Roman

  "Nothing wrong with having a good time," I assure her, because I sense some self-loathing in her tone.

  "Not when your mom is dying," she murmurs, and I can't fucking help myself. It's dangerous as hell because of the road conditions, and it's antithetical to who I am, but I reach across the console and take one her of her hands in mine.

  "You can't blame yourself if you didn't know, Lexi," I say gently.

  She reacts with a squeeze to my hand and a sigh. "I know. Logically I know that, but emotionally, I feel terrible she went through any of that alone."

  I can only imagine.

  Seriously. That's not a metaphor, as I just have never experienced loss like that.

  "So you moved back home?" I ask, to move her forward a bit and not dwell on her guilt.

  "Yup," she says, and her voice sounds stronger again. "She was pretty bad by the time she told me. Was in a lot of pain, very weak. She went into hospice not long after I moved back, and I pretty much lived in her room until she died."

  "How long did it take?" I ask, stemming from a slight amount of morbid curiosity, but also because I want her to share the details with me. For some reason, I really want her to share those brutal details because perhaps that will ease some of her burden.

  "Once she went into hospice, she lasted almost another two weeks. She was unconscious most of the time, heavily drugged to keep the pain down. She couldn't talk to me. She couldn't eat. Not even sure she knew I was there. I sat by her bed for almost two weeks and watched her wither away until she just stopped breathing."

  "Jesus," I mutter under my breath. "That's awful."

  "Yes, it was," she agrees with me softly. "It was a blessing when she died."

  My mind immediately turns to my own parents who are back in Prague. My father, Cenek, is a software architect for one of the largest global investment providers. My mother, Hedvika, is an executive for Skoda Auto, an automobile manufacturer and subsidiary of Volkswagen. It's one of the largest employers in Prague. Needless to say, my parents are fairly well off and we lived in what would be considered a luxury apartment on the banks of the river Vltava overlooking Old Town. As I was growing up, and to this day, my parents were immersed in work. It was what was most important to them. From an early age, I concentrated on hockey, which was at their insistence at first merely so I would be occupied and would not bother them. This means we didn't spend a lot of time together. There were times when I was a kid that I wanted their attention and I would sometimes act out. It's probably where I get my prickly nature and the driving need sometimes to do what I want to do without regard to the circumstances. But for the most part, we had a fairly sterile relationship that maybe has a tinge of fondness to it, but was and still is sadly lacking in any real bond.

  I think about my parents, who are lovely people and very nice, but almost like strangers to me, and I honestly don't know how I'd feel if they got sick the way Lexi's mom did. While I can't seem to muster any real empathy for my own situation, I know I feel a tremendous amount for the sassy woman beside me who has persevered through some really bad times.

  "She told you about Brian before she died," I say as a statement, as she told me that much already. "Why did she keep it hidden from you?"

  I can see Lexi shrug from the corner of my eye and her voice is light when she says, "I think she had a bit of a broken heart when he cut things off with her. He was still hung up on his dead wife and couldn't give my mom what she wanted. Plus, my mom was just one of those people who didn't like to impose or be a burden, as evidenced by the fact she kept her illness hidden from me."

  My tires slide a little, alarming me enough to give her hand a quick squeeze before releasing it to move it back to the steering wheel. I could downplay this with Lexi, but that's not my style. I'm bold in my opinions, but hopefully deliver them with a measure of tact. "It was wrong of your mom to keep knowledge of your dad from you, and I know you have to be reeling over all of this. But not sure she was wrong about sparing you her illness. That was purely her protective instinct kicking in."

  "I agree with you on all of that," she says simply. "I've had a lot of time to process all of this and try to come to grips with it. This past week has been a little wild having just met Brian and Gray, but I think things will even out."

  "What do they say about all this?" I ask curiously.

  "Brian is fully on board," Lexi says, and I can hear the affection in her voice. "He's chosen to believe what my mom told me on her deathbed, that she had not been with anyone else and I was definitely Brian Brannon's child."

