Текст книги "Major Misconduct"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 16

Saturday night, Lovey, Jillian, Leigh, and Dior all went to the game. The Aces lost yet again. Lovey watched carefully, not that she was an expert or anything, but it was clear to her that Dale Ronson was playing terribly. He’d turned the puck over several times, missed passes, and took stupid penalties.

She could feel the frustration of the team and watched as Coach Brad Wendell bent down to talk to Dale. Well, it was more like yell at him. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but he appeared frustrated too.

Her eyes kept returning to Marc, observing him both on the ice and off. He was trying so hard. Her chest got tight and her stomach knotted as she watched, feeling for him as the Islanders scored again and again.

Duncan and some of the guys were going out after the game again, and Lovey had been excited to take her new friends and introduce them to the guys. But after playing so crappy and losing, she had a feeling the atmosphere wasn’t going to be so much fun.

But they went anyway, to the Sin Bin. The atmosphere was kind of subdued, but not as bad as she’d feared. These guys had a pretty impressive ability to leave their work at the rink and forget about it. She guessed they had to be that way.

She kept watching for Marc to arrive, eyes continually flicking to the entrance. Now that she knew about his work with sick children, she knew he would be going up to the suite after the game to see them.

Finally she had to conclude he wasn’t coming tonight.

Where was he? Had he gone home? She edged closer to Duncan. “Hey. Where’s Marc?”

Duncan shrugged. “No idea.”

“Can you text him?”

“Why?” He gave her a narrow-eyed look.

“I’m…” What could she say? She was concerned about him, but Duncan wouldn’t want to hear that. Shit, why hadn’t she gotten Marc’s phone number?

She knew how badly he’d been feeling about things and tonight wasn’t going to help that.

“I’ll text him,” she said. “Give me his number.”

Duncan grumbled but pulled out his iPhone and gave it to her. She sent a text, then pretended to participate in a conversation while she waited.

Her phone buzzed and she quickly read the message. At home.

She nodded slowly. She wanted to be with him. Make sure he wasn’t beating himself up.

She slipped off her stool and walked to where Jillian and Leigh were talking to Jared and Brent. “Hey, everyone. I’m heading out.”

“Already?” Jillian tipped her head to one side.

“Yeah, suddenly I have a killer headache,” she lied. “Sorry to bail. You guys stay and have fun.”

She quickly found a taxi outside and was soon home, using her key to enter the condo. Marc was sitting on the couch, the TV on but muted, reading a book in the light of the floor lamp.

She dropped her purse on a table and walked to him. “Hey.”

He looked at her. “Hi.”

She sat beside him on the couch. “What are you reading?”

“Extraordinary Athletic Performance.”

She pursed her lips. “Is it good?”

“It’s interesting. It talks about how some skills that we assume are innate, like a goalie’s fast reflexes when he’s stopping a puck, really aren’t. And some things that you’d think are voluntary, like how strong an athlete’s will to train is, might be innate. Kind of that nature versus nurture debate.”

“That is interesting.” Weirdly. For her. “Are you trying to learn something?”

“I’m always trying to learn something.” His smile went wry.

“Did you go see your sick kids after the game?”

“Yeah. They were awesome.”

“Why didn’t you meet us at the Sin Bin?”

He lifted one big shoulder. “Wasn’t in a mood for it.”

“Marc.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Remember? Live. Laugh. Love.”

He set down the book and his hand came up to her face, touching her cheek. “I remember. I was living and laughing with those kids. They help put things in perspective. Like, how important is a stupid game when someone so young is battling cancer?”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Battling cancer and can still smile and laugh. Now, that’s inspiring.”

She tipped her head to smile up at him. “It definitely is.”

“You didn’t come home with Duncan?”

“No. He’s still there. I…” She what? She wanted to see him? Wanted to make sure he was okay? That wasn’t really what this was about. This was about sizzling chemistry and hot sex. “I thought maybe some sex would cheer you up.”

