Release (3 page)

“Whooo’s there?” she read in her owl voice. Drew and Chloe were transfixed, just like the rest of the kids.

I dropped my phone back into my pocket, still staring. I didn’t have a hard-on. I was at a library for Christ’s sake. No, I had something much worse. More like a heart-on. I wanted her to smile at me the way she was smiling at these kids. With utter happiness in her eyes, the chip fully removed from her shoulder.

Her light blue t-shirt wasn’t low-cut. She wasn’t wearing much makeup. Unlike the women I was used to, Samara had a natural beauty I couldn’t look away from. And seeing her read to my niece and nephew was surprisingly hot.

I didn’t want to fuck her, which was often my first thought when appraising an attractive woman since becoming single again. I wanted to kiss her – to taste those pretty pink lips and see what her eyes looked like when they were lit with arousal.

I slid closer to the circle of kids, trying to get a better look at her eyes without her noticing me. But I stopped before I got close enough. I didn’t want to risk breaking this spell. She was blissfully unaware of me right now, her guard completely down.

When she finished the book and closed it after showing off the picture on the final page, the girl next to Samara jumped up and hugged her. A couple other kids joined in, and Samara’s expression was a glow of happiness.

Drew and Chloe got up from the floor and headed for a display of children’s books. I stayed in my spot by the fish tank, letting my eyes wander back to Samara. She seemed to feel me looking, and she glanced up. I raised a hand in a sheepish wave, but she turned away.

What was it with this woman? I’d never done anything to deserve the cold shoulder from her. She turned to leave the Children’s Section and I kept my gaze locked on her until she disappeared around the corner.

I approached Drew and Chloe, who were sitting side by side in two beanbag chairs, both absorbed in books.

“Hey, you guys ready?”

Chloe furrowed her brow at me. “Mom always lets us stay and read. Then we check out books.”

“And get ice cream,” Drew added, looking up from his book with a grin.

“Is that right?” I crossed my arms and looked around the Children’s Section. There wasn’t even a place to sit down and wait—the chairs were all too small for me. “Okay, I’ll just hang out here for a bit then.”

“You should go get a book,” Drew said. “That’s what Mom does.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to come up with a response. I hadn’t read a book in years, unless
Sports Illustrated
counted. But I didn’t want the kids to think I found reading uncool.

“Yeah, I might. You guys are okay here for a few minutes?”

Drew nodded. “We know the rules. No talking to strangers, even if they seem nice.”

“Even if they say their dog is lost,” Chloe cut in.

“Right,” I agreed.

Chloe continued, her blue eyes wide and serious. “And if a bad guy grabs you, scream and hit him and poke his eyes and kick his balls really hard.”

I tried not to laugh. “I guess, yeah … that’s a good plan.”

“It’s what my mom told me.”

“Okay, good.” I rubbed my unshaven jaw line. “So I’ll be over on the other side. Back in a few.”

I planned to sit in a normal size chair over in the Adult Section and check the news on my phone. Maybe I’d grab a random book and check it out for the kids’ sake.

I’d made it across the building and was about to sink into a worn brown leather chair when I noticed Samara pushing a cart into the section of lined bookshelves. My legs headed that way before I even had time to think about it.

I walked down the row over from the one she’d pushed her cart into. This part of the library was nearly empty and eerily quiet. The wheels of the cart and the sound of Samara sliding books onto shelves were all I heard.

When I found an opening over the top of a row of books, I chanced a look at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice me. Her hair hung down, draping over her face. She reached up and tucked it behind her ear.

She was meticulous, running her fingertips over the numbers on the book spines until she found exactly the right spot. I watched her slip a couple books back into their places, but then I started feeling like a creeper. I couldn’t just stare at her like this. It didn’t feel right.

As I emerged around the corner and stepped into the row she was working in, she looked up. Her eyes widened just a bit before she looked back into the cart of books.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi.”

“How’s it going?”

“Fine. Is there something I can help you find?”

She still hadn’t looked up. When I stepped closer, she finally did, and her hazel eyes met mine. For a few seconds, I just stared. She was so damn pretty. How had I not noticed her in high school?

