Chapter 13

ONE WEEK OF SLEEPLESS nights later, Harper poured a generous glass of Merlot, set it on the kitchen island, and nudged it toward Addison.

“I need to stop drinking,” Addison lied.

“Uh-huh.” Harper took a healthy gulp of her own.

“So, any news on the team owners’ grapevine?”

Harper lifted one petite shoulder. “Thought you didn’t want to know.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Addison snapped, and then immediately regretted her testiness. “Sorry. It’s just—I’m worried he’s screwed up his career over a piece of tail.”

“A mighty fine piece of tail.”

Addison tried to look annoyed. “Guilty. I do have a great ass but it’s only supposed to get me into trouble. And while I hate what he did, I still want the best for him.”

“What if the best is for him is to be with you?”

“He could have had me. A few times a year. Now he has nothing, the idiot.”

Ford had to ruin it by going rogue. He didn’t want snatches of paradise here and there like an ordinary horndog. Oh, no. This guy claimed his actions came from the heart, but how could he know after such a short time? And how was it any different than with Michael, who had practically mail-ordered her out of a Victoria’s Secret catalog? All her life, she’d been judged on her looks. She couldn’t trust that Ford had fallen so quickly based on such a short acquaintance.

You mean, like you did, Addison?

That was different. Who wouldn’t fall for a guy like Ford—hot, funny, more evolved than average, and mature beyond his years? She’d called him a boy. There was nothing boy about Ford Callaghan. She knew he was looking to remake his life, reconnect with his family, get honest and serious about it to the level he was about his job. It just so happened that in doing that he’d impacted his career.

And all because of her.

His final words, the words she’d played over and over again, came back to her. You don’t want to fight for this, then there’s not much point to continuing this conversation. The problem was, she wasn’t sure she had it in her to fight again. Even if she did love him.

But she could still be concerned for him. As a friend. “Back to my original question. Have you heard anything about Michael’s plans for Ford?”

Harper pursed her lips. “Not specifically, but he’ll make his life hell. It’s what I’d do.”

“God, you should have been born with balls.”

Her friend gave an evil grin. “That’s what my father constantly tells me. At least he used to.” A shadow crossed her face at the mention of the man who had wanted sons but was saddled with daughters he couldn’t appreciate. Henry the VIII had nothing on Clifford Chase.

Harper seemed to give herself an inward shake. “I know you miss Callaghan.”

She didn’t deny it. “Not quite enough to get over his me-the-man behavior.”

“I dunno. There’s something very romantic about a guy putting his woman before his career. I know he should have discussed it with you first, but it was actually kind of noble and old-fashioned. He wasn’t asking Michael’s permission. He was adhering to bro code by giving his boss a heads-up and, at the same time, making his intentions toward you clear. And yes, he called you out because maybe you needed that push. You wanna shit or get off the pot?”

“Bro code? Shit or get off the pot? You’ve been spending far too long with those meatheads in the locker room. I mean, would you date a hockey player?”

Harper looked uncomfortable again. Twice in as many minutes, and not like her at all.

“Hey, have you actually dated one and didn’t tell me?”

Her friend blanched. Addison had evidently hit a sore spot.

“Bad experience?”

“Ancient history.” She took another pull of her wine, a longer one this time. So odd, Addison had never seen Harper look so . . . un-Harper.

Addison reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You’re always listening to my problems. Please know I’m here for you if you ever want to download. Like a good bra. Supportive. Lifts you up. Always close to your heart.”

Harper smiled, though it took a couple seconds longer than usual for that sun to reach her eyes.

“My father told me not to get involved with any of the hockey players, not if I wanted to be taken seriously in this business. But I thought I knew better and . . . well, let’s just say this guy I chose wasn’t very nice to me. After that experience, I realized my father was right. I’d never get any respect from the players if I was in a personal relationship with one. The classic management-labor divide, made doubly difficult when the manager is a woman.”

She brightened, having worked to haul herself out of a difficult memory. “But Ford is one of the good ones. Because I’ve never once seen a guy—any guy—put what supposedly means the most to him on the line for a woman.”

