Winning Streak (8 page)

People began to filter into their offices, but none seemed to notice him, or they pretended not to. The scent of coffee lured him to Saralynn's door. She had the radio on quietly and was dancing around as she filed papers and scribbled on neon Post-it notes that she stuck on the cabinet. He knocked lightly on the slightly open door.

• • •

She spun around with a gasp, hands pressed to her chest. When she saw it was Madden, she relaxed. When she saw his entertained grin, she hopped forward to smack his arm. “Don't
do
that!”

He laughed, and she smacked him again. He rubbed it with an exaggerated pout. “Oww. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Okay, maybe a little.”

She raised her hand again, but he caught her wrist and kissed the inside of it. Her pulse shot up, and her whole body flushed. She wanted to lean into him and pick up where they left off Saturday night. Instead, she yanked her hand away and closed her door behind him. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No.” He tilted his head side to side. “Pretty sure it's still there.”

A little giggle bubbled up in her throat, but she held it back. “Can I do something for you?”

His blue eyes darkened, and he curled an arm around her waist, pulling her close for a devilishly sweet kiss. So sweet, it was a whole minute before she remembered where they were. She put a hand to his chest and pushed him back a step but couldn't bring herself to remove her hand right away. When she did, she shook it to relieve the sensation of his hard, warm muscle. Though her blinds were closed and no one could possibly overhear, she whispered, “We can't do that here!”

He pecked her cheek lightning quick then fell into a chair. She blinked, then cleared off the section of her desk facing him and sat on it. For the first time, she really looked at him. His eyes were a little red, but not bloodshot. More like he'd just been crying. Her chest felt tight, and she reached out and brushed her fingers along the back of his hand. “Hey. What happened?”

He met her gaze but didn't answer right away. She knew that look. He was searching for an excuse, debating what to tell her. She knew because she imagined she'd looked just like that when previous guys had asked her what she was thinking and “I'm so bored” wasn't an option.

But then his features softened, and he looked at his lap. “I talked to Jace. She was having Carter take meetings for me because she questioned my judgment after last week. We worked it out though. We're good now. I think.”

The pain rolled off him so tangibly, it hurt her, too. She lifted his chin and held his gaze. “If you're not, you will be.”

The gratefulness in his face could have taken out her knees if she weren't already sitting. He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “Thanks.”

She nodded and looked away. It was too much, the way he looked right into her. Her gaze landed on the duffle bag by the bookcase at the same time his did.
Oops
. She looked away and was about to change the subject, but it was too late.

“What's that?”

“Hmm? Nothing, just my gym bag.”

“A gym bag, but what's … ” He pushed out of the chair and knelt by the duffle before she could get to it. He pulled out a glittery tank top that said “Lady Sinners” in white rhinestones. “No. Way.”

“It's not like I'm one of them or anything. I just join in on practices.”

“Then why do you have this?” He smiled and held it up.

His teasing was way better than almost crying, so she didn't hit him. She snatched the tank top away. “I don't have time to work out, okay? I live here. And by that, I mean there's a sleeping bag under my desk, and sometimes I don't leave for days.”

He gave her a skeptical look and leaned around her desk. His eyebrows went up before the doubt returned. “If you sleep here, where do you shower?”

“The locker room.”

The surprise on his face was almost worth this humiliating confession.

“The guys aren't there. I sneak down after they leave. It's surprisingly luxe, but I still wear sandals. It's called athlete's foot for a reason. I keep a makeup bag in my desk. It's not like I do it all the time. Usually just when there are back-to-back games and I have a lot to get done.”

He just stared at her for a solid five seconds, then blinked and refocused on the glittery tank in her hand. “So you can't get to the gym a lot.”

“Yeah, so Allie was telling me how she—how dance could be a good workout.” Oh God, they'd been sisters for just over a week, and Saralynn had almost spilled a secret. Already. “I talk to our dance team a lot because they do so many promotions, and Miranda invited me to a practice. Turns out it's a
really
good workout. And fun. You're not gonna tell on me, are you? I'd never hear the end of it from my brother, and I'm guessing your sister wouldn't be thrilled.”

