Bound (5 page)

“I play hockey.”

“Oh. You mean, because you can’t find a job, or . . . is that actually your job?”

He smiled. “No, it’s my job. I’m in the offseason now so I’m just training, but I play for the Chicago team.”

“You mean the NHL?”

“Yep.”

I nodded, a light bulb coming on. “Ah. That’s what Tara was talking about.”

“Yeah. What did you go to school for?”

I rolled my eyes. “Apparently nothing. I have a psych degree, but I’ve been applying for jobs for more than two months.”

“I’ve heard it’s a lousy market out there.”

“It is. And my experience in the college libr
ary isn’t much help.”

The waitress swept back through, unloading a t
ray laden with the water and food in record time. Ryke reached out to cut the cheeseburger into four pieces, and I tried not to stare at his large, muscled forearms.

“I can’t eat all this,” he said, sitting the plates in the middle of the table. “You’ve gotta help.”

Curiosity gnawed at me. “Did you lose a parent?”

His eyes flicked down toward the table for just a second before they came back to mine. They were light brown with flecks of gold; I could see getting lost there if I let myself.

“My wife.” He said it so simply, and my lips parted with surprise as I lowered my sweating water glass to the table.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. You’re so young.”

“I was 25 when it happened two years ago. She was killed by a drunk driver on the expressway.”

“How long had you been married?” Was it okay to ask that? I didn’t know anything about grief etiquette outside of my own experience.

“A little over a year.”

My heart tugged with sympathy for the dark, beautiful man across from me. “What a tragedy. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” He forked the grilled chicken salad, and something made me reach out and take part of the cheeseburger. The hot cheese and spicy beef melted in my mouth.

“So if you just graduated, are you . . . 22?” he asked.

“Yeah. I should’ve just gone to grad school. I was too stressed about going deeper into debt to think about it, but now I’m considering it. Maybe in January, if I can get in somewhere.”

“If you need a job, I’ve got one for you to consider.”

I stared at him as I bit into a greasy onion ring. I was desperate. I’d drive the zamboni at the ice rink if I could get hired. Borrowing money from my mom this morning to pay my cell phone bill had made me feel like shit. But it was the number on my resume, so it wasn’t like I could afford to have it disconnected.

“I need an assistant. Someone to handle stuff for me like
. . .” He furrowed his brows and took another bite of salad. “. . . uh, like taking in my dry cleaning and paying the bills and helping me decide which tie I should wear to some of the stuffy dinners I have to go to.”

Things
his wife probably used to do. I had a pang as I shook my head. “I’m no good at stuff like that. I can barely keep my own shit together.”

“Well, you matched your shirt
and shoes, so I think you can handle picking ties out for me.”

I laughed at his serious expression. “Don’t you want someone with more experience?”

“No. You’d do fine. My preseason starts before long, so you’d be helping me out at a busy time.”

I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again. He’d caught me completely off-guard.
I needed a job, sure, but I’d never envisioned myself as anyone’s assistant.

“I’ll pay you $1,000 a week,” he said, his eyes still studying mine.

“But you don’t even know me. I could be crazy.”

His brows quirked up. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Okay. So?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I have to find an actual job. Someplace downtown will surely take pity on me eventually.”

Ryke stroked a hand over his short coat of black stubble. He really was quite delicious looking. “I could help. I know some people. What kind of a job do you want?”

I sighed. “I don’t even know. Something in an office. I majored in psychology because I had to choose something, but I’ve never really been drawn to any career.”

“Well, what do you enjoy?”

I considered. When was the last time someone had asked me that?  “I love reading and baking and watching bad reality shows. And playing volleyball, but I haven’t done that much since high school.”

Ryke looked th
oughtful and I laughed. “I know, none of those will get me a job. I’m that stereotypical college grad who’s got a mountain of debt and not a clue what she wants to do with her life . . . I wouldn’t have been a very good mom.”

I grabbed the milkshake and sipped it, needing some way to cover my embarrassment over my last statement.

“Kate.” Ryke’s eyes were serious as he watched me. “Don’t say that. There’s a ton of guilt that comes from losing someone unexpectedly. It can hit you all of a sudden. You’re being way too hard on yourself.”

I wanted him to tell me about his guilt, and his wife, and his life after her death. But I barely knew this guy.

“I ate most of that cheeseburger and half of the milkshake,” I said, reaching into my wallet. Ryke put a hand up, taking out his wallet and throwing two twenties on the table. He also handed me a white business card with the logo of his NHL team.

“My number’s on there. Give me a call if you change your mind about the job. I’m a pretty okay guy, as long as I get my morning coffee.”

I smiled at him as I slid out of the booth. “You don’t want me, then. I’ve never even made coffee.”

“See you next week?” he asked as we walked to the door.

“Probably. That group’s growing on me.”

“Even Trace?” Ryke smiled and
held the glass front door open for me.

“Which one is he?” I scrunched my face, trying to remember.

“The one you can smell ten minutes before he walks in the door.”

I laughed as I remembered my first meeting next to the smelly guy. “Right. Hey, thanks for dinner and your offer. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was nice talking to you.”

He followed me to my car and I gave him an awkward wave as I got in.
I fired up my beast and drove away quickly, needing to escape the nervous excitement I hadn’t felt for a man in nearly a year.

