She smiles with a gleam in her eyes as she takes Ben. "You were awesome tonight, HOS."
"I'm still Hell on Skates?" I ask with surprise and a chuckle.
"After that performance tonight, most definitely," she affirms.
Grinning, I turn away from her and walk a couple steps up to Eliza. She's done several interviews with me over the past few years. Unfortunately, she's one of those female sports reporters who has a chip on her shoulder, always feeling like she has to prove herself. It makes her unpredictable at times, which is why this makes me anxious.
They set me up against the cinder-block wall that has the Cold Fury logo painted on it, and Eliza steps up next to me. When the cameraman gives her the thumbs-up, she says, "That was a great game, Zack. Your third career hat trick, which included an empty netter at the end to seal the win. It's impressive coming off a long hiatus from your injury. How is the wrist doing?"
She holds the microphone out to me and I take a nervous swipe at my sweaty forehead as I lean down just a bit to answer her. "It's doing great. I've been cleared and it's feeling really strong."
"You've been out of the lineup for almost four months," Eliza says after she moves the microphone back to her face. "Was it hard to get back into the game?"
I shake my head and give a confident smile. "Not really. I stayed in pretty good shape while I was recovering and I've had some really good practices the last few weeks."
"And how about getting into the game mentally?" she asks slyly. "We all know you've been through a terrible tragedy. Do you think that's affecting your play?"
I grit my teeth, completely on edge from the question. "I'm feeling good," I reiterate to her. "I've had tremendous support from my team and the fans. I'm just ready to play hockey again."
"And how is your son doing?" she asks as her eyes cut over to where he's being held by Kate. "Is he adjusting well?"
My eyes flash a warning at her, but she just looks back at me expectantly for an answer. "My son is off-limits," I growl, completely uncaring how this comes across. She just fucking crossed a line.
Eliza is completely unfazed, and she leans forward to look over at Kate and Ben again. "And it appears you've started dating again?"
"What the fuck?" I curse at her viciously, completely aware that if this is played on the news, they will be bleeping that part out.
Eliza doesn't even flinch and actually steps past me toward Ben and Kate. I spin around and am grateful when Kate immediately turns her back on the woman, puts her hand to Ben's head to tuck him down onto her shoulder so his face is concealed, and starts walking away.
"Ma'am," Eliza says into her microphone as she starts to pursue Kate. "What's your name? Are you dating Zack Grantham?"
The cameraman tries to sneak past me, but I stick my hand over the lens of the camera, grab the end of it, pull it out of his grasp, and sling it to the floor.
He starts screaming at me that it's a seven-thousand-dollar piece of equipment, but I've already forgotten him. I spin, take one large stride, and grab Eliza by the elbow, halting her in her place. She stops, turns her head over her shoulder to look at me in irritation, then drops her gaze to her cameraman picking up the equipment from the ground. Over Eliza's shoulder I see one of the assistant coaches take Kate by the shoulder and lead her down the hall and to the family lounge.
I squeeze Eliza's elbow until her eyes come to mine. Leaning in to her, I snarl, "That was completely unprofessional and why you'll never fucking make it in this business. Our GM is going to have words with your news station and you had better not air any of that shit about my son or that woman."
"And just who is that woman?" she asks, like a fucking dog that won't give up that bone.
"None of your fucking business," I hiss at her. "You ever come after me or mine again, I will end your career, do you hear me?"
She rolls her eyes and shrugs, turning away and jerking her arm out of my hold. I start to go after her, but that's when Coach Pretore steps in and puts both hands on my chest. "Easy, big guy. Get to the locker room, I'll handle this."
My eyes slide from Eliza, who is glaring at me, back to Pretore. His face is hard and I know he's not happy about what just happened. I can't tell if he's pissed at me or her, but I really don't care. Worst case, I just bought myself an overpriced camera. Best case, he'll pull that clip from the news.
Turning away from him, I walk down the hall and bypass the locker room, heading into the family lounge. Kate is still holding Ben, and talking to Mely Bressard, the wife of our team's captain. As I approach, Mely pats Kate's shoulder in commiseration and shoots me a smile as she starts to walk away. "That reporter is such a bitch," Mely says over her shoulder.
