Chapter 2
Traveling as a solo female can be tricky. Don’t trust before you should. Caution is key. It’s not about holding yourself back. It’s about being safe in order to have the best experience possible.
~ Adventurous Amanda, September 2011
“Did you update the blog today? Who’s on my lunch schedule? Did you book my hotel in San Diego? Second floor, facing the pool. And they have a spa, right? And this coffee is too sweet. I said a sprinkle of stevia, not a clump of sugar,” Betsy called out in rapid-fire, and Amanda didn’t miss her boss’s shudder at the word sugar. Betsy was currently steering clear of the sweet goodness, and it made her extra dragony. Luckily, Betsy’s diets changed as rapidly as her mood swings—which probably had something to do with her fad diets to begin with.
Amanda was waiting out the current storm and trying not to do a happy dance at the thought of two days of freedom next week while Betsy was out of town, a long weekend vacation. It was a vacation for both of them.
“I updated the blog this morning. That latest article about how to get perfect selfie skin is trending on Facebook and Twitter. You are booked facing the pool on the second floor for three nights, starting Sunday, and I can send you a link to the spa services they offer. And your coffee has the barest of stevia sprinkles. You know they say that when you cut out sugar entirely, even a little sugar or sugar replacement can taste sweeter,” Amanda said, from Betsy’s office door.
“Fine. But it’s too sweet,” Betsy said, as she polished it off. Apparently not too sweet.
Amanda had never been a fan of fad diets. Of course, her naturally petite figure helped, but depriving yourself of something entirely was never a good plan.
“I sent you Molly’s articles for next month’s issue. Looks like they need some work,” Betsy said.
“Of course.”
“And you’ll have your first article to me by tomorrow, end of business.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. It’s almost done. I think you’re really going to like it.”
“Sure, sure. Just get me your revisions on Molly’s articles by lunch. I’m thinking salmon salad today. Just no sugar,” Betsy said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. Amanda shut the door and slid into her chair just outside of Betsy’s office.
When she’d taken this job eighteen months ago, the description had been deceptive. She’d gone in hoping for more on the editorial side, less on the assistant, but she’d been wrong, and it was stifling. Grabbing coffee and booking travel for someone else had not been on her list of life goals, but she had her foot in the door, and she was staying planted. For now.
And yes, she managed the magazine’s online content, but she wanted to be a staff writer. A staff travel writer. And if it took getting sugar-free coffee, while writing a few articles here and there, it was a start.
Traveling all over the globe had been amazing. If she’d promoted her blog more, pushed for affiliates and ad space, she could’ve gotten by with a little more money. Although she wasn’t going to knock the creature comforts now that she was home. There was a lot to be said for indoor plumbing and hot water. She’d really scrimped by on the last two trips before she’d come home. She’d loved exploring other countries, but tent living wasn’t for her and squatting with friends she’d met over the years definitely had an expiration date.
She’d packed her few bags and came home, with plans to hit the road again sooner rather than later. And luckily, thanks to a few connections and an internship she’d had in college, she’d landed at San Francisco Life magazine. Her online presence had helped, too. She had a lot of followers that now subscribed to the magazine and Amanda was sure that it was one of the reasons they had her managing the online content.
Now she just had to figure out how to move from coffee grabber to travel writer and get the hell out of the country. Hell, she’d settle for getting out of the state.
“Just somewhere,” she muttered, opening up the file Betsy had sent her. Molly was their staff food critic, and she’d been slacking recently. Amanda scanned the article, making a few general notes, before settling in with her online red pen. At least she was using her English degree for something.
***
“Are you ready for some hockey?” Penny stated, with way too much enthusiasm, when she opened the door that night.
Amanda bit back her laugh. “You know they can’t see you so why are you decked out in gear?”
“I always wear my jersey when I watch the game. Doesn’t matter where I am. And look, it’s a new one,” she said, spinning around.
HARTY’S HEART spread across her shoulders, with Ethan’s number below.
“Isn’t it awesome? He gave it to me right before he left yesterday,” Penny said, when she faced Amanda again, her eyes bright.
“So awesome,” Amanda repeated, following Penny into the house. Amanda was truly happy for her friend. And happy that Penny and Ethan were back on solid ground. This time for good. Amanda was sure of it.
“Chinese food should be here any minute. And don’t worry, I got you an extra egg roll,” Penny said with a shudder, and Amanda laughed.
