Chapter 5
Charlotte sat in the visitors' locker room at the Pirates' arena, lacing up her skates for tonight's season-ticket holder event. It would be a welcomed distraction from the email her mother had sent her earlier in the day.
"Thought you would find this interesting if you haven't seen it yet!" the message read. She added a smiley emoticon and ended it with "Hearts, Mom." She hated her mother's new sign-off. It made it sound like the post-menopausal woman who raised her was now a teenage girl.
Charlotte's mother had a tendency to send links to her from various gossip sites about various people she couldn't care less about. "Can you believe this actor lives a floor below us?" or "This is Francesca's daughter. You know Francesca." (She had no clue.) Today it was a story about a single-named lingerie model. She groaned out loud, knowing she would have to click on it to find out what it said since she could guarantee her mother would ask about it later.
But this time, her mom was right. It was quite interesting, just maybe not in a good way. At the top of the site was a Page Six headline in bold black letters — "Raquelle: 'I've never been happier'" — and a picture of the model with her boyfriend's arm around her.
Charlotte recognized him immediately.
"Super sexy model Raquelle says she's never been happier now that she's with hockey bad boy Declan Reed. 'He's the best thing that's happened to me,' she gleefully said in a Vogue interview this month."
Charlotte scoffed. "That's what you think," she muttered as she continued to read.
"The Los Angeles forward feels the same way! 'I've never been with someone as amazing as Raquelle. No other woman compares to her.'"
Charlotte stared at the screen trying to figure out what exactly she felt about Declan's quote. She was nothing compared to some super model? Charlotte took a deep breath. Screw him. She was successful and happy without him. But she also knew both from her personal experiences and from the books she wrote that you always carry things from your past relationships to your current one.
Of course, there was one tiny issue with that philosophy: a current relationship didn't exist for her. Jordan King putting his hand on her back did not make a relationship. And yet, there she was, quickly shutting down her computer so she could get ready for the season-ticket holder skate with the Pirates. And no, before she left the house, she did not over analyze what to wear or how to do her make-up or which perfume to put on. (Expect she did, including the vanilla spritz, which was her go-to since it was an easy casual scent that didn't make it seem like she was trying too hard and made her smell like warm cookies.)
Charlotte pulled herself out of her thoughts and back into her current reality at the rink by accidentally yanking the laces on her skates a little too tight. Apparently, that stupid email she opened a few hours earlier still had her a bit wound up.
"Charlotte!"
She looked up to see Aiden running across the visitors' locker room towards her with his parents following behind him. All three had skates with them and Adam had a small helmet in his hand.
"What's up, buddy?" Charlotte said as she held her hand up to get a fist bump from the six-year-old.
He knocked his hand against hers. "So much stuff!"
"What kind of stuff?"
"I got to make a robot in art class today and it was so awesome!" He plopped down in the seat next to her with a smile plastered on his face as he quickly undid the Velcro on his shoes. "I'm going skating. Are you?"
"Yep!" she said, flashing him her skates.
Adam sat down and starting pulling his shoes off. "Those are impressive skates, Charlotte," he said, nodding to her feet.
Impressive because her ex-boyfriend got them for free from a sponsor. Sure, she wasn't with Declan anymore, and sure, she was moving on. But she damn well was going to keep these skates.
"I guess I just take my hockey skates seriously," she explained.
Rachel smiled. "I'm sure the players will be impressed," she said. "Especially one in particular."
Charlotte gave her friend a side glance. "You're implying Jordan."
"I'm just saying, that guy couldn't take his eyes off of you the entire dinner," she replied. "He's definitely got a reputation though, so just don't over think it."
"I don't know. It's kind of rude to check out a woman when she obviously has another date," she said sarcastically.
Rachel laughed. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but Aiden would dump you in a heartbeat if Jordan King asked him."
"Can I get some help?"
The two women turned to see Aiden with his long untied laces pooling on the floor around his skates.
