BREAKAWAY (The Dartmouth Cobras) (19 page)

"And your father?"

Finishing off his rum, Luke shrugged. "He didn't care whether or not I was dumb, so long as I played good. He showed up when I was drafted—five years after filing for divorce to chase some young tail, walking out on my mom and me—telling me he was so proud. I wanted to deck him. My mom worked her ass off as an orderly in a local hospital to pay for all my shit. Me making it had nothing to do with him."

"But you had your mother's support. Which is all that matters." Seb squeezed his shoulder. "Would you like another drink?"

Lips pressed together, Luke handed over his glass. "You
gonna
get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?"

Seb laughed. "I will
never
take advantage of you when you are drunk, semental. Whatever we do, you will have to face sober."

"Remind me to keep a flask on me at all times."

The dark look Seb gave him stilled his heart. He inched back into the chair as Seb returned, glass in hand, and loomed over him. "You may drink tonight. And tomorrow night. After that, you
will
be sober, niño. At all times. To be otherwise will disappoint both me and the team and you are better than that."

Yeah, I am. But I don't need you telling me what to do.
Luke took a long, burning gulp of rum and scowled. "Are you under the impression that I give a fuck what you think?"

Placing his hand over the glass, Seb leaned over him, lips close enough to kiss. His accent thickened his tone as he spoke. "I know you care what I think, Luke. And I know you are fighting, very hard, not to. When you're done fighting, let me know."

A brief, hot brush of lips and Seb moved away, leaving the room without looking back. Luke pressed his fingers to his lips and ground his teeth.

I.
Don't. Care.

It took an insane amount of effort to choke down what would no doubt be one of his last drinks for a while.

But that doesn't mean I care. Just means he's right.

* * * *

Jami hummed as the rich scents of bacon, breakfast sausages, and fried sliced ham surrounded her. She fixed up scrambled eggs and sunny side up, not sure which the men liked best. Then she put the hash browns—which her dad told her she made even better than him—on a plate with paper towels to soak up the grease.

Her idea to make the guys breakfast had started out simple and, well, expanded a little when she saw all the food Sebastian had in his fridge. More than half would go bad within the next few days if it wasn't used and she figured two big men probably ate a lot. Her stomach growled as she glanced towards the hall. Hell, they'd probably be surprised when they saw how much
she
ate. Her mother used to grumble about how it wasn't fair that she didn't get fat. Every time dad was home, and they spent the morning cooking up a nice big breakfast, she'd bitch about how they were going to spoil her diet. And she'd always been on some kind of fad diet. Which Jami never understood because her mother had beautiful curves. Curves which her dad always said he loved.

Smoothing her hands down her sides, over her trim waist and very small hips, Jami let out an aggravated sigh. She might be slender, but she had the body of a teenage boy, which her mother had pointed out whenever she was in a mood. Which was pretty often. At least Jami had finally grown some tits. And Sebastian seemed to like those—Luke certainly did. If they didn't, she might have wondered whether they were interested in her
because
she looked like a boy.

Oh stop it. They definitely won't like you acting like some insecure chick.

At the soft padding of bare feet on the tiles, she spun around and smacked on a bright smile.

Luke lifted her up and planted a hard kiss on her lips. "Damn, woman! If this is what mornings are like with you, I'm
gonna
have to kidnap you more often! This looks amazing!"

Sebastian came into the kitchen, eying the full table with a frown. Without a word, he went to serve himself some coffee, drinking it black as he stared out the window over the sink.

"Sebastian?" Jami wiggled away from Luke and approached Sebastian, fiddling with the bottom of the big white t-shirt she'd borrowed from his dresser. Without asking. Just like she hadn't asked to raid his fridge. "I'm sorry, I wanted to surprise you and there was so much I figured you'd want to cook it before it went bad. I should have—"

"No, mi cielo. It's fine." Sebastian cupped her cheek and his lips curved up slightly. "I always buy more than I need—I bring it to the local shelter before I head off on a road trip so it doesn't go to waste. I was a little surprised, that's all. I hope you and Luke are very hungry because I dislike throwing out food."

