Chapter Five

 

Shannon leaned across the table, snagged a fry from Caleb's plate, then tossed it into her mouth. She laughed at the frown on his face, at the way his mouth gaped open ever so slightly before he snapped it closed.

Like he wasn't used to sharing. Or like he wasn't used to anyone else taking something from him. Too bad for him because she didn't care.

She reached across and grabbed one more fry, just because she could, then leaned back against the vinyl seat of the corner booth. "Okay, Johnson, out with it."

"Out with what?"

"With whatever game you're playing."

His gaze darted to hers then dropped to his plate, which he was pulling a little closer to him—probably to stop her from stealing another fry. "Who says I'm playing a game?"

"Please." She filled the word with as much sarcasm as she could muster and dragged it out into three long syllables. "Like I believe you were in the area and just decided to stop by."

"I was."

"Uh-huh. Sure you were." She rolled her eyes then leaned forward and propped her elbows on the edge of the table. "What do you really want?"

Caleb looked up, the expression in his green eyes unreadable. That didn't stop the flash of awareness from rippling through her. Damn if she'd look away, though. If she did, he might realize the effect he had on her, and that was the last thing she wanted. Let him think she wasn't interested. Something told her Caleb didn't get that very often—the new experience would do him some good.

"I told you: I just wanted to say hi. See if you wanted to grab a bite to eat."

"And you expect me to believe that why?"

"I said hi, didn't I?" The corner of his mouth kicked up into a grin. "And look: we're eating. Imagine that. Must mean I was right and got what I wanted."

"Something tells me that happens a lot."

"What?"

"You getting what you want."

He shrugged, the motion—and the expression on his face—devoid of any guilt. "Yeah? So?"

"Wow. Cocky much?"

Caleb leaned closer, his grin widening. "It's not being cocky when it's true."

The sharp bark of laughter escaped her before she had a chance to swallow it back. Caleb's smile dimmed and just the briefest hint of confusion glinted in his eyes—but only for a second, only until he blinked it away.

"You find that amusing?"

"No. I find you amusing. But something tells me that wasn't the impression you were going for."

"Why do you think I'm going for any impression?"

Shannon shrugged then reached for the glass of iced tea, draining it with a few long swallows. She wiped her mouth off with the napkin, balled it up, and tossed it onto her empty plate. "No idea. Call it intuition. And I'm ninety-nine percent positive you have an ulterior motive for stopping by and asking me to grab a bite to eat."

Caleb frowned but refused to look away. In fact, he actually leaned closer—close enough that she had the sudden urge to back into the corner of the booth. How ridiculous was that? There was a table full of empty dishes and glassware between them. What was he going to do? Tip the table over and push it out of his way to get to her?

Yeah, right.

"Why do you have such a hard time believing that I don't have an ulterior motive? Why can't you just accept the fact that I really wanted to see you and grab a bite to eat?"

"Because—" Shannon snapped her mouth closed and looked away, afraid he'd be able to see the truth in her eyes. Because guys like him always ever wanted just one thing. Because guys in general always seemed to want that same thing from her. Because she'd been burned too many times and didn't trust anyone, not when it came to the opposite sex. She'd learned long ago that guys weren't interested in her, they were interested in what they thought they could get from her. And once they actually got to know her—if they even stuck around that long—they usually took off in the opposite direction, running as fast as their poor legs could carry them.

"It's because of Taylor running her mouth, right?"

Oh, yeah—that, too. Caleb was a player. She couldn't forget that.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Then what is it?"

"Because you don't know me. You don't know anything about me—"

"Which is what I'm trying to fix—"

"—but I'm supposed to believe that, all of a sudden, you're so interested—"

"Yeah, that's how it generally works."

"Oh, bullshit."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm not an idiot, Johnson. I know what guys usually think when they first see me. But as soon as they get the tiniest glimpse of who I really am, off they go, running scared."

"You don't see me running, do you?"

"No. And that's why I'm pretty sure you're after something. Maybe you're trying to prove something. Guys like you are used to the sure thing, which is why I can't figure out what the hell you want."