"I got you, buddy," Charlotte said as she knelt down on the floor in front of Aiden. "Let's make sure we get these tight, OK?" She tugged on his laces and tied them with bows. "OK, stand up and let me know if they're tight enough?"
"They're perfect!" he exclaimed.
He grabbed his helmet and buckled it around his chin before hobbling off on his skates. His excitement seemed to be infectious as Charlotte walked behind him, the nervousness in her chest growing. She knew Jordan was here. She just didn't know if he would care about seeing her after that moment in her office. She wondered how many women he had tried that move on before — and how many hesitated like she had instead of just kissing him.
Charlotte stepped out on the ice with Aiden and took his hand as they worked their way around the rink with the other fans while she tried not to look for Jordan. But it wasn't hard to find him. As they rounded the end of the rink, she glanced up quickly to see the dark brown hair on the back of his head as he and another player skated together. Charlotte watched as he spun around on his blades, skating backwards to talk to his teammate, and she couldn't help but stare. He was still as gorgeous as he was when he was standing in her office, so close to her.
Jordan's eyes locked onto hers and she realized he had caught her staring. A smile spread across his face and he tapped his friend on the shoulder. She tried to duck her head down to cover up her indiscretion, maybe play it off like she was just looking ahead to make sure she didn't run into anyone. But Jordan knew and skated right towards her. She was about to open her mouth and say something — what exactly she hadn't quite figured out — when he ducked down.
"I see you have the lovely Miss Stone as your date again!" he said to Aiden. "How did you get so lucky?"
The boy shrugged. "She's just my friend."
Jordan stood up and turned, skating backwards in front of them as he stared at Charlotte. "Then how did I get so lucky?" he said with a small smile.
"You better watch yourself, King, or you're going to run into the boards."
Jordan smirked and just crossed his feet a few times, matching the turn of the boards without taking his eyes off her. "I know this rink so well I could skate around it with my eyes closed, darling." He turned to his teammate who had taken up a spot right next to Aiden. "Where are my manners? Charlotte, Aiden," he said, giving the boy's name an extra bit of emphasis. "This is Birdie."
"That's not my real name," his teammate said.
Aiden looked up in awe before finally coming to his senses. "It's Alex Orlov. They call you Birdie because Orlov means eagle in Russian."
"It does," he replied with a smile.
"And you're the best defenseman in the league."
"Smart kid. Keep going."
Aiden smiled up at the player with more confidence. "You learned English by watching American reality shows."
Alex ruffled the hair on the boy's head. "I sure did," he said, turning to look at Charlotte. "Speaking of which, I'm a big fan of your mom's show and thought maybe—"
"You also won a gold medal for Russia in the last Olympics, which is gross."
"You are not so smart, kid," Alex responded, laying his Russian accent on thick this time.
Aiden seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he just blocked the defenseman from getting some dirt from Charlotte, but she was thankful that the boy had diverted the hockey star's attention. Aiden, however, seemed unphased.
"I'm trying to learn how to skate as fast as you."
"Then let's see what you can do."
The boy turned to his parents skating behind him. "Mom, can I skate with Birdie?"
Rachel's eyes got wide with concern while Adam just nodded. "Go ahead, kid."
Aiden pulled his hand out of Charlotte's. "Sorry," he said sadly. "I have to go."
"I understand."
She watched Aiden skate up next to Alex and immediately take his hand while the large defenseman gave Jordan a knowing glance. She didn't want to call him out on it, but it was pretty obvious Alex was playing wingman for his captain. Rachel and Adam took off after their son, who was actually doing pretty well on his skates as he and the Pirate tried to weave their way through the crowd.
Jordan slowed down a bit and took up a spot next to her. "It's good to see you again."
Charlotte scoffed. "Please. You made that way too obvious," she said under her breath so the crowd couldn't hear her.
Jordan looked down, a flirtatious smile crossing his face as his eyes focused on his skates. "You can hardly blame me, can you?"
"I was with a date," she replied.
"I think he's found someone better."