  "What about Gray?" I ask, and I'm mildly surprised by the slight harshness in my tone. Gray and I don't see eye to eye and I'm poised to take offense at what Lexi might tell me, especially when I saw the way Gray treated her in the locker room.

  Lexi lets out a sigh. "She's a tougher nut to crack. She has moments when I think she's cool with everything, then she'll turn right around and remind me that nothing's been proven yet."

  "A DNA test?" I ask.

  "We sent it off about a week ago," she says lightly. "Hopefully the results will be back end of next week."

  "She didn't treat you very nicely in the locker room the other day," I observe just as my nav system advises me I'll need to take a right in five hundred feet. At the speed we're going, that could take awhile.

  "I know," Lexi says with resignation. "And it got worse when we went up to her office. She point-blank asked me if I was after them for money."

  "What the fuck?" I practically bark, and Lexi's head snaps my way. "She actually thought that's what you were after?"

  Lexi doesn't respond, and after a few moments of silence, I risk a quick glance at her. She's staring at me with her head tilted to the side, as if I'm a great mystery.

  "What?" I ask as I look back to the road.

  "It's just..." she says with a little hesitation. "Why would you jump to my defense? You don't know me any better than Gray does. It could be a legitimate concern."

  "No way," I say adamantly. "You're not like that. And that was uncalled for...for her to attack you like that for no reason."

  "How do you know?" she presses me. "How could you possibly know?"

  I throw out the first thing that comes to mind. "Because you didn't fall all over yourself to go out with me. You don't have ulterior motives."

  "That doesn't mean anything," she says dismissively. "I could have been using reverse psychology on you to make you think I wasn't all that interested, just to lure you and your riches and fame."

  I snicker at her quick wit and I don't give that scenario any credence.

  "So lay it on me, Roman," Lexi says even more seriously. "How can you even defend me when you don't know anything about my character?"

  Damn, she's persistent.

  I like that too. Admire it actually, so I decide to be truthful.

  I blow out a breath and lay it all out. "Because you're a woman who plays a ukulele in a coffee shop for tips and I've never seen anyone happier in their existence."

  It's as fucking simple as that.

  Lexi gasps softly, but I don't turn to look at her.

  And damn if my chest aches just a little when she says quietly, "I'm glad someone sees me for what I am."

  Chapter 10

  Lexi

  The minute Roman coasts to a stop in Georgia's driveway, right in front of her double-car garage, I make my final decision. Turning to him in the seat as he shifts into park, I ask, "Want to come up and eat dinner? I made Jim Kaczmarek's chili and put it in the Crock Pot before I left for work this morning."

  Roman's eyes drift up to the apartment above the garage where I live, then turns his gaze to me. "Jim Kaczmarek's chili?"

  I shrug. "No clue who he is. That's just the name of the recipe I found online, but I chose it because it called for a bottle of beer and a lot of cumin. It's pretty spicy."

  His lips curve upward and he admits, "Well...the traffic out there is pretty bad, and I've got to drive all the way
over onto the north side of the city."

  "Could take you hours in this weather," I say, pointing out the obvious.

  "And eventually everyone will get off the street, so it will be safer for me to go once it's cleared, but that could take hours. Are you prepared for me to be up there with you all alone in that tiny apartment for hours?"

  I cock an eyebrow at him and put on my haughtiest voice. "I'm not sleeping with you."

  "You said before you weren't sure about it," he counters.

  "Well, okay...I'm not sure about it. But I thought we'd just start with chili, if you're interested."

  "Oh, I'm interested all right," he says as he reaches a hand out to turn the ignition off, and I smile at the deliberate innuendo he's taunting me with.

  "You are so bad," I say with a laugh as I open the passenger door.

  A wave of freezing sleet immediately pelts me and I scramble out the door, but not before I hear him mutter, "You have no idea."

  Roman meets me at the front of his SUV and grabs my hand, and we make a dash to the wooden staircase with two short flights that leads up to my apartment door. He pushes me before him, and because the steps are covered in ice and even more sleet, his hands come to my hips as he carefully guides me up. I grab my keys and unlock the front door, flipping on the light switch that's wired to my table lamps as we enter.

