Playing Hurt Read online

  “Nope.”

  Great. I didn’t know why it mattered, but I wanted to take her somewhere new.

  “Will I have to wear bowling shoes?”

  “Yes.” I grinned. “It’s part of the experience. Does that freak you out?”

  She smiled. “I think I can handle it.”

  “Okay. But we don’t actually have to bowl if you prefer not to. There’s an arcade as well. In fact, we have to have a game of air hockey.”

  “We absolutely have to do that.”

  “And there’s even mini golf.”

  We entered the building, which was noisy and dark, lit with lots of neon. It wasn’t that busy yet, but loud music pumped through the sound system. I led her across the scuffed wood floor toward the bowling alley area. I helped Jordyn take her coat off and handed it and my own to the girl working the coat check. Jordyn handed over her hat, but kept the big scarf on. She wore a pair of black leggings and a long, soft-looking gray sweater. The leggings outlined her perfect legs…slender but curvy. The sweater was loose so it hid more than showed off her shape, but I liked it.

  She met my eyes with a smile as she requested size-six shoes and we carried our shoes to the lane we were assigned. Most of the lanes were empty, the only other people at the far end of the room from us, and they paid no attention to us. Leather couches and coffee tables flanked the scoring table, and Jordyn set her purse on one of the couches and sat to put on the shoes. “This is a cool place.”

  “Yeah. It’s an adult playground.”

  “You’ve been here before, obviously.”

  “Yeah, a few times. The first time was actually at the beginning of the season last year, when the team all came here for some team-building fun.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “It was fun. We’re all competitive, but kicking each other’s asses at arcade games and foosball was hilarious.”

  She straightened her legs to check out the shoes. “Sexy.”

  “Not your usual style,” I said. “But yeah, still sexy.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  This was so weird. It was the first time we’d met and I was totally starstruck, but it felt so…easy.

  She lowered her feet and stood. Yep, she was small with flat shoes on. “I have to warn you, I don’t know how to keep score in bowling.”

  “That’s okay. The computer does it for us.”

  “Also, I’m glad it’s five pin because those big balls are heavy.” Then she giggled. “Ha. That’s what she said.”

  I cracked up, my insides lightening at her dirty humor. “Okay, so I’m all right to make a joke about putting fingers in holes?”

  A grin stretched her pretty mouth and her eyes danced. “Yeah, you’re good.”

  “Good to know.” My heart rate was accelerating, and I took a couple of breaths as we got set up.

  A waitress came by to see if we wanted to order food or drinks. I looked at Jordyn. “I thought we could get food a bit later, if that’s okay.”

  “Yeah. But I’d love a beer.”

  Yeah. She was fucking perfect. “Me too,” I said casually. We ordered beers from a local craft brewery then got started bowling. I let her go first.

  She wiggled her fingers in the air before she picked up a ball. “Good thing I’m getting my nails done tomorrow. Fake nails would be a problem.” Her first ball went into the gutter, her second took out three pins, and when her third took out the rest, she squealed, then did a little dance, shaking her ass, arms in the air.

  I grinned. “Uh-oh.”

  She punched a fist into the air as we traded places. I picked up a ball, held it in front of me, then stepped forward and released it. It cruised straight down the middle of the lane for a perfect strike.

  I turned and Jordyn slumped in the chair. “I should have known you’d be good at this.”

  “Total fluke.”

  We bowled two games, both of which I won, even though I wasn’t really trying that hard. I liked to win, but that wasn’t the important thing right now. We traded good-natured chirps throughout, laughing a lot too, taking our time, drinking our beers.

  After bowling we meandered through the arcade and played some of the other games, from Down the Clown to pinball to shooting baskets, and yes, air hockey. I was so distracted watching her across the table from me, her smile beaming, her eyes alight as she focused intently on the puck, her arm darting out to hit it, that I played terrible and she beat me. Oh well.

  I refused to play Guitar Hero or Dance Dance Revolution, even though she laughingly tried to convince me to try them, telling me she’d been brave enough to play air hockey with me. I wasn’t so much worried about making a fool of myself as I was about people recognizing her.

  Then we found a table in a dim back corner and sat down to order food. There was a leather bench along the wall, and we sat side by side. I picked up a menu, and my pulse quickened as Jordyn leaned over to peer at it.

  She smelled fantastic. I wanted to bury my face against her pale hair or her neck and breathe in the scent. I couldn’t tell you what it was—fresh and flowery. It smelled expensive. My skin tingled everywhere as her shoulder brushed my upper arm.

  She bit her lip. “I should have a salad.”

  “They have salads. Caesar. Kale and braised beets.”

  “That actually sounds good.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic though. “What the hell. I feel like living tonight.”

  I gave her a curious sideways glance. “You don’t usually live?”

  She sighed. “I have to watch what I eat.”

  “You’re so tiny. You don’t look like you do.”

  “I just have to be careful. And healthy.”

  “Well, so do I.”

  She leaned back and tipped her head to one side. “I guess you do. Since you’re a pro athlete.”