Charlotte looked up to see Aiden was at the other end of the rink now, trying to shove Alex into the boards. "Once again, I'm left with a broken heart."
She turned to see Jordan giving her a serious look. "I can't imagine anyone would be stupid enough to break your heart."
She gave him a tight smile and tucked her hair behind her ear, using the end of the rink as a distraction to actually pay attention to her skates.
"So, Charlie—"
"Hey, Jordan!" The two of them looked up to see a trio of teenage boys speeding up to skate next to him. "I think you're the best hockey player on the team, but my friend Bobby says it's Logan Moore."
Charlotte smiled and slid her blade along the ice to slow herself down. "Go ahead," she said quietly before lightly squeezing his arm as he passed by her.
He gave her a strained smile, then turned back to the boys. She could see the captain's charm immediately emerge, his smile big and wide for the boys as he egged them on. "So which one of you has no idea what you're talking about?"
The boys all smiled excitedly at him and started talking as Jordan sped up to catch Logan so they could debate it together. The three teenagers didn't notice it, she was sure, but she watched as Jordan pushed a little faster than they expected after they cut in on the captain trying to flirt with her.
She waited by the boards as Aiden came back around with his new buddy in tow, and she could also see Alex's eyes wandering towards the ice girls dressed in their Detroit Pirates uniforms.
"Aiden!" she yelled out as the boy got closer. "Do you think it's time to let your buddy skate with some of the other fans?"
His head bobbed in agreement. "It's really hard to keep up with him."
The defenseman laughed. "You kept it close, kid. I'll see you soon, OK?"
"OK!"
Charlotte saw the look of awe on Aiden's face as the defensemen skated away. Apparently, Birdie made quite an impression.
"So did you have fun?" she asked him.
"It was totally awesome! But he kept asking me about my girlfriend and your television show."
She gave him a questioning look. "What did you tell him?"
Aiden shrugged. "I said you were just my friend."
"Gotcha."
The boy may have not noticed, but Charlotte knew exactly what that line of questioning was about. Alex was definitely the wingman for his captain.
"Besides, girls have cooties," Aiden added.
"Right. Of course."
The Wards and Charlotte continued to alternate as Aiden's partner, and she was glad to have them around. But as the crowd began to thin out, she was also keeping an eye on Jordan, who continued to socialize with fans. He would skate a lap or two around the rink with a group of teenage boys followed by talking to an older gentleman. Then he got checked into the boards by a small girl in a pink Pirates jersey, and she couldn't help but smile as he pretended to crumple on the ice.
"I saw that, Charlotte."
"What?"
Rachel had an amused look on her face. "You were checking out Jordan again."
Charlotte could feel her face starting to go red with embarrassment. She tried to focus on the cool air against her cheeks, hoping it would get rid of the flush that she was sure had taken over.
"I wasn't checking him out," she muttered.
"It's OK. He's been checking you out too."
Charlotte turned to her friend, who had a devilish smile on her face. Perhaps it had just been obvious to Rachel because she was paying attention. There was no reason for anyone else there to suspect that she had a crush on the captain. Hell, there were plenty of teenage girls on the ice at that very moment who had crushes on Jordan as well. They just never had him over to see their homes for dinner.
Rachel picked up some speed to catch up with her son and husband. "Boys! It's time to go!"
"Aw, but can't we stay a little longer?" Aiden pleaded.
"No, you have school tomorrow," his mother said.
"But Charlotte is my date so I can stay with her."
Charlotte laughed at him. "I thought I had cooties."
"Ugh, fine," the boy said.
They skated towards the entrance to the visitors' bench and Charlotte said her goodbyes to the Wards.
"You coming?" Adam asked, only to get a stern look from his wife.
"I'm actually going to stay out a little longer," she replied.
"Right, so good night," Rachel said quickly, ushering her family away before giving her friend one last encouraging look.
