Hawke strides in through the lobby doors and as he approaches me I stand up from the plush couch I’d been waiting on.
I grin at him and say, “You’re late.”
He looks at his watch and then rolls his eyes at me. “By like one minute.”
I don’t respond but we do our bro greeting—palm smack, back of hand smack, and then a fist bump.
“Jim’s not here anyway,” I tell him as I sit back down on the couch. “Just called and said he’s stuck in traffic. Be about fifteen minutes late.”
Hawke sits on a wing-backed chair adjacent to the couch and rests an ankle over his knee. He’s dressed up, same as me, except his suit is black and mine’s charcoal gray.
“Did you go to the hospital this morning?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he says. “He looks good.”
He being Dave Campbell, father of one sassy athletic trainer—that would be Vale. Dave had a seizure two days ago and is at Duke Hospital. He’s suffering from a rare brain tumor and received some type of experimental treatment at Duke, and I’m guessing this seizure was a complication. The reason our leading defenseman, Hawke Therrien, is visiting our athletic trainer’s father in the hospital is because they have history.
I mean…Hawke and Vale have a very long history.
And from what I learned yesterday afternoon when Hawke and I went out for a few beers, not a great history. I had sensed there was something going on between the two of them in the Cold Fury workout room. Vale tensed up the minute Hawke walked in, and I could feel weird vibes from him as well. I left after my workout, only to return a few minutes later to find Hawke’s hands on her shoulders with a disgruntled look on his face. He dropped her like a hot potato when I walked back in but didn’t try to hide anything from me.
Hence the beers after, and he laid it all out.
Apparently, Vale and Hawke were a hot item years back, but she broke it off with him suddenly and with no explanation. He hasn’t been able to figure it out but isn’t sure if he should ask either. To complicate matters, they apparently fucked the other night and now things are super awkward.
I didn’t have any good advice for him. My one stab at a relationship was a miserable failure, which was totally my fault. So the most I could do was listen to him lament about Vale and commiserate with him that it was a fucked-up situation.
“This place is something, huh?” Hawke says conversationally as he looks at the huge lobby filled with comfortable furniture that’s quite stylish and elegant. Thick, luxurious carpet done in light purple, gray, and cream match the floral-print wallpaper that’s posh rather than feminine. The receptionist sits at a cherry desk that looks Victorian and there’s a grand piano in the corner that a man sits at playing a soft melody.
It’s definitely not what I’d envision a nursing home to look like, and the only thing that gives it away is the various residents I see milling around. Some wander about with walkers while others are in wheelchairs that they pull along the floor by shuffling their feet on the carpet rather than having their frail arms try to push the wheels to get them to their destination.
We’re at Sweetbrier Nursing Home and Rehab Facility because one of the Cold Fury assistant managers, Jim Perry, held a fundraiser for this place. His mother was a resident here and she passed away a few months ago. He was so impressed with her care, he organized a charity live auction to raise funds to help build a new wing that would house a larger therapy gym as well as increase the dining facilities. He asked a few players to participate and I readily agreed. The fundraiser was last month, long before Hawke arrived for training camp, and I handled hosting and emcee duties for the black-tie event. Hawke’s here now because he made a late donation personally and volunteered to come with us to present the check for $57,000 we’d raised to the home administrator. There’d be a big write-up in the paper, of course, and management always loved when we did shit like this.
“I hope to fuck I never have to come to a place like this, though,” Hawke continues on. “When I die, I want to go fast.”
“Amen, brother,” I agree.
While the place is clean, smells decent, and is decorated very nicely, it still holds that overwhelming vibe of futility as I watch the elderly patients struggle to get around because their bodies are failing them. It’s fucking depressing actually.
The lobby area is cut through the middle by a hall that runs left and right, presumably to the two wings of the low, sprawling building done in white clapboard with green shutters. A commotion occurs at the intersection of the hallway as one elderly gentleman tries to navigate his wheelchair around the corner but runs into the wheelchair of another elderly gentleman. Seriously, it’s all I can do not to laugh out loud.
“Goddamn it, Ernie,” the first man yells. “You need to watch where you’re going.”
“No, you need to watch where you’re going,” the other guy yells back. “Fuckin’ blind as a bat, you are.”
I snicker as I watch the two men trying to disentangle their chairs that are now stuck to each other near the footrests. The receptionist looks alarmed but like she doesn’t have a clue what to do. I think she might stand up and try to assist, but then one of the nurses—I’m guessing by the fact she’s wearing cranberry-colored scrubs—jogs up to the men and with some murmured words and her hands to their shoulders gets them to stop yelling. She then squats down, pulls the chairs apart, and sends the men on their way in opposite directions.
When she stands up and turns toward me and Hawke, my breath freezes in my lungs as I recognize her.