  “Yeah. The team feeds us healthy food which is excellent, because I’m a terrible cook. But every once in a while, I splurge on burgers and beer.”

  “Well, then let’s both be bad. Burgers it is. And how about we share some poutine?”

  “Hell yeah. And in a nod to healthy eating, let’s get the roasted brussels sprouts and cauliflower.”

  “And another beer.”

  “Absolutely.”

  A server came by to take our orders, and the way she eyed both of us told me she probably recognized us. Or one of us at least.

  When she came back with the beers, she set them down in front of us, then breathlessly said to me, “I’m a big fan of yours, Chase. Would you autograph this for me?” She held out a paper coaster from the bar.

  “Sure.” I took the Sharpie she offered and signed the coaster. I smiled as I handed it back. “You go to many games?”

  “As many as I can.” The server beamed. “I’m not a season ticket holder, but I’m a loyal Aces fan.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  She quivered, her shoulders hunched up, then she nodded and walked away.

  Jordyn looked at me with raised eyebrows. “She’s a fan.”

  “Yep.” I picked up my beer.

  “Does that happen to you a lot?”

  “Eh. Often enough.” I slanted her a quizzical look. “I’m sure that happens to you way more than it happens to me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Apparently not here. She didn’t even notice me.”

  I didn’t want to think she was so narcissistic that she wanted all the attention. That would be disappointing. “Does that bother you?”

  Chapter 7

  Jordyn

  “Holy crap, no.” I shook my head. “I mean, I love all my fans, obviously. But it’s kind of nice to be sitting here like this.”

  I glanced around the space. It was a lot busier now than it had been when we got here
a few hours ago, but it was true that nobody was paying any attention to me. We’d managed to fly under the media radar somehow. Until the waitress recognized Chase.

  I was having so much fun. I sucked at bowling, but we’d laughed a lot. The arcade games were fun, and I kind of rocked at air hockey. All without anyone bothering me or taking pictures. This was awesome.

  Chase nodded and sipped his beer, his face relaxed, his smile boyish. “I’m having a good time.”

  “Me too.” Our eyes met and sizzles simmered low in my belly. I picked up my beer and drank too.

  “I have to admit I wasn’t sure how this was all gonna go over with you.” He grimaced. “You’re a big star, and I didn’t know if you’d be into a bunch of games.”

  My chest went soft and warm. “I didn’t know what to expect, although since you told me to dress casual I wasn’t expecting dinner at Fratelli.” I named a super expensive Chicago restaurant with a star chef. “You couldn’t have picked anything better.”

  Even though it was a date, and I sort of wanted him to like me, it didn’t feel awkward or phony. I felt like I could just be myself and relax and have fun, and I didn’t get many chances like that anymore.

  “Good.”

  We had another moment of heated eye contact. Those sizzles low inside me intensified, a flutter blooming between my legs.

  He was as good-looking as I’d imagined. Actually better looking, since a lot of the pictures of him online were of him all sweaty, wearing his hockey uniform. In person, he cleaned up very nicely—just the right amount of beard stubble on his cheeks and jaw, his dark eyes warm, his full lips sensual and yet when he smiled, playful.

  He’d commented on my size when we were standing on the sidewalk, and yeah, he was tall and broad through the shoulders. I’d remembered that Elite Sportswear ad and what was beneath his clothes, and felt myself get warm, hoping he had no way of knowing what I was thinking. A charcoal sweater with a gray and white checked shirt beneath it hugged his wide chest and shoulders perfectly, the sleeves pushed up on his forearms. His dark blue pants were just narrow enough to be stylish, his brown boots fashionable and expensive.

  It was his smile that killed me, which was a weakness of mine. I admit a smoldering, broody guy is attractive, but if he doesn’t smile and joke around, we are not going to be a good match. A guy with a warm, attractive smile who could crack a joke would get to me. Every. Damn. Time.

  And Chase got to me.

  “So.” He set an elbow on the small table so he could lean on it as he angled his body toward me. “I learned last week that you grew up in Chicago.”

  “Yep. Born and raised here till I was about sixteen. Then my mom and I moved to Los Angeles.”

  “So you could be a child star.”

  “Ha ha. Right. It took a while, but getting the part on Piper Reed was a big break for me.”

  “Why’d you leave the show?”

  I shrugged. “I was getting too old for it. And I really wanted a music career.”

  “How old were you when it ended?”

  “Twenty. I was playing a sixteen-year-old, but I didn’t want people to see me as a teenager forever. I wanted to be taken seriously. That took some time too.” I rolled my eyes and swiped a drop of condensation off my beer glass.

  “I think you’re there now.”

  “Thanks.” The admiration in his eyes made my stomach muscles clench.

  “How’d you get to be a hockey fan?”

  I told him about my dad loving hockey and taking me to games. “It sucked being apart from him when I moved to L.A. But he and my mom flew back and forth a lot.”

  “That must have been hard for their marriage. And your whole family.”

  “It was pretty hard. I’m an only child, so I didn’t have siblings that were impacted, but I can’t imagine going through what my mom and dad did…now I’m older I appreciate the sacrifices they made more.”

