by Sarina Bowen
It was all horrifically embarrassing. And yet it somehow seemed perfectly rational to keep her face jammed into the hollow between his shoulder and his ridiculously attractive jaw.
Leo held on tight, stroking her hair with one of his oversized hands. Just as he pressed a single kiss to the side of her head, there was a knock on the door.
“Princess? I thought we were having coffee. Did you forget about me?”
Georgia sat up fast, almost clocking Leo in the chin. Scrambling off his lap, she stood on shaky knees, panic in her stomach. “Dad? I, uh.” Her eyes cut involuntarily to the open doors bridging her room with Leo’s.
He took the hint, standing up beside her. Leo looked flushed and rumpled from all the pawing she’d done. He raised his palm to touch her cheek in a silent leave-taking.
“Princess?”
“Just got back from playing tennis!” she called, tiptoeing after Leo to shut the door behind him. “Need a quick shower!” And someone to slap some sense into me. And probably a new job.
“Meet me in the coffee shop. Don’t primp all day.” Her father chuckled and then his shadow retreated from under the door.
Georgia stood there on the carpeting a moment longer, just listening. She really should say something to Leo. Apologize for throwing herself at him. But the shower started up on his side of their wall. So of course her mind was flooded with images of Leo getting naked and stepping under the spray as water droplets ran down his pecs . . .
Lord. She would stay on her own side of the door. Joining him in the shower was not the right way to untangle this mess.
Instead, she went into her own bathroom. Avoiding her own sex-flushed face in the mirror, she took the quickest shower in history before joining her father in the coffee shop.
“Good workout?” he asked when she sat down in front of him ten minutes later.
“Yup.” Don’t you dare blush, she coached herself.
“Decaf or regular?” he asked her. “It’s sort of late in the day, so I didn’t want to guess.”
“Decaf,” she said quickly. “Thanks.”
When her father got up to get her a cup of coffee, she wrote a two word text to Leo’s old number. I’m sorry.
The reply was quick: I’m not.
Georgia stuffed her phone into her bag and tried not to wonder what that meant. Her father returned with coffee for her and a cookie to share. He broke off a corner and pushed the little plate toward her. “What’s up in the world of PR?”
She looked up into his gray eyes and tried to decide if she should be honest, or if that was just picking fights. “Damage control, of course. Lots of questions about the rumored skirmish between the new coach and his player.”
He waved his hand as if he couldn’t believe that anyone would bother with such trivial matters. “When we win, they won’t have to bug you with that bullshit.”
“If you play Leo tomorrow, the questions will stop.” The comment just popped out before she could think better of it. Good grief. It was really not her place to weigh in on coaching decisions.
Her father’s eyes widened at her audacity. Then he snorted. “No, they won’t. Gossip follows its own rules. I’ll play Trevi when I’m good and ready.”
Yikes. Georgia couldn’t decide if that sounded encouraging or not. “Why wouldn’t you play him, though?” she pressed. This was a dangerous conversation. But they’d gone years without mentioning Leo, and now she was starting to realize how odd that really was. He’d been such a big part of her life for so long. “I’m not trying to influence you, but I just don’t get it. What do you have against him, anyway?” It felt risky to bring up the past. Neither one of them wanted to relive the worst days of her life. But Leo was here amongst them, and thinking about it was inevitable.
“I don’t trust him,” her father grunted.
“Why?” The word hung in the air over their heads. This was the most they’d said about Leo in six years.
His gray eyes squinted down at his cup. “I just don’t.”
It was hard to imagine a less satisfying answer. But Georgia had pushed him as far as he was going to go.
So she changed the subject, which was the same thing she’d done with anyone in the last six years who asked her about Leo.
FOURTEEN
A cold shower wasn’t going to cut it. So Leo took a lengthy, soapy shower wherein he relieved some tension in a crucial way.
Then he turned off the water and took a deep breath of the steamy air, which seemed to be tinged with optimism. He and Georgia were going to get back together and stay that way. Maybe she didn’t quite realize it yet, but it was clear as ice to him. Their spark was still there, and stronger than ever.
She seemed skittish as hell, but he’d figure out why and then fix it.
Her job was one obvious question mark, though. I can’t date a player, she’d said when he’d asked if they could go to the benefit together. And, sure, a woman had to be professional at work. But he wasn’t just some player she might have hooked up with in the locker room. He and Georgia had known each other all their lives. If they were together, it would hardly be a cheap scandal.
He toweled off, humming to himself. Georgia had broken his heart once before, but he’d survived it. The summer after graduation hadn’t been the worst of it, because he’d held out hope that she’d come to her senses before it was too late.
But then September had come with no reprieve, and he’d gone off alone to his first days at Harkness College. He was so homesick and lonely he could hardly breathe. The skaters on his team were wicked good and none too nice to the rookies. The first year had sucked, and at the core of his misery was the empty place in his chest where her love for him had been.
He’d been nineteen years old and absolutely floored by the pain she’d caused him.
That was a long time ago, though. Now he was stronger in every conceivable way. Georgia wasn’t immune to him, either—that much was obvious. She wanted him, even if she didn’t yet see that they were meant to be back together.
