Deflected: Game On in Seattle (Seattle Sockeyes Book 9) Page 11

  Late in the afternoon, the nanny had taken the kids to the park, Tyler had gone into the team training facility, and finally Lavender and she had some alone time.

  “Sorry for the chaos. I’m afraid it’s always like this. Maria is a great help, but I’m a hands-on mother regardless of having help.”

  “I love your kids. You know that.”

  Lavender smiled fondly. Her eyes lit up whenever she was talking about her rambunctious children. “You didn’t come here to talk about my kids. What’s up? I know you and something’s bothering you. Tell me all about it.” Lavender poured two glasses of wine and led Rosalind outside to their large deck with its view of the water below.

  “Lots of things. I’m falling for a guy, and he’s a lot like Tyler was when you met him.”

  “He’s an asshole?”

  “He can be. He’s also a professional hockey player.”

  “Oh, do I know him?”

  “Maybe. Alex Markov?”

  “Oh, Rush? Yes, we’re acquainted with him. How did you meet him?”

  “He’s living on the islands for a month. We’ve actually butted heads a few times. He’s quite the reader.”

  “I see.” Lavender’s face was completely neutral, but she seemed to see more than she was letting on.

  “Sometimes I want to kill him, and other times I want to…well, you know.”

  Lavender laughed and her expression become distant for a moment as if she were remembering her own asshole. “I understand. Totally.”

  “He’s my exact opposite.”

  “I know enough about him to figure that out. Sometimes opposites aren’t as opposite as they seem. That held true for Ty and me. We actually had a lot in common. What does your heart tell you?”

  “It’s as confused as the rest of me. I mean, he’s a professional athlete. He could have any woman.”

  “Yet he’s chosen you?”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far. I mean, there aren’t many young, single women on the island, so it’s not like he has a huge harem to choose from.”

  “Athletes are people too. Just like the rest of us. They might be more driven and focused toward winning or a certain goal, but that makes them all the more fun and infuriating at the same time.”

  “We haven’t gotten beyond the infuriating part. There was an incident, and I was furious at him, but maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Rosalind relayed the story regarding the book club and Alex’s defense of romance novels.

  “I think what he did was admirable. Maybe not the way he did it, but he sounds like he’s cut from the same cloth as Tyler. Tact is not one of their strong points, but I’ve come to appreciate the blatant honesty that often spews from Tyler’s mouth, when I’m not ready to kill him. What does your gut tell you about this guy?”

  “That he’s temporary. That he’ll go back to his life in a month. That I would be a fool to pursue a fling with him.”

  “Why? You won’t know until you try. And who knows? I was having a summer fling with Tyler, and it turned into so much more. I’m not saying the two of you would end the same way or that you should. Sometimes protecting your heart prevents you from having life experiences you need to grow as a person. Pain and failure are a part of that growth. Not saying that you would fail or feel pain, but I certainly did. I was heartbroken when he left the island.”

  “But it turned out for you?”

  Lavender’s slow smile was all the answer she needed. “I love my man, no matter how maddening and obnoxious he can be at times. It’s all part of who he is, and I wouldn’t change him for the world. What have you got to lose? Go for it, but try to keep a level head. Don’t expect more than he’s willing to give. Guys like Tyler and Rush are hard to pin down, but once they know what they want, they’ll move heaven and earth to get it.”

  “I’m not expecting anything from him. I can tell he’s as attracted to me as I am to him, and we’re both fighting it.”

  “Then stop fighting it and explore it instead.” Rosalind nodded at Lavender’s simple words of wisdom. As if sensing they needed a change of subject, Lavender veered off onto another path. “How is the next book writing going? I haven’t seen a new book from you in a while?”

  “I’m struggling with this book. I have it plotted out scene by scene but the characters seem to have other ideas.”

  “Maybe you should just follow what’s in your heart. Let the characters guide you. Did you ever consider boxing yourself in with a detailed plot might be ruining your creativity?”

  “It’s part of my process.” Her friend didn’t understand. This was how she’d always written. Well, maybe not always, but for the last few years.

  “You don’t feel that you lose some of the magic?”

  “No.” Rosalind’s tone was unnecessarily defensive. Lavender was only trying to help. “Sorry, it’s a sore spot with me.”

  “You’re a planner, but sometimes planning isn’t the best course of action. Not with Rush, and not with your books. Why don’t you allow yourself to follow your instincts?”

  Rosalind wasn’t sure she had any instincts, at least not good ones, yet her friend had offered some sage advice. She’d never steered her wrong before, and she’d think about it.

  A lot.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Alex bought a couple bottles of wine, went home and read several chapters in one of the RoAnn books, which he’d purchased online, and worked out. By then, he had enough time to shower and dress in clean shorts and a T-shirt. Pacific Northwesterners were a casual bunch, and the islanders were even more so. A good dinner out required a decent pair of jeans and a clean shirt, nothing more. He appreciated the unpretentious attitudes of the people he’d met minus Rushton, but there had to be one in every bunch.

  Only ten minutes late, he parked in front of the Newcombs’ well-kept yet modest home and stepped onto the small front porch. He knocked on the door, and MaryAnn shouted for him to come in. He entered and followed the heavenly smells to the kitchen, where he presented MaryAnn with a bottle of wine.