Charlotte thought about trying to catch up with Jordan, who was skating a bit farther ahead of her with a few of the fans who were still around. But as she moved with the ice under her feet, she decided to stay back for a bit. This had always been a calming thing for her. Right now, she was simply skating, looking up at all the empty seats, feeling as if she was the only one out there.
"See something you like?"
Charlotte was pulled out of her meditative moment to see Jordan had skated up right next to her.
"Sorry," she said, giving him a shy smile. "I was just in a zone there I guess."
"And what does exactly does that zone look like?" he asked, a smile teasing at his lips.
"I was just wondering what it feels like when all these seats are full."
Jordan glanced up at the empty arena, a look of awe on his face. "It's really amazing," he said. "There's so much color and energy, and it's just the coolest feeling in the world."
"The coolest? Really?"
Jordan laughed. "I'm a hockey player. What else can I say?"
They continued to skate for a lap as two of the other players finally left the rink with the last of the season-ticket holders. It was just them on this quiet patch of ice, together, with the sound of their blades echoing off the boards.
"So I noticed your date left already."
"It was past his bedtime."
"Ah, of course." Jordan turned and put his hand on the small of her back, the way he did that night at her place. It had the same effect on her too, sending chills up her spine and she couldn't help but smile. "Not to rush you, but the team's esteemed Zamboni driver is getting impatient with us."
Sure enough, Charlotte saw the crew by the opened doors at the end of the rink, waiting to start the Zamboni. She slowed herself down and hopped off the ice by the visitors' bench, turning when she realized that Jordan was still on the rink.
"Don't you have to leave too?"
He looked like he was disgusted by the idea of following her. "I avoid that whole visitors' part of the arena."
"Right," she replied. "Hockey player superstition or something."
"I prefer, 'hockey player ritual.'"
"Ah, because that makes it better," she said with a teasing smile. "I guess this is good night then."
Jordan took her hand and looked up at her with his blue eyes. "Good night, Charlotte." He gave her a wink and headed towards his bench, letting her hand slowly slip from his.
"Good night," she said.
She could barely feel her feet touch the ground as she headed back to the visitors' locker room. It was all so sweet and romantic but as Charlotte began to unlace her skates, she realized she had no idea what to do next. Were they just going to have these clandestine meetings at team events? Or could she actually call him? Because she still didn't have his phone number. The dinner party was planned through the Pirates' press office. So then was she supposed to call the office? And what kind of excuse would she make up? "Jordan forgot something at my house," or "I wanted to send him a thank you note... over the phone." Charlotte thought leaving New York would mean she would leave all these stupid games with men behind. And yet here she was doing some of the same things she had always done. Why was it that all of the characters in her books were so smooth and had it together, and she was a romantic mess?
Charlotte sighed and shoved her sweaty hockey socks into a bag in her purse. She put on her blade guards and tied the laces together, swinging them over her shoulder.
Perhaps this was for the best. Perhaps her confusion was a sign that she should forget Jordan King.
He could hear the clicking of her high-heeled shoes against the concrete before he even saw her, imagining what her legs looked like with them on. When she finally made her way into his line of sight, he easily verified that he was right.
"I have to tell you those heels look much better than your skates."
Charlotte jumped, clutching at her chest as she turned to see Jordan leaning up against the wall near the Pirates' locker room.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said.
"Not a problem."
"I just couldn't let you go that easily again."
"Excuse me?" she asked.
Jordan pushed off the wall and walked over to her. "I was about to let you walk away without asking you for your phone number." He stopped a little too close to her, but he didn't want to back away now. "I didn't want to make the same mistake twice," he murmured.
He could tell she was staring at him, trying to figure out what to do next. His own mind was racing with some idea on what he could do to make her stay just a little bit longer in his presence.
"Since you're here, do you want to take a quick tour of the locker room?" he offered.
Then he realizing what he had said. The locker room was a sacred space to him. He never took a woman in there — ever! It would just taint the place when he stopped talking to her. So why did he even suggest it?
"You can't call yourself a real hockey fan if you turn down my offer."