“You should try vegetables. They’re actually pretty tasty wrapped up and fried,” Amanda said, with a smirk.
“You always say that, but I’ll pass. How’s the article going?”
“Not bad. Due tomorrow. The focus is mainly on hockey since that’s the only team still playing right now.”
“Well, then it’s the perfect time to do the article because baseball is so boring to watch. Although I do remember going to a game as a kid and they had great snacks.” Penny paused. “Come to think of it, they all have great snacks. I should’ve become a sports fan ages ago. You know, just for the carbs.”
Amanda chuckled. “Maybe that’s what I should title my article. Come for the thrill of the game and the joy of the carbs.”
Penny snorted as she steered them toward the couch, glasses of wine in hand.
“Bet that tagline would get a lot of traffic.”
“That is what Betsy wants,” Amanda muttered.
“So, how’s that going?”
“Annoying. I’m hoping with this series of articles, she’ll let me write more. Then I just need one of the travel writers to quit. Or I need to win the lottery and get out of the country for a while. I miss being out there. Trying new things. Even exotic vegetables.” She shot Penny a grin.
“Very funny. I eat lettuce.”
Amanda’s shoulders shook. “Guess that’s a start.”
“Something will work out. But in the meantime, it’s great having you home. I missed my bestie when you were gallivanting around the globe,” Penny said.
“I missed you, too, but Peru would’ve been lovely this time of year,” she said.
“You’ve been to so many amazing places. I need to travel more. When the season is over, Ethan is taking me away for a month. A freaking month. Can you believe it? I’m a little nervous to be away from my business for that long, but he says it’s one of the perks of opening my own business, and tax season will be over by then. He gave me a list of reasons why we should go.”
“Of course he did, and that is why you are perfect for each other,” Amanda said. Penny’s love of lists was well-known and that Ethan encouraged it was adorable.
“We are, right? And I’m moving into his place next month. Is that too fast? I feel like it’s too fast, that I need to sit down and—”
“Make a list?” Amanda cut in. “Stop over-thinking. You both love each other and he gets you.”
“He does, right?” Penny’s voice took on a dreamy quality, and Amanda laughed softly. “He’s the best.”
***
“Get your head in the game, Harty. How could you let that second-rate rookie steal the puck?” Penny shouted an hour later when a Calgary forward skated up the ice toward the Strikers’ goalie, the stolen puck on his stick.
Amanda was getting better at following the game. She refused to admit to Penny that she’d watched all of the Strikers’ games since Penny had dragged her to her first game a few months ago. It would just lead to questions, and God love her, Penny asked a lot of questions.
And it’s not like Amanda was completely focused on Ben whenever he was on camera. Well, not totally. Maybe mostly completely. She bit back a snort. That wasn’t even a phrase. And she also didn’t think about when she was going to see him again.
Nope. Not at all.
She and Penny polished off their dinner and were at the edge of their sofa seats as the Strikers tried to beat back Calgary, who were currently up three to one at the beginning of the second period.
Ben was on the ice right alongside Ethan. His legs pumping as he chased down the puck. Too bad she couldn’t see his ass in those padded shorts, but it was amazing in his tailored suit pants. She’d resisted the urge to cup it when he’d kissed her. Not that she’d had much time to do anything when he’d planted that kiss on her. Hell, she wanted to do that again.
“Let’s go, Cheese. You can do it,” she shouted before she could stop herself, and she caught Penny staring at her out of the corner of her eye. “And Harty, too. Come on boys,” she trailed off, attempting to ignore Penny’s grin. “What? Just rooting for the hometown team.”
“Yeah?” Penny eyed her.
“Yep.” She hadn’t told her friends about the kiss. It’d been a whole mix of awkward, hot, and confusing, especially when he’d bailed faster than he skated down the ice on a breakaway. Wow. Now she was using hockey terminology. She was sunk.
Plus, she didn’t want her comments to get back to him. Not that Penny would necessarily tell Ethan, but it wasn’t worth the risk. That kiss had shocked her to her toes and she wanted to repeat it, but she was nervous.
Amanda Pearsall was never nervous. She ate nerves for breakfast. Okay. Maybe that’s a little extreme. And thinking in the third person wasn’t weird or anything. She bit back a snort.