I nod at her with a grimace. "Agreed."
My gaze goes to Ben first, who seems oblivious, his little hands gripping Kate's shoulders as he gives me a grin. I smile at him and cut my eyes to Kate. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she says, but her face is a little pale.
"I'm really sorry about that," I tell her quietly, resisting the absolutely stupid urge to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear.
She gives me a very Kate-like snort. "Don't be sorry. I wanted to punch that witch when she started asking about Ben. If I hadn't had my arms full of the little rug rat here, I think I would have, but I figured it was best to remove him from that situation rather than duke it out with her. Plus, that wouldn't have set a very good example for the little man."
I blink over the look of fierceness on her face and the protectiveness in her voice, followed up by the splash of humor to relieve the tenseness of the moment. She couldn't care less that that reporter was coming after her. She was worried only about Ben, and that causes something warm to unfurl in my chest. Now I have the insanely stupid idea to pull her in to me and kiss the fuck out of her.
Shaking my head, I take a quick step back. "Yeah...well, you handled that great. I'm going to go get a quick shower. Just hang here and then we'll be ready to go."
"Okey dokey," she says with that sweet twang and then turns away from me to go sit on one of the couches. Mely starts walking back over to her, and I'm thankful that she took Kate briefly under her wing. She's sort of the team mother hen and was an amazing support to me right after Gina died. I know that Kate and Ben are going to be fine while I go get changed.
Chapter 12
Kate
"Maybe thirty minutes until dinner's ready," I yell out to Zack and Ben, who are in the living room playing the Wii. The sounds of LEGO Star Wars III float back to me, along with Zack making lightsaber noises and Ben giggling.
I smile to myself as I start cutting up some fresh heads of broccoli to roast. Zack loves broccoli, but Ben not so much. Still, I'm resolved to have him try it periodically in the hope that he'll start to like it. My devious plan tonight is to smother it with cheese and pray he doesn't recognize what I'm doing.
Today was a very good day. Ben woke me up early, excited to get on the road to the North Carolina Zoo as Zack had promised him. I was in a mellow frame of mind as I got into my shower--I'm lucky enough to have my own bathroom en suite. I tilted my head back under the hot spray, closing my eyes and thinking about the game last night. Zack was amazing, and it was so much fun to watch the game with Ben, the little guy getting so excited when Zack scored a hat trick, I thought he was going to have a heart attack.
That reporter bitch after the game wasn't so fun, and I saw the pain and frustration on Zack's face when she carelessly started asking him personal questions. Rage filled me and I wanted to do her bodily harm for being so insensitive.
Opening my eyes, I lazily reached out and grabbed my shampoo off the corner ledge in front of me. I hadn't moved the bottle two inches toward me when I saw the immensely huge and hairy black spider sitting behind it. I shrieked, dropping the shampoo, and scurried backward away from it, lucky the nonskid mat under my feet held me in place.
A second look at the massive beast while my heart threatened to burst out of my
chest, and I realized it was a plastic spider.
"Not funny," I screamed out pissily above the spray of water, and I heard Zack and Ben laughing at my bathroom door. "You'll pay for that."
More snickers, and then I was met with silence as I'm sure they were running downstairs and away from my wrath when I emerged.
When I walked downstairs after getting dressed, Ben's giggles greeted me while Zack just surfed on his laptop with the tiniest of smiles on his face. I shot them both a glare, but inside I was smiling. I think I've officially been accepted, as proved by that god-awful prank that I'm sure was spearheaded by Zack. I never said a word about it, but stealthily plotted my revenge against them.
The day at the zoo was so much fun, I didn't want it to end. I've come to learn that Ben is an animal lover, and I would bet money that he's going to do something with his life that revolves around them. He was beside himself all day, dragging us from exhibit to exhibit to ooh and ahh over all the creatures both scaly and furry.