“Reese, I get. I don't think Jace would care. But no. How could I? You know all my secrets. And I like you.”

She'd been hearing those words since she was ten, and they usually did something for her ego, but not this time. This was so much better. When Madden said it, he didn't just mean he thought she was pretty. She wasn't blind. The man did his share of checking her out. But he also listened. He cared. And that meant more than all of the starry-eyed lemmings she'd accrued over the years. “I should know better, but I like you, too.”

Now his grin was back to full strength, dimples and all. “That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

“You know, I believe that.”

Playful shock filled his eyes and dropped his mouth open.

She laughed and snapped him with the tank top as if it were a locker room towel before putting it back in her bag. “I'm guessing you'll be in meetings tomorrow and early Wednesday morning right up until trades are announced. I'm going to dance practice at seven that night, but it wraps up by eight. I could meet you for a drink after. The Artisan Lounge is reporter-free, kind of out of the way, and not usually crowded. Low lighting. What do you say?”

“I say you had me at reporter-free.”

Tuesday, March 4th

Madden leaned his head back and un-clicked his seatbelt as the garage door closed behind him. Fourteen hours at the office and they'd made five deals. Not that he had a lot to do with it. He sat there for decoration while Carter did most of the talking on conference calls. It went beyond a pride thing. It felt genuinely awful when the people who meant the most in the world to you didn't think you could do your job. Still, doing anything for fourteen hours was exhausting, even being an ineffective statue.

Sleeping in the car sounded like a viable option. It would save time in the morning when he had to be back at zero dark thirty to stand around like a placeholder. He'd thought hard about asking to share Saralynn's sleeping bag, but even she cut out around six. Plus, it wouldn't help popular opinion about him to be caught office-camping with the head of PR.

The door leading into the house opened, and Cole stood there, backlit by the chandelier in the hallway. Having a roommate wasn't always convenient, but the kid meant well. And it was probably better than sulking in the dark mansion alone like Batman, one superhero he no longer wanted to emulate. Batman might always get the girl, but he always lost her, too.
Hopefully, those days are behind me.

He slid out of the car and bumped shoulders with Cole on the way inside. “Hey, Robin.”

“Huh?”

“Nothin'. You want pizza?”

“Ahead of you. It's on the kitchen counter.”

“Boy Wonder, you earn your keep.”

“Oh, now I get it. Hey, why am I the sidekick?” Cole trailed him into the kitchen and took one of the stools at the island counter.

Madden sat on another and plucked a piece of pepperoni pizza from the open box. “Because you look better in tights.”

“Fuck off.” He laughed. “So what's the word? Who's staying, who's going? I know I'm not, but I'm curious.”

Madden took a big bite, eating half of it in one mouthful, and wiped the grease on his chin with the back of his hand. “You're
never
leaving as far as management's concerned. We'll trade every last player for schmoes who will take a salary cut if it means giving the rest to you.”

Cole shook his head. “You know that's not me. I like playing in Vegas. I was drafted here, and I've already won two Cups. I'm not going anywhere.”

“If you put that in writing, my sister will name her firstborn after you.”

“Yeah, right. Come on. Who got the ax?”

Madden picked another piece of pizza, bit off the end, and sighed. “Scotty.”

“Shit, are you serious?”

He nodded. That one hadn't been easy. Scotty had a few pretty good seasons, and a couple teams had been interested in him. “He's going to Tampa.”

“So who'd we get?”

“Filipelli.”

“Jesus, that's incredible. I mean, I love Scotty, but Filly's a legend. Why don't you look like you just won the lottery?”