He choked on a laugh. “Christ, Lovey.”

She met his eyes. “Well? Would it?”

His head moved slowly from side to side, his eyes nonetheless fastened on hers. “Yeah. It would.”

She rose and took his hand. He left his book on the couch and they walked down the hall and into his bedroom.

–

Sunday morning Lovey slept in and loved every minute of it. Even though she didn’t have a job where she left home to go to work every day, she’d been working hard at her blog and Big Cheese Media, forcing herself to stick to a routine where she got up every morning and worked.

So it was eleven o’clock before she emerged from her room. She and Marc had exhausted each other last night. She smiled.

She glanced at the open door of his room, which was apparently empty. Duncan’s door was closed. She hadn’t heard him come home last night. Must’ve been late because he still hadn’t been home when she’d crept out of Marc’s room and into her own.

Marc was pushing his arms into his black leather jacket, standing near the kitchen.

“Morning,” she said with a yawn. Marc looked at her and as usual, the air changed and went charged as their eyes met. Lovey’s skin tingled. She reached for a mug in the cabinet. “Where are you off to?”

“Meeting with Coach.”

She nodded slowly. “Are you going to talk to him about Dale?”

“Yeah. This shit can’t go on.”

She smiled. “Good.”

“What are you up to today?”

She wondered at his question. “Yoga class at one. After that, I don’t know. I may wander into some shops. Take some pictures. Pick up something for dinner. Are you here for dinner tonight?”

“Roast beef?” he asked hopefully.

She laughed. “No. I was thinking about making lasagna, maybe.”

“That sounds good.”

“Okay. I’ll…see you later.”

He nodded, looping a scarf around his neck. “Okay.”

They stood looking at each other for a long, wordless moment. Lovey still held an empty mug in her hands. She wanted to kiss him. Was he thinking the same thing?

He broke eye contact and lifted a hand as he headed out.

Lovey turned to the coffeemaker. Thoughts and feelings were jumbled up inside her. A weird sort of longing. A confusing mix of happiness and sadness. Even a hint of worry. What was that about? About Marc’s discussion with his coach, and how that was going to go? Maybe.

While she drank her coffee, she tossed some ingredients into the blender—coconut milk, spinach, pineapple, and a banana—and whirled it until it was smooth. She poured it into a glass and dropped a wide straw into it. She wandered with her smoothie over to the windows to study the view.

Overcast day, pale gray sky. Dull and a little gloomy. She sighed. Her mood needed a pick-me-up. Maybe she should ask Marc about doing some volunteer work with sick kids. If it helped him keep things in perspective, maybe it would help her. She’d done volunteer work back in Madison, so she should find something like that to do here. Getting outside yourself was a healthy thing to do.

She changed into her yoga clothes and went to class. That helped with her mood. She felt a little more settled when she left there. She explored some shops in the neighborhood, delighted to find a stationery shop that was full of pretty things…adorable desktop organizers, lovely journals, scented candles and unique holders…she spent a good while looking around and selected an irresistible butter-cream scented candle in a cute jar. Then she paused at a section devoted to games and studied the black boxes of Cards Against Humanity. She’d heard people talking about it and how hilarious it was.

Something hilarious was always a good thing. Laughter was important. So she bought the game, not sure what exactly she was going to do with it.

She walked toward the Italian market where she did most of her shopping. The clouds were breaking, the sun trying to shine through. She filled her lungs with fresh air. Then she blinked. Ahead of her, walking toward her, was Marc.

Was it really him? She kept walking. Yep.

He spotted her too and smiled. They stopped on the sidewalk, right in front of Moretti’s.

“What are you doing here?” She tipped her head to one side.

“Just walking.”

“Cool. You can come shopping with me. I’ll be able to carry more with you here to help.”

“Sure. I can be your pack mule.”