***

Ryke

My teammate Luke tossed an Xbox controller all the way across the room, where it thumped into a wall and slid to the floor.

“Bullshit!” he yelled, throwing himself against the back of my leather couch and smacking the side of it.

“Don’t throw my shit, asshole!” I yelled back, punching his leg.

“I fucking hate that game. Let’s play again.”

“Yeah, if the controller still works.”

Like me, Luke was single. We were both forwards
on the team, and we often hung out together outside of work.

We were spending Fri
day night playing video games at my place. My housekeeper Mimi had been over that morning and had put a roast in a slow cooker with a bunch of vegetables. The savory, spicy smell now filled the whole apartment.

“Let’s eat,” I said, throwing my
controller on the couch and getting up.

I was restless. Had been since Tuesday night. I’
d surprised myself when I offered Kate a job as my assistant. I wasn’t really looking for one. But when I saw the sadness in her huge brown eyes, the words had just come out. I wanted to make it all better.

And then she’d surprised the shit out of me and said no. I figured she’d jump on it, and I was even more confused when I walked her out to the junk on wheels that was her car. She needed the money, couldn’t find a job, but didn’t want to work for me?

“Am I arrogant?” I asked Luke as we stood against my kitchen island eating. He pounded his chest, looking like he was gonna choke for a second.

“Is this a trick question?”

“No.”

“You’re a fucking underwear model, dude. That’s enough to make any guy arrogant.”

“I’m serious. Am I an asshole for assuming any woman would jump at the chance to be around me?”

Luke considered as he chewed. “Yeah, kind of. Not all women like athletes. Some
of them like sensitive guys who write poems and shit.”

I shook my head and thought about it as I ate.
I came from a middle class family and counted myself lucky every day to be where I was. But I’d never had to fight for a woman’s attention, even before I had money.

Ah, fuck it. Plenty of other women out there.

“You having girl problems, Ryker?” Luke asked with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re the only girl giving me problems right now. Finish eating so I can kick the shit out of you again.”

“We’re switching controllers.” His eyes were large and serious, and I shook my head.

“You think I’m playing w
ith the one you smashed into the wall?”

“Maybe we should just go out.”

I blew out a breath. “I’m staying here, man.”

“Come on, you’re my wingman.”

“I don’t feel like it,” I said, an edge in my tone.

“Fine, we’ll stay here,” Luke said, already sulking. “But we’re at least switching controllers.”

***

Kate

Though I was 22 and celibate, my Mom had a boyfriend who
took her out every weekend. Dale was an English teacher, and they’d been together for more than a year.

“Which ones?” she sa
id, holding a different earring to each of her ears.

“The hoops,” I said, stretching out on her bed. “What are you guys doing tonight?”

“Dinner and a movie, I think. Why don’t you come with us?”

“Because I have a date myself.”

Mom turned so fast her blonde bob whipped against her cheeks. “What? Really?”

“With
Downton Abbey
and some ice cream,” I said, feeling a little bad as her face fell.

“Kate . . .”
The
mom tone
was usually the precursor to an argument for the two of us.

“Mom, I’ve been busting my ass looking for jobs and I’m so tired of dressing up and smiling. I just need to veg out tonight.”

She sat down on the corner of the bed and I caught a whiff of her powdery scent. “I know, but you haven’t been out on a date in almost a year, Katie. You’re young and beautiful and I just want to see you happy.”

“I’m okay. Really, I am. I’ve been going to the grief support group at the hospital.”

The corners of her lips turned up a hint and her eyes got a little misty. “Good. And I know how hard you’re working at finding a job. You’ll get an offer soon.”

“Hopefully one that doesn’t involve dry cleaning and coffee,” I
said, rolling my eyes and sitting up on the bed.

Mom’s face wrinkled with confusion. “What’s that mean?”

“Just this guy I met at the grief group who offered me a job as his assistant.” I waved my hand dismissively.

“You were offered a job? When?”

“Um . . . Tuesday night. But I’m pretty sure he just felt sorry for me.”

“Is he some kind of executive or something?”

“No, he’s a pro hockey player.” I fiddled with the fringe on a decorative pillow. “But I wouldn’t be good at organizing his life and all that. You know how I am.”

“I think you’d be very good at it,” she said, reaching for my hand. “I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t say yes. It may not be your dream job, but you can meet other people and open new doors that could lead to something else.”

I sighed and kept my eyes on the pillow. “I don’t know. I thought about it for a second, because I need the money so bad, and he offered me more money than the jobs I’ve been applying for pay. I hate mooching off of you. But then . . . I just said no because I felt like I was supposed to. Like it was a pity thing and he was probably relieved I didn’t want to.”

“If he wanted you to say no, he wouldn’t have offered. Maybe you’ll see him next Tuesd
ay and the job will still be open.”

The doorbell rang and Mom popped up from the bed. “That’ll be Dale. Call me if you want me to bring some food home or something.”

“Have fun.”  The bucket of French vanilla in the freezer was already calling my name, so I walked that way. I looked over at my purse on the counter and reached in, pulling out the crisp white business card I’d stuck in a pocket.

Jason Ryker
. The words seemed to tease me, asking whether I had the guts to call. My unopened bills on the counter next to my purse were on Team Call Him. I couldn’t go on like this forever, running deeper and deeper in debt to my mom.