Chapter 2

Blue

I tug at the silver, blue, and green silk scarf that’s tied at my neck as I run across the tarmac. It’s part of my uniform so I’m required to wear it, but I can’t stand anything touching my neck. I spend a lot of time each flight tugging at the stupid accessory. I’ve never been able to wear anything constricting, which also includes sixteen-inch necklaces, chokers, or turtlenecks. It all makes me feel like I’m suffocating.

My foot hits the bottom step of the staircase that leads up to the plane door and I see Sadie standing at the top, grinning down at me.

“You’re late,” she calls out, tapping her wristwatch with a smirk.

“By maybe five minutes,” I huff out as I jog up the steps in my three-inch pumps, the same shade of navy in my scarf. While I might struggle each flight with the constricting silk around my neck, I have no problems whatsoever standing for hours in high heels.

“Five minutes my ass,” she replies as she places a hand on her hip and cocks it out. “More like fifteen minutes. The team will be boarding soon.”

Sadie is dressed in an identical uniform to mine. We have several different variations because the team’s owner, Dominik Carlson, can afford to dress his employees well. Today’s trip has all four female flight attendants to the Arizona Vengeance hockey team wearing a navy skirt that hits demurely at knee level with a very well fitted, white cotton blouse. Some of my coworkers wear theirs unbuttoned scandalously low, but my boobs are way too big to get away with that. I only unbutton the top two and call it a day. The outfit is complete with a navy blazer and the multicolored scarf, which matches the team’s logo.

“What happened?” Sadie asks as I brush past her and through the massive luxury plane toward the rear galley where I’ll be working today’s flight. “You’re always at least fifteen minutes early.”

My sigh of frustration clues her in but I fill in the extra details. “Billy had a bit of a melt-down and I had to run out to the Cresson for a bit.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” I tell her with a smile that I know doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “He’s good. I got him calmed down.”

Billy rarely has meltdowns and this one caught me off guard since I was getting dressed for work. I love my brother more than anything in the world and I’d never begrudge a visit to him if it was needed. If the choice was between Billy and the flight, I would have chosen Billy hands down. As it were, I was able to spend some time with my brother and still make it to work on time.

Well, almost on time.

Spastic quadriplegia cerebral palsy.

It’s the diagnosis that changed our family forever a little over twenty years ago when Billy was born prematurely. I was six years old at the time and there was nothing in the world—not Santa, not birthday presents, and not my favorite chocolate chip cookies—that I wanted more than I wanted a little brother or sister.

His differences weren’t all that apparent right away, but even when I figured out that I wouldn’t have a sibling that I could run and play with, it never made me love him less.

I step into the rear galley, a stainless-steel kitchen neatly organized with the most expensive equipment available. From here we can serve an entire hockey team plus staff gourmet meals and snacks, as well as pretty much any type of drink they can imagine. My gaze sweeps the area and it seems that Sadie has done all the prep necessary before the team boards.

Turning, I give her a grateful smile. “Thanks for covering and getting everything ready.”

“That’s what friends do,” she quips.

The sound of male voices reaches us and I lean to the left to look past Sadie. The players are boarding and it’s time to get to work.

“Let’s do this,” I murmur to her and give one last little tug to the scarf to loosen it a bit more.

Sadie looks down at her chest to where she has four buttons of her blouse undone, exposing nice cleavage. Satisfied, her eyes pop back up to me and she winks. “Let’s do this.”

We step out of the galley with welcoming smiles on our faces as the team, coaches, trainers, and such start taking their seats. The rear of the plane where I’m working for this flight is filled with clusters of swivel chairs around mahogany tables as well as couches flanking the walls. It’s the most popular place on the plane for outbound trips and you have to be first to board if you want the choice seating, which can accommodate roughly thirty people total. The front of the plane has two rows of plush leather seats that recline fully into beds, which are very popular when flying late at night after a game. In those situations, deference always goes to the veteran players over the rookies.

This trip is going to be a long one. We’re headed to the East Coast and will be gone a full week. The team will be playing games in Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, and Washington, D.C., before we head back. I’m not a fan of these extended road trips as it makes me nervous being that far away from Billy for a period of more than a few days, but it’s not something over which I have any control. Where the team flies to, so do I because it’s my job.