He cringed inwardly. Why was he even pushing something he shouldn't have suggested in the first place?
"Okay."
The voice in Jordan's head quieted and he smiled before quickly regaining control of his emotions. He nodded his head, wordlessly inviting her to follow him down the hallway covered with the team's history. Their Hall of Fame players were listed on one side, the retired numbers on the other. Row after row of the team's records like who scored the most goals or the league's MVP award recipients.
Through a set of dark wood doors were photos the wall, starting with a black and white one of some older women surrounded by bottles and bottles of liquor.
"What is this about?" Charlotte said as she stared at the photo.
Jordan couldn't help but smile as he stood next to her. "Those are the river pirates."
"Those grandmas are pirates?" she asked skeptically.
"Yep." He pointed to a woman in the picture with a scowl on her face. "That was the mother of our team's first owner," he explained. "During prohibition, she and her friends would smuggle alcohol from Canada to stock up her son's restaurants in Detroit. So when Walt started the team a few years later, he named it in honor of his pirates."
"So he named the team after a bunch of old-lady bootleggers," Charlotte said.
"A bunch of badass old-lady bootleggers."
She laughed, and he couldn't help but feel the need to turn up the charm higher if he could that kind of response from her again. So Jordan kept going, pointing to a 50-year-old photo on the wall with a grin on his face. "That's the last Pirates team to win a cup, and against your New York Admirals no less."
"And I don't see any photos after that," she replied, easily matching his teasing banter.
He smiled and ducked his head. "I like you, Charlie."
He wasn't sure how serious he was when he said it, but he knew he was playing with fire at this point. At any moment, he could say something and light a spark that he hoped she would be more than happy to let burn. He had never felt that about another woman, and he wasn't sure if that made him feel more brave or more nervous.
Jordan led them down another hallway, this one lined with wood paneling and more photos of the teams from the past. Players with no helmets, goalies with no masks. The photos became more modern as Jordan and Charlotte walked, first changing from black and white to color. Then the hockey equipment began to transform into something more recognizable. Right at the end was a photo of Jordan, looking a bit younger, with a triumphant fist in the air.
"My first hat trick," he said from beside her.
Charlotte turned and gave him a warm smile. "That must have been quite a night."
"It was," he replied quietly, remembering how special that game was for him. Then he nodded his head towards a nearby room. "C'mon. Tour isn't over and the best is yet to come."
He slipped his hand into hers and gently pulled her forward, congratulating himself when she didn't pull it away from him. The team's locker room was empty by now, free of any last personnel and sound that would break the solace from standing in such a revered room. Jerseys were all lined up with the name placards and numbers facing out. Pads and skates were set up just right for a game the next day. The ceiling's lights were dimmed slightly to give the whole place a more magical feel.
He watched Charlotte slowly move forward, taking it all in before he realized she was walking into dangerous territory. He gave her hand a gentle tug, pulling her slightly off balance in her heels. She fell directly into Jordan's chest, his arm instinctively going around her waist to keep her upright.
"Sorry, couldn't let you step on the logo," he explained.
She looked down to see the team's trademark skull with crossed hockey sticks on the floor. "Another superstition?"
He gently slid his hand from her waist. "Ritual, not superstition," he said.
She flashed him a flirtatious smile, then turned to look at the room, giving him time to try and compose himself. He needed it considering the improper thoughts that were going through his mind now that he accidentally had his hands all over that gorgeous woman.
"Is that your locker?" she said, walking towards the number 61 jersey in the middle of the room.
"That's me," he said quietly as he walked over and stood next to her.
She grabbed the arm of his jersey hanging there, gently letting the fabric slip through her fingers. Seeing Charlotte delicately run her hand over his jersey in his locker didn't light a spark in him. It started a fire that he couldn't control anymore.
Jordan instinctively mirrored Charlotte's movement, reaching out and running his hand along the arm of her black cashmere sweater.
"So soft," he whispered against her ear.