  “Oh, Alex, thank you. You didn’t have to bring anything.”

  “My pleasure. I am not good cook. I appreciate good meal.”

  “You’re welcome any time.” Most people said those words and didn’t mean them, but MaryAnn meant them. He wandered outside where Jim was manning the barbecue and drinking a beer.

  “More beer in the cooler if you want one.”

  Alex nodded and snagged an IPA. He’d pace himself. He didn’t want the Newcombs to think he had a drinking problem, even though his team and Sockeye management were convinced of it. Alex hadn’t needed a drink ever since he’d been lusting after his hosts’ daughter. Drinking was a way of distracting him from stuff he didn’t want to face and now Rosalind was unwittingly filling that role.

  Dinner was served, and the three of them made small talk around the patio table set with brightly colored placemats. MaryAnn talked about the European cruise they’d been saving for next year, and Jim talked about the Skookums baseball team’s chances of making it to the World Series. Perpetual losers, it was doubtful they’d make the playoffs.

  “So, I understand you made an impression on our dear friend Dr. Rushton?” Jim made a face.

  Alex grinned. “You like him as much as I?”

  “Oh, definitely,” Jim said with a wink. “I built his house when he retired to the island. That’s one job I’d never do over again. The man was exacting and unreasonable.”

  “I can only imagine.” Alex shuddered in horror, and they all laughed.

  “It’s a small island. You learn to get along with almost everyone and fake it with the few you can’t stand. I’m sure you’re used to that after playing on various teams.”

  “Definitely. When you’re on a team where everyone gels and gets along, that’s heaven. The Sockeyes this year were like that.”

  “I appreciate you defending our daughter’s work,” Jim said. “Especi
ally since she won’t defend it herself. I’ll never understand why she’s ashamed of her books.”

  “Your daughter’s work?” Alex blinked a few times, confused. “Rosalind’s books?”

  MaryAnn kicked Jim under the table. “You know she keeps her pen name a secret.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought since Alex was reading her books she’d told him the truth.”

  “Well, the cat is out of the bag now.” MaryAnn scowled at him, but Jim just smiled, totally unaffected and not the least bit sorry.

  “What exactly is truth?” Alex asked.

  MaryAnn and Jim gave each other one of those looks used by couples who’d been together for a long time and didn’t need words to communicate.

  MaryAnn sighed and folded her hands in her lap. Jim said nothing, as if he’d said enough already.

  “Alex, Rosalind is RoAnn James. She writes those books.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was astonished, yet the longer he thought about it, the more sense it made. Of course Rosalind was RoAnn. She had displayed too much ownership of the content to merely be a concerned friend. Now that he thought of it, the voice in the books was undoubtedly hers. And those sex scenes… Damn, he could get into a dirty mind like that. She had a naughty side he hadn’t seen, but he’d love to see more of it.

  “Why does she keep a secret? She is good writer.”

  “Tell her that. She doesn’t believe us. Her sales don’t meet her high expectations, so she takes those results as an indication her books are mediocre. We try to tell her it’s a matter of having a large advertising budget, which she can’t afford. All her available cash goes back into the bookstore. It’s getting harder and harder to make a profit. I’ve told her multiple times to sell it and write full-time—which is her dream.”

  “She’s not a risk-taker and refuses to leave the known for the unknown.”

  “I can see that in her. She must have her plans and stick with them.”

  “Yes, I’m worried about her,” MaryAnn said. “She’s struggling keeping the bookstore afloat and not taking time to experience life. I guess having fun isn’t part of her plan.”

  “And she hates changing plans,” Alex added.

  “You have her figured out,” Jim said.

  “She needs a man who will challenge her to take risks and reach her potential. To support her and be proud of her accomplishments. Someone like you.” MaryAnn leveled a direct gaze Alex’s way. He almost choked on the bite of meat he’d put in his mouth.

  “I am bad boyfriend. Much better for a few nights of fun than anything permanent.”

  “I suppose, but you’re a more positive influence than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Me?” Alex almost laughed out loud. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, but a positive influence had never been one of them.

  Jim chuckled at what he must have interpreted as a deer-in-the-headlights look on Alex’s face. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to force you to date our daughter. We want the best for her.”

  “I am not best for her.” Alex was surprised to hear the sadness in his voice. Despite his intentions of wooing her to get in her pants, he wasn’t looking at anything long-term, and now he felt like an ass for even considering using her for his own gratification.

  “There’s something to be said for summer flings.” MaryAnn winked at him.

  Alex did a double take. Did she just give him permission to have a temporary affair with her daughter?

  “Alex, all we’re trying to say is we wouldn’t interfere if the two of you became more than friends even if only for a short while.” Jim turned to his wife. “We’re making the poor boy nervous. Perhaps we should change the subject.”

  “Okay, I can be a little pushy when it comes to Roz’s love life.”

