Off Her Game (15 page)

In the bar, everyone was cheering them on, but Val didn't like it. She'd seen his hockey fights before. This wasn't like that. His face was fierce and horrific, animalism taking over, like it had the night Darren had gotten in the bar fight.

Both men grabbed at each other's jerseys, circling in an aggressive testosterone-riddled dance as each of them swung wildly at each other. Darren found another opening and started pummeling the guy. His lip curled up in anger as the camera snapped to a closer view. His opponent fell to the ice and Darren followed him down, not letting up until the refs forcibly pulled him off the downed man.

The announcers relayed the entire ugly scene in gruesome facts about the number of penalties Darren had incurred in the last two weeks. Their speculation as to the cause was laughable, citing exhaustion or frustration over the losing streak the Highlanders were in.

It had started the next day after the benefit.

Valerie stared at Darren's face, ignoring the announcers and the comments of her bar patrons. His face was flushed cherry red, vein bulging from his forehead as he argued with the refs. His arms waved wildly. This wasn't the easy, level-headed Darren she knew. This Darren was argumentative, hot-headed, and aggressive.

She turned toward the man sitting at the bar next to her. “Does he always fight like that? Is that normal?”

He sipped his beer and pointed at the screen. “That right there is his penalty minutes for the last two weeks. That boy is frustrated about something. He's almost doubled the number of minutes he had at the same time last year. And he was a shitty player last year.” He shrugged. “I almost think they should have traded him when they had the chance instead of buying into another five year contract.”

“Another contract?” She blinked. Darren hadn't mentioned he was getting renewed.

“Yep. They announced it a few days ago. Looks like Moran's retiring with the Highlanders.” He laughed. “The way he's playing tonight, they might regret that decision.”

She turned away from the TV, guilt infusing her conscience. She hadn't spoken to Darren since the benefit. She'd believed that it was best. He didn't need someone like her, someone who didn't have her life together.

She glanced back at the TV. As Darren skated to the penalty box and the TV showed him flopping on the bench, Val wondered if that was indeed true, or if she was simply fooling herself.

***

Darren tossed his gear into his bag, his collar burning against his skin. He'd been out of sorts since he left home two weeks ago. But it hadn't ever affected his game like this before. Maybe right after he caught his wife fucking around, but it had gotten better when he'd started talking to Valerie. Now she was gone, and he was right back where he started, playing like shit.

He was missing his good luck charm.

“Hey, Moran!”

He turned toward the door as his coach came back in from the media circus beyond the doors. They'd chased all reporters from the locker room, allowing them only to stand outside the door. Darren was glad for at least the small reprieve, but after four losses, no one was in a good mood anymore.

The older man loosened his tie and tossed his notebook on a nearby bench. “Do you realize just how much shit you caused, hothead?”

“Sorry, Coach,” he muttered. This definitely had not been his best night ever.

“You're fucking sorry?” The coach yelled. “You gave those fucking Flyers an unnecessary power play because of your little stunt. It cost us the game.”

“Coach—””

“Shut the fuck up and listen.” He unbuttoned his jacket and stood with his hands on his hips. “We’re no longer leading the division now, which makes it that much harder to win the conference, if we can even get there. You're head wasn't in the game tonight, Moran.”

“Coach, I—”

“Shut. Up.”

Darren stared at the coach. The sheer pissedoffedness on the man’s face surprised him.

“We're going to pass this one off as a bad night for you, even though you've had a string of fucked up games this month. Whatever has crawled up your ass, get it out before the home game on Saturday night. This kind of shit ain't happening again, or I'm taking you off the line-up.” He stalked out without another word, leaving Darren feeling incredibly alone in a room full of men.

Darren threw his towel into the cubby. In a fit of anger, he slammed his hand against the wooden cubby. Coach Rogers was right. He wasn't playing right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Exasperated, he flopped on the bench. He leaned over and covered his face with his hands.

“Dude, what is up with you?”

Darren glanced to the side, where Cody stood in a towel, his shaggy hair wet and dripping over his bare torso. Cody had played one of his best games, despite the fact that Darren hadn't covered his ass like he should have. Guilt filled his veins with cold.