More players file in, and Sadie and I start serving, offering to hang up jackets and taking drink orders. Sadie flirts outrageously, just like I know the other two attendants, Lyla and Valerie, are doing up front. I’m quite sure I’m considered the dud out of the four of us, but flirting and hookups aren’t my thing anymore.

Not since I returned home to Phoenix to take care of Billy.

A deep, boisterous voice hits my ears and I tense as I hear Erik Dalhbeck say, “Grab that table, Bishop.”

Turning, I see Erik following Bishop Scott to one of the tables that sits mid cabin. They’ll be saving seats for Legend Bay and Dax Monahan, as they normally sit together.

Sadie’s in the rear galley filling drink orders, so I take a deep breath and force a pleasant smile on my face as I head to their table. Bishop gives me a welcoming smile and I don’t spare Erik a glance.

“What can I get for you guys?” I ask.

“Hey, Blue,” Bishop says warmly. “I’ll have a Heineken, no glass.”

I force myself not to wrinkle my nose as I look to Erik. “And you?”

“Same,” he replies, a wide grin breaking out on his handsome face. He knows he makes me uncomfortable and I think it gives him pleasure.

I wish he wasn’t so easy on the eyes, as it would make it a whole lot easier to ignore him. As it is, his face is all molded cheekbones and strong jawline covered with what is always more than a five o’clock shadow, but something less than a beard. Dark hair and darker eyes give the immediate impression of danger and sin, but once he opens his mouth to flirt, you know he’s nothing but pure fun-loving playboy.

“Be right back,” I mutter and head to the kitchen, glad to be out of Erik’s presence.

I hate that he’s been occupying my thoughts since I’d seen him at the harvest festival three days ago. The Cresson, which is the group home that Billy now lives in, organized a field trip for some of the residents and I went along as a chaperone. It was a great way to spend quality time with Billy away from the home, which is difficult for me to do on my own. Billy is able to move short distances using his braces and with support from someone else, which is usually something like moving him from his wheelchair to the bathroom sink in his room to do morning necessities like brushing his teeth and hair.

But for any trip that requires more than a few steps, he needs a wheelchair. He has a motorized one at the Cresson but it’s not practical to transport for group outings, so wherever we go, it has to be conducive to using a regular portable wheelchair. I’m a strong woman by most standards as I work out pretty seriously, but it’s still hard for me to manage Billy’s weight on my own in a lot of situations.

Erik really surprised me the way he handled Billy at the festival.

Or rather, didn’t handle him.

He didn’t treat Billy differently because of his handicap. He spoke directly to him without even knowing if Billy could respond. And he was sincere and genuine, and let’s face it…that’s the part that’s got me freaked out because the Erik Dalhbeck I know is a self-centered, egotistical jerk. Those things just don’t reconcile.

After I have the beers on a tray along with a small bowl of warm, mixed nuts, I return to Erik and Bishop. I weave my way through other players milling about and finding their seats, making note of those that I’ll need to serve.

“Thanks a bunch,” Bishop says as I set his beer in front of him. I put the bowl of nuts in the center, then put Erik’s beer down without looking at him.

“My pleasure,” I reply. “Where’s Brooke?”

Bishop grins at me. “That’s right. You probably hadn’t heard.”

“You mean that you had a fake relationship that turned real with her,” I reply with a laugh.

Because that story has totally made the gossip rounds, not to mention national sports news outlets. The star player in a fake relationship with the coach’s daughter was really juicy fodder for a while.

“Yeah that,” Bishop replies with a laugh. “But Brooke isn’t working in team services anymore. She’s over in merchandising, so that means no more traveling with us.”

“Bummer,” I commiserate with him.

“Tell me about it,” he grimaces.

My smile turns sympathetic. “Well, tell her I said hello, okay?”

“Will do,” Bishop replies with a nod, and that’s the perfect cue for me to leave so I can attend to the other players.

I start to turn away but end up freezing in place when Erik says, “How’s Billy doing?”

What I really want to do is ignore the question and get to my duties, but that would be obnoxiously rude. I don’t mind being just regularly rude to Erik, but I can’t go overboard. I’m being paid to serve him and make this trip comfortable and pleasant. I can only get away with so much and not get fired.