  The apartment smells wonderful--thank you Jim Kaczmarek, whoever you are--and I shrug out of my coat, tossing it onto the couch to my immediate right.

  "Take your coat off and get comfortable," I tell Roman.

  I glance at him as I bend over to unlace my Dr. Martens--this time shoes rather than boots--and toe them off. Roman does a casual perusal of the little apartment Georgia rents to me.

  She originally had it built for her son after he dropped out of college. Sadly, Craig Mack fell far short of Georgia's expectations for her only son, seemingly preferring to spend time in his room playing video games rather than attend classes at North Carolina State where he had been accepted into their school of engineering. He was incredibly bright, but lacked motivation or ambition, something that puzzles me greatly, as his mother has both of those qualities in abundance.

  After Craig dropped out of school, Georgia told him he'd have to start paying rent, albeit at a discounted rate. After he lost job after job, and couldn't pay the rent three months in a row, she employed tough love and evicted him. It broke her heart to do so, because he ultimately drifted out west with other shiftless friends and hasn't come back to visit her since then.

  The benefit to me when I applied for a job at The Grind was that the apartment had just been vacated a few weeks earlier and Georgia was eager to rent it to someone responsible. While she ultimately learned I was indeed a responsible person and paid my bills, she didn't know it when she offered it to me, but that only goes to show the size of her heart. Georgia Mack is one to take chances on people because she's just generous that way.

  "I like it," Roman observes about my small abode.

  My eyes drift over the roughly six hundred square feet of space. There's not much to it, but it's nicely laid out and more than what I actually need. The front door enters into the living room, with the small efficiency kitchen just behind it, separated by a counter. The only seating for the kitchen is two barstools on the living room side. To the left of the front door is my bedroom, which is actually on the spacious side relative to the overall size of the apartment, and on the opposite side of that, bordering the kitchen, is a small bathroom that barely holds the shower, tub, toilet, and sink.

  It's cozy, and Georgia had furnished and decorated it nicely but eclectically, which is her signature style. While it's not as outlandish as The Grind, it's funky enough with vintage furniture, brightly colored throw pillows, and tassel lamps.

  "What do you want to drink?" I ask as I head into the kitchen and Roman peels off his coat. "I've got some water, Diet Coke, and even some beer if you're interested."

  "Let's get drunk and lose our inhibitions," he suggests, and I look over my shoulder at him to find him sitting on my couch and unlacing his shoes, which are more like low boots and clearly more expensive than mine.

  "I've said it before, and I'll say it again." I laugh as I pull two bottles of beer out of my fridge. "You are so bad."

  "And yet you're handing me ammunition," he says as he nods toward the beers.

  "Well," I offer with a sly smile as I set one beer on the counter and twist the top off the other. "I'm actually bad too."

  "How bad?" he asks as he pulls his shoes off and drops them carelessly to the floor. He stands from the couch and walks toward me, but stops on the other side of the counter.

  I reach out and hand him the beer, turning to grab mine from the counter and opening it. I hold my bottle out to his and we tap the necks against each other.

  "Not bad enough to sleep with you tonight," I say before I take a sip. After I swallow, I add, "But totally bad enough I might get frisky with you."

  He gives a mock groan and looks up to the ceiling. "A tease. I've saddled myself with a tease tonight."

  Laughing, I set my beer down and take two bowls out of my cabinet above the sink. "I'm not a tease, but I do sort of go with the flow. If I'm feeling it, I'm feeling it. If I don't, I don't."

  "That's what I like about you," Roman says, and I know he's pulling a stool out because I can hear the slide of it across the tile that extends from the kitchen to just past the counter to where Berber carpeting covers the living room. "I've figured out you sort of march to the beat of your own drums."

  "How'd you guess that?" I ask as I smile to myself and ladle piping hot chili into the bowls.

  "You followed your heart, not norms after high school when you traveled, and you approached a multimillion-dollar CEO to let him know you were his daughter, and you chose the ukulele, when most everyone would have chosen the piano."