Hell. He was throwing her off her game and she wouldn’t mind being thrown. She hadn’t gone out on a date with anyone in months and that was definitely not typical. Not that she was screwing her way through the San Francisco area, but there was nothing wrong with a healthy sex life, and a few months dry spell was not standard.
Maybe that’s what she needed. To find some guy to take out her frustrations on and then she could get back to normal and stop thinking about Ben’s magnificent ass. Seriously, he must have to get everything tailored to hug that beautiful bubble.
Shit. She had to stop. That’s it. She knew she’d see him at the game Friday night, so she was going out on Thursday and getting rid of her frustrations. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
This time she couldn’t hold in her snort, and she shrugged when Penny looked at her quizzically again.
Ben had no desire to go out tonight, but he followed Ethan out of the arena Friday night.
“No bailing on us, Cheesy. We win as a team, we lose as a team, and we drown our sorrows as a team,” Harty called out when Ben headed to his car.
Tonight’s loss had sucked. LA had handed them their asses, repeatedly. The jumbotron had blasted the final score of six to one and Ben itched to punch something. But he’d smiled through the pointless interviews after the game, knowing that the vultures were searching for scraps. He wasn’t a fan of the media, but it was exponentially worse when they lost. How was he supposed to answer their inane questions?
“What happened out there?” They handed us our asses was the wrong response, so he’d gone with the canned answer of, we played a hard game and they came out on top.
Followed by his favorite, “What do you think you could’ve done better?” Hit pucks in the net, blocked shots, taken fewer penalties. Sure, they were just looking for a soundbite, but he didn’t trust soundbites. Anything could be taken out of context. He’d been on the wrong side of context years ago. He was still trying to recover.
Harty had swooped in, answered their questions with a smile, and swooped them both out. He was good at that. Ben wished he could respond that way to the media, but he didn’t have it in him, regardless of the fact that it was part of being an athlete.
But tonight had been brutal. A basic blowout always was. They hadn’t suffered a loss that painful in ages. They’d failed as a team. They’d been off, and they should’ve just sat on the bench and let LA play target practice against Gally. Which was pretty much what had happened. Finn, one of their top four defensemen, had taken a shot to his ankle and had to be escorted down the tunnel five minutes in, and they’d spent the rest of the game a D-man short. Their bottom defense pair was still working out the kinks. Timmy had been called back up from the minors because Fishy, Finn’s normal defense partner, had been injured last week. Cohesion took time, and it was time they didn’t have.
Giving up the two points tonight hurt, and Anaheim was still on their heels, only one point behind them. With the Central Division now occupying the two wild card spots, if Anaheim won another game, the Strikers could find themselves out of playoff contention. Not that they wouldn’t flip flop with Anaheim again, but Ben wanted to stay solidly on the path to the post season, and tonight was a clear picture of how not to get there.
The team that showed up tonight was not one that would win playoff games and they all knew it.
“Hey, Cheesy. You still with us?” Harty called out, pulling Ben from his frustrating thoughts.
“We have practice tomorrow. Now is not the time to tie one on,” he called back.
“It’s one, maybe two, drinks and then we are all heading home to rest up for tomorrow. Bugsy’s going to rip us a new one worse than LA did tonight, so I plan to be fully functioning for that tomorrow. I foresee a shit ton of suicide drills around eleven a.m., and a jumbled-up stomach will not make them easier,” Harty said, with a shudder. “And Penny is waiting for me.”
“Yeah, what happened with that good luck charm,” Ben grumbled.
“We lose very few when she’s in the stands. Tonight was just a bad night. We’ve won the last three, so it was inevitable. Just never like getting trounced that badly.”
“That makes two of us.”
“So, percentage wise, she’s still a good luck charm.”
“You going to start quoting stats?” Ben asked.
Harty shook his head. “I’m starting to sound like her.”
But instead of a grimace, Harty’s grin got wider. Ben refused to acknowledge the spark of jealousy that rolled through him. It was tiny, but it was there. And that was exactly what he didn’t have time for.
“So, you coming?” Harty asked.
“Fine,” Ben grumbled, throwing his bag in his trunk, and climbed into his SUV.
***
A quick twenty minutes later, Ben walked through the front door of Crash and Byrne and made a beeline for the bar.
“Rough loss tonight, man,” Adam, the owner of the bar and a former AHL hockey player said, popping the top off Ben’s favorite beer and handing it over.