My smile is forced and I can’t seem to put any warmth into my voice, but it’s the best I can do. “He’s fine.”

There. My polite duty is done, and I start to pivot away once more.

“He seems like a great guy,” Erik says casually, a completely annoying method to extend the conversation.

Really annoying actually, and my temper flares.

My words are razor sharp as I turn back to face him. “What would you know? You spoke to him for a grand total of ten seconds.”

The tone of my voice is nasty enough, Bishop actually jerks in surprise. Erik, however, returns a lazy smile as he shrugs. “In that ten seconds, I saw a happy, smiling man that adores his sister. I apologize if I’m wrong about him being a great guy.”

Erik manages to put me in my place and make me feel guilty at the same time. It compounds the anger that’s been building toward him since the season started and he so arrogantly thought he could get into my pants with a charming smile and some pretty words.

When I accepted this job, it was well before the expansion draft had been completed and I had no clue that Erik Dalhbeck and I would cross paths again. When I saw that he would be coming to the Vengeance, it revived a whole lot of negative feelings I have toward him.

Feelings I’d managed to put to rest over the past five years since my “encounter” with the biggest player the league has probably ever seen, and I’m not talking about being a player on the ice.

My words are clipped. “You don’t know Billy or me, and I don’t want you to know us. So just leave us alone, okay?”

Bishop’s expression turns wary and Erik just blinks at me, his face devoid of any emotion. I know I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t have but between Billy’s meltdown earlier and the extreme way that Erik flusters me, there was no bottling up what just came out.

There’s an awkward silence that hangs in the air but it’s broken when Erik pushes up out of his seat. His hand goes to my elbow and he murmurs, “We need to have a private word.”

I start to jerk out of his hold but his grip tightens. He leans in and says in a low voice, “Don’t make a scene, Blue.”

Erik then walks me right to the back galley where Sadie is loading drinks onto a tray. Her eyebrows shoot upward when she sees us but she quickly makes her way out to give us privacy.

My elbow is released and I turn to face Erik. His lips are pressed into a flat line and his eyes are hard. “I get that I must have pissed you off at some point in the near past with my shameless flirting, but I honestly was asking a nice question about your brother with no ulterior motive. I think your reaction was a little over the top, don’t you?”

“Not when it comes to men like you,” I retort.

Erik’s chin pulls inward and his eyebrows rise. “Men like me? What does that even mean?”

I wave my hand at him. “Men like you. You know…the ones that only see value in a woman based on how good it is between her legs.”

If I thought that would offend him, I was wrong. He just smirks at me. “That’s simply not true.”

I narrow my eyes at him and then throw his words he told me not long ago back in his face, mimicking that slight Minnesotan accent he has. “ ‘You look like a party girl.’ That’s what you said to me, and that translates to ‘You look like you’d be a great fuck.’ ”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he mutters, looking at least somewhat chastised. His smile turns somewhat sheepish. “It’s just…you look like you knew how to have fun, and I thought we could have fun together.”

“I know the type of fun you’re talking about,” I hiss at him.

“You don’t know me at all,” he replies smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest.

I lean in and lower my voice, wanting to be assured this conversation stays private. “I know more about you than you think. And just to be clear, I am not interested in being your next plaything. So just stop the flirtations and we’ll be fine. Understood?”

Erik throws his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. His smile is roguish and charming, as if he intends to disregard every word I just said. But he surprises me. “Totally understood. No more flirtations.”

I just stare at him, knowing my expression is as skeptical as I feel on the inside.

“While I disagree with the notion that you think you have the right to judge my moral character, I’ll respect your request and lay off. Cross my heart.” And he drags his fingertip in an X pattern across his well-defined chest. It complements his broad shoulders and powerful legs.

Erik turns and walks away. He’s got a great ass too.

I let out a sigh of frustration because even though Erik just gave me what I asked for, I still don’t feel satisfied.

I have every right to judge his moral character, because I’ve been on the receiving end of his blistering charm and ungodly moves between the sheets. He left me with stars in my eyes, the promise of something more with him, and then changed on a dime.

That was just over five years ago and I haven’t forgiven him since.

The fact that he doesn’t remember me is just adding insult to injury.