Risky Business (9 page)

“I'm still wading through the paperwork, on my own, which is slow going since I don't have any help, and I'm not making any major financial decisions until I figure out what I'm dealing with. Are you going to come get these hot wings or not?”

She held the plate and beer out, meeting the narrowed, spiteful gaze he issued her in return. If he wanted a staring contest, then she was game. She was one of four siblings and, therefore, practically a professional at them. He had no idea the caliber of stubbornness he was dealing with.

Finally, he sniffed and looked at the water. He threw the rag down, flipped the radio back on, and stepped into the boat's cabin, dismissing her and her offering.

Oh, hell, no.

There was only one thing to do. She jumped onto the boat and threw the plate into the boat cabin, Frisbee style, at Theo's back. He ducked, exclaiming in French. Then she twisted the top off the beer and overturned it in one of the plastic drink holders affixed to the deck railing. Shaking with adrenaline, she pivoted on her heel, jumped back onto the dock, marched up the stairs and into the office, where she dialed the number to Lock, Stock, & Barrel.

“Hi, Harper? It's Allison. I had a change of heart. I'd love to go with you to the hockey game.”

Anyone who claimed that intensity didn't have a smell had obviously never spent any time in a locker room before a big game. It used to be that men's league hockey was a fun way for Theo to blow off steam after long days of dealing with tourists, Lowell's mistress/secretary, and boat motors that wouldn't start. Not this season.

Intensity had a way of turning the air heavy with sweat, medical tape, and the soapy steam from one or more of the players' ritual pre-game shower—on Bomb Squad, that player was Liam. The smell and pressure of the room reminded Theo of the minor league and the pressure put on teenage boys to perform as well as professional, full-grown men.

Every game had taken on more significance now that Wounded Veterans International was watching. They still hadn't heard whether they'd been selected to play in the exhibition game, which wasn't a surprise, but it didn't ease the tension in the locker room any, thinking that their every play might sway the scouts' opinion. As far as any of the guys knew, there weren't any scouts at tonight's game, but that didn't mean word wouldn't get back to them if Bomb Squad ended their season-long winning streak with a spectacular loss.

It used to be, Theo thrived on the pressure of keeping up a streak, whether it be of the scoring, winning, or body checking variety. But now, with Brandon and the others counting on him to help make their whole team an inspiration to combat-wounded vets all over the world, the pressure took him back to being sixteen. It took him back to the way his parents looked in the stands at every game, like their lives depended on his next goal, on the approval of the Major Junior League scouts sitting in the stands. Which, in their eyes, their lives and futures very much had.

That old, familiar frustration settled in his chest—at the position that he'd landed himself in, despite his best efforts, and that he kept finding himself in, despite years of fighting to cut the chains pulling on him by people who expected him to be their salvation.

He fisted his hands, thinking about how his parents used to pray in the bleachers that God would help Theo get noticed by the scouts and sponsors, and save them from losing their house. Like a sixteen-year-old boy could thrive with that kind of responsibility on his shoulders.

Allison Whitley wasn't going to last the season as Cloud Nine's owner without his aid. She was absolutely fucking helpless, but the more he attempted to illustrate that to her, the more stubborn she got in her commitment not to do the right thing and sell the landing to him.

Oscar thought he had a decent case for a lawsuit, but needed to do some discreet research into Allison and Lowell's divorce settlement. Theo loathed the idea of blindsiding her with a lawsuit—it felt like a petty, chicken-shit move—but she'd left him with no choice. Thinking about her refusal to sell even Lanette, juxtaposed with the help she expected Theo to give her, tightened his chest even more. He embraced the ire, growing it inside himself, knowing it'd make him invincible on the ice if he could keep the feeling alive.

He knocked his skate against the base of his locker and stood, more pissed off by the second. No doubt about it, he was going to have the game of his life tonight.

He was slugged in the shoulder and turned to see Liam, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Your boss lady's here.”

Goddamn it. Theo wasn't sure what pissed him off more, the reminder that Allison was the person signing his paychecks or that she was butting her nose into his personal life against his express wishes. That half the men in the locker room were looking his way, grinning, didn't help.

He shrugged, feigning indifference, and turned to face his locker, grabbing his gloves.

Will appeared at his side, leaning his shoulder into the next locker over. “Think this'll be part of your performance review?”

