“And what were they doing while your ex was parading that chick around right in front of your face?”
Another flinch. Maybe I should filter my thoughts around her. I never really had, but surely I could learn.
“Amelia and Jillian are caught in the middle,” she said, looking down at her plate of food. “I’m sure this whole situation isn’t easy for them.”
An odd pang tugged at my gut. Sympathy? Pity? It was unfamiliar, and I didn’t like it. At any rate, these friends of hers sounded shitty.
“It’s nice that you’re thinking about their feelings,” I said. “But who’s thinking about yours?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You were thinking of my feelings tonight when you abducted me in front of everyone?”
“Of all the ways you could have left the arena tonight, do you honestly think that wasn’t the best-case scenario?”
“I guess…” She shifted in the booth, avoiding my eyes. “But you were trying to rattle Luke. Don’t act like you were doing me a favor.”
Rattled didn’t even begin to describe it. I would have paid good money to capture a photo of Morrison’s face when I threw my arm around her shoulders. It was the perfect mixture of rage, disbelief, and jealousy. As much as she was protesting right now, there was no way she didn’t enjoy that as much as I had.
“I’d say it’s a win-win, wouldn’t you agree?” While technically, Bailey wasn’t his business anymore, I was well versed in the inner workings of the male mind, and to Morrison, she absolutely was. That meant there was a 100 percent chance that he was losing his shit right now. The smug as fuck smile I flashed him pretty much guaranteed that.
Morrison wasn’t a direct threat on the ice—he didn’t even engage in fights when he was challenged, let alone start them. But he would send his minions to do his bidding, which meant I would probably need to look out for Bailey’s brother and a few of the forwards for a while.
There was a decent chance of a full-on line brawl with Callingwood in the future because of what I’d done.
Dammit. I had enough fires erupting in my own life, most of them self-ignited. Now I’d thrown kindling onto the perpetually smoldering feud between the Falcons and the Bulldogs.
Coach Miller was going to have my head.
“As much as I may hate him right now,” she said, “I am still firmly Team Bulldog.”
I shrugged. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Part of me did admire her sense of loyalty, however misguided it was.
When Bailey left the table to use the bathroom, I checked my texts. Ignoring most of them, I wrote Dallas back.
Dallas: Where the fuck are you?
Dallas: You ditched us.
Chase: Something came up.
Dallas: You mean someone.
Chase: Exactly.
The server came by with our bill, leaving the black leather folio on the end of the table. Bailey lifted her hand like she was going to make a grab for it.
I leaned over and yanked it out of her reach before she could. “Don’t even try.”
“You can’t pay for me,” she said, blond brows knitted. “This isn’t a date.”
“I’m well aware. And I’m still not letting you pay.”
“I don’t know whether I should thank you or throttle you.” Bailey sighed, slipping on her jacket. “Does that mean I owe you now?”
I pulled out my Mastercard and handed it to the server. “Well, you did grace me with your sunny personality over a meal, so I guess we’re even.”
“Har-har.” She rolled her eyes.
“Though you do seem marginally more pleasant now that you’ve eaten. Emphasis, marginally.”
“I guess I was kind of hangry. I spent all my money on—” She stopped and cringed. “Never mind.”
She almost let her guard down. Interesting.
“Do tell.” I pressed forward, lowering my voice. “Hookers and blow? Me too.”
Bailey laughed. “Nothing nearly that interesting, sadly.”
“Well, the night is young.”
The drive back to Bailey’s place was filled with conversation. She was easy to talk to, as long as we avoided any mention of hockey, the Bulldogs, or the Falcons. Signaling, I took a left, pulling into the parking area for her brownstone complex. I eased into the visitor spot and put my truck into park, leaving the ignition running. At least she was sober enough to get upstairs without falling down them this time.
“Here.” I held out my hand. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?” Bailey pulled away and hugged her phone against her body, eyeing me suspiciously.
“So I can look at porn, James. What do you think? So I can put my number in it.”
“Who said I wanted your number?”
“Who else are you going to text next time shit gets weird?”
She unbuckled her seat belt, still clutching the phone. “Why would you want me to text you?”
“Maybe I need a friend too.”
“You need a friend?”
“Why not?” I shrugged. “Like I said, half the team would throw me into a skate sharpener if they had the chance. Maybe three-quarters. Coach Miller might even get in on that action.”
Bailey chewed her bottom lip as she scanned my face. I raised my eyebrows, waiting.
“Fine.” She unlocked her phone before passing it to me. “But I’m not giving you mine.”
I quickly entered myself as a contact and handed it back to her. “Text me sometime.”
“As a friend.”
“Right,” I said. “As a friend.”
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 11
OceanofPDF.com
DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE
Bailey
Chase’s truck engine roared as he pulled out of the visitor parking lot and turned back onto the street. In a daze, I made my way down the sidewalk and up the three concrete stairs to my front door. My head was spinning, my hands were shaking, and I was questioning everything I thought I knew.
I had dinner with Chase Carter. And I kind of liked it.
Clearly, there was a snag in the space-time continuum, and I had been transported to an alternate universe. Or the apocalypse was nigh. One of the two, anyway.
I unlocked the deadbolt and held my breath, praying no one else was home. It was shortly after nine, so the odds were in my favor. The navy blue door swung open with a creak, revealing a dark, quiet, and blessedly roommate-free house. I hung up my parka and heaved a sigh, the tension in my body easing. Maybe it was a little pitiful to be home alone on a Saturday night, but the solitude was a welcome reprieve from the interrogation I was sure to face in the near future.
I flipped on the porch light and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water before going straight to my bedroom. Amelia and Jillian were probably staying over at the house Paul and Mendez shared with Luke, but there was still a chance they would come home tonight. And if they did, I would definitely pretend to be asleep.
Then I walked upstairs, pulling out my phone to survey the extent of the damage to my personal life. Not surprisingly, I had three missed calls and fifteen new texts. I already had a pretty good idea what they said, and I had no interest in engaging in discussion about Chase, my personal life, or any combination thereof. Instead, I opened each message without looking at its contents, then left them all on read to let everyone know I was still alive.