 "Christ. Double standard much?" He tossed the crumbled napkin beside his plate then sat back, slowly shaking his head. His frustration was clear, from the way his mouth pursed to the muscle jumping along his jaw. "Guys like me? What the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

"Don't play stupid. You're a pretty boy, with those gorgeous eyes and that stupid ass dimple." And why the hell was she still talking? She needed to shut up, to stop while she was ahead. Caleb was passing the frustration zone and slowly skating into impatience. But her mouth had other ideas—as usual—and the words kept falling out. "Don't tell me you're not used to women throwing themselves at you. Big name superstar. Good looks. A multi-million-dollar contract."

"That's not—"

"Don't even say that's not true. I've been around sports long enough to know better. Which means you must see me as some kind of challenge, right?"

"Yeah, you're a challenge, alright. A challenge to my patience. What the hell, Wiley? How the hell did we go from grabbing a bite to eat to—to—whatever the hell this even is?"

His use of her last name acted like a bucket of cold water thrown over her, dousing the flames of her pent-up anger and frustration. What the hell was she doing, taking things out on him? Going off on him like that when he'd done absolutely nothing wrong? Did he have ulterior motives? Maybe. Probably. But if he did, so what? He hadn't acted on them, hadn't done anything except invite her out for a bite to eat.

The heat of mortification filled her face and she looked away, more embarrassed than she'd been in a long time. What the hell was wrong with her? She glanced around, caught the attention of the waitress, and signaled for their check before turning back to face Caleb.

At least, face in his direction. She was too embarrassed to actually look at him, too worried about what she might see on his face. "Sorry, I was out of line."

"Yeah, sure."

She heard the curt abruptness in his voice, opened her mouth to apologize again. To blame her over-the-top rant on lack of sleep and stress and whatever other excuse she could come up with. No, she wasn't going to make excuses, not when none existed. Yes, she was tired—but that didn't excuse her rant. Nothing did.

The waitress placed the check on the edge of the table, not even bothering to glance at Shannon. Not that Shannon could blame her for giving Caleb a thorough once-over. Or, in the woman's case, an eight-times-over, considering she'd been watching Caleb from the moment they had taken their seats.

Whatever. Shannon bit her tongue, not bothering to use the poor waitress as an example of everything she'd just said. She simply rolled her eyes and reached for the check—

At the exact same time as Caleb.

Their hands collided, their fingers twisting together as they both fought to gain possession of the paper slip. And kept fighting, until the paper started to tear. Shannon curled her fingers tighter, squeezing Caleb's until he finally let go.

"Christ. You don't give up, do you?"

"Nope." She tried to bite back her smile, then ended up looking away because her attempt wasn't very successful. "You paid the other day. I can pick this one up."

"It's not a contest, you know. I have no problem paying. In fact, that's how it usually works. I asked you out, I should pay."

"Whatever." She dug into her jacket pocket for the wallet attached to her keys and unsnapped the back compartment, pulling out a few folded bills. She glanced at the total then peeled off enough to cover the bill.

"At least let me get the tip."

"I can cover it." And she could—the diner wasn't exactly five-star dining, thank God. If it had been, she would have been forced to use her credit card, and that would have been taking a chance since the damn thing was close to its limit.

"I didn't say you couldn't." Caleb tossed a single twenty on the table, the motion casually careless, like leaving an eighty percent tip was no big deal. For him, it probably wasn't.

Shannon bit her tongue instead of arguing. The argument wouldn't be worth it—and the urge to argue didn't make sense. If she were here with her teammates, everyone would simply toss a few bills down until everything was covered. There wasn't this urge she was feeling now to one-up the man sitting across from her, draining the last of his coffee.

Maybe it wasn't that she wanted to one-up him. Maybe she just wanted to prove…something. The problem was, she had no idea what that something might be.

No, she mentally corrected. The problem was that she felt the urge to prove anything at all.

She slid across the bench, dragging her jacket behind her. "Thanks for the food, Johnson."

"What's the hurry?"

"You know the saying: places to go, things to do. Like sleep." She shrugged into her jacket then reached behind her, pulling her ponytail free. "I have to work in the morning."

Caleb had been sliding out from behind the table but, at her last words, paused. A frown creased his face, the expression full of confusion. "Work? Oh, you mean practice."

"No, I mean work. As in, go in and punch a clock and actually work until it's time to punch out."

"I don't get it. Why are you working?"

"We all have to work, Johnson. That's how the bills get paid."

"I get that part." He finally stood up, his body too close to her. Shannon took a hasty step back to put distance between them. Did he notice? If he did, he didn't say anything about it, just kept talking about work. "What I don't get is why. You get paid by the Blades, right?"