She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Come on.” She pushed into the store and grabbed a cart, which Marc immediately took control of. She gave him a raised-eyebrow look but started toward the bakery.

“Lovey!” Mr. Moretti was just loading fresh buns into a big bin. “Hello, beautiful. Nice to see you.”

“Hi, Mr. Moretti. How are you?”

“Good, good.” He frowned. “Are you actually going to buy bread today?”

She grinned. “I am. I’m making lasagna tonight for two big guys and I think they’ll want garlic buns.” She turned to Marc. “Marc, this is Mr. Moretti, who owns the store. Marc’s my brother’s roommate,” she added. “It’s them I’m cooking dinner for.”

“Ah.” Mr. Moretti gave Marc an appraising look. “Nice to meet you, Marc.”

“Likewise.”

“Here, these ciabatta are fresh,” Mr. Moretti said. “How many you want? A dozen?”

“Eeek, no. Maybe…six.” They were pretty big.

Mr. Moretti used a square of wax paper to lift the buns into a paper bag. “There you go. What else?”

“I need all the ingredients for the lasagna. And a few of my usual things.”

“Pasta is down this aisle.” He gestured. “Well, you know your way around the store. Call if you need help.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at the older man in his big white apron.

“How the hell do you know him?” Marc muttered as he followed her down the aisle.

“I shop here all the time.”

“You’ve only been in Chicago a few weeks.”

“Well, yeah.”

“He was giving me the look. Like, making sure I’m good enough for you.”

She laughed. “No, he wasn’t.”

“He totally was.” Marc shook his head.

She ignored him and chose pasta, tomatoes, tomato paste, then headed for the dairy section to select ricotta and mozzarella cheeses. She picked up some yogurt since they were almost out. “What kind do you like?” she asked Marc.

“Any kind.”

“Okay. Now I need some ground beef for the meat sauce.”

“Oh thank God. I was afraid this was going to be a vegetarian lasagna.”

“I do make a really good vegetarian lasagna. With artichoke hearts and spinach—”

Marc held up a hand. “Please. It has to have meat in it.”

Amusement curled inside her. “Fine. Lots of meat. But we’ll need a salad.”

“Sure. I like salad.”

They chose greens for the salad, as well as some fruit.

“Okay. Done.”

When they went through the checkout, Marc pulled out his wallet. Lovey frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Paying for this stuff.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Why should you have to pay for all this food? You’re cooking it for us.”

“Well…”

“You’re cooking for us,” he repeated, his eyes steady on hers. “The least I can do is pay for the ingredients.”

“There’s some of my own stuff in there,” she said, a little breathlessly.

He waved a hand. “Whatever. I can afford it.”

“Yes. Yes, you can.” No argument there. Her bank account was dipping alarmingly with the money she’d paid for the apartment, but she could have paid for this herself.

He handed over a credit card and paid, then picked up all the bags.

“Okay, I said you could help. You don’t need to carry everything.”

“Pack mule.” His lips twitched.

“Come on, I can carry a couple.”

“Here.” He handed her two light bags. She shook her head, smiling, and they started walking home.

“How did your meeting go?”

“Okay. Good. I don’t know.” He paused. “I feel better. I think I was respectful. But somebody needs to do something. Dale’s in trouble. I can feel it.”

“Have you talked to Dale?”

“Yeah. I tried. I didn’t get far.”

“If he needs help, then you did the right thing.”

“I hope so. We’re all responsible for how the team does. Him too. We all need to step up and hold each other accountable.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then Marc said, “Thanks, Lovey.”

“For what?”

“For making it clear to me what I needed to do.”

“You’re welcome.” She didn’t think anything she’d said really made a difference. Marc was clearly a leader who looked out for not only the team as a whole but for individuals on the team. He would’ve figured out what he needed to do sooner or later. And she didn’t even know if this was the right thing. Why a team keeps losing could be a complicated, multi-layered problem with no easy answers. But solutions start with one small move. Maybe this would be it.

