Chapter 9

Brooke

Erik’s date is nice enough. Her name is Sarah Kinecky, but I keep wanting to call her Pamela. Because she looks exactly like a younger Pamela Anderson. She has the windblown blond hair and perfect body. She even sports those same pouty, full lips that Miss Anderson does, and she’s slightly on the ditzy side, which I’ve never been one to attribute to hair color.

None of that, though, changes the fact that she’s actually a nice woman. She and Erik sat at another table during dinner, but I noticed that no one really talked to her. She would sometimes insert herself into the conversation, but was often glossed over. She got looks of veiled disgust from the women sitting at their table, and it was clear that they were snubbing her and probably only because she was so overtly sexy.

Therefore, after dinner, I suggested Bishop go hang out with some of the players to help calm down the tide of swirling rumors that were sure to be circulating after we showed up hand in hand. I immediately sought out Sarah, who was standing by herself in the bar area. She looked visibly relieved when I approached her.

Turns out that she just moved to the area from Detroit and loves it here. She was a huge fan of their hockey team, the Cardinals. Sarah’s actually quite knowledgeable about the sport, and we’ve been talking about it. Occasionally I glance at Bishop as he hangs with a group of players. His eyes sometimes wander over to me and it makes my belly flutter when he smiles at me.

Eventually Bishop breaks away from the group and heads to the bar. I’m surprised when he makes his way over to Tacker, who is sitting by himself.

I know all about Tacker Hall. Because I’m not into professional hockey in a deeply vested way but rather as more of an exuberant fan of my father’s team, he and I don’t talk a lot about his job. But since coming to Phoenix, he has opened up to me somewhat about his concerns about Tacker’s place on this team. I think my father feels Tacker’s sadness keenly, since he’s feeling much the same way after we lost my mom seven months ago.

While my father had some input into the players they chose in the expansion draft, his concerns about Tacker joining the team—mainly about him fitting into a competitive dynamic—were not heeded by the management.

This was ultimately okay, because by the end of training camp this week, my father saw real potential in Tacker to actually be a leader. His emotionally withdrawn demeanor apparently does not play out on the ice. The man is clearly still tortured about losing his fiancée, and that’s evidenced by the way he closes himself off, seeking solitude rather than socialization.

But my dad had disclosed confidentially to me today that he was going to name Tacker as the captain. Like my father, I’m hopeful that this will help to continue to draw him out so he can start truly living life again.

Not wanting to ignore Sarah, I turn back to her and ask, “How did you meet Erik?”

Her eyes light up with excitement, twinkling orbs of blue as she gushes, “I met him at a bar last night. And well, the attraction was instantaneous.”

Her cheeks get a little pink and I can see slight embarrassment in her expression, but it doesn’t stop her from admitting to me, “Actually…we sort of had sex in the bathroom. Sorry if that sounds whorish, but I’d never met a hockey star before.”

I smile at her in understanding. “Hey, it’s cool by me. Sex is great as long as it’s safe.”

I wasn’t about to tell her that we actually have quite a bit in common, since I slept with Bishop the first night I met him. Clearly I’m not opposed to one-night stands, but I think I will keep that information to myself.

I quickly change subjects. “What do you do for a living, Sarah?”

“I’m studying to get my real estate license, but I work as a bartender in the meantime. I was actually working last night when I met Erik.”

I turn slightly to look back over at Bishop, and now I’m surprised to see my father standing there with him and Tacker. I wonder if my dad is telling Tacker that he’s going to be the team’s captain.

“So you and Bishop seem like a great couple,” Sarah says to me, and it forces my gaze back to her.

I really hate not looking at Bishop. He is extraordinarily handsome tonight in a gray suit so dark it could pass for black, but it has thin threads of light blue running vertically in a wide, plaid pattern. He paired it with a pale blue shirt and a blue and yellow tie. It must be an unwritten rule, but hockey players clean up very, very well. Again, he wears his long hair swept back from his face and perfectly held in place by some type of miracle hair product. I have to find out what it is, because when my fingers get into his hair, it’s not stiff or sticky but feels just fabulously thick and soft.