“Are you looking for a book?” she asked.

“Uh …” I tried to think of a book title – any book, but my mind was blank. All I could think about was her. She was so close. And yet, the few feet separating us seemed like a lot. “Yeah, I’m looking for a book. So you work here too?”

She nodded, reaching into the cart to sort through the hardbacks inside. “Just some evenings.”

“Do you … uh, need any help with those?” I asked as she lifted a stack of three heavy books from the cart.

“No, thanks.” She set the books on a shelf and turned back to me. “So what is it? Maybe I can help.”

“What is what?” I asked, drawing a blank.

A small smile touched the corners of her lips. “The book you’re looking for.”

“Oh. You know, I didn’t really have one picked out yet. I’m looking for one, though. Maybe you can recommend one.”

Her brows wrinkled in thought. “What kind of books do you like? What are some of your favorites?”

Shit. I wished like hell I wouldn’t have blown off my College Lit class, barely skimming the required reading.

“I don’t know …”

“It’s okay, I won’t judge,” she said. “Sports biographies? Romance novels?”

I shook my head and laughed. “I don’t need any of that shit. I’m romantic.”

“Okay, well … maybe I should just let you look.” She put her head back down and pushed her cart past me.

“No.” When she turned to look at me, I decided to just be honest. “The truth is, I don’t read much. I haven’t actually read a book since I finished college five years ago. I’m not dumb or anything, I’m just busy with other stuff.”

“That’s okay.” She leaned a hip against the cart and locked eyes with me again. “Want me to recommend something?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

She considered for a second before turning back to the cart. “Follow me.”

I let my gaze wander up and down her body, unchecked since I was behind her. She had a nice ass. I didn’t get to enjoy it for long before she stopped the cart, leaning down to a shelf near the floor and running her fingertips over the spines of the books. She pulled one out and handed it to me.

“
The Count of Monte Cristo
,” I said, reading the title. “You like this one?”

“I love it.”

I held the book against my hip, meeting her eyes again. “Thanks. You know, for the book and for … being approachable. I was starting to think I’d done something to offend you.”

Her warm expression melted away, and she grabbed the handles of her cart to push it away. “You didn’t.”

“Hey, wait. What just happened there? I thought we were finally getting along.”

She paused, seeming to consider for a few seconds. “Is there anything else I can help with? I need to get these books put away.”

“Samara, what’s up? Do I need to apologize for something? If I do, let me know.”

She sighed, pushing her hair behind her ears. “We don’t even know each other.”

“Well, I’m trying.”

She arched her brows skeptically. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because you and I couldn’t be more different.”

I crossed my arms, bristling with defensiveness. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She looked from side to side, suddenly seeming self-conscious. “Can we not do this here? I’m at work, and this is a library.”

“Want to finish talking about it at the Supersaver?”

She grimaced. “No.”

“So tell me how you know we’re different when you hardly know me.”

Her cheeks reddened. “For starters, I work at the Supersaver and you’re a rich, famous hockey player.”

I shrugged. “That’s what I do for a living. It’s not who I am. Maybe you should hang out with me sometime and get to know me better.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but my jobs keep me pretty busy.”

I remembered Drew and Chloe were in the Children’s Section. I had to get them home.

“I have to go,” I said. “Thanks for the recommendation.”

“Sure,” she said, pushing the cart away. “Have a nice night.”

“Yeah, you too.” I turned and headed for the Children’s Section, our exchange still running through my mind. She’d sent the message loud and clear – she wasn’t interested.

As I checked out the book on my mom’s account, I wondered why Samara was so closed off. That was one thing that hadn’t changed since high school. She’d always sent the silent message then that she wanted to be left alone. This felt different, though. It didn’t seem like she was angry now. Though it made no sense, it almost seemed like she was scared.

Scared of me? I shook my head, wondering at that. I was hell on skates, but pretty mild-mannered off the ice. I made a mental note to ask Olivia about Samara.