He couldn't remember what had been stopping him from doing this. What about his determination to stay focused on hockey? He didn't care. The only thing he was thinking about in that moment was Charlotte's lips, red and plump and so close to him. He needed them.
Jordan nudged her shoulder, turning her slowly as his arm snaked its way around her waist so he could pull her closer. He looked into her eyes for just a moment and then he kissed her, tentative at first before she became more brazen as he pulled her closer. Charlotte's fingers threaded through his hair, making him groan into her mouth as his arm began to move up her bare skin under her sweater. She responded under his touch, arching her back to get closer to him, her teeth nibbling at his bottom lip, urging him on. This was more than fire. This was fireworks lighting up every part of him, urging him to keep going. Every response from her — every moan, every squeeze of her hand, every nibble on his lip — told him she didn't want him to stop. And dammit, he was going to give her what she wanted.
Loud voices from the hallway outside suddenly filled the room, and she quickly pulled away from him, the moment between them coming undone. Then it was quiet again. He would've cursed his bad luck but standing away from her, he could see the flush in her cheeks and the redness that was now on her lips. It made her look amazing. Charlotte caught him staring, and the nervous smile she gave him made him feel something amazing.
She ducked her head and ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it out. "I'm sure I look a bit disheveled," she said quietly.
"You look beautiful," he answered.
"Listen—"
"Before you say anything, let's have dinner."
She looked up at him skeptically. "Now?"
"No, a real date with a real dinner." He could see the apprehension that came over her, and he couldn't quite figure out why. "Is this... Did I mess something up?"
She shook her head. "You didn't mess anything up."
"But you don't want to go out to dinner with me?" he asked, getting only silence in reply. "Just give me a chance, Charlotte. I don't know exactly what you think of me, but I can assure you that this isn't some—"
"It's not you."
Jordan stepped closer and reached for her hand. "So give me one dinner then. Just one."
Charlotte took a deep breath, slightly hesitating as she looked at him. Then she gently pulled her hand out of his grasp and held it up in front of him, palm towards the ceiling.
"What's that mean?" he asked in a confused tone.
"How are we supposed to arrange dinner plans if you don't have my number?" she asked. "Give me your phone."
He smiled and pulled his phone from his pocket, punching in his password before handing it to her. She sat down on the bench under his jersey, the fabric brushing her shoulder as she tapped a few numbers. Then he heard the phone ring in her purse next to her.
"Was that the James Bond theme song?"
She handed his phone back to him. "I'm thinking about writing a spy series some day. Figured I would try out the theme music first."
Charlotte Stone, always full of surprises. He smiled as he pocketed his phone and shrugged on his sheepskin jacket before reaching over to straighten out the collar on hers.
"Did you park out in the VIP lot?"
She nodded and he smiled before putting his hand on her back again to gently lead her out of his locker room. As they opened the doors to the main hallway, he took her hand again, thankful that she didn't pull it away from him. And when they finally made it to the parking lot, he could barely feel the cold night air on his skin. It was too on fire from this woman who seemed to suddenly have some sort of control over him.
"This is me," she said, walking over to a black Aston Martin.
"You really are going for this spy theme, eh?" he asked, leaning up next to her car door.
"I could never drive a car like this in Manhattan," she lamented. "Another perk of living here, I guess."
"So dinner? Is sometime this week good for you?"
"Maybe sometime this week will work," she said.
He pushed himself off of her car and leaned over, gently kissed her good night, and then lingered in her warm vanilla smell. He finally pulled away, but not far.
"Good night, Charlotte," he whispered, his lips teasing hers before he finally stood back a bit. "I promise I'll call you."
"I hope so."
Jordan held her door open as she climbed in before gently shutting it for her. He turned and headed for his car across the lot, determined not to look back at her again. He didn't want her to think he was desperate. But once he climbed into his own car, he finally allowed himself to take another look at her, this time it was in his rear view mirror as she pulled away. He took a deep breath and put his key in the ignition.
Charlotte Stone had bewitched him, and there was no going back.