He could work on that.
Leo put on khakis and a nice shirt. He knocked on Georgia’s door, but there was no answer. So he texted Silas instead, and the two of them walked a block to the team dinner at a Thai restaurant. The hostess led them to a private room in back, where players were already gathering.
“Rookie!” O’Doul called out. “Hope you brought your credit card.” His laugh was rough. “I’m ordering a twenty-five-year-old bottle of single malt. I think they just sent the delivery boy across town to buy it.”
“Aw, yes!” Bayer chuckled. “I love a good rookie dinner.”
This particular ritual—ordering the sun and stars at a team dinner and leaving the rookie the check—was familiar to Leo, though it had been over a year since the Muskegon Muskrats pulled the same crap on him.
Whatever. At least they were at a Thai place and not some top-shelf steak joint. He was getting off easy, considering.
Leo ended up in a corner on a bench, hemmed in by Bayer, O’Doul, and Silas. The guys gleefully ordered every fucking thing on the menu. “Sure, we’d love to try the sea scallops. Better make it a double order. Scallops are small.”
He would be a good sport about it, of course. The smiling faces around the table were just beginning to feel familiar. Berreki with his three missing teeth. He never wore his bridge. And Johnson, who was the grandpa of the team at thirty-eight. He had a daughter in college but he was a wild man nonetheless.
Leo hoped he’d get the chance to really be a part of this team. It was all up to him, of course. And Coach Karl.
Neither Coach Karl nor the GM turned up for the meal. But the associate coaches showed, and a couple of other guys from management.
But not Georgia.
The table was crammed full of food. There literally wasn’t enough room for all the dishes the g
uys had ordered. There were roasted filets of fish, Panang beef curries, and several different flavors of pineapple and coconut rice. And—this made him think of Georgia—dumplings in several different colors.
Leo pulled out his phone and texted her. Where are you? It’s dinnertime. There’s a ton of food. They’re running up the bill on me.
It was only a minute or two before she replied. I wasn’t going to come. Catching up on some work.
You must be buried, Leo teased, if you’re missing out on Thai food.
I am! Sorry to ask but I need to know if you’ll do that calendar. They need a decision.
Smiling to himself, Leo replied: Which calendar?
The only one we discussed. The naked calendar.
Oh, right.
You just wanted me to write *naked* didn’t you?
Now he was grinning like a lunatic. Yep.
She sent him an emoticon with pink cheeks. It was like being in high school again—in the best possible way.
He went in for the kill. I count four kinds of dumplings on this table.
That’s just mean.
No it isn’t! Get down here. I bought all these dumplings, apparently. Here’s the deal: I’ll do the calendar if you come down here.
There was a pause before she replied. So we’ve stooped to bribery?
Yep.
Ten minutes later Leo was happy to see Georgia ease into the room. And God bless the warm climate of the Southwest, because Georgia wore a sleeveless top showing off smooth, golden shoulders that he wished he could nibble on instead of the Thai food. She hesitated in the doorway, though, probably because the table looked pretty crowded already.
But the goalie, Beacon, saw her standing there. “Hey, it’s Killer!” Georgia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at hearing her dad’s old nickname, but then she smiled. “Get in here,” Beacon said, beckoning. “Yo—Castro, move down for Killer.” They made room on the bench for her.
Leo was basically trapped at the opposite end of the table. But he took three dishes, each with a few dumplings on it, and began to arrange them on one plate for her. When it was assembled, he handed it to O’Doul. “Pass that down to Georgia, please. And no sampling.”
O’Doul took the plate with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a lot of dumplings.”
“My girl likes her dumplings. And she has a monster metabolism.”
O’Doul passed it to Bayer who passed it to Silas, who actually got up and delivered it to Georgia at the end of the table.
Kiss-ass, Leo thought grumpily. But at least she got her dish.
From her seat on the far end, Georgia looked up at Leo. Thank you, she mouthed.
For what? he replied, with an eyebrow wiggle.
She dropped her eyes and blushed. Immediately, Leo felt blood rushing south, even though she was ignoring him now. She picked up a napkin and tucked it into her lap while he admired her long, toned arms. He knew exactly how those felt clinging to him. She was strong, and it was such a turn-on. Earlier today he’d been mesmerized by the sight of her hands wrapped around the handle of her racket and it was all too easy to imagine them wrapped around something else.
Fuck. He had it bad.
“So . . .” O’Doul said, swirling the scotch in his glass. “You two used to be a thing?”
Leo had to stop himself from protesting O’Doul’s use of the past tense. This afternoon had sure felt like a present-tense situation. But Georgia was skittish. So he forced himself to downplay it, and also to ignore the faux-casual tone of O’Doul’s question. “Yeah. Long time ago.”
“So you must like ’em uptight?” Bayer laughed.
“Guess so,” Leo said lightly. They didn’t need to know that earlier today he’d seen her be anything but uptight. Although . . . His eyes scanned the table. It hit him all at once that Georgia was the only female face in a sea of teammates and club employees. There were other women working for the organization. He’d met more than a handful already. But it couldn’t be easy to be the only chick traveling with all these men. Even if you were gorgeous, smart, and an athlete, too.