Damn, the Count of Monte Cristo was a thick book. But Samara’s words kept running through my mind – “I love it.” Much as I didn’t want to read this book, I was definitely intrigued about why it lit up the quiet, closed-off woman I wanted to know more about.

I leaned over the large, round cake on the table, shaking out a cramp in my hand before resuming my work. Making flowers and branches out of frosting was painstaking.

I spent more time on cakes than I was supposed to. But I could never rush through them. People ordered cakes to celebrate something special, and making cakes for those occasions was an honor.

This wedding cake would be immortalized in wedding photos, and I wanted it to be beautiful. I also rejected the notion that a cake from the Henley Supersaver was inferior to one from a fancy bakery. I took pride in my cakes.

Other women my age fantasized about their perfect wedding cakes, and I fantasized about their perfect cakes, too. I’d never even considered what I’d want in a wedding cake. That part of my life was over and done with.

“Hey,” a deep male voice called.

I jumped back with a cry of alarm, smudging the flower I’d been working on. My chest was heaving with panic when I finally saw the source of my freak out: Orion Caldwell. He was leaning his forearms on the bakery case, a mixture of amusement and apology on his face.

“Geez,” I muttered. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“I’m sorry. Everything okay? You seem jumpy.”

I shook my head and let out a deep breath. “No. I mean, yeah. Everything’s fine. Can I help you with something?”

“Did I ruin your cake?”

I glanced down at the damaged frosting flower and waved a hand. “Nope, I can fix that.”

“That’s a beautiful cake. You’re really good at that.”

I couldn’t help smiling at the compliment. “Thanks.”

“For a wedding?”

“Yeah. Does it feel glam slash rustic to you?”

He stroked the short, dark brown stubble on his jaw and grinned. “Uh … it looks awesome and I’d like to eat it. Does that help?”

He sounded so sheepish that I laughed. “Yes. My instruction sheet only said ‘glam slash rustic wedding cake for 120’. It’s not much to go on.”

“It’s not. I think you’re rocking it, though. How’s your day going?”

I shrugged. “Good. This will take my whole morning. I’ll be checking from eleven to two.”

“You’re off at two?”

I nodded. Did he want something or was he just here to talk to me? I hadn’t been nice enough for him to want to talk.

“So I like Dantes,” he said, his blue eyes studying me. I looked down at my hands, nervously kneading the plastic pouch of frosting.

“You’re reading the book?” My heart stuttered in my chest. I hadn’t expected that.

“Sure I am. You recommended it. I can see why you like it – Dantes is a badass. Or I guess I should call him the Count at this point.”

“How far have you read?” I asked, not allowing myself to look up at him. Deliciously attractive and unknowingly sweet was a dangerous combination.

“Almost halfway. I passed out for a few hours at four am. Had to work out this morning.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I said. I needed a moment, but I played it cool, smoothing out the ruined frosting flower on the cake. I was picturing him working out now. Damn. An image of him reading the book in bed flashed across my mind and I pursed my lips, forcing it away.

“I should be able to finish it tonight. Can we have dinner tomorrow night to talk about it?”

“No!” My refusal came out stronger than I intended, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“You’ve got plans?” Orion was cool as always.

“No, I just … no.”

His brows arched with amusement, and he smiled. “So here’s what I’m thinking,” he said.

“I’m working,” I cut in, stopping him.

“You can frost and listen at the same time. I won’t scare you again. So you recommend this book to me, and it’s giving me …
the feels
. That’s what it is, right? I’ve heard my teammates’ wives talk about books giving them the feels.”

I scoffed and glared at him. “I seriously doubt a book gave you the feels.”

“It’s true. You make me have the feels and then refuse to talk to me about it?”

He was way too cute for my own good. “I can’t.”

Liz walked in with a giant tub of frosting, looking between me and Orion as she set it on the counter.

“Hey, Liz,” Orion said, giving her a heart-stopping grin.

“Orion,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. She walked over and put a hand over one of his on top of the bakery case. “You just made us all so proud in the playoffs. I still can’t believe there’s a Henley boy in the NHL.”