"I'm always hungry." Luke came up behind her and gave her hair a little tug. "This one probably eats like a bird from the look of her, but I'll clean her plate after I have a few helpings of my own." He paused and cleared his throat. "If there's not enough left for the shelter, I don't mind pitching in for more."

"I can manage." Sebastian turned away from them, back stiff as he made his way to the table. "But thank you."

Jami bit her lip and brought the rest of the plates to the large oval, mahogany table, her stomach turning as all the food she'd prepared took up most of the space, leaving just a bit of room for the three of them to eat. Maybe she'd overdone it. No, she
had
overdone it.

I should leave before I piss him off any more.

Dragging his chair away from the table, Luke sat, faced Sebastian, and scowled. "What the fuck is your problem, man?"

"Excuse me?" Sebastian went still, a serving spoon full of scrambled eggs hovering over his plate.

"She made us a nice breakfast and you're acting like a dick. Being all charitable doesn't give you the right to be an asshole." Luke dumped a pile of bacon on his plate, followed by some sausages and ham. Then hash browns and two eggs. He grabbed a piece of toast and used it to annihilate his egg yolk. "If you're grumpy in the morning, have some coffee, shovel in your food, and shut the fuck up."

"Niño—"

"Don't 'niño' me. That's 'boy' isn't it? You
gonna
play Dom now?
Seriously
?" Luke crammed the toast into his mouth and spoke around it. "You might have
the look,
but you're still a dick."

Jami’s chest ached, but she had to cover her mouth with her hands to keep from laughing. It wasn't funny. Not really. But Luke was on a roll.

Sebastian pushed away from the table. "Luke—"

"Is 'thank you' too complicated for you? How about '
muchas
gracias'? I can translate if she—"

Slamming his hands on the table, Sebastian stood. "Stop. Talking."

Luke pressed his lips together. Frowned. Then took a deep breath as though preparing to continue his rant.

"It will be rather difficult to enjoy all this food while wearing a gag, Luke." Sebastian's searing gaze locked on Luke until he lowered his eyes. Then he sighed and raked his fingers into his hair, ruining the sleekness of the tightly bound strands. "He's right, mi cielo. And I am sorry. I reacted without thinking beyond the potential waste. Can you forgive me?"

Shaking her head, Jami eased closer to him, working his hand free from his hair so she could lace their fingers together. "It's my fault for assuming I could do what I wanted in your kitchen."

"No." He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I wouldn't have allowed you to stay if I didn't want you to feel comfortable here. It was very thoughtful of you to prepare all this for us. I do hope I haven't ruined your appetite?"

Yes. But it’s my own fault.
But Luke had made him feel bad enough to apologize. She wasn’t about to make it worse by dragging this out.

"Not at all." She kissed his jaw, loving the way his dark morning stubble felt against her lips. Then she slipped off his lap and plunked herself down on her own chair. Tried to keep a happy face on. And choked down the first few mouthfuls of food, hardly tasting a thing.

For a while, they ate in silence, clearing their plates and taking seconds. Luke stabbed each bite with his fork, grumbling under his breath. Sebastian ate as though savoring every mouthful. Jami tried not to let them see her watching them.

Suddenly, Luke dropped his fork onto his empty plate with a clang and sat back in his chair. "We've got to do something to break the tension. This is driving me nuts. You
wanna
fuck?"

Jami sputtered as a piece of toast lodged in her throat.

Sebastian patted her back and let out a strangled laugh. "Do you ever think something, and not say it, niño?"

"Not that I recall." Luke grinned and took some more hash browns. "If we can't fuck, would you freak if I made myself a sandwich?"

Eyes wide, Jami looked over the table, with all the empty plates that had been piled high. "You can't still be hungry?"

Luke patted his stomach. "I'm a growing boy. And I'm hoping to gain a few pounds before playoffs so I can throw my weight around."