Behind him, he recognized Brandon's snicker over a sudden rush of blood in his ears. “I think I'd like her to give me a performance review.”

“She's a hot piece of ass,” someone across the room added, loud enough for Theo to hear, but not so much that he could tell who it was.

Oh, hell, no
. Theo dropped his gloves to the ground and took a slow turn around, leveling what he hoped was a searing glare at every man in the room. Especially Liam, Will, and Brandon, for kicking off the conversation and refusing to let it die. What he really wanted to do was slam their heads together to wipe the suggestive smiles from their faces.

He couldn't remember a time in recent memory that he'd been so locked up with frustration that it turned his bones to iron. “You don't get to talk about her like that. You don't get to look at her like that. None of you. Understood?”

Will pulled his face back in surprise. Then he laughed. “You're invoking the Bro Code? Wait . . . you have a thing for Lowell Whitley's ex-wife?”

Theo locked his fist at his side and forced out a steadying breath through his nose. Will wasn't interested in Allison; he was only spoiling for a fight like he was apt to do. Too bad for him Theo had learned a long time ago not to let himself be suckered into Will's dares. “I don't have a
thing
for Allison Whitley. And this Bro Code bullshit is child's play.”

Brandon crossed his arms over his chest. “Don't insult the Bro Code.”

“You mean the ‘rule'”—Theo bracketed the word with air quotes, feeling his carefully constructed control shatter all over again—“that implies a woman is so indiscriminate that she's happy to go along for the ride with whichever man calls dibs on her first?”

“Huh?”

Theo swiped his gloves from the floor, feeling inexplicably claustrophobic. He was done with this conversation—with talking about Allison Whitley like she was some kind of prize for them to pound their chests over, as all the while she sat in the stands just beyond the ice rink door, invading Theo's life in every way. He couldn't even get in the zone for a game in the privacy of the men's locker room without her mucking it up.

“How about I try to define the flaw in the Bro Code in a way you can understand?” He slammed his locker closed and stepped over the bench to face-off with Brandon. “I wouldn't want to be with a woman who would be equally happy getting fucked by you. Any of you.”

Will folded forward with a loud chuckle. “Oh, snap. That's cold.”

“Hey, now.” Brandon gave Theo's chest a shove, backing him out of his personal space. “I didn't deserve that. I know you're having a shitty week, and I know you think Allison Whitley is the devil incarnate, but don't take it out on us. Save it for the ice.”

Even through his anger, Theo realized Brandon was right. It was uncanny how easily Allison got under his skin, how quickly she took his emotions from zero to overdrive every time they had to breathe the same air, which was just about every damn waking minute since she'd arrived. He'd been looking forward to tonight's game all week, eager to blow off some serious steam and mentally reset himself so he could figure out his next move in the chess match against the Whitleys.

It pissed him off like crazy that the devil incarnate was so difficult to ignore. There was something about the way Allison carried herself, in her eyes and the way she talked, that made his attention snap her way every time he was near her. And when she wasn't in sight, he couldn't get out of his head the way her body had shaken with anger and fear in those drenched, leopard print panties and pink bra after she'd climbed out of the canal. Or the look on her face when she came stomping down the dock on Wednesday, so mad at him that she forgot she was afraid of water.

He would have been proud of her if she'd braved her greatest fear for any better reason than to throw a plate of chicken wings at him.

The absurdity of that thought and the memory of Allison all wound up and spitting mad drained the fight right out him.

He drew a conciliatory breath so Brandon would get it that Theo knew he'd been wrong. “She doesn't belong here, and the sooner she figures it out, the better off I'll be. So you can't come on to her, any of you. You can't give her the wrong impression that she's welcome. She's not.”

Technically, that was how Theo felt, but the sentiment sounded wrong, despicable even, when said aloud. True, Allison didn't belong as Cloud Nine's owner. He resented the overly dramatic way she'd descended into his life and business without warning. She wasn't welcome around Theo in any way, shape, or form. But she and her baby didn't deserve to be shunned or put out on the street.

He didn't want to kick her out; he'd wanted to buy the business from her, legitimately and for a reasonable sum of money that would be a cushion for her and her baby until she found new work and a new place to live—in a new town. Hopefully the threat of a lawsuit would be enough to persuade her to agree to sell. Either way, he didn't want her getting comfortable in Destiny Falls, like she might if one of his teammates started dating her or sleeping with her.