“I don't know,” he lied. “Fucking bad night.”

“It's that chick, ain't it?” Cody grinned when Darren didn't answer. “I knew it! She's got you all knotted up and shit.” Cody got dressed as Darren shook his head. “Come on, man. It's just a girl. She ain't worth losing your head over.”

Darren rolled his eyes, but his tone came out dead. “It doesn't matter. It's over.””

“You need to fix this. Because it does matter. You're playing like shit, and your focus is nil. I don't want to see your career bottom out like this. It was better after Angela moved out and you started hanging out with the bar girl.”

“You don't—”

“It was better because she was there. She's your good luck charm, D. Don't fuck that up. Besides, I don't want to have to find a new bar because you fucked the wait staff. So fix it.”

“How do I do that, genius?”

“If there's one thing I've learned from being married, it's that women have strange quirks. We don't always understand them, but they're there.” Cody's eyes clouded a moment. He cleared his throat. “And how we deal with them can make or break us.”

Darren didn't reply immediately. Was that why Val had gotten upset? Because he hadn't understood her quirks?

He picked up the wet towel from the cubby and threw it back at Darren, hitting him in the face. “See ya on the plane.” He shrugged on the suit jacket, picked up his gear, and left the room.

Fix it. Yeah, that was easy.

Darren finished getting dressed in silence except for the other guys rustling around. Their low voices filled the room while he mulled over what Cody said. He would be back in Texas in a few hours. Back in the same city as his elusive cocktail waitress.

All he knew for sure was his game started sucking the second she was out of his life. He had to fix it, as Cody had put it. He needed her back, so he could win again. Hell, it wasn't even about the game. He
needed
her. He hadn't realized how integral to his life she'd become until she was gone.

He zipped his gear bag shut, and headed back out. The media had cleared out, thankfully. Only a few stragglers remained, but he just nodded and pushed his way through them. The last thing he needed was for Valerie to see his ugly mug on the TV, especially after his behavior on the ice tonight.

No, he needed to talk to her in person, without letting her run from him. Because he knew now that not only did his career depend on it, but his sanity. The woman was quite simply, driving him insane.

***

Valerie muttered obscenities under her breath as Nick and Jen flirted in the corner. As she laid out her tips from the night, meager as they were, she tried to tune out the cute little murmurings.

Nick smiled as he leaned in and gently stole a kiss from Jen's lips. Val wanted to hurl because of how sweet they were being. Any other time, she'd have been overjoyed to see Nick happy. After his wife left him and Zoey, he deserved some happiness. And now that Zoey was an adult and mostly away at college, it was time to focus on him. It was a good thing.

It didn't mean she had to like that his “focus” happened to be in the bar where she could see it.

She was being a Bitter Betty, and she knew it. Just because her relationship didn't work out didn't mean Nick couldn't be happy. She felt like he was throwing it in her face.

She stared down at her arranged and sorted bills. What a pitiful night. She'd only made half of what she normally did. She was already in the worst mood, but this put her at nearly a thousand less than she needed for bills that month.

Nick snatched up a twenty, dangling it over Val like fish bait. She glared at him, unaware that he’d even moved from Jen’s lips. “Stop it.”

“What would you do-oo-oo, for a twenty?” He sang to the tune of the Klondike bar jingle.

“Nick, that's not funny.”

He chuckled and dropped the twenty back on her stack, in the wrong direction. “You're too sensitive.”

“And you're an asshole.” She tossed her dirty wash rag at his face and flipped the bill so it matched the others.

Nick ducked and started loading up his small dishwasher behind the bar, his nonchalant words pouring from his mouth. “You've been kind of distracted, Val. You doing all right?”

“I'm fine. It was just a bad night.”

“You've been having a lot of bad nights lately.”

“Not every night can be a winner, Nick.” Her voice was sharper than she intended.

“Yeah, especially when you're glued to the TV watching hockey all night.”

She glared at him again, but he only laughed. His teasing smirk grew into a wide grin. “Don't you deny it. You've been watching the Highlander games all week.”

