”
Touché, Brandon thought, watching the two of them go back and forth as he smothered a smile.
“Two weeks at the resort you took Becca to.”
Dev glared. “You trying to bankrupt me?”
A roll of her eyes. “If one trip would bankrupt you, we have bigger problems to discuss.”
“Olivia,” Dev warned.
She studied her nails. “Either that or you can talk to Bex yourself.”
Dev was silent for a long moment. “No trip. What else?”
“Jewels.”
He sniffed, shook his head. “Dude.”
“I’m not a dude,” she said sweetly. “Okay then, no trip, no jewels. My price is a new pair of heels.”
Dev made a noise of outrage. “Those would be more expensive than a trip to fucking Aruba.”
A shrug. “Do I need to remind you that you are in the position of disadvantage in this negotiation?”
“Baked goods?” Dev countered without acknowledging that true statement. He wouldn’t give the point any credence because it would give Olivia even more power. And but seriously, Brandon felt as though he were attending a master class in negotiating.
“Ah, once that would have been golden,” she said. “But alas for you, Cole gets Molly’s to cater the ranch.” A silken smile curving her fire engine red mouth as she waved a hand with all the regal demeanor of a queen. “But by all means, however, keep trying.”
Devon’s phone buzzed, and he muttered a curse. “Logan is here to sign the contract.” He glared at Olivia. “Fine. Heels. Your choice. But only if you convince Becca to allow Brandon to take my place.”
Olivia sighed as she slicked on a fresh layer of lipstick, even though the crimson color had looked perfect before she’d put on the newest coat, at least from what Brandon could tell. “It’s not going to be easy.”
Brandon could practically hear the bones of Devon’s jaw clenching together. “Fine. Two pairs.”
She smacked her lips together. “Three.”
A vein pulsed in Dev’s forehead before he nodded. “Three.”
There was a knock at the door, and Olivia got up to answer it. On the way, she stopped and pressed a kiss to Dev’s cheek, wiping off the red mark she’d left behind before moving to the door. “One pair,” she said, smiling widely. “I can’t help myself with negotiating, but I’m not going to drain my godchildren’s college funds.”
The tension left Devon’s frame.
Brandon bit back another laugh.
Olivia opened the door and let Logan in.
And yeah, Brandon had just been lucky enough to witness that master class in negotiation.
Olivia was the shit.
He sipped the beer and wondered how quickly he could get out of there.
Not that he didn’t like Ethan, Kaydon, and Logan. He did. The latter two were talented players and good guys, and Kay and he were close. But he especially liked Ethan after Brandon had apologized for the other night and explained in the most general terms possible what was going on with him and F
anny. Ethan had nodded his understanding then promised to disembowel him if he ever talked to Fanny like that again.
Brandon hadn’t protested.
Mainly because if he did talk to her like that again, then he’d deserve the disemboweling.
But he liked that Fanny had people in her corner who’d protect her.
He liked that Ethan wouldn’t stand in his way.
Because he’d decided to win her over. He wasn’t desperate to try to earn forgiveness—he was lucky enough to have that—now he was going to weave his way back into Fanny’s life and prove to her that he was worth whatever risk the future might bring.
Luckily, Ethan hadn’t held a grudge—aside from the whole disemboweling threats—especially after Brandon had bought the first two rounds.
He was itching to get over to Fanny’s, but he knew this time was important.
Not just to build the relationship with Kaydon as a client, but also because if he was going to build a full life with Fanny, that meant he needed to have a full life. He needed friends, and it wouldn’t hurt if one of those friends happened to be the significant other of one of her friends. Maybe that was an Olivia-level move, but either way, he liked Ethan, would be happy to be friends with him.
Ethan’s relationship with Fanny was just a side benefit.
Logan was a good guy, too. He’d been in the league for many years and had a whole wealth of interesting stories to go with it. He’d also been cool about taking Kaydon under his wing, having been through a similar injury early in his own career.
And fuck, did Brandon hate that Kaydon hadn’t discussed the toxic environment at his last team with him.
Kay was a head-down-move-forward kind of guy, and though his work ethic had never faded, and he’d fought to push through the injury, though he did his level best to prove his mettle to the management at the to-remain-nameless team, none of those factors could fix a shitty work environment.
He’d been lucky to be released and luckier to be picked up by the Gold.
And not with a low-ball, insulting offer that he’d been given by other teams. With a fair bottom line and potential for growth if he really started rolling in the league.
Brandon had a feeling about this season.
He felt in his bones that the timing was right, and Kay had the right crew behind him, the right players with him. He knew, just knew, this would be Kaydon’s year.
“So then Brit took off,” Logan said. “But we were ready. Blane tackled her and stole her shoes, thinking that would slow her down.”
Brandon grinned.
Kay leaned forward. “Did it?”
“No,” Ethan said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “She just ran barefoot and beat all of us anyway.”
“And then we got in trouble from Mandy because Brit got a cut on the bottom of her foot.”
Brandon started laughing. “The women stick together.”
“The women,” Logan said dryly, “like to stick it to us.”
Ethan shrugged. “It’s true.”
“So, that’s why you guys have given up . . .” Kaydon started asking, but Brandon stopped listening. Because the door to the bar had opened and a good-looking blond man had walked in.
Though that wasn’t what had caught Brandon’s focus.