“Except the Chicago mayor—what’s his name again? The guy who tanked the election last year to prove he loved the firefighter.”

“Eli Cooper. And Alexandra Dempsey-Cooper is a very lucky woman. Okay, so Ford’s stunt is up there with that move. But do you appreciate it? Oh, no. All you can see is the fact he didn’t run it by you first.”

Addison pointed at Harper. “That’s important. After Michael, I need someone who sees me as an equal, not as a prize in a fight. That’s how I felt with my ex. Like a trophy to go with his magnate status. Nothing else.”

Harper looked thoughtful. “Callaghan screwed up, honey. But think about why he did it. The guy is in the prime of his career and look what he risked to win you. What he’s still risking because by no means is this over. Michael’s not going to let it lie.”

True, he wouldn’t. That lump in Addison’s gut turned heavier.

Harper studied her. “I feel like there’s more here. Yeah, it wasn’t Callaghan’s finest moment but can’t you see beyond that to the layer that lies beneath? The guy’s nuts about you.”

That feeling of discomfort about not having anything to offer beyond her looks prickled her skin. She knew she was smart and driven and kind. But she had a hard time seeing herself through Ford Callaghan’s rose-colored sex goggles.

She rubbed along her collarbone, trying to temper her distress. “How could he be so sure? What does he see in me that’s any different than what every other guy sees in me?”

“Oh, Addy, honey . . .” Harper shook her head in disbelief. “What did he see the first night he talked to you?”

Addison’s cheeks burned in memory. That first night, on the hotel balcony, was like something from an erotic fairy tale. “He didn’t see anything. He just heard my voice.” They were two perfect strangers joking, laughing, flirting. Connecting.

“Exactly. You didn’t know what he looked like, that he was a famous hockey player who had just won the Cup. He had no clue you were Addison Williams, world-renowned model. That anonymity was the ultimate blessing for both of you. He could be himself, just some horny dude. And it was the same for you. All you had to go on was his voice and whatever the hell he said to get your rocks off in the company of a total stranger.”

Addison covered her face and peeked through the cage of her fingers. “I shouldn’t have told you a thing.”

“Hey, I’m living vicariously through your filthy-sexy shenanigans. But don’t you see? He didn’t know what you looked like or who you were. Based on your voice and some admittedly creepy eavesdropping, he thought you were sexy and funny and smart. And later, he still had no idea who you were or what you looked like, yet he tracked you down because he felt you’d shared something real.”

The woman had a point. They had shared something real, something impossible to fake. Every moment she’d spent with him since had built on that initial encounter, and she’d loved learning more about him in that week he was in NOLA. He’s kind. He’s invested. In me. Could she trust there was a future to be found here?

Harper reached over and curled her fingers around Addison’s palm. “You asked what he sees in you? He sees Addy, my amazing friend, who is as beautiful inside as she is out.”

Addison threw her arms around this tiny powerhouse of a woman, almost crushing her in the process. “Thank you for being here for me.”

Harper chuckled against Addison’s neck.

“What?”

“Bet he was pretty relieved you turned out to be so damn fine.”

Ford checked his mailbox. Junk, junk, and more junk. What was he expecting? A handwritten invitation back into Addy’s life? After she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship, he’d slunk back to New Orleans with his tail between his legs. Though he wondered if he’d be a NOLA resident for much longer.

Babineaux hadn’t said a word. Neither had the Rajuns’ GM or anyone in the front office. His agent was waiting for a call that said he’d be traded out, but Ford knew better. Babineaux was going to make him suffer, wait out the last day of the contract. Two more years, and he’d be lucky if he got any ice time at all.

He could have withstood it if he had her. So much for trying to be a fucking adult.

He walked into the lobby of the high-rise he’d called home for the last year and nodded at Denny, the doorman.

“Mr. Callaghan, you have a visitor.” Denny jerked his head at the sofa in the reception area, where a big guy with the Callaghan dark eyes and stubborn chin stood.

“Hey,” Jackson said, his greeting wary.