No wonder she was touchy about the way they saw her.
That was something to think about later.
He waved down a waitress who’d stopped to exchange some flirting with Castro. “Excuse me, but that young lady needs a drink,” he said, indicating the only young lady at the table.
A few minutes later the waitress brought Georgia what looked like a Diet Coke.
He’d rather buy her a glass of champagne and drink it naked in bed. But a guy had to start somewhere.
* * *
The final bill at the restaurant was a doozie. Leo didn’t remember the limit on his credit card. Handing it over, he only hoped that the amount wouldn’t be declined. That would mean splitting it onto two or three cards while the team laughed.
It went through, luckily.
In the unlucky department, Leo didn’t get to talk to Georgia at dinner. And on the short walk back to the hotel, she chatted with Silas.
Georgia was avoiding him. There was really no other way to look at it.
Back inside the hotel lobby, they all headed in the obvious direction—the bar. Leo took a spot at a high table, leaving space for her. She was near the doorway, finishing up her conversation with the backup goalie.
And then? She disappeared.
His teammates had obviously decided that Leo’s wallet had taken enough of a beating tonight already, so they began buying him beers. Castro bought Leo a shot of good tequila, and wanted to talk about college hockey. They’d played against each other in the Frozen Four once. An hour slipped by in casual conversation.
But Georgia did not reappear.
Pleasantly drunk, Leo took a second to text her. You okay?
The reply came quickly. Yes, and thanks for the dumplings.
Where’d you go?
In for the night.
Didn’t that just give him ideas. He could picture her in the king-sized bed in her quiet hotel room. He wanted to spread her out on the bed and . . . Yeah. He’d need a few hours just to check off the top few items on his to-do list with her. Can I come up and visit you?
The reply was immediate. It’s not a good idea.
He thought it was. Seemed like a good idea earlier today, he pressed.
That was a mistake, was her quick reply.
Leo groaned out loud.
“Your girl disappear on you?” Silas said from beside him.
He looked up quickly, shoving the phone in his pocket. “Maybe. But I can be patient.”
Silas laughed. “Can you? ’Cause you don’t look patient to me. You planted one on her in front of a couple hundred people, like sixty seconds after breaking up with what’s-her-name. And let’s not forget your hot mic moment. It was stylish. But it wasn’t patient.”
“Shit.” Leo took a pull of his beer and grimaced. Silas’s thoughts on the matter were unfortunately valid. Since stepping off the plane from Michigan, Leo had behaved like an ornery toddler more times than he cared to count. “You make a few good points.”
His roommate laughed again. “Calm down, dude. She’s single and she has been as long as I’ve known her. Most of the team is lusting after her, and she doesn’t ever notice.”
Now that was more interesting than Leo wanted to admit. “First time I ever asked her out, she didn’t believe me. Mighta been my cheesy pick-up line, though.”
“This I gotta hear.”
Leo chuckled. “We were sixteen, and had the same physics class together.”
Silas snorted. “Please tell me you didn’t offer to get physic-al.”
“It was almost that bad,” he said while Silas laughed. “The teacher was trying to get us all to understand circuits. So he said, ‘Who wants to be part of a human circuit? I need two volunteers.’” Leo could
picture the scene like it was yesterday. Georgia sat a couple of rows ahead of him, and he usually spent physics class watching her instead of the teacher. He’d had his eye on her for a while before he got up the nerve to make his move. “So Georgia raises her hand. She was always fearless.” He chuckled at the memory. “Like, hell yeah I want to conduct an electrical current with my body. So I raised my hand, too.”
“Of course you did.”
“Right? I’d take an electrical shock to stand close to the prettiest girl in tenth grade. So the teacher puts us side by side, and he asks us to hold hands, so I knew I made the right decision.”
Grinning, Silas killed his beer.
“Then we each put our free hand on this metal conductor on a special battery the guy had. He switched it on, and nothing much happened. ‘But Leo—don’t let go if you don’t want to be shocked,’ the guy said, because if we broke the circuit, I’d feel it on my end.”
“So of course you let go,” Silas guessed. “Because sixteen-year-old boys are all geniuses.”
“Wait, were you there?” Leo joked. “Of course I let go. And it wasn’t a big shock, just a little zap. And Georgia just shook her head. After class I followed her to her locker and asked her to go to the homecoming dance with me. ‘There’s a real spark between us’ is what I said.”
“Smooth.”
“Right? And first she looked at me like maybe I was making fun of her. So I asked her two more times and she finally said yes.”
Silas pointed his empty beer bottle at Leo. “And that’s why you made it to the big leagues. Never give up, dude. Tomorrow could be a big day for you.”
“You never know.” Leo finished his own beer. “But just in case, I think I’d better pack it in for tonight. Gonna need to hit the morning skate hard if Coach is going to decide I’m indispensable.”
Silas gave him a salute. “Go on, soldier. At least you have a fifty percent shot of playing tomorrow. It could always be worse. You could be the backup goalie.”
“Right. Sorry.”