  “I get that. My parents did a lot for me too, to play hockey.”

  “I’m sure.” I leaned forward. “And do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “Just one sister. She’s two years younger than me. She absolutely refused to do anything involving sports.”

  I smiled. “What does she do now?”

  “She’s an accountant in Toronto.”

  “Cool. You’re Canadian.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your parents still live there?”

  “Still in Sudbury. My dad still coaches hockey there. My mom had a hard time after Lori and I left home. She was a classic hockey mom—my hockey life was her life. Actually, it still is.” He made a face.

  “I know what you mean! My parents still like to be involved in my career too. Like I said, I appreciate everything they did for me when I was a teenager to get me started, but I’m an adult now.”

  “Are they here in Chicago? Or L.A.?”

  “They’re here. We had a big, um, family discussion when I turned eighteen, because I wanted to live on my own and be responsible for myself. So kind of like your mom, my mom felt a little…I don’t know…abandoned? She moved back to Chicago, reluctantly. But I visit them a lot. In fact, I have a condo here.”

  “You do? Huh.”

  “I love coming here when I can. Life’s been hectic the last couple of years though.”

  “I watched you on that awards show.”

  “Yeah?” My insides squeezed up.

  “You did fantastic. And congrats again on winning.”

  “Thank you.” I dipped my head. “Confession? I was thrilled to win, but I’ve been feeling let down ever since then.”

  He nodded slowly. “I guess that’s a normal reaction to a big adrenaline rush.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “I guess, yeah. It makes me feel guilty though. Like I don’t appreciate what I have. But I really do.”

  “You don’t come across as a spoiled diva.”

  “Whew.” I made an exaggerated gesture of wiping my brow, and his eyes crinkled up at the corners attractively.

  The waitress arrived with our food, and we spent a few minutes arranging things and retrieving cutlery and napkins.

  “Oh my God, this smells so good.” The burger smelled amazing and the fries were hot and golden, laden with cheese curds and gravy.

  “I’m glad they use real cheese curds,” Chase said. “Some places don’t.”

  “You’re a poutine expert?”

  “You bet.”

  “You’re not French though.”

  “No, but Sudbury is a bilingual city, so I grew up speaking French and English. And some Italian. My mom is Italian, has a big Italian family.”

  “Hoy crap.” I regarded him wide-eyed. “You speak three languages?”

  “Yeah. None of them very well.” He grinned. “I was always better at math than languages.”

  I liked a little self-deprecating humor in a confident man. I also apparently liked a man who spoke three languages. “I suck at math.”

  “You can probably pay for an accountant to count your money.”

  “Ha ha. Yeah. I do have an accountant. And a manager.”

  “So you have a concert in New York next week?”

  “Yes. Monday night. It’s a televised thing. Mistletoe Magic. Lots of big names. It’s pretty exciting to be part of it.”

  “And you’re flying there tomorrow?”

  “Right.” I picked up a gravy-coated French fry on my fork and popped it in my mouth. “Yum.” I swallowed. “When do you play again?”

  “Tuesday night in Ottawa.”

  “Hockey teams play so many games.”

  “Yeah. I love it.”

  “It must be exhausting.” I rested my elbow on the table and set my chin on my hand.

  “By the end of the season, yeah, we’re pretty brui
sed and bashed up and tired. Course if you make the playoffs it’s even harder.”

  “Aces always make the playoffs.”

  He smiled. “Since I’ve been with the team, we have. Still need that Cup though.”

  I gave a firm nod. “It happened before. It’ll happen again.”

  We were just finishing our food when a couple of people approached our table again to ask for Chase’s autograph. Word was out, apparently.

  Then someone recognized me. “Oh my God! Jordyn Banks!” The girl’s eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God! This is ‘the date’!”

  I smiled at her, swallowing my laughter. We’d just about managed to pull this off.

  “Can I get a picture with you?” the girl asked. She shoved her phone at the guy she was with. “Here.”

  I had no idea if I had food in my teeth—hopefully not. I stood and moved beside her to pose for the picture.

  “And with you, Chase!”

  We both posed, and some other people came and asked for pictures and autographs. It was crazy but fun, and when I met Chase’s eyes we shared a moment of understanding and amusement. It was just one more thing I liked about him—that he wasn’t annoyed. Like me, he understood that without our fans we’d be nothing.

  We spent probably half an hour doing that, until finally Chase flagged down the waitress and took care of our bill.

  Guess our date was ending. I’d need to call my car service to come pick me up.

  “Thanks, everyone.” Chase took control of the situation with a charming smile and confidence. “Jordyn and I have to get going. Nice to meet you all.”

  He slid an arm around my waist and ushered me to the coat check. As when we’d arrived, he helped me into my coat. I added my hat, adjusted my scarf, and pulled my gloves out of my pocket while he got his jacket on, and then we walked outside.

  It was snowing, gorgeous fluffy flakes that sparkled amid the city lights. I turned my face to it. “Snow!”

  “Ah. No snow in L.A.”

  “Nope.” I smiled at him, aware that people were watching us out the big plate-glass windows of Wonder Arcade. “Well. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”