“Jax.” Ford’s heart thumped hard against his rib cage. His brother was here. Why the hell is my brother here? “Are the kids okay? Marcy?”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s fine. I came to talk.”

Shit, four words Ford had never expected to hear out of his brother’s mouth. He’d have loved to hear some conversation beyond “here, talk to the kids” from the prick in the last ten years, but now wasn’t the time for recrimination. Ford had said his piece back in Chicago, got what he thought was the last word. Now Jax had come all the way to NOLA, and Ford was damn sure it wasn’t to play the blame game.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

They took the elevator in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Or not nearly as awkward as the bruising silences of the past. Ford let himself into his apartment and held the door for Jax. His brother looked around—not much to see. After sixteen months, he still had stuff in boxes, no pictures on the wall, only takeout, pop, and creamer in the fridge. He did, however, have photos of Jax, Marcy, and the kids on the mantel, along with a family shot of his parents and Paulie.

“Haven’t made yourself at home, then?”

“I’d planned to unpack this summer, but now I’m not sure there’s much point.”

Jax wouldn’t have heard what’d happened with Babineaux, but he was fluent in the language of defeat. “You getting traded out?”

“Hard to say. The org’s keeping their cards close to their chest.”

Jax frowned, clearly not understanding the entire story but not willing to push. “I was out of line, Ford. Talking about your woman that way. I had no idea it was that serious.”

Ford grabbed a couple Cokes from the fridge and passed one to his brother. “Well, it’s not. I told her ex I planned to date her, and she dumped me.”

“Fuck.” Jax sat down, his mouth gaping. “You went to Babineaux and . . . shit, staked your claim? Are you crazy?”

Obviously. No one seemed to be appreciating his effort to sac up here. “I was trying to clear a path for us to be together. Trying to show her I’ll do what it takes to make this work. That she doesn’t have to worry about it.”

“’Cause you took care of it?”

Discomfort chewed at his insides. Acting like Ford-knows-best had seemed like such a brilliant plan. He should have understood that a woman like Addy wouldn’t enjoy being dictated to.

Joking about it was easier than admitting he screwed up. “So she’s chosen not to see the finer details.”

“Women.” Jax cocked his head. “Can I call her names now?”

Ford grinned. “Nope. She’s still my girl, she just needs to come around to the idea.”

“Jesus, you were always so stubborn. Practice would be over, and you’d still be out there running drills because you had to get it perfect.”

“Had to keep up with the two of you.”

“We didn’t make it easy on ya, kid.” Jax took a slug of his Coke and then a breath that even Ford could hear shuddering. Ah, shit, here it comes. “I fucked up, Fordie. That night. Every night after. Yeah, Paulie was the one celebrating, but I should have stayed sober to look after you both.”

Ford shook his head. “This isn’t about us switching up the blame, bro. Mistakes were made, and I’m not asking for you to step up and take that burden on. Christ knows we’ve both suffered, even more because we couldn’t weather this together. I’ve fuckin’ missed you, is all.”

Jax took another draft because hell, that was pretty heavy. “I’ve missed you, too. I’ve missed pushing you around. And I’ve missed the game.”

“So. You’ve missed violence and hockey.”

Jax’s mouth stretched into the smile Ford had missed with a raw ache. “Inseparable. And I did list you first.”

They laughed at that, probably louder than it deserved, but they needed to reset, and an overdone guffaw was as good as any. Neither of them were huggers or talkers, after all.

Ford’s phone rang, which was perfect timing. Getting a touch sugary there.

It was his agent. “Gotta take this.”

Five minutes later, he emerged from the bedroom, not quite believing what he’d heard. Jax was finishing up a phone call and by the low murmurs, it sounded like it was Marcy.

“You fill her in?”

Jax nodded. “She’s relieved we’re on the same wavelength again. And she wants me to get her some beignets.”

Priorities, Marcy had ’em. “You’re staying for a while, though, right?”

“Just one night. All I could swing from work. I hear the food’s good in this town.”

“Yeah, it is.” He thought back to the conversation he’d just had with Tommy. “And I’m gonna need your advice about something. Something big.”