It was an absolute pleasure to watch Zack too. Not only because he is so beyond good-looking it ought to be considered a crime, but because I spent almost a full day watching him laugh in such an easygoing manner that it was hard for me to remember the acerbic way in which he used to treat me. He was completely relaxed, and no matter how great a hockey player he is, there is no doubt in my mind that his favorite thing in the world is to be with his son.
My heartstrings would play a mad pulsing tune when he would hold Ben's hand or bend down to look at one of the animals with him. Or when Ben got tired later in the afternoon and he'd carry his son in his strong arms so he didn't have to walk. All of it...so sweet and touching that I just wanted to wrap both of them up in a hug and thank them for letting me share in their specialness.
All of it...Zack's carefree manner, the way the sun glinted off his shiny hair, or the way his eyes would sparkle with joy, and the way his muscles would flex and bunch as he held his son...all of it added to the massive crush that has been building inside of me for my employer.
Shaking my head, I finish cutting up the broccoli and place it in the strainer in the sink to give it a good wash. I'm such a fool to even entertain such fantasies, and I know that is all they are...fantasies of a fantastically beautiful man, who's beautiful both inside and out, that will never be anything more than just girlie wishes for me. He's an easy man to crush on--impossible to ignore, actually--but I try to take it all in good stride. Zack is Ben's father. He's my employer. He's also a man that has been dealt a terrible blow.
Add all of that up and I'm playing with dangerous fire to even entertain this silly crush.
When we got back in Zack's Range Rover late this afternoon, it took all of five minutes for Ben to crash in the backseat. Zack and I lapsed into easy conversation about nothing important, but still engaging all the same.
Cutting his gaze over to me as we hit Interstate 85, he asked, "So you're back to the baggy clothes, I see?"
His tone was teasing and I took it as such, but I didn't do anything but snort at him. He was clearly referencing the outfit I had on last night for the game as compared to what I was wearing today.
"Cat got your tongue?" he prodded, and I turned to gaze at him, noticing his expression filled with genuine curiosity.
"I only bought that one outfit," I told him simply. "It was all I could afford, and besides, I am wearing my new jeans and boots." I punctuated this by pulling up one leg, bending it at the knee so he could see the black riding boots that caused me to have indigestion with how much I was spending on them, even if they were on sale.
"So I see," he murmured. "But you look like you're about to drown in that shirt."
"Well, you pay me good, but not good enough to get an entirely new wardrobe," I quipped at him. "Baby steps, Mr. Grantham. I'm taking baby steps."
He was quiet for a moment and I thought we'd change subjects, but he said, "If you want...I can give you some money to buy some clothes."
My head snapped over to him so fast, I almost dislocated my neck. Without any regard for the fact that Zack is indeed my employer, I said, "That may be the dumbest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth."
"Why?" he shot back.
"Because I work for you. You don't buy me clothes. And even if I didn't work for you, you don't buy me clothes."
"Consider it a bonus," he said with a grin.
"Consider it a dead subject," I muttered. "I buy my own stuff. Always have."
"Are you always this stubborn?" he asked with a laugh.
"Yes," I said, and sniffed.
"Prideful?"
"Yes."
"Unwilling to accept help?" he layered on.
"Always," I said as I raised my chin and stared hard out the windshield.
He didn't respond, and because I was curious as to what he was thinking, I turned to look at him. He never took his eyes from the road, but quietly said, "You're something else, that's for sure."
Pulling the strainer out of the sink, I give it a good shake to get the excess water off it and pour the broccoli into a baking dish. I drizzle a little olive oil over the top and put it into the oven next to the chicken breasts I have baking. I line up some tomatoes on the cutting board to slice for the salad I made.
I give a quick glance down at the old flannel shirt I wore today over my jeans. It's definitely in the baggy category and completely unfashionable. Totally the antithesis to what I wore to the game last night. I was so proud of my purchase. I spent more on that turtleneck and scarf and those jeans and boots than I've ever spent on anything for myself in my life. Granted, they were all on sale, but I still felt the sting to my wallet.
