Offside (20 page)

He pushed back his chair and stood.
She crossed over to him for a quick hug, though she’d just seen him
last night at Lux. “Hi, Dad.”

“What are you doing here?” he
asked.

“Came to watch the game.” Their eyes
met.

His eyes warmed and he smiled.
“Uh-huh. Have a seat.”

They sat side by side. She dropped her
purse to the carpeted floor at her feet. The arena below them was
dark at the moment, “Sandstorm” by Darude blasting from the sound
system.

“Did you enjoy your dinner last
night?” Dad asked.

“Mmm. It was amazing. You?”

“Yeah. Great place.” Silence. Other
than pulsing electronic music. Then he spoke again. “You and
Matt…what’s up with that?”

She hitched a shoulder without looking
at him. “I’m not sure.”

The announcer’s voice boomed out the
introduction of the Condors. “And nooooooow…your California
Coooondoooors!”

The players raced onto the ice one
after the other with spotlights and flashing strobe lights and
pumping music, all full of energy and enthusiasm.

She sensed that Dad wanted more from
her but wasn’t going to ask. And she wasn’t sure what to
say.

“This afternoon’s starting lineup for
your California Condors,” the announcer boomed. “Today’s
center…Eric Zuhler.” The crowd roared. “On left wing…number eight,
Joe Barzetti.” The crowd cheered again. “Aaaaand….starting at right
wing…nuuuuumber foooorty-twoooo, Matt Heller!” And the crowd went
nuts, standing and clapping and whistling.

Apparently the fans were happy to have
him back, judging from the ovation. Honey smiled, her heart
expanding. She picked out Matt on the ice as they lined up for the
national anthem. Although he was pretty tiny from up this high, she
could clearly tell it was him.

“He’s pretty popular,” Dad
said.

“He’s been off for months.”

“Yeah. Still. Everyone was concerned
about him. And he’s been involved with community stuff. As I guess
you know.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s the job going?”

She turned to give him a long look.
“Dad. That’s the first time you’ve asked me in the three weeks I’ve
been there.”

He gazed back at her. “Uh…”

“Did you know they never intended for
me to actually do any work?”

He frowned. “What? No.”

“Really? Trent didn’t want me there.
He told me himself. He only hired me as a favor to you.”

“Well…yeah. But I thought they needed
someone. He was complaining about Dulcie leaving to have her baby.
Has she had it, by the way?”

“Not that I’ve heard. But we weren’t
exactly BFFs, and nobody else in the office talks to me much
either.”

He frowned again. “I’ll talk to
Trent—”

“No. That’s not necessary. It’s my job
and I’m dealing with it.”

He cleared his throat. “All
right.”

They both stood for the Star Spangled
Banner. Honey’s gaze went back to Matt. He was shifting back and
forth from one foot to the other, almost bouncing, and rolling his
shoulders. The adrenaline must have been roaring through his
system, his first game back.

He hadn’t talked much about his
injury. Which, now that she thought about it, after everything
she’d shared with him, wasn’t fair. But he’d seemed so healthy and
fit and confident about his ability to play, she hadn’t given a
thought to his safety out there. Hockey could be a dangerous sport.
She bit her lip. Hopefully everyone was right in making the
assessment that he was ready to return to the lineup.

The crowd cheered as the anthem ended,
and she and her dad both took their seats again. His booth wasn’t a
luxury booth like the ones below them, with leather couches and
food and beverage service. Up here, it was basic, just a small room
with the counter and a few chairs. The view was spectacular,
though.

The players lined up for the opening
face-off, Matt on right wing bent over, poised and waiting to snap
up the puck if Zuhler won the faceoff. Which he did. And the game
started.

“Who’s in net for Boston?” she asked
her dad, having failed to pay attention the Boston starting
lineup.

“Chazona.”

She smiled.

The action was fast paced right from
the opening faceoff. Honey kept her eyes on number forty-two,
watching him handle the puck. He headed toward the Boston end,
circled back toward his own end to avoid being hit, passed the puck
then received it back again as he and Barzetti toyed with the
Boston offense. Then he deked around a Boston player in a smooth
move that made the crowd shout and cheer. He hesitated a fraction
of a second at the blue line, waiting for Barzetti to catch up to
him to prevent an offside call, then they both went in, two on one.
Matt passed the puck to Barzetti. Honey rose up out of her seat,
fingers gripping the counter. Barzetti started to shoot, drawing
his stick back, then at the last minute passed the puck back to
Matt, who took a one-timer and slapped the puck toward the
net.

The crowd went wild as the goal light
came on and the horn blasted, and Honey stared in disbelief. She
looked at her dad who was grinning widely.

“Holy shit!” he yelled. “First play of
the game and he scores! Holy shit!”

She laughed out loud, clapping along
with everyone else in the Coliseum.

“Unbelievable,” Dad said, shaking his
head, standing and clapping, still smiling.

Everyone was standing, giving Matt
another ovation.

Wow.

Happiness swelled in her chest like a
balloon, and she couldn’t keep from smiling too, her hands starting
to hurt from clapping so much. “Five hole,” she murmured, watching
the replay on the screen on the score clock.

When the noise eventually subsided and
play had resumed, and they were both sitting again, Dad said, “He’s
got a lot of talent.”

She nodded with a sidelong glance at
him.

“I always felt like he wasn’t living
up to his potential,” Dad continued. “We could see glimpses of it,
but he was inconsistent. Seemed like he was coasting
along.”

“You mean before you signed
him.”