“Fuck off, Nick,” she snapped. “There wasn't even a game tonight.” She picked up a couple glasses from her now empty tables and cringed.

“You know the schedule,” Nick stopped and looked at her.

“Shit.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping the pressure would make the ache in her go away. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“You should talk to him.”

“Why don't you take off? I'm sure Jen is waiting for you at your place.” Val tried to sound as sweet as she could.

“She went home. And don't change the subject.” He leaned over the bar, resting his forearms on the bar. “What happened with the hot head?”

Darren. She was not going to think about those chiseled planes of muscle. Or about how her palms tickled with the slight smattering of hair on his tanned chest. Or about how his fingers tangled in her hair when he liked something she did to him.

Fuck.

“I'm not seeing him anymore,” she answered.

Nick laughed. She wrenched her head around. “I thought that's what it was. And you sabotaged it, I'm guessing.”

“I didn't—” she stopped herself. “Okay, I did. I broke it off. But it's better this way. He's better this way.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Babe. Let go for once. You deserve to be happy, too and obviously, he makes you happy.” He loaded the dishwasher behind the bar and stepped out of the bar area. “I'm going to go close the books for the night. Lock the door and call me if you need anything?”

She nodded. He came over to her and kissed her cheek. “I'm fine, Nick.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “You're a fucking rock. Even rocks can be broken.”

After he'd disappeared into his office, she went behind the bar to empty out the dishwasher he’d started.

Work was something she could get behind if it meant she didn’t have to think about anything else. She restarted the machine and came around the bar just as the entry door banged shut.

Val turned toward the door and her breath vanished.

Darren wore a suit of a charcoal grey with a light blue-tinted shirt underneath the jacket. A tie matching the jacket finished the outfit. The color brought out his natural tan and his darker hair, characteristic of his Cuban heritage. Her heart did some flippity flops as he stepped up to the bar.

“What are you doing here?” She croaked out.

“I came to see you, since you won't return my calls.”

“Didn't you have a game tonight?”
Lame, Valerie. You know he didn't. And why do you know that? Because you have the schedule memorized.

“No. We left after the game last night, since we have one at home tomorrow night. Today's a rest day.”

“Oh.”

She turned away from him then, so very aware of his presence. Her body flushed, a jolt of electric energy only his presence brought on. God, she still wanted him.

“Well, we're closed now. Sorry.”

She continued to wipe the bar top when he stepped up behind her. She didn't need to look. She knew he was there. His presence was suffocating.

“Val,” he whispered. His voice was close to her ear, like he'd leaned in toward her.

She refused to look at him. She stared down at the dirty bar towel in her hand instead.

“Val.”

“What do you want, Darren?” She asked, trying to inject as much apathy into her voice as she could, but it failed miserably. “I already told you—”

“You.” That word traveled straight to her core. His mouth touched her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. “I've missed you.” His breath was hot on her ear and cheek, which wasn’t helping the newly forming ache between her legs. “I'm tired of letting you walk away from me.”

She half turned to stare at him in surprise, but his nearness gave her superheated chills, if that was even possible. “How could you miss me?”

“How could I not?” He brushed her cheek. His rough fingertips touched her smooth skin, sending jolts of electric fire through her body. He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “Val, something about you makes me crazy.”

“It might be my crazy mood swings, and tendency to overreact,” she told him.

“Maybe. We can work on that, though. Val, I don't want you to run away.”

She swallowed as he turned her slowly the rest of the way, so her back was up against the bar top. Her heart pounded, her common sense telling her that this was a monumental bad idea, that it didn't fit into her plan, that she needed to get away. But instead, she let him kiss her; his lips softly caressing hers coaxed her back to life. She leaned into his affections.

Too good. He felt way too good.

“I thought about you,” he said against her mouth. “The whole time I was on the trip. I played like shit because I couldn't stop thinking about you.” He kissed her again as he palmed one of her breasts, and she arched toward him. Her lips parted on a gasp as he pinched a nipple through her clothes and his tongue plunged into her mouth.