“Any advice for Erik and me?” Sarah asks, and it startles me to realize I hadn’t responded to her prior question. Well, it wasn’t exactly a question but more like a hanging statement that required a response. I had not given her one but instead started daydreaming about Bishop again.

Smiling brightly at Sarah, I tell her, “I don’t know that my advice would be all that great. We’ve only been seeing each other a few months.”

“Well, he’s clearly smitten with you,” Sarah says.

“What do you mean?” I ask her with a slight tilt to my head.

Sarah just nods toward Bishop before telling me, “He’s constantly watching you when you two aren’t together. Can’t you feel the weight of it?”

I can’t. And that’s probably because I actually feel wired like live electricity is humming low within me just by being around the man. I’m sure that completely masks the weight of his stare.

“I wish something like that could develop between Erik and me,” Sarah says wistfully as her gaze takes in Erik from across the room with overt hunger.

Not a sexual hunger. And not a predatory hunger for the things he can give her. I think Sarah is just looking for love, and she’s doing it in an epically big way.

I hate to tell her, but she’s not gonna find it with a one-night stand.

Correct that…I mean a two-night stand, since she technically had sex with Erik in the bar last night and I’m quite sure she’ll have it again with him after they leave here.

Sadly, I have a pretty good gut instinct that Erik is not going to be calling her after tonight. He’s barely said a handful of words to her that I’ve observed, which makes him a bit of a douche to be honest.

I feel incredibly sad for Sarah because I can relate. While I had no intention of pining after Bishop after our one-night stand, I couldn’t help but think about him constantly after he left and into the next morning.

And then…suddenly he was there in my doorway and I felt myself come alive.

If Sarah even feels a fraction of that excitement for Erik that I felt for Bishop when I saw him again, then her heart is going to get broken.

Mine won’t, however, because we have a solid game plan. I know there’s an expiration date to this, so I don’t have any expectations, and without expectations, I can’t get let down.

A hand at my lower back pulls me out of my internal musings and I turn, then look up, to see Bishop standing there. The way he’s smiling at me—like he’s happy to see me and can’t wait to get me home—I have to remind myself that it’s all an act.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks, his voice low and seductive. Sarah gives a yearning sigh from behind me.

“Yeah…sure,” I say, not quite liking the way I come off sounding all breathless and needy. “Let’s go say goodbye to my dad, okay?”

Before we walk away from Sarah, I introduce her to Bishop. He’ll never see her again, but it’s the nice thing to do. We say goodbye to her and I watch her walk toward Erik for a moment, wringing her hands with nervousness yet still managing to put a seductive sway to her hips that has his eyes lighting up with appreciation as he watches her.

Bishop and I locate my father and give our farewells. This includes a hug from me where he embraces me just a little too hard, but that’s how it’s always been. He gives a quietly solemn handshake to Bishop, but there’s a wealth of information on his face. With his eyes and a hard set to his jawline, he tells Bishop without uttering a word, Don’t you dare hurt my little girl.

Of course, I know that’s an impossibility given the whole temporary nature of our relationship and that we both have big plans to move on without looking behind.

The theory is sound.

My gut still rolls slightly when I think about the potential damage this could do to all involved.

After the valet brings the car, I’m settled into the front seat, and Bishop starts to drive away from the restaurant, he asks, “I think we managed to pull that off, don’t you?”

“Mmmm,” I agree with just a hum in my throat. “No one seemed the wiser.”

He doesn’t reply, but puts his attention to the traffic coming from his left before he can merge into traffic. There’s extended silence once he manages to make his turn and I settle farther back into the seat.

“Can I stay the night with you?” he asks me, and the very minute level of nervousness in his voice makes me turn to look at him. I don’t see anything but confidence in his profile as he watches the road, the glow from the dashboard illuminating his handsome face.

“Okay,” I say softly.

His lips curve upward, and it’s only then that I’m able to see his shoulders relax, indicating that my answer was very important to him.

“Good,” is all he says.