Chapter Six

 

"You're being unreasonable."

"And you're being an ass."

Caleb clenched his jaw against the retort, knowing that Taylor was expecting it. He needed to catch her off-guard, not play into her expectations. That was the only way he was going to get what he wanted.

He'd have it already if he hadn't been so fucking preoccupied last night. How the hell could he have forgotten to get Shannon's number from her? Especially after telling her he'd call her today. If he hadn't been so focused on that full mouth of hers, on the way she had tasted after that damn kiss that was embarrassingly brief—

He still wasn't sure why he kissed her. It hadn't been planned. At least, not like that. The first kiss should have been one that knocked her off her feet. One that emptied her mind of everything except him and the next kiss. And the next one after that, until she was trembling in his arms, ready to follow wherever he led.

Yeah, his fucking mistake. But she'd been leaning against the car, her head tilted back as she looked at him, full of attitude and sass. He didn't stop to think, just leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, just to see what she would do.

Which was nothing. No clinging to him, no swift intake of shocked breath, no flash of desire. Shannon just stood there, staring up at him, her face scrunched up in confusion.

Not exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for.

Fine. No problem. He could rectify that starting tonight.

If he could manage to get her damn phone number from Taylor.

He leaned against the boards and crossed his arms in front of him, a small grin on his face. "Come on, Tay-Tay. It's just a number. What's it going to hurt?"

She slid to a stop next to him, spraying snow against his legs. She raised her stick and he almost flinched, worried that she was going to slash him across the chest with it. Instead of hitting him, she simply used the blade to point at him.

"No. I don't know what the hell you're up to, but no. I'm not going to help you set-up my friend that way."

"Set her up? What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Just what I said. I know you, Caleb. I know how you operate. So you can just wipe that Look-At-Me-I'm-So-Charming grin off that stupid face. It's not happening."

Caleb's mouth flattened but only for a second. He schooled his face into something a little less charming, a little more offended. "I can't believe you'd even think that—"

"Oh, please. Don't bother, Johnson. It's not working."

"Tay-Tay—"

She cut him off with another slice of her stick, this one even closer to his face. He jerked back and almost lost his balance, caught himself before his feet shot out from under him. Wouldn't that be just perfect, to land on his ass in front of Taylor and have her laugh at him? Or worse, have her go back and tell everyone about it.

"Shannon isn't one of your playthings, Caleb. Let it go."

"I never said she was a plaything."

"Really? I'm supposed to believe that you actually like her?"

"Yeah. I do." It wasn't a lie, which surprised him as much as it obviously surprised Taylor. He did like Shannon—when he wasn't trying to keep from rolling his eyes at whatever came out of her mouth, like when she asked if he was constipated. Or maybe that was why he liked her: she didn't have a filter. At all. She didn't simper and coo around him, didn't fall all over herself trying to impress him.

She was a challenge. And Caleb liked nothing better than a challenge.

So of course he liked her. It made perfect sense when he thought of it that way.

Taylor jammed the blade of her stick against the ice and stared at him, her gaze too direct, too intense. He almost looked away, caught himself at the last second. Looking away would be bad. Looking away would make him seem guilty—and he wasn't. Not at all. It was just that his idea of liking was completely different than Taylor's…in this instance.

Caleb grinned, hoping it would throw Taylor off-balance, then shrugged. "Fine. Don't give me her number and I won't take her to the game tonight. Then she'll be sitting home, waiting and thinking exactly what you don't want her to think and then you can explain why I stood her up."

"You're seriously taking her out tonight?"

"Well, I was. But since I have no way of calling—"

"Don't try to put that on me. If you were that worried about it, you would have gotten her number." Taylor tilted her head to the side, frowning. "Unless you already asked her and she wouldn't give it to you."

"I didn't—"

"Oh, man. I would have loved to see her put you in your place."

"She didn't—"

"Yeah, right." She started skating past him, heading toward the players' bench. Caleb hurried after her, shuffling his feet along the ice so he wouldn't slip and fall. Was she really going to leave and not give him Shannon's number? No way. No fucking way.

"Taylor, just give me her number."

"Not happening."

What the hell? She was serious. She really wasn't going to give it to him.

Something like panic swept over him. No, that couldn't be right, he never panicked. Maybe it was just disbelief that this wasn't working the way he wanted. That had to be it.

A dozen different persuasive arguments raced through his mind. He dismissed all of them. Taylor was immune to his charms and he couldn't think of anything else to do.

Well shit. This wasn't going the way he planned at all.

Unless—

"Then can you call her for me? That way I can at least talk to her and make arrangements for tonight." His voice carried just a hint of desperation, just enough to sound convincing. He ignored the fact that he wasn't acting and chalked it up to simple surprise that things weren't going the way he wanted.

Taylor spun around, the surprise on her face matching his own—not that he'd admit it to her. Hell, he couldn't even admit it to himself.