  “Where did she go this weekend?” Alex couldn’t help butting into something that wasn’t really his business. Had she gone to meet another man? Jealousy curled inside him, a feeling so foreign he took a few minutes to recognize it. Alex chewed on his lower lip and contemplated these ugly thoughts coursing through him. He didn’t get jealous. In fact, he was usually the opposite when it came to women. He didn’t want them to have their claws into him, so he certainly didn’t control them either. But Rosalind was different. She was unique. She was making him fucking crazy, and he didn’t know how to deal with any of it.

  “She’s working out some issues by visiting her friend Lavender in Seattle. You might know her. She’s Tyler Harris’s wife.”

  “I have met her. Nice person.”

  “Well, good or bad, things will most likely be straightened out by the time she gets back to the island.” Jim patted his wife’s hand to comfort her. Such a simple gesture, but it made Alex’s own hard heart soften just a little. His parents had gotten along fine but had never shown affection for each other. They’d been best friends. Both had been college professors and researchers with tons in common and loved to talk shop to the annoyance of the rest of the family subjected to their boring discussions.

  Alex shook himself out of those memories, noticing the Newcombs were staring at him. He shrugged and offered a neutral smile. They smiled back, but their eyes were troubled. They cared about him, and while he didn’t want to cause them grief, their fondness of him warmed his heart. He might not deserve their friendship, but he’d find a way to earn it.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Rosalind boarded the ferry about eight p.m. that evening. The skies were dark with ominous clouds, suitable for her mood. She didn’t bother to go above deck and enjoy the one-hour trip to the islands like she usually did. She was too deep in thought, trying to sort through things, and faced with the possible conclusion that all her life’s plans might not amount to much of anything. Did she have the guts to trust her instincts? And what did they say about Alex?

  Rosalind disembarked the ferry and turned on the winding, two-lane country road toward her cottage on the other side of the island. She craved nothing more than to curl up in her cozy bed with a good book and forget about things for a while.

  After a loud bang, her car jerked and sputtered only a mile from the landing. She nursed the poor thing to a pullout overlooking the water and put it in park. It died shortly after. Rosalind sat in the silence, her chin resting on the steering wheel.

  This was the punctuation mark ending to a soul-searching weekend, and she wasn’t sure what it was trying to tell her.

  She’d been so preoccupied with her conflicted emotions she’d ignored the gas gauge and had run out of gas on an island after the sun had set and nothing would be open. The last ferry of the night had left, and she doubted she’d see any more traffic on this lonely road.

  Pulling her cell from her purse, she was grateful for one bar and dialed her mother.

  “Honey, how are you?”

  “It’s a long story, but I’m good, just working through some truths that might not be true at all for me. I need to sleep first. I’ll explain in the morning. I ran out of gas, and I need a ride home.

  “Oh, honey, I hope everything’s okay.”

  “I think they’ll be better than okay. I need time to think. Just come get me, please.”

  “Someone will be by to retrieve you within thirty minutes.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be here.”

  Rosalind locked her car doors, put her seat back, and settled in to wait.

  Chapter 11—Make Her Forget

  Alex jumped at the chance to retrieve Rosalind for selfish reasons, but they were what they were, and another chance with her had fallen directly in his lap.

  Besides, the Newcombs had fed him the last two nights in a row, and he owed them more than a ride home for their daughter. Before he knew it, he was careening along a curvy country road with his sports car hugging every bend and turn.

  Take care of our little girl.

  MaryAnn’s last words rang in his ears, filling him with guilt. He’d been thinking about taking care of her, but
not the way her mother meant—or was he wrong about that? Maybe she’d given him a hint. Take care as in see her safely home or take care as in take her and show her a good time? He was reading too much into an innocent remark, or most likely reading what he wanted to read into it.

  He hugged another curve before the road straightened for a short while, and he noticed Rosalind’s little Toyota parked in a tourist pullout. He cranked hard right and screeched to a stop behind her. Turning off his engine and lights so he wouldn’t blind her, he unfolded his long legs from the low-to-the-ground car. He walked toward her, giving her ample time to identify him as friend, not a foe.

  She glanced through her driver’s window. The worry on her face turned to relief when she recognized him in the growing darkness and rolled down her window.

  “What are you doing here?” Her tone was puzzled but, thankfully, not hostile.

  “Your parents asked me to pick you up since I was just leaving their place and heading home. It’s somewhat on my way.”

  “I see.” She leaned away from him, her expression guarded. “My mom is playing matchmaker again.”

  “Probably. Does she do that often?”

  “Every chance she gets, which isn’t frequently due to the shortage of young, available males on Madrona.”

  Alex nodded and wisely dropped their current conversation. Rosalind opened her car door and walked to the back, popping her trunk. He followed her and grabbed the handle of the small suitcase.

  “Shit,” he exclaimed when the thing nearly pulled his arm off from the sheer weight of it. “What’s in here? Concrete?”

  She shrugged and smiled coyly at him. “Just things.”

  He lugged it to his car and stowed it in the trunk. Rosalind reached for the passenger door, but he caught her arm and gently tugged her around to face him.

  “I have something to say.” He swallowed and stared at his feet, gathering his thoughts so he wouldn’t screw up his apology and make things worse. She was the one woman he struggled to walk away from, fuck, couldn’t walk away from, and her forgiveness was important to him.