Shannon's snort was immediate, loud and decidedly unladylike. "You're kidding, right?"

"Are you saying you don't get paid?"

"Oh, we get paid alright." Shannon pushed through the door, felt the cold night air wrap around her. She huddled deeper into the jacket and headed toward her car, Caleb keeping pace with her each step of the way.

"Then why are you working a second job if you're getting paid?"

Shannon rolled her eyes as she unlocked the car. "Because what we get paid amounts to chump change. Literally. It works out to be, maybe, a couple hundred a game. Maybe. And that's not everyone. Some of them aren't even making that. So yeah, pretty much everyone has another job."

"You're pulling my leg."

Shannon leaned her backside against the driver's door and looked up at Caleb. He was standing close—close enough that she could feel the tempting heat of his body, felt herself sway toward him. She stopped herself at the last second, thankful for the dark shadows hiding her blush, thankful that he didn't seem to notice what she'd done. At least, she didn't think he noticed. He was still watching her, those deep green eyes focused on her with laser intensity.

"You're being serious, aren't you?"

Serious? What was he talking about? Oh, that's right—they'd been talking about how little everyone on the team was paid.

Shannon yanked her gaze from his and nodded. "As a heart attack. And as much as I'd love to stand here and discuss the gross unfairness of it with you, I really do need to get home."

Caleb nodded and took a step back. He stopped, another frown creasing his face, then cocked his head to the side and watched her for a long minute. Like he was considering something.

And yeah, there was a scary thought she didn't need. What could the man in front of her be thinking to put that expression in his face? Like he wasn't sure what to do, and just the mere thought of whatever he was thinking was enough to worry him.

Shannon had no idea what that could be and she didn't want to find out. So she did what she always did, and let her mouth run free.

"Are you constipated or something?"

And yes, that definitely did the trick. Caleb's face cleared and he took another step back, like he couldn't get away from her fast enough. Then he stopped and oh shit, she was in so much trouble because one corner of his mouth curled into a devilish grin.

"You really don't have a filter at all, do you?"

"I do. I just don't use it very often."

He nodded then did something completely unexpected: he stepped closer. Shannon curled her hands and jammed them behind her back, afraid she'd do something really stupid, like reach up and trace the fullness of his lower lip.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Uh—" She snapped her mouth closed, frowning as she tried to think of something, anything, that she had to do. Her mind was disgustingly blank.

"You should come to the game with me."

"Uh—what?"

"Come to the game with me. We can watch from the owner's suite."

"The game? You mean, the Banners? Aren't you, uh, aren't you going to be playing?"

A shadow flashed across his eyes but only for a second before it was replaced with a carefree sparkle. "Not yet. I'll be cleared to play on Saturday. So how about it? Feel like going with me?"

"Um…" Shannon hesitated, her mind still trying to deal with the unexpected disappointment. He was asking her to go to the game, that was it. Not a date, not like she'd been afraid of.

Not like she'd been hoping.

He simply wanted her to go to the game, that was it. Two hockey players, hanging out and chilling. Nothing more.

"Um, yeah, sure. Okay."

"Perfect."

And then he did the one thing she hadn't been expecting: he reached out and cupped her chin with one large hand then leaned down and kissed her.

He. Kissed. Her.

Just the briefest touching of lips against lips. Warm. Soft. Almost tender. Certainly nothing that anyone would write down in their diary, if they had one.

Which did nothing to explain the heat flaring inside her, the warmth that spread from where his mouth touched hers all the way down to her toes. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath lodged in her throat. At least she didn't do anything completely stupid, like jump into his arms and jam her tongue down his throat.

Yeah, right. Only because Caleb was already pulling away, a small grin on his mouth as he looked down at her.

"I'll call you tomorrow with the details."

Shannon managed to nod. At least, she thought she did. Not that it mattered because Caleb was already walking away. She watched him get into his expensive SUV, saw him wave as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Only then was she able to move. She jerked open the door and dropped into the driver's seat, cursing herself for not warming the car up.

Cursing herself for letting one tiny little kiss fry her brain. It was just a kiss. Not even a real kiss. It was barely even a peck.

And it meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Yeah, sure it didn't. That's why her heart was still fluttering and why heat still raced over her, warming her enough that she didn't even need to turn up the heat.

One little kiss, my ass.

Yeah, she was definitely in trouble.

With a capital T.