“Brutal,” Ben grumbled. “Just trying to focus on the next game.”
“It’s Colorado, so hopefully they’ll continue their losing streak,” Adam said.
“Here’s hoping,” Ben replied, nodding with his beer, before Adam turned to his next customer and Ben could escape. He didn’t want to talk to anyone tonight. He should’ve just gone home. But Harty was right, a little team bonding after a loss was a good idea.
He spotted an empty stool in the corner and grabbed it. His teammates were starting to trickle in, but a second of calm and quiet was just what he needed before they all descended.
There was a comfort of hanging out at C&B, the unofficial team bar, where chatting about hockey was the norm, but no one gawked at them or constantly asked for autographs. Not that anyone was looking for those after tonight’s performance.
Shit. They had to get it together. He was supposed to lead a cohesive team and he needed to figure out why they were off.
“Cheese, you starting without me?”
God, he hated when she called him that. He’d known she’d probably be here, but he wasn’t in the mood to be awkward, which was exactly what happened whenever he was around Amanda.
He glanced up, taking her in. The smile that did things it shouldn’t to his gut, her silken hair that he itched to tangle his fingers into again. And that mouth…hell, that mouth. Full lips he craved another taste of. One corner tilted up in a smile that said she was just as interested as he was.
He took another long pull on his beer, the cold and bitter liquid doing nothing to cool his heated thoughts. What would she do if he pulled her into his lap? For that matter, what would he do?
“Umm, Cheese. You going to stare at me or grab me a drink?” she asked. “Not that I mind the staring.”
She had no filter. It was refreshing, and he loved it. That confidence. She probably saw no reason to keep secrets from anyone. Heat fired off every corner of his body. He just wasn’t sure what to do with it. Planting another kiss on her always lingered in the back of his mind, but now wasn’t the time. Especially when his teammates gathered around a cluster of high top tables across the room. Harty made a beeline for his girlfriend, Penny, a few of the other guys right behind him.
He nodded toward the group. “We should probably head over there.”
She looked over her shoulder, and shrugged, before turning back and leveling him with her silvery eyes. They were a grayish blue that looked like a stormy purple, depending on the light.
Not that he’d done an intense study of her eyes. That would be weird.
“Or you could buy me a drink, and we could hide here in the corner,” she replied, nudging his shoulder.
She did that a lot. Touching. A brush of her hand. A nudge to his shoulder. Not that he was averse to it. Not in the slightest. But she twisted him up inside and he never knew what to say. And then he was right back to tripping down the steps of her house after that kiss.
“Sure, what are you having?” he asked. He could do this. Have a normal conversation with her. Not remember the soft moans she made under his touch.
For fuck’s sake, get a grip.
“Pale ale for me, please,” she said, sliding onto the stool next to him, swinging to face the bar.
“Pale ale for the lady, and I’ll take a ginger ale,” Ben said when Adam paused in front of them.
“Have another drink. You need it after that loss,” she said.
He shook his head. “Only one drink a night during the season. I have a system.”
“I’ve heard that about you,” she said.
“What? Are you checking up on me?”
“Just researching hockey players. I’m a new fan,” she said, then took a sip of her beer, her tongue darting out, and he ached to kiss her again. Her darkening eyes told him she was on board with that plan.
“Of the players or the game?”
“You’re flirting with me. Didn’t know you had it in you.” She continued before he could sputter. “And the answer is both. Oh, and I’m sorry about the loss tonight.” She shook her head. “That score was rough.”
“Not really in the mood to talk about that,” he grumbled. He took every loss way too personally. The team was better than the score that had flashed on the jumbotron tonight. But every team had to lose sometimes. He just never wanted to get decimated, which is exactly what a six-one score suggested. He’d rather work on flirting with her.
“But you’ll win the next time,” she said, patting him on the hand. Always touching. A spark shot through him, down to his toes.
“That’s the plan.”
“So tonight you should blow off some steam with your friends,” she said, nudging him again and giving him a small smile.
“I guess,” he muttered into his soda.
“Now, how about we join them?” she asked, sliding off her bar stool.
He stood next to her, towered over her, really. He stood a foot taller than her and could easily pick her up. Her legs would wrap perfectly around his hips.
Shit. And there went his brain again. But as he followed her into the crowd, her hips gently swaying in front of him, she was his only focus, and he definitely didn’t have time for distractions. Clearly tonight had been proof of that.