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

He jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and nodded. "Yeah, I am."

She studied him for a long minute through narrowed eyes, like she was trying to gauge his sincerity. Or like she was trying to figure him out. Yeah. Good luck with that. Nobody figured him out. Ever.

Taylor finally blew out a quick breath, her gaze darting to the stick in her hand before shooting back to him. "Fine. I'll call her for you. Just give me five minutes to change. But if I find out you're playing her—"

"I'm not."

She muttered something under her breath, too low for him to hear, then spun around and headed back to the locker room. Caleb released his own sigh then made his way off the ice and over to the metal bleachers. He sat down, stretched his ankle, then looked around.

The place was a fucking dump. Several of the overhead lights were burned out, and the insulation covering the steel ceiling beams was worn in more than a few spots. The warped and scratched metal bleachers had seen better days. So had the rubber mats surrounding the scarred and chipped boards around the ice. At least the glass looked relatively new.

Maybe, if new meant replaced sometime in the last three years.

Christ, how could anyone even play here? It reminded him of one of the rinks he played at when he was growing up, before he'd started climbing his way up on the road to the pros. It wasn't just how the place looked—it was the smell, too. That odd combination of stale water and sweat, of damp gear shoved into a bag and left to ripen for too long. Of faded dreams and hopes and—

What the fuck was his problem? He dropped his head, reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to make his eyes water. Why would those thoughts even pop into his mind? He had no idea. All he knew was that he didn't have to worry about shit like that now. He'd made it to where he wanted to be: on top. Not in some shit league, pretending to play at a game most people didn't understand. Only the best made it to where he was now.

And the best didn't play in shit holes like this.

Taylor's voice pulled him back to the present. He shifted on the bench, watched as she moved toward him, the phone held to her ear. She came to a stop a few feet away, frowning as she watched him and listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

Fuck. Had she called Shannon already? Of course she had. Taylor probably didn't want to take the chance of him seeing the number.

Right. Like he wouldn't have it for himself by the end of the night anyway.

"Are you sure? Because I can tell him to get lost, no problem."

Caleb started voicing his objections but Taylor simply waved him away as she listened to whatever Shannon was saying. She nodded once, made a soft humming sound, then frowned and shot him a dirty look. "And you don't think this is a bad idea?"

"Taylor—"

She waved him off once more and moved back a step. "If you want to, fine. Just don't forget what I told you. Yeah, I know, but still…yeah, okay."

Taylor blew out a quick sigh, lowered the phone, and looked over at him. "What time should she meet you there?"

"I was going to pick her up—"

Taylor's laugh was sharp and abrupt. "Nice try. What time?"

"I was going to take her to dinner first."

Taylor held up one finger, silencing him as she listened to whatever was being said before moving the phone away from her mouth. "Dinner isn't happening because she doesn't get off work until five."

"Then how about five-thirty?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "That's not going to work. She has to go home and change and stuff."

"Then—"

"Six? Yeah, I'll tell him. Just remember what I said." Taylor disconnected the call then jammed the phone into the pocket of her warm-up pants. "She said she'd meet you in front of the will-call window at six sharp."

Caleb pulled a deep breath in through his nose and willed his jaw to unclench. "Is there a reason you wouldn't let me talk to her?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Hm, let me think. Maybe so I could make the arrangements myself?"

"No need to. They're made. Just meet her outside at the will-call window at six. Simple as that."

"It's not as simple as that."

"Sure it is. Nothing could be simpler." Taylor's smile flat-lined and she stepped forward to level a single finger at him. "And I'm telling you right now, Caleb. Don't you dare play her. If I find out—"

"I'm not playing her."

"Excuse me if I don't believe that. You know, on second thought, go ahead and try it. Shannon will eat you up and spit you out if you try. She'll shred you. And when she's done, if there's anything left, I'll have a go at you myself."

Caleb's grin felt cold on his face. "Am I supposed to be worried?"

"If you're smart, yeah."

Anger washed over him—at Taylor's words, at her obvious low expectations of him, at his own reaction. He had no intention of playing Shannon. Did he want to have fun? Absolutely. Was he looking for a commitment? Not in this lifetime. And there was nothing wrong with that, not if he was upfront about it—and he was always upfront. Taylor making assumptions otherwise only pissed him off.

And it wasn't like it was any of her business anyway.

"Maybe you should let Shannon decide, don't you think? She's a big girl. Something tells me she wouldn't appreciate you running interference. Or whatever this is that you think you're doing."

Taylor laughed, the sound mocking his words. "Just remember what I said."

"Yeah, I'll do that." Did she catch the sarcasm in his voice? No, probably not. She was already walking away, heading for the door leading to the plush offices upstairs.

Leaving him standing there, trying to figure out why her words of caution—her threats—irritated him so much.