Come to think of it, what did any of the guys want with a needy, newly divorced mother with a temper? It had to be the novelty of having a single woman move into town.

It wasn't like any of the guys on Bomb Squad was right for Allison, either. Liam hated dealing with civilians. Theo had seen a few of the women he dated and dumped. They were emotional wrecks by the time Liam was done with them. Will was still too full of rage about losing his hand to treat a woman right, which he knew, and so kept his distance from every last one of them. Brandon thought about women just like he thought about everything else in his life, like they were a game to be played.

And whichever guy in the locker room had called her “a hot piece of ass” was lucky Theo hadn't figured out his identity because he would have snapped the man's dick in half before he let a creep like that anywhere near Allison or her baby.

After a glance at the clock on the wall, he strapped on his helmet and grabbed his stick, giving himself one last reminder not to look for her in the stands. Stewing about her presence was distracting enough, and he was determined to focus. Bomb Squad had an unbeaten streak to uphold. After Duke's whistle and final words of battle, they poured out of the locker room and onto the ice, ready to pulverize the Brockport Blarney Stoners.

***

By the time Allison found Katie's winter coat and booties, wrangled her into her cold weather gear, then right back out again for an emergency diaper change, then went through the whole routine over again, she was running far later than her usual ten to fifteen minutes.

The ice rink reminded her of the one near her childhood home, with a ceiling open to the rafters and a no frills concrete floor surrounding the rink. Even the snack shack reminded her of getting nachos with her high school friends on Friday nights. She'd never been a huge fan of ice skating because what was worse than exercising on water? But it being frozen helped her make peace with the activity when her friends decided to go or when she'd been invited to birthday parties held there.

She craned her neck to find that little room for kids' birthday parties, another fond memory of hers from her childhood. Sure enough, it was on the far side of the snack shack. Maybe in a few years, Katie would be here taking ice skating lessons or having her own birthday party. The thought made Allison smile, determined as she was not to pass her fears along to her daughter.

The rink was lined with intermittent bleacher seating all the way around, which was surprisingly full of people given that they were all there for a men's league game. Barely any spectators had attended the games of Lowell's beer league. Though she didn't recognize anyone, it was clear that some people sure did know who she was. They glanced at her, some smiling, some with passing glances, and only a couple frowns. Despite the flip-flop of her stomach, she smiled and hoisted Katie higher on her hip as she walked toward the score table where Harper said she'd be.

Before she'd taken more than a few steps, she heard her name from the right. Harper waved her over to the group of women she was standing with. Harper looped her arm around Allison's elbow as her friends cooed over Katie.

“Ladies, this is Allison, my newest neighbor and the owner of Cloud Nine. Allison, I'd like you to meet my friends, the best looking bitches in Destiny Falls. This is Marlena, Olivia, and Presley, the accountant I told you about.”

Presley was a slim brunette with thick-rimmed hipster glasses and purple eye shadow. She wasn't nerdy, precisely, not like most accountants Allison had met, but she did look like she could rock a business suit when her job demanded it.

All three women greeted her warmly, lavishing praise on Katie that was partially drowned out by a cheer. Allison, Harper, and the rest of the group turned toward the ice to see it flooded with players emerging from the locker rooms. Allison's eyes found Theo immediately. Her insides did their hummingbird thing, the fast heartbeat, the hollow, light feeling, the insuppressible nerves.

He was dressed, along with a dozen or so other men, in a red, white, and blue jersey and black helmet. Gripping his hockey stick in both hands, he skated a slow turn around the periphery of the rink with his head down, as though he was lost in his own world, oblivious to the cheers of the crowd or presence of the other players.

“There's our boys,” Marlena purred with obvious appreciation. They did each cut a fine figure in their uniforms.

“Guess we'd better get to our seats. It'd look bad for the official timekeeper to be late,” Harper said.

Olivia, a beautiful blonde with a warm smile, clapped her hands together. “That's my cue to get us some beers. Allison, would you like one, too?”

A beer and hockey game with new girlfriends sounded absolutely perfect, one of the many missing pieces in her previous life with Lowell. Harper led the way through the bleachers to the center point of the rink, where a long folding table had been erected between the two penalty boxes, in front of a section of bleachers.