No, every cell in his body shot to rigid attention at the woman walking in behind him. A brunette with curves he would know anywhere, with lips he needed to kiss, with eyes that were stunning, with a heart he needed to own.
He almost jumped off his stool, almost left the high-top table they’d occupied since coming to the brewery an hour before, but Kay laughed loudly at something, and that broke through the red haze coating his vision enough to think.
Think, Cunningham, he snapped to himself.
Maybe it was a business meeting.
They could totally just be here to discuss something with her business. He’d been researching it since the first time he’d seen her at the rink, knew it was growing, and there were quite a few organizations interested in partnering with her.
The door shut, and Fanny laughed as she trailed the blond man to the hostess stand.
Definitely a business meeting. Def—
They checked in and stepped to the side, probably waiting for their table, and the man slipped a hand around her waist as she leaned into him.
She let him touch her.
She. Let. Him. Touch. Her.
Touch. Her.
Not a business meeting. Not a fucking business meeting.
She was on a date.
Fuck that.
Chapter Eleven
Fanny
Charlie was great.
Good-looking. Funny. Attentive and sweet.
But . . . she didn’t feel a modicum of attraction toward him. He was all those things she’d mentioned, but she didn’t want to jump his bones. Hell, she’d take a slight urge to cuddle at this point.
Instead, every time he touched her, a light hand on her back, guiding her through a door, their fingers brushing when he pulled back her chair for her, she could only think of how it had felt when Brandon had touched her outside the rink. Or when his hand had pressed to her stomach, keeping her from stepping onto the glass on her porch that night.
Or his palm on her cheek.
Or—
“You okay?” Charlie asked.
She blinked, shook her head slightly. “Sorry, I zoned out there for a minute.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have started discussing the atomic weight of sodium hydroxide.” He made a face, though he couldn’t hold it, his lips turning up at the edges, eyes dancing with humor, letting her know that he hadn’t been testing her on her chemistry skills. “Told you I was out of practice with the whole dating scene.” He tapped a finger to his mouth. “I know what will keep you riveted,” he teased. “I can tell you all about my success on my track and field team in high school.”
Laughter bubbled up in her chest as she reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’d be happy to hear of your accolades,” she said. “Was it long jump?”
He flipped his hand over, lacing their fingers together.
They were warm and calloused and . . . nothing like Brandon’s.
Fuck.
“Not long jump. I was a hundred meter guy,” he said. “But I’m not the one who has a silver medal. What was that like?” he asked.
See? He was good.
Sharing about himself, but then able to return the favor, to encourage her to share. This man wouldn’t stay single for long. She should jump in, grab on, and—
He wasn’t Brandon.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “I’m sure you get sick of discussing it.”
“No,” she said, forcing herself to focus. It wasn’t fair to Charlie. “It’s hard to put into words.” Her eyes slid closed, and she felt her mouth curve, able to transport herself right back to that moment. “I didn’t fully achieve my goal of gold, but it still felt incredible to be on that podium. I remember the weight of the medal. I remember seeing my boy—” She stopped herself before she could say boyfriend or mentioned Brandon. “I remember seeing my family”—her true family, Jeff and Grace, even though they sat next to her biological parents—“in the stands, and the smiles they wore, how proud they looked. I remember seeing the flag being hoisted, the sound of the crowd and the music blaring through the arena. Russia’s anthem.” She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “It wasn’t the Star-Spangled Banner, though it was still captivating.”
Charlie squeezed her fingers.
And she found herself still talking, even though he’d been right, and she didn’t like to talk about it. Even without the gold medal, she was proud of herself, proud of the work she’d put in. It was just . . . everything else that had come after had turned those memories into something that she buried rather than relished. She sighed. “But looking back now, it was like everything during that time was on fast-forward. Before
the medal ceremony, everything was almost a blur with all the training and press and ice time and then competing. After, it was closing ceremonies—we were right near the end, and I didn’t have much time to do anything besides focus on the competition—and more press and finally getting some sleep. So, when I was finally done and could actually let loose a bit, it was over.”
“A whirlwind,” Charlie said.
Her lips curved. “Precisely.”
“Your parents must have been so proud of you,” he said.
Ah. Well, that was almost as complicated of a topic as Brandon.
Both of which were way too complicated to get into a discussion about on a first date.
Which was why she simply said, “Yes.”
Seeming to understand that was a touchy subject, he straightened slightly, still holding her hand. “Dessert? Or should I take you home so you can get some sleep?”
Her heart squeezed, and she knew—freaking knew—that if she weren’t hung up on an annoying, curly-haired, handsome ex-fiancé, that he would be really good for her. He probably would be really good for her even with her still hung up on Brandon.
But he deserved someone without entanglements.
Someone better than her.
“Dessert,” she said, wanting to pretend a little longer. “You pick.” She tugged her hand back, started to push back her chair. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Is this a test?” Charlie asked lightly, standing when she did.
Polite.
Probably too polite, considering who his sister was.
She shook her head. “How are you Scarlett’s brother?”
“Why?” he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Because I have manners?”
“Precisely.”
He grinned. “My mom taught us both. Scar ignored her.”
“And you?”
His eyes, a deep blue, darkened enough to cause an answering echo in her middle, telling her that yeah, this man could be trouble, just like his sister. “I only put them to use for very special occasions.”