It's a sting, however, that I think was well worth the price, if only for the look on Zack's face when he first saw me. I've never had a man look at me that way...a mixture of awe and appreciation that warmed me from the inside out. For the first time since I was thirteen, I was glad to have the attention of the opposite sex.
It made me feel giddy and powerful all at once.
It made me want to run out and drop all my money on pretty clothes and fancy makeup if Zack would only look at me like that again.
I'm lost in the fantasy of my metamorphosis, so with one clumsy and misplaced swipe of the knife, I cut straight through the tomato and down into the tip of my index finger.
"Shit," I yelp as I drop the knife with a clatter. It falls off the counter, spins end over end, and misses a potentially bloody stab into my foot by only about an inch.
"What happened?" Zack yells back, and I hear him running through the living room.
Turning quickly, I place my bleeding digit under the faucet and turn the water on, watching the bright red turn pale pink as the blood washes away. Snagging a paper towel, I wrap it around my finger and press hard just as Zack comes skidding into the kitchen with Ben hot on his heels.
"I cut my finger," I say, and then bite down on my lip when I pull the paper towel back to look at it. The cut is small, but bright red blood immediately wells up, so I squeeze the paper towel back around me. I feel a little light-headed because I am not a big fan of blood.
"Ben, go back in the living room," Zack says as he walks toward me.
"Is Kate okay?" Ben asks in a small voice.
"Sure I am," I tell him with a brave smile. "Just a small cut. Go back and play your game and dinner will be ready soon."
"I want to see," Ben whines, and takes a step closer.
"Ben...living room...now," Zack says in a stern voice. He doesn't pull that voice out often for Ben, but when he does, it gets results. Never once considering further argument, Ben spins around and runs for the living room.
Even before his back is turned on us and he's scampering out of the kitchen, Zack is taking my hand in his and pulling the paper towel away. "Let me see it."
I turn my head to the side. "How bad is it?"
"Not bad," he says after a moment, and relief courses through me. "I don't think it's deep enough for stitches, but yo
u cut it good. I think a Band-Aid will do, though. Wait here and keep pressure on it."
Zack turns and heads back through the living room, and presumably into his bedroom. I imagine that's where he keeps his first-aid kit. I hold the paper towel tight to my finger, which is starting to throb a bit.
Zack is back in a flash and has peroxide, gauze, and a Band-Aid in hand.
"Jesus, Kate...you're as pale as a ghost," he says as he approaches me.
"I don't do blood well," I mutter as I support myself against the counter with one hand and hold my paper towel-wrapped hand against my chest.
"Big baby," Zack teases, and his calm surety coupled with levity in this moment takes my mind off my finger. Taking hold of one of my elbows as he grasps his supplies in his other hand, he leads me over to the kitchen table. While he lays out everything, I kick one of the chairs back and take a seat. Zack pulls another chair out and faces it toward me, sitting so our knees are touching.
I hold my hand out and he gently removes the paper towel from the cut, but leaves it cradled under my hand. Pulling my hand forward, he rests it on his thigh before releasing it. "Just hold it there."
I do as commanded, and my cut is immediately forgotten as the heat of Zack's leg penetrates his jeans, the paper towel, and my skin. It's the first time I've ever touched his body and I'm immediately overwhelmed.
My mind is in a haze as he uncaps the peroxide and pours it over the cut. He picks up a gauze pad and holds it to the cut, soaking up the liquid and making sure the skin is dried sufficiently. Then he opens a Band-Aid and says, "Lift your hand a bit."
I do, mourning the loss of contact with his leg, which is so very stupid, and watch as he wraps the Band-Aid snugly around the end of my index finger. With one hand he takes hold of my wrist, and with the other he smooths down the edges of the bandage.
Looking up at me, he says, "There. All better."
He doesn't release my wrist.
"Thanks," I say, amazed that I'm able to speak, because my mouth is so dry all of a sudden.
"So you don't do blood well, huh?" he asks with a playful smile, still holding my wrist, and is that...? Yes, his thumb is stroking my skin there.
Shaking my head, I can't form any words as I just stare at him.
He stares right back, the warm brown irises flecked with a hint of gold holding me captive.