Offside (19 page)

“Bacon jam,” Matt said, spreading some
onto a slice of bread. “This better be good.” He took a bite, and
his eyes went wide. “Hey. It is good. Sweet and bacony.”

“So who are you playing against
tomorrow?” Honey asked.

“Ha. Yeah. Game tomorrow.” His insides
gave a leap of excitement. “Boston.”

“How are they doing?”

“They’re on a five-game winning streak
right now.” He made a face. “Time to put an end to
that.”

She smiled.

“They haven’t been consistent this
year, though,” he continued. “Their power play sucks. They’ve got a
few guys out with injuries, and Fedotenko—their goalie—is showing
signs of fatigue. He’s played…Christ, I don’t know how many games
in a row. But if they put in Chazona, that’s great for me.” He sat
back for a moment and grinned.

“Why?”

“We played together in St. Louis. I
know him. He has a weak five-hole when he loses focus. Most bad
goals go five-hole for him. Plus he can’t cope with guys setting up
behind the net. He’s terrible with wraparounds.”

“So that’s your strategy…circle around
behind the net until you find an opening.”

“Yeah, I—” He paused. “Hey. I thought
you didn’t know anything about hockey.”

“Pay attention, dude. I said I don’t
like it. I never said I don’t know anything about it.”

A slow grin took over his mouth.
“Babe.”

They sat and smiled at each other,
only looking away when the server came to clear their appetizer
plates and refill water glasses.

He talked more about the next day’s
game while they ate their meals. Honey was by no means an expert
but she got what he was talking about, and hell, he liked that. Not
the typical puck bunny giggling away and not having a
clue.

“Are you nervous?” she asked at one
point.

“Bah! Of course not.” Then he
grimaced. “Well. You know. A little keyed-up.” He lifted one
eyebrow. “I know what would help with that…”

She burst out laughing.

They were done with their meals before
Honey’s parents, which made sense since there were more of them.
“Dessert?” he asked.

“No thanks. Let’s just go.”

“Am I keeping you from something?” he
joked.

She gave him a look and a head jerk
toward her parents. “I don’t want to have drinks with them after.
We can stop by and tell them we’re going somewhere
else.”

He leaned forward. “Yeah. My
place.”

She gave a few rapid blinks at that,
then waved a hand. “Whatever.”

Having drinks with the team owner and
GM and Commissioner of the NHL might have been cool, but obviously
still awkward for Honey, so he handed over his credit card to pay
their check.

“I’m sorry,” she said once they were
out on the sidewalk. “I didn’t mean to rush you through
dinner.”

“You can make it up to me later,” he
murmured, circling her wrist with his fingers.

“Yeah, um…I don’t know…”

“Want to go somewhere for a drink? Or
just my place?”

Her lips pressed together then she
said, “Your place.”

“Perfect.”

But once they were in the car, she
said, “Maybe you should just take me home.”

He gave her a frowning glance.
“Why?”

She didn’t answer, just sat there
clutching her little purse on her lap. Finally she said, “This
might not be such a good idea. You know. You and me…”

“Is this because we ran into your
parents?”

“No. Well, not really. I mean…” She
turned her face away from him and looked out the window as they
drove down Wilshire Boulevard.

“How about we go back to my place and
we can sit and talk about this face-to-face and you can explain to
me what the fuck ever it is you mean.”

She bent her head in what he took to
be a brief nod. Holy mother of fuck, she was complicated. Sweet and
sexy, but complicated as fuck.

They were soon in his apartment. He
turned on the gas fireplace and shrugged out of his suit jacket,
then draped it over a chair. Honey set her purse on the coffee
table and sat on the couch.

“Drink?” he asked.

“Mmm. I’m okay. I drank most of the
champagne.”

He sat beside her and stretched one
arm along the back of the couch behind her. “Okay. Dial me in,
babe.”

Her lips twitched. She shifted a
little so she was facing him.

“You can talk about your parents now.
They aren’t here.”

“Thank god.” She sighed. “Sorry. Okay.
It’s not so much my dad, it’s more my mom. My dad…well, he just
didn’t know what to do with a daughter. He was all focused on his
sons. I guess he figured my mom was taking care of me, but she…this
is complicated.”

“I’m getting that.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

His eyebrows flew up.
“Yeah?”

“I know that sounds stupid. What
mother doesn’t like her own daughter, right? She’d totally deny it.
In fact she has. We tried to get some counseling together at one
point. I can’t explain it because I’m not in her head, and my
therapist has told me over and over again I can’t control her, I
can only control myself. I can only tell you my experience and how
it affected me, but I can’t tell you why she is the way she is,
other than I think she has some kind of narcissistic personality
disorder.”

He blinked. Then he reached for her.
He needed to touch her. And he had a feeling she needed it too. He
pulled her up against him, tucked her into his side. Her sparkly
dress rode up on smooth thighs.

“When I was a kid, my parents wanted
my brothers to play hockey. Obviously. The entire focus of our
family, especially my dad, was their hockey. And golf in the
summer. Turned out James was better at golf and that was what he
wanted to do, and that was acceptable to them. Both my brothers
were both great athletes. Me…well, there wasn’t anything I was
really good at, and I just…faded into the background. When I got to
be a teenager, I thought about doing some modeling. I thought my
mom would approve of that, since she’d been a model, and maybe
she’d like it if I was following in her footsteps like Jonathan was
with Dad. But right away she told me I’d never be successful
modeling. I didn’t have what it took. She said she didn’t want me
to be disappointed or hurt.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

“That’s how it was. Every conversation
with her made me feel like a loser. When she bothered to talk to
me. People only saw the outside, what a beautiful family we were,
but on the inside, I was miserable.” She pulled back to look at
him. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I just want you to
understand that I’m never going to have a normal, loving
relationship with her.”