Because
I
didn't have anything to do with it.
That was selfish, though, and the kid wouldn't understand. Dylan Cole only ever thought about the good of the team. That's what made him the best captain and a great human being. At the moment, it also made him a lousy confidant. “No, I'm happy. It's a huge score, and he'll add a lot of depth. I'm just tired, dude.”

“I get that. Any other big news?”

No
was on the tip of his tongue, but he paused. Cole might be only twenty-two, but he was far from typical of the age. All the guys on the team confided in him because he kept secrets and because he gave surprisingly helpful advice. Just in the short time they'd been roommates, he'd proven his worth a hundred times over. Sharing the news about Jacey's pregnancy wasn't an option. That was her announcement to make. More than that, it was dirty laundry he didn't want to air. The Saralynn thing was a different story. It would feel good to tell someone.

“This is about a girl, isn't it? Tell me you're not messing with the married chick after you crashed her wedding.”

“Hell no. I learned that lesson. Finally.”

“All right, so how bad can it be?”

Madden winced. “First you have to swear not to tell anyone. I mean it. Especially no one on the team.”

Cole got that light bulb look with big eyes and a loose jaw. “Holy shit, it's Saralynn. Reese will
kill
you.” So much for baby Yoda.

“He would if he knew. But he won't. Got it?” That scenario flashed through his mind, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He might be the same height as Reese, but the guy was strong and fast. And with the big brother motivation going, there was no telling what kind of damage the goalie could do.

“I won't say anything, but he's gonna find out. Eventually. Unless this is just a fling or something.”

“It's not a fling.” The words came out sure and reflexive, but truthfully, he didn't know what it was. It didn't seem like a fling. That's not what he wanted, but he couldn't read Saralynn's mind. Usually, he could get a pretty good feel for a woman's intentions, but this one was a mystery.

“All right. So unless you don't invite him to the wedding, Reese is gonna find out.”

“Yeah, but like you said, eventually. We're taking things slow, getting to know each other. We want to see if there's something there worth setting off Mount Saint Reese.”

Cole chugged some water and worked on his own piece of pizza. “Well, you must really like her to even risk it.”

That was true. He didn't bother adding that he rarely met a risk he didn't take. The stakes to be with Saralynn were high, but that wasn't the main appeal. At least, he didn't think so. She intrigued him. Kept him guessing. At the same time, even if it didn't make perfect sense, he felt safe with her. A weird thought and one that had never occurred to him with anyone else, but there it was. “She's something.”

“I gotta hand it to you, man. She's intimidatingly pretty. Even before Reese issued his threat to everyone in the building with a Y chromosome, I was too scared to talk to her. And then what he said about how she ate men for breakfast and spit out their bones, that was enough for me.”

Madden barked a laugh. “Yeah. She's tough; I'll say that. But she's not as bad as Reese said. She's trying to be the best version of herself, and I can relate to that.”

Cole regarded him quietly for a minute, then nodded. “Good for both of you. I hope it works out. Your sister know?”

He directed his gaze to the pizza box.

The kid whistled low. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks. I open up to you, and that's the best you got?”

“I'm sorry, dude, but this just got a lot more complicated. Is there a policy about dating a co-worker?”

“That would be a little hypocritical, don't you think? Seeing as Jace
married
the last guy who had your job. There's no formal rule, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't fire me. She's put up with too much of my shit for too long. If things went bad with Saralynn … I guess I couldn't blame Jace.” That didn't make it hurt any less. And if it came to leaving the team, what would their personal relationship be like? Over the past two years, they'd gotten closer than they'd ever been. A few forgotten poker chips in his pocket and they were back at square one, only now he had twice as much to lose. Uncle Madden had a nice ring to it. He didn't want to give that up.

“Hey. It'll be okay with you and Jacey. Even watching from the sidelines, it's easy to see how much you mean to each other. It'll take a lot more than a potentially bombed romantic relationship to ruin it.”

“Thanks for the ‘potentially.'”

“S'what I'm here for. So how long have you and Baby Reese been testing the waters?”