Deflected: Game On in Seattle (Seattle Sockeyes Book 9) Page 7

  “I knew it.” She grinned smugly.

  “Yeah. I’d prefer you not spread though. It is embarrassing to be exiled by team owner and ordered to clean my act.”

  “I can understand that. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Even with Rosalind?”

  “Especially with Roz. She’s already irritated enough with you. Besides, your rep isn’t exactly a secret. All she has to do is Google.”

  Alex nodded his agreement. They sat in comradely silence for several more minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

  “We are not clicking, are we?” he said, wanting to clear the air.

  “Not really, but we can be friends. I don’t think I’m what you need.” She laughed and winked at him.

  “I know I am not what you need.” He laughed. “But what is it you think I need?”

  “Not me. I’m a struggling single mother. I don’t believe you’re ready for a family-type commitment yet.”

  “Probably not, but I am good with kids. I doubt I would want to be around one twenty-four seven though. Not at this point in life.”

  “Like I said, you aren’t interested in me. I’ve seen the way you and Roz watch each other.”

  “How do we watch each other?” He was intrigued and hadn’t realized he was so transparent. He’d always been a master at hiding his true feelings.

  “Like you both have a craving for a certain dish and the other is serving exactly what you want for dinner.”

  “We have physical attraction, but she does not like me much.”

  “You might be surprised. Despite all her planning, Roz is a romantic at heart and waiting for Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet so she can marry, stay on this island, and live happily ever after.”

  “You sound skeptical.”

  “I am. I’ve done the happily ever after. It’s a crock of bullshit. Let me give you a word of warning. Roz hasn’t been exposed to much. She had one relationship, which didn’t work out. That’s it. She’s lived a protected, sheltered life and doesn’t understand guys like you.”

  “Guys like me?” He pointed at his chest for emphasis, vaguely insulted even if he did deserve the insult.

  “Yes, guys like you. Players. Not that she couldn’t use a summer fling, but please, whatever happens, be honest with her.”

  “I am always honest.” Okay, maybe that was stretch. He’d been known to tell a tale or two to get what he wanted, but he’d never told a woman he loved her just to get in her pants or for any other reason. Alex was incapable of love. His heart had gone into a deep freeze when he’d lost his family and had lost the capability to be thawed.

  “I might sleep around, but I do not lead anyone. I make clear from the beginning I am not in it for permanency, and I never will be.”

  “Then I’ll give you points for being truthful.”

  “You are probably only one who does.” He chuckled and took a swig out of his water bottle. “You’re not going to tell me to stay away from her?”

  Clarissa shrugged. “Would it do any good?”

  Alex’s slow smile was enough of an answer. “I have tendency to do opposite of what I am told.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Just be careful with her heart, Alex. She’s had it broken once already.” Not waiting for a response, Clarissa stood and so did he. “I have to get back to my daughter.”

  They walked back to his car, and Alex couldn’t help wishing he’d spent the day with a certain blonde, even though she’d probably hate every minute of spending the day with him. Or would she?

  Chapter 7—Enjoy the Moment

  When Rosalind arrived at her parents’ house for Sunday dinner, Alex was already there and settled in as if this were his family, not hers. He stood outside on the patio, laughing with her father as he grilled the steaks. He was dressed in a simple white T-shirt and cargo shorts, and he made them look better than any man she’d ever seen.

  She carried one of her famous chocolate cakes, which were all the rave at island bake sales. She’d almost made something else just to be contrary considering Alex had asked for chocolate. Setting it on the counter, she hugged her mother.

  Her nana had taught her to bake when she’d been a little girl, and she’d taken to it like a fish to water. She loved to bake almost as much as she loved to read and to write.

  The writing part was Rosalind’s most closely guarded secret.

  Under the darkness of the night, she wrote romance novels using the pen name of RoAnn James. She had a small but loyal following and made enough on the books to cover the cost of publication and pay for her personal expenses and some of the bookstore’s bills. Only her immediate family and a few friends knew about her alter ego, RoAnn. She was well aware that many readers put down her genre, and she feared revealing her author persona might damage her bookstore business enough that the string it was hanging on might break.

  A few of her regular customers criticized her for stocking trashy romances in her bookstore and taking away valuable shelf space from real books, but only a vocal few. She bit her tongue and reminded herself that you couldn’t change people’s opinions about books any more than you could change their politics. Besides, romances were her store’s best money-makers. Many of the same readers who openly scoffed at romance scarfed up every new one that came into the store.

  Rosalind had written countless books over the past five years. Her bestselling books were part of a series featuring a fictional hockey team set in Chicago. She didn’t know anything about hockey, but the genre was hot right now and sold better than her other books. What she lacked in hockey knowledge, she made up for in compelling characters and heartfelt romance. Her books tended toward the sweeter side with closed-door sex, except for her hockey romances. They were hot enough to boil water and had seriously stretched her comfort zone.

  She worked day and night without pause. Sometimes she wished she could afford a short vacation. Her mother would work for her for a few days, but she hated to ask her. Her parents had done enough already. They’d given her the business, and she was compelled to make it on her own.