Sebastian gave him a wry smile. "Maybe I should force you to fast so you'll keep yourself out of trouble."

"Hey, I get myself in too much trouble and you'll bail me out, right?"

"I always do."

The men's exchange made her feel left out. She didn't want to talk about the goddamn game. She didn't want to be around two more men who thought the stupid game was more important than her.

Dad never made you feel like that. Stop being a baby.

No, dad hadn't, but her mother's words poisoned her memories. If dad couldn't be there for a checkup with the doctor, or a holiday, then he cared more about hockey than them. It didn't matter what he did when he was home, every day away was resented.

"Mi cielo, tell me why you look so sad."

She lifted her head and blinked at the two men staring at her, Sebastian with his intense, dark eyes, and Luke with his lips pressed tight and slanted as though he was holding in a great big joke. If she was alone with Sebastian, she would have told him everything. And maybe it would have felt good to get it off her chest.

Then again, maybe not. Sometimes talking about crappy stuff just made her feel crappier. She liked the way Luke managed to keep things light and she wanted more of that after the way the morning had started.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and shrugged. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just wondering what other playoff superstitions you both have. No shaving, no shop talk, no—"

Luke burst out laughing. "I knew it! She's worried that she's not
gonna
get laid for the next couple months. Boo, you've got nothing to worry about. I'll take care of you if Seb's
gotta
abstain. No way will I be scruffy and sober
and
sporting monster-sized
blueballs
."

Sebastian scrubbed his face with his hands and left the table to finish off the coffee. "Hombrecito, you may have missed it, but I believe Jami is tired of the . . . 'shop talk'."

"Yeah, I got that." Luke rolled his eyes. "Anyhow, what are your plans for the day, Jami? When do we start your lessons?"

"I
was
planning on chilling here—hey, what lessons?"

"
Dancing.
" Luke stood, spun towards her, and pulled her into his arms for a smooth dip. He bent over her, brushing his lips over hers, his eyes hooded as he murmured. "I'm going to make damn sure I get to see you in that cute little outfit at every home game next season. I'll show you how to move, how to make all the judges want you so bad that they won't be able to turn you down."

She giggled and pushed on his solid chest as she tried to straighten. "Most of the judges are chicks."

Luke grinned and nuzzled her neck. "That's hot."

The muffled sound of music from the living room cut off her moan and her eyes went wide. She scrambled away from Luke and bolted to her boots. The special ring tone,
Papa Don't Preach by Kelly Osborn,
had almost reached the chorus by the time she got her phone out of the inner pocket of her boot. She looked up once, finger over her lips, as Sebastian and Luke stepped into the living room.

After a deep, deep, inhale, she answered. "Hey, daddy!"

"Daddy?" Dad's tone was already sharp with suspicion. "It's been 'dad' since you were thirteen unless you were in trouble. What's wrong?"

"N-nothing."
I'm such an idiot!
She scrambled for an excuse that would keep him from going off the deep end. "I, umm,
kinda
have something to tell you—nothing bad! I stopped by your office the other day to talk, but you weren't there."

"Tell me now."

"Probably be better if I tell you in person."

"Probably would have been better if you had—
what,
Silver? As you can see I'm on the . . . ."

Jami grinned as the sound cut off on the phone, as though her father was covering it. Silver would keep him from doing his smothering father bit.

Sebastian took a seat on the sofa behind her and put a supportive hand on her shoulder. She rested her cheek against the back of his hand.

A deep sigh in her ear let her know her father was back. His tone was strained, but light. "Fine. I'll head back today. We can have lunch."

"Ah . . . ."

"What?"

"I
kinda
had plans today, dad. Don't cut your visit short. We'll get together Monday, before you leave for Buffalo."

"Maybe it would be better if you just told me, Jami. I swear I won't get mad. I'm more worried than anything. You've only been back a week and I have no idea what's going on with you."

"All right, here it goes." She took a deep breath and turned to press back against Sebastian's knees. "I'm trying out to be an Ice Girl."