The beautiful woman from the convenience store last week.
Julianne is her name.
She doesn’t see me because she’s walking with her head down as she makes her way through the lobby and out the doors, carrying a brown paper bag with her.
“Holy shit,” I say as I stand up from the couch, my legs involuntarily walking after her.
I’m not in the least bit ashamed to say I went back to that little convenience store three more times, hoping to catch her on duty again, but she was never there. I’d honestly given up after that third time, figuring she maybe worked a different shift or even that she didn’t work there anymore, and frankly, couldn’t say as I blamed her. Looked like a shit job to me.
I don’t know why I wanted to talk to her again. On the face of things—her working a minimum wage job and having three unruly kids—we didn’t have much in common. If I had to guess, I think it was the fact that despite what was clear exhaustion and frustration on her part that night, she still had a solid backbone when it was all said and done. That impressed me.
And let’s not forget…she’s totally gorgeous.
“Where are you going?” Hawke asks, but I don’t spare him a glance.
“Be back in a minute,” I mumble as I traverse around the low coffee table and follow the woman out the lobby doors.
She’s tall for a girl, maybe topping out at five-nine, but that’s perfect for me. I’m a towering goalie at six-five. Her hair is in a ponytail again and it swings jauntily as she turns right once she clears the doors and heads to a small courtyard. And when did nursing scrubs look so damn good on a woman before? They mold her ass perfectly, and I’m not ashamed I’m noticing that either.
Not a red-blooded male around that wouldn’t look.
She waves at a coworker sitting at a picnic table wearing the same colored scrubs, which I’m guessing is a uniform, but doesn’t sit with her, thankfully. Instead, she chooses a concrete bench set under a large crepe myrtle and takes advantage of the shade. Even though it’s the first week of October, it’s still fairly warm today.
I don’t even hesitate but walk right up to her. She doesn’t see me though, as she’s got her head bowed over the paper bag while she pulls out a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a fruit cup. I glance at my watch and see it’s only five after eleven, so I’m guessing this must be her lunch hour.
“Julianne?” I ask hesitantly when I’m just a few feet away.
Her head snaps up and she looks at me with blank eyes even though she answers almost hesitantly, “Yes?”
I push my hands in my pockets and try to look casual as I come to a stop before her. “Met you in the convenience store last week. Well, we weren’t officially introduced…”
She still stares at me blankly, and while her golden brown eyes are as beautiful as I remember, they’re still marred by the blue circles under them. It’s clear she has no clue who I am. This should wound my ego, but again the opposite occurs and I like that she doesn’t recognize me at all. I like being a true mystery for once and not having immediate assumptions made about me because of my fame.
I feed her a little more information to jog her memory. “Two redneck assholes giving you trouble. Then two feisty rug rats taping their sister up?”
I punctuate that last statement with a grin, and she finally recognizes me as her mouth forms into an O.
“I remember,” she says softly with just a wisp of a smile, which slides off just as quickly as it formed. “That wasn’t my best night.”
“Well, I think you handled it with grace,” I assure her.
Another slight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, then her gaze drops to her lap. It’s a shy maneuver, as if she doesn’t know how to respond, or perhaps she just wants to be left alone. Since I don’t know the answer, I press on.
I take a seat next to her on the bench, and she gives a little jump then turns to me with wide, curious eyes.
“I went back there to see you,” I tell her conversationally.
Her mouth drops. “Why would you do that?”
I shrug and give her the simple but overly forward truth. “Pretty girl, I didn’t see a wedding ring, and I wanted to talk to you more.”
Julianne’s eyebrows knit inward and she appears thoroughly confused.
So I try to enlighten her, and lean in and give her a conspiratorial wink. “It’s what happens when a guy is interested in a girl. He tries to make conversation.”
Well, that’s not exactly true. Many guys just try to get in the girl’s pants, but that was not my original intention. Don’t get me wrong…this woman is smoking hot and I’m not going to pretend that the attraction isn’t a big part, but I’m also equally intrigued by her.
She still doesn’t say anything and I can’t figure out if she’s just a horrible conversationalist or unusually shy, both of which will really suck because I like my women to have some sort of personality.
So I try one more time to get the ball rolling. Reaching my right hand across, I hold it out and say, “My name’s Max Fournier.”
She finally moves, as if introductions are something she can handle, and shakes my hand. “Julianne Bradley, but my friends call me Jules.”
Her hand is soft and the bones feel delicate yet her shake is surprisingly strong. I like that. I also like that she has put me in a friend category and not a weird-creeper category.
Our hands break apart. I don’t like that.
“Well, Jules…when are you working again next? I’ll drop in and keep you company. Might chase off a few more rednecks for you.”