  She already felt like an ungrateful daughter because she didn’t have the passion for the bookstore that her mother had had all those years. Rosalind’s super-secret, unreachable dream was to write full-time—a secret she’d never told anyone. It was an unachievable dream because she wasn’t good enough.

  The bookstore was her future, not the books she wrote. The bookstore was part of her plan, not writing full-time. Her former boyfriend, David, had often said writing was a frivolous hobby and not a worthy pursuit. Authors rarely made a living wage from writing, and she couldn’t imagine going month to month never knowing what she would make or if she could pay her bills.

  Rosalind sighed. She must stick with her plan, not deviate. Her gaze strayed to Alex once more. He was nothing like her ex and not even close to the right man for her. She wanted serious, studious, dependable. Alex was, well, Alex. She suspected he just rolled with the punches and went wherever life dragged him without a care in the world.

  Must be nice.

  And Alex was a professional hockey player. He could have any woman he wanted at any time. She wasn’t the casual-sex type. She fell in love. Alex probably didn’t.

  Pushing thoughts of sex and Alex and sex with Alex from her mind, Rosalind leaned against the kitchen counter and watched her mother cut potatoes into small chunks for the potato salad.

  “Need any help?”

  “No, honey, you can just sit there and relax. I have it handled.”

  “Okay.” Relaxing wasn’t something Rosalind did often or did well.

  “What do you think of Alex?” Her mother’s tone was casual, but Rosalind knew she was fishing.

  “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not the least bit interested.”

  “He seems interested in you.”

  “He’s a professional hockey player,” Rosalind stated.

  “And that’s a problem?” Her mother cocked
a brow at her.

  “I’m hardly his type, he’s temporary, and he’s a city boy. You know that’s not me.”

  MaryAnn Newcomb’s gaze was almost pitying. “Roz, it’s been a while since you dated. You never know until you try. The perfect guy may not be the guy you think he is. You need to test the waters, check out your options.”

  “Alex is not an option. If there were other possibilities on this island, I might entertain a date or two.”

  “The island grapevine is all abuzz with you being seen having dinner with Alex.”

  “It was nothing. We’re barely friends. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, but I don’t really like the guy.”

  “I see. I didn’t like your father when I first met him either. He infuriated me so much I wanted to strangle him.”

  Rosalind blinked in surprise. She’d never heard this before. “You didn’t fall in love at first sight?”

  “Looking back, we were insanely attracted to each other, but we got on each other’s nerves because we were out of our comfort zone. Does Alex pull you out of your comfort zone, Roz?”

  “No. I just don’t care for his arrogant, conceited attitude.”

  A slow, knowing smile crossed her mother’s face. Roz frowned. Her mother had it all wrong. She did not like Alex. Maybe there was a teensy bit of physical attraction, but the way he made her heart flutter when he looked into her eyes meant absolutely nothing.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Alex sipped a beer and watched Mr. Newcomb as he grilled steaks. Alex had never grilled anything in his life. The aroma of the spices Rosalind’s father had put on the meat swirled around Alex, and his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  “That smells wonderful, Mr. Newcomb.”

  “Call me Jim. Mister makes me feel so old.”

  “Okay,” Alex agreed. He liked Rosalind’s father. He was easygoing and had a great sense of humor. Normally, Alex never hung out with people older than thirty, but adult company that talked about more than drinking, sex, and their next escapade was oddly refreshing.

  Jim smiled at him, his gaze appraising. “Did you realize I’m a Sockeyes fan?”

  Alex stiffened. His fingers tightened on the beer can, and he couldn’t come up with a response that wouldn’t dig him deeper into whatever hole might be looming in front of him.

  “You’re a hockey player, and your escapades have been plastered all over the internet for the past four years.”

  “That is not secret.”

  “What I can’t figure out is why you’re spending the summer on this quiet island. Doesn’t seem like it would be the choice of vacations for a young guy like you.”

  “I needed decompress time after winning Cup,” Alex lied, yet there was some truth in that lie. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to slow down until Ethan had exiled him.

  “I can’t imagine what it would be like to live life in the spotlight, but I’m guessing it’s not nearly as glamourous and appealing as most of us think it would be.”

  “Sometimes I just want to be regular person.”

  “I respect that.”

  “I would appreciate if you would not advertise my presence.”

  “Not a problem, but you’re not fooling as many islanders as you think. There’s quite a bit of gossip about you, but most of us are too polite to approach you regarding your career and fame.”

  Alex sighed. “I am not as clever as I thought.”

  “All those underwear ads you’ve done give you away. Your face and body are everywhere.”

  “Even Rosalind knows.”

  “I’m surprised. She’s not a sports fan and tends to live in her own little world.”

  “Clarissa told her.”

  “So are you and Rosalind, uh, close?”

  “No. She and I got off on wrong foot, and she does not like me much. My rep is not the best, which is why I am here. The team thinks I have problems with alcohol, among other things.”

  “Do you?”

  “I have not had much drink since I have been here, and I do not miss it.”

  He nodded but didn’t comment. “It helps when you don’t hang out with people who drink heavily.”