“Yeah. I listened to Rudy and Kevin.”
One of his top scouts. “They like him too. He’s a great team
player. Everyone loves him. Great skills, when he used them. They
thought he could fit in with our team. We hoped he would live up to
his potential.”

“Then he got hurt.”

“Yeah.”

“For what it’s worth, I think his
injury really affected him. He hasn’t said much about it, but he
seems pretty determined to come back and show you did the right
thing signing him.”

“Honey.”

“Yeah?” She glanced at him
again.

“I haven’t seen you look this happy
in…Jesus, I can’t even remember. Might’ve been the Christmas when
you were ten years old.”

She realized she was still
smiling.

She
felt
happy. Happy for Matt.
But she didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.

“I want you to be happy,” Dad said in
quiet voice. “I never knew exactly how to get that for you. Other
than to give you everything you wanted.”

She turned to face her father, the
game for the moment forgotten. “But you
didn’t
give me
everything I wanted,” she said. “You gave me everything money could
buy—toys and designer clothes and luxury cars, expensive
vacations—but what I really wanted was…” Oh god, this sounded so
needy and pathetic, but her therapist had encouraged her be honest
about it. She’d told Matt about it, and somehow his acceptance made
it easier for her to share it again. “I wanted you. Your time. Your
attention. Your love.”

Dad was six foot three inches, over
two hundred pounds, big alpha male former hockey player. Not unlike
Matt. Except unlike Matt, he had no clue what to do with that
information. Discomfort tightened his features.

“Of course I love you,” he said
gruffly, turning back to the game.

That might be as good as she was going
to get from him. Or maybe he’d think about what she’d
said.

“Thanks, Dad, I love you
too.”

And they watched the game.

By the end of the first period, Matt
had an assist and the Condors were up two-nothing.

Following a long stretch of play with
no whistle that included several hard hits into the boards and some
words exchanged between a couple of opposing players, Matt went to
the bench. The camera zoomed in on his face as Joe Satriana’s
“Crowd Chant” blasted through the arena.

The intensity on his face took her
breath away.

It was almost hard to realize this was
the same man as off the ice—often laughing, easygoing, with a
boyish smile. Now, even through his visor, she could see the fierce
expression on his face, the burning in his eyes and the grim line
of his mouth. Wow.

By the end of the game, Matt had
another goal and three—count ‘em, three!—assists, and the Condors
won five-one.

Honey picked up her purse and tossed
her empty Diet Coke cup into the trash. “Thanks for letting me
watch with you, Dad,” she said.

“Any time.” He gave her a considering
look. “Maybe you’ll come more often now.”

“Maybe.” She smiled at him.

“Coming for dinner
tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

He hesitated. “Want to bring
Matt?”

Her fingers curled tightly around her
purse strap. “No!”

“He’s welcome to join us.”

“No. It’s not like that with us. We’ve
only gone out a couple of times.”

Last night she’d been determined that
things had to end between them. He was making her care about things
that she shouldn’t. It could only lead to disappointment and hurt,
if she cared. But somehow he’d gotten her past that and she’d spent
the night with him again. And here she was watching his game,
goddammit. Taking him home for Sunday dinner with the family was
way out of her comfort zone.

She wasn’t even sure if she was going
to see him again.

Until eight o’clock that night when he
showed up at her apartment. She was sitting in front of the
television, weirdly watching the Philadelphia-Vancouver game, which
she cared less than nothing about, knitting on the little sweater
she was making for James and Kortney when her phone buzzed to
announce a visitor.

“It’s me,” he said. “Matt.”

She leaned her head against the wall.
Frack. “Come on up.”

“Hey,” he said, walking into her
apartment, all big and gorgeous in an expensive suit and tie. Holy
bajesus. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be home.”

“Congratulations.”

“Did you hear? We won.”

“I watched the game.”

He lifted an eyebrow.
“Yeah?”

“Yeah. With my dad. Up in his
box.”

“Huh. I never saw you up there all the
nights
I
was watching from up there.”

“That’s because this was the first
game I’ve gone to since I’ve been back.”

He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Oh
yeah?”

She nodded.

“Because of me.” He reached for her
and pulled her up against him.

She lowered her chin and looked at him
through her eyelashes. “Oh please. Maybe I just wanted to see a
game.”

He laughed. “Admit it. You wanted to
see me play.”

“I did not.”

“Did so.” He found her mouth with his
and it was amazing, a long, hard, jubilant kiss. “You have no idea
how much that turns me on.”

“Are you kidding?” Her arms went up
around his neck. “That turns you on?”

“Everything about you turns me
on.”

“Breathing turns you on.”

“I have a healthy sex
drive.”

She snorted out a laugh and leaned her
forehead against his shoulder. “Oh my god.”

His hands squeezed her ass.

“Admit it,” he murmured. “I turn you
on too.”

She shook her head, rolling her
forehead against his shoulder, but she was smiling. “Okay, okay, I
admit it. I wanted to watch you, and yeah, I was turned
on.”

“I knew it.” Satisfaction edged his
voice.

“Seriously.” She tipped her head back
to look up at him. “Congratulations. You played great. You scored
or assisted on every single goal.”

“I know. It felt great.” His grin was
infectious.

“What are you doing here though?
Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your team mates?”

“We did go out for dinner. They were
going to some club. I…didn’t feel like going. But I didn’t feel
like going home either.”

Her heart went soft. “Oh.” And then
there was that scary feeling again, a feeling of falling, a feeling
that she was going to fall so fast and so hard it was going to hurt
like hell when she landed. Maybe even more than last
time.