  "You're reading an awful lot into just a few actions," I say in deflection as I turn to set the bowls on the counter before him, then grab spoons out of a drawer.

  "I'm reading the situation just fine," he says with a laugh. "And I'm completely okay if you choose not to sleep with me tonight."

  I give him a quick look as I grab my beer and round the counter to sit down beside him. As I plop down, I ask him, "So seriously, why do you get in so much trouble? Not that I don't appreciate your spirit, but seems like you're always courting trouble."

  "Not really," he says as he takes a spoon from me and stirs it around in the hot chili. "I've just sort of been on my own for a really long time and not used to answering to anyone. I like playing by my own rules."

  "And yet you play a sport that has rules," I point out. "You are a part of a team that has its own rules."

  "And I try to abide by them," he says thoughtfully before pulling up a spoonful of the chili. "When I agree with them and I'm not being ruled by my emotions."

  "So that last suspension you had," I say as I stir my chili. I don't dare try to taste it yet because the steam is coming off in waves. "You left the bench in order to engage in a fight that had broken out on the ice. Did you disagree with the rule or were you being ruled by your emotions?"

  Roman grins at me, still holding up his spoon. "Was totally ruled by my emotions. That fucker Denubris had slashed at Garrett earlier in the game. It's my job to protect him while he's out on the ice. I had to let him know that wouldn't go unanswered."

  "So bad," I say with a grin, then blow on my chili.

  "Yup." He goes ahead and takes a taste. I know he thinks it's good by his groan of approval, and I'm not going to lie: that groan was kind of sexy. I totally don't think I'm going to sleep with him tonight, because honestly, I really don't do that. I did once, when I was drunk, and it was a lesson learned in harsh daylight when the beer goggles wore off the next morning.

  But what if we do make out and he groans like that?

  My panties might just incinerate.

  I snicker to myself over my though
ts and finally risk a taste of the hot chili.

  "Mmmmm," I say in pleasure as I chew the spicy blend of beef and beans and spices galore.

  As I take another spoonful, I glance at Roman to my right. His eyes are narrowed on me, his own spoon held loosely in his hand.

  "What?" I ask.

  "Stop with the sexy moaning," he grumbles with a tiny smirk before he turns back to his dinner. "I think you're trying to take advantage of me."

  Laughing, I lean over and nudge his shoulder with mine. "I was thinking the same thing about you."

  Roman chuckles and then asks, "So, if you could pick any profession in the world you'd like to try, what would it be?"

  I cock an eyebrow at him skeptically. "You're seriously going from sexy moaning to talk about careers?"

  "I have depth," he says in mock indignation.

  "Of course you do," I say sarcastically, but in truth, I know he does. We've teased each other tonight, but he's not made a serious move on me. Instead, he gallantly braved ice and snow and treacherous road conditions to get me home safely.

  There's no doubt that Roman wants me, just as there's no doubt I totally want him.

  We'll get there, I'm sure, but there's no pressure on either of as to when.

  Until then, I'm completely fine eating chili, drinking beer, and getting to know him a little better.

  --

  "Son of a bitch," Roman grumbles, his mouth right near my ear. His arm tightens around me and his entire body shudders.

  My eyes open slowly, first luxuriating in the warmth of his chest against my back and the solidness of his embrace around my waist.

  Then I notice with an entire body shudder of my own just how freaking cold it is in my apartment.

  "What the hell?" I mutter as I shiver again and try to figure out what's going on.

  It's dark in my apartment, almost pitch black, but my eyes start to adjust so I can make out the murky outline of my TV against one wall and the kitchen counter to the left of it.

  "I'm going to guess your power's out," Roman says, his voice still rough with sleep.

  Sleep.

  Couch.

  We fell asleep on my couch while watching a movie.

  It all comes back in a rush. Our totally awesome conversation over equally awesome chili that Roman raved about and had three bowls of. We talked more about our backgrounds, with us spending more time on his growing up in Prague, as I've always wanted to travel to foreign countries, so I couldn't get enough of his stories about this home city.