Finally, I get a true smile from her and it reaches her eyes. “Well, that’s sweet of you but unfortunately I got fired from that job, so you won’t be able to stalk me there.”
“Why did you get fired?” I ask, a little dismayed I can’t see her there, since it’s the perfect excuse for me to…well…stalk her, but also a little happy because I felt that job was beneath her.
“My boss found out I had the kids that night and that’s against company policy,” she says sadly. “And I had to miss work one day because my babysitter fell through, again.”
I tilt my head. “I assume this is your full-time job here. Are you a nurse?”
“Yeah, this is my full-time job. I only worked at the convenience store Monday through Friday from seven to twelve in the evenings. And I’m a certified nurse’s assistant.”
“So you were working two jobs and raising three kids?” I ask, astounded.
“Pretty much.”
Just…wow.
“Husband or boyfriend to help you out?” I can’t help but ask.
She shakes her head, accompanied by another pretty smile, but this time she drops her eyes in a definite shy gesture. She takes her hand and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear that has escaped her ponytail. “Just me.”
Jesus. No wonder she looks like a strong wind would blow her over. And I’m guessing whatever prick got her pregnant and left her with three children should have his ass kicked.
While I’m pleased to hear there’s no man in the picture, I’m still left with an unsettled feeling over her plight. “No other family to help a young mother out with her kids?”
Her face gets a little guarded and I think she might tell me to mind my own business, but I’m stunned when she says, “I’m their legal guardian and it’s just me. The kids came to live with me four months ago when my sister died.”
Fuck.
Just…fuck.
And everything is suddenly clear and fitting into place. Young woman working as a nurse’s assistant and probably getting by okay on her own. Sister dies and she takes on raising her niece and nephews on what is probably a terrible salary for what she does. No wonder she was working a second job.
Hell, no wonder she looks like she’s about ready to collapse.
And given how unruly those little hellions appeared to be, I bet she’s in over her head.
I know that this should be causing all kinds of warning bells to go off in my head, but for some reason it merely makes me want to pull her to my side, press her head on my shoulder and assure her that I’ll make everything right.
Which…that’s fucking weird. I’ve never been a guy who feels like he has to rescue a girl just to prove his manliness. And besides, I remember when I tried to help her pull the tape off the little girl the other night, and she gave me a firm “Don’t.” I remember that tilt to her chin even though she looked on the verge of crying. I could tell right then Julianne had a backbone and I’ve always been attracted to independent women. She may be having troubles, but she’s definitely strong.
“Max.” I hear Hawke calling my name and I turn my head toward the lobby doors. Jim is standing with him. “Let’s go, buddy. We’re ready to present the check.”
“Be right there,” I say as I hold up a finger.
Hawke nods and they both turn back inside.
I look back to Jules, who still has no clue who I am, or if she does, she’s not impressed by it.
I like that too.
“So…I know this is totally forward, but any chance I could take you out sometime?” I ask with a full smile, which I know is one of my better features as I’ve been told my dimples are panty-droppers.
She’s shaking her head no before I even get the words all the way out, and that is a definite ego-crusher.
“That’s sweet,” she assures me with apologetic eyes. “But it’s just…Well, I can’t. I don’t have any free time, and even if I did, I can’t afford a babysitter…”
Her words fall off and her eyebrows knit together in confusion again, as if she’s just now realizing that her life is far more complicated than she ever realized.
“Part of the date would be me covering the cost of a babysitter,” I urge with hopeful eyes, and fuck…why do I want to go out with this woman so much? Everything about her circumstances spells trouble to me and yet it’s drawing me closer rather than repelling me.
But then she smiles at me.
And those whiskey eyes go warm.
And she says, “You really are very nice, but my priority is those kids right now, and until I can get a bit more stable, I’m not doing you any favors by going out with you, not with my mixed bag of troubles.”
Yes, it’s clear. She’s simply an incredibly intriguing woman who seems to be focused, driven, dedicated, and caring. Add on the fact she’s stunning, what fucking guy wouldn’t be interested in that?
Despite the fact she has no time and is flat broke and looking quite broken.
“Max,” I hear Hawke call out, and he’s standing outside the lobby doors again, this time pointing to his watch with a look on his face that says “Get your ass in gear.”
I nod at him and stand from the bench, turning to face Jules. She looks up at me, same sweet smile on her face even as she starts to unwrap her sandwich, which had been resting on her lap.
“It was nice meeting you, Jules,” I tell her sincerely. Even more sincerely I say, “I hope we run into each other again someday.”
“Nice meeting you too, Max,” she says softly, and is that a tiny hint of regret in her eyes?
Hmmmm. Can’t really tell but it doesn’t matter.
She’ll be seeing me sooner rather than later.