His chest ached a little.
“Yeah.”

“So you can imagine what happens to a
girl who doesn’t feel loved. A girl who’s a little insecure. Okay a
lot insecure. I wanted to belong somewhere. I wanted
attention.”

He found he had to clear his
throat.

“But I had no idea how to get it, and
I did all the wrong things. I started partying. Drinking.
Experimenting with drugs. And sex.”

Yeah, there it was. The ache behind
his breastbone turned to a hard burn.

“My parents hated it,” she continued,
her voice a whisper. “But the more pissed off I made them, the more
attention they paid to me. I liked that. So I just kept getting
wilder and wilder.”

Now his throat started to hurt. “Then
they did the tough-love thing.”

“Yeah. But I don’t hold that against
them! Really, I know that was for the best. I had to sink all the
way down before I was ready to get back up. It’s sad, but true. I
mean, I’m pretty sure my mom had just had enough and didn’t care
that it was the right thing to do. I think it was harder for my
dad. They spoiled me, with material things, so for Dad to cut me
off was a pretty big thing. And honestly, I’m grateful for that. It
was hard at first, I was pissed off and resentful, but years later
when I got my head screwed on straight, I realized it was for the
best. So I talk to my parents and go there for Sunday dinners and I
do family things like birthdays and Christmas. It’s all okay. But
it’s just better for me to not spend too much time with them. I’m
good with it. I know who I am now. I’m working on being a better
me.”

“Fuck.” He swallowed.

She extricated herself from his grip
and pushed away. She met his eyes, smiling, but it was a sad smile.
“Anyway. I should go.”

Hell no.

“Why?” he asked. “You told me all
that, but I don’t get what that has to do with us.”

“Matt. It has everything to do with
us. You don’t need all my crappy baggage. You’re a good
guy.”

He snorted. “Oh please. You want to
dump me because I’m too nice? For fuck’s sake.”

“Well…yeah.”

He scowled. “You want me to be a
dick,” he said, like he had earlier. “Like the fucktards you hung
out with back when we met. Like the assholes you associated with
after that. The ones who used you for your money and left you
holding the bag, literally, when the cops busted you for
drugs.”

She stared at him, her lips parted.
“You knew about that?”

“Hell yeah, who didn’t? That’s what
you want, Honey?”

Chapter Fourteen

How could she tell him the
truth?

She was trembling inside, her mouth
dry, her palms sweaty. Confessing all that stuff to Matt had not
been easy. She did not want his pity. She did not want him to know
what a screw up she was. Or rather, used to be. Because she was
proud of what she’d accomplished so far, and she had more she
wanted to do. But even so, making herself that vulnerable was
terrifying, especially when it was him, and he’d broken her heart
once before when she’d let him in. How could she risk that
again?

She closed her eyes at the stab she
felt in her heart. She’d known it earlier, when they’d been
standing outside the school and he’d told her the story about the
kid with Asperger’s. She was falling. She cared about him. And that
was something she couldn’t let happen. At dinner when he’d been so
sweet about her parents and her mom’s stupid comment about her
dress, she could have burst into tears. She needed to get away from
this guy before things got way too involved and messy.

Because yeah, he was a good guy, damn
him.

“No,” she finally whispered. “That’s
not what I want.”

“Do you think you’re still doing that?
Still trying to get attention and affection?”

Her eyes sprang open wide with genuine
shock. “No!” She laid her fingertips on her throat. “No, that’s not
it at all. But the reality is, crap is going to hit the fan if it
gets out you and I are together. Because of my past. And you
deserve better than that.”

“Bullshit.” The harsh expletive
startled Honey. “That is the most fucked up bullshit I have ever
heard. Not letting you go,” he muttered and he reached for her
again. He hauled her onto his lap, shoved a hand into her hair and
held her head while he slammed his mouth down on hers.

She moaned a protest, put her hands on
his shoulders. Physically, he was bigger and stronger. But he
wasn’t using brute force to convince her. He was using that
chemistry they had, that sexual attraction. His kiss took over her
body, warming her and softening her, seducing her.

“Fuckin’ complicated,” he muttered
against her mouth. “But you’re fuckin’ worth it.”

Oh my god.

She loved it that he thought so. She
wasn’t sure if anyone else ever had. And that softened her even
more. She opened her mouth and kissed him back, her fingers digging
into his shoulders.

*****

Honey’s security pass for the
Foundation offices granted her access to the entire Coliseum. On
top of that, security personnel all knew who she was. She got a
couple of surprised looks as she entered the building Saturday
afternoon shortly before the two o’clock start time, since she
rarely attended games, but nobody stopped her from taking the
elevator up to the press box level. She walked down the hall, the
heels of her boots clicking on the hardwood floor, until she came
to the open area where the press all sat lined up along the counter
overlooking the ice. Sports reporters filled every chair, laptops
open in front of them. She passed by them and entered another hall
where the private areas were separated from the print media—the NHL
video review judges, the local radio station that broadcast games,
NBC, and then, right above center ice, the door of her father’s
private box. She lifted her chin, sucked in a breath, and opened
the door.

Her dad was alone up there. Sometimes
he watched the games with friends or other stakeholders or her
brothers, but this afternoon he was sitting at the narrow counter
overlooking the ice by himself. He turned at the sound of the door
opening. “Honey.”