  “I avoid bars. I read a lot and work out. There is entire workout room in the Parker mansion.”

  “Must be lonely in that big old mansion by yourself.”

  “You would think so, but Homer stops by, and I have my cat, Milo, with me. I have been invited to play poker at the local veterans club. I might do that. I might join book club too.”

  “What do you read?” Homer asked.

  “Anything and everything. I taught myself to speak better English by reading books.”

  “What brought you to this country?”

  “I came to Canada to play minor league hockey.”

  “Are the steaks ready yet?” Rosalind poked her head out the sliding glass door screen and smiled at her father, ending his endless barrage of questions. The love between father and daughter was obvious, and his heart squeezed painfully. He’d never have the love of his parents again.

  He couldn’t drag his gaze away from Rosalind as she walked onto the patio wearing a cute sundress and sandals. The brightly flowered dress hugged her trim figure and his mouth watered more looking at her than it did over the steaks.

  He cast a quick glance Jim’s way. Her father was studying him with a knowing eye. He’d been caught red-handed ogling the man’s daughter. Jim didn’t seem upset or angry, more amused, and Alex exhaled in relief. Usually, he didn’t care what anyone thought of him, but winning the respect of someone like Jim had proven important to him.

  She briefly met his gaze, ducked her head, and retreated back into the house. Jim cocked a brow and fought off a smile. Alex was used to women having crushes on him. Even women who didn’t care for him as a person often lusted after his body. He was fine with that. In fact, avoiding emotional attachments was his preferred MO. Yet when Rosalind looked at him, he hated the feeling he got, almost as if he wasn’t in control of his feelings, and Alex was always in control.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked her father, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  “You tell me.”

  Alex shrugged. He wasn’t the one giving that look that said I know more than you know.

  “I’m afraid Rosalind has led a sheltered life. Sometimes I think her mother and I should’ve insisted she spent more time off island and learned to spread her wings, try other places before settling down in the only place she’s ever lived. For a while there, we feared she’d go so far as to marry the only guy she’s ever dated.”

  “The infamous David. Clarissa filled me in. You do not sound enamored.”

  “It’s not that. He was a perfectly nice guy. It’s possible no one will ever be good enough for our baby girl, but David has always had higher aspirations than living on an island and being a small-town family doctor.”

  “And she will not leave?”

  “No, she plans on living here for the rest of her life. Yeah, well, she’s a big girl, and for the most part, we try not to interfere. Her mother has a tougher time staying out of her business than I do.”

  “Are you sure?” Alex teased.

  Jim laughed. “Not really. I’m working on my interference issues.” Jim cut off a piece of steak and handed it to Alex on a fork. Alex chewed the savory meat with appreciation.

  “Edible?”

  “It will do.”

  “Let’s eat then.” Jim piled the steaks high on the plate and called for his wife and daughter, who’d already set a cheerful table on the patio.

  Alex breathed a sigh of relief that he’d dodged an extensive lecture. Most likely he’d still get one, but for now, he’d enjoy the moment.

  Chapter 8—Just the Facts

  On Monday morning, Alex rose earlier than usual, fed Milo, and made the short trek to the path Rosalind traveled to get to her bookstore. He wasn’t sure why he did it, and he’d probably look like a stalke
r, but he did it anyway.

  He hung out for over thirty minutes in the brisk morning air, and she never walked by. With a sigh, he trudged to town alone and slowed as he neared the bookstore. The Closed sign was prominently displayed, but he could see movement in the back of the store. He stepped closer, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. Finally, he pressed his face against the window. He spotted her stocking books on a shelf. When she bent down to place one on the bottom shelf, he licked his lips at the sight of her fine ass.

  A local resident strolled past and cast a disproving glare his way. Alex immediately straightened and turned his back on the window. His face burned with humiliation. He’d been caught and was guilty as charged. Disgusted by his desperate voyeurism, he hurried past the bookstore and down the block. When he entered the Island Diner, Homer and the boys waved him over to their table. This particular group of geriatric locals called themselves the Island Yankee Brotherhood. Their hometown gang consisted of former veterans who spent their days causing benign trouble and gambling at cards for nickels.

  He’d met the entire group at the mansion over the past week. They’d made dropping in on him and harassing him part of their daily routine.

  “Are you playing poker with us on Wednesday afternoon?” Homer asked, peering at him through thick-lensed glasses.

  “I’m not sure I can afford to lose to you guys.”

  They found this outrageously funny for reasons Alex couldn’t understand.

  “They lose their pants to me on a regular basis,” said Don “DJ” Brooke. “Just check out the thrift-shop plaid pants Cliff has been forced to wear since he’s been losing to me.”

  “I’m not forced to wear them. I’m making a fashion statement.” Cliff Gossard defended his choice of orange plaid pants and green-striped button-down shirt.

  “You’re making a statement, all right,” Homer shot back, and the others hooted with laughter.

  Wisely, Alex kept his mouth shut.

  “Tyler Harris, you know him? He kicks his butt on a regular basis. He lives on this island part-time. His ancestors are some of the island original residents,” DJ, the group’s pull-tab addict, said, still wiping his eyes.