She hated for him to be unhappy. It made her unhappy. She much preferred it when everyone was happy.

“What’s your middle name?” she asked.

He turned and looked at her. “Alexandre. Why?”

“Just making conversation. I love how you say your name, with the French pronunciation. Teach me how to say it.”

“Marc Alexandre Dupuis,” he said.

She tried it and failed miserably. He chuckled. “Marc.” His soft “r” defeated her. She tried again.

“Not bad. Alexandre.” It sounded like Alex-zondruh. So that was what she said. He was still amused. “Just soften that ‘r’ a bit.”

“I can’t. Say your last name.”

“Dupuis.”

There was a subtle difference between his pronunciation and the way everyone else said it. His “u” sounded a little…sharper, and the “p” sounded slightly softer.

“Marc Alexandre Dupuis,” she said.

He was smiling broadly at her now.

“Maybe you can teach me more French.” They turned the corner onto South Prairie, nearly home.

“I speak French but I don’t know if I’m a very good teacher.”

“Don’t judge your teaching skills by my inability to say your name.”

“You say my name just fine.”

That pleased her too. “Do you like dogs?”

He gave his head a shake. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

“Did you have one growing up?”

“Yeah. We had a boxer named Julius.”

“Aw! Julius. Was he cute-ugly?”

Another chuckle. “Cute-ugly?”

“Yeah. You know. Boxers are kind of ugly and sad-looking, but in a cute way.”

He nodded, lips curved up. “Yeah, I guess he was cute-ugly.”

“We—I mean my parents—have a golden retriever. His name is Gordie. I miss him.”

“Gordie? Let me guess. Gordie Howe?”

“Yes! Good guess.” They exchanged smiles as Marc pulled open the door to the condominium lobby. “Would you want to own a dog?”

“Yeah. But how could I right now? I can’t leave a dog for days at a time. Maybe someday. A dog needs a yard too.”

“True.”

In the elevator she sensed the lightness to Marc’s mood, the way his shoulders weren’t all stiff, his mouth relaxed and smiling easily at the stupid things she said. Better. Much better.

“I’ll help you with dinner,” he said inside the condo. He carried the bags into the kitchen and they put things away, leaving out some of the ingredients she’d need.

“Sure. It’s nice to have company in the kitchen. I’ll put some music on.”

Duncan wandered out of his bedroom and she passed him in the hall as she fetched her iPod from her room. “Hey, Dunc. You just getting up?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not healthy, big brother. Your sleep rhythms will be all messed up.” She was totally yanking his chain.

He shook his head, his chestnut hair all standing on end.

She got one of her playlists going through Duncan’s speaker system. First song up was “Happy” by Pharrell Williams. Perfect. She paused to listen. Her toes started tapping to the catchy rhythm, her body moving as well. She deepened her bopping and turned back to the kitchen, dancing her way across the room. When she looked up, Marc’s eyes were on her and they were hot.

She almost missed a step but determinedly kept going, dancing over to him and shimmying up near him. Yes, she was being provocative. Flirtatious. And Duncan was right there. She didn’t care.

She grabbed Marc’s hand and pulled him away from the island into a more open area and started a quick, improvised jive kind of dance. To her surprise, he picked up the rhythm, took both her hands, and spun her into his arms, then out again. She grinned at him as they danced. Damn, he was a good dancer! And the song was just so bouncy. A bubble of joy swelled inside her, up into her throat and out through her mouth in a laugh as he twirled her again. They faced each other, and just as the song ended, he spun her into him, her back to his front, his arms around her.

There was a brief pause before the next song started and she looked at him up over her shoulder. His eyes gleamed. A snap and crackle passed between them, and then he released her. She laughed again, a little breathlessly, and straightened the yoga top she still wore.

“What the fuck?” Duncan said, watching them with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, lighten up, Dunc, we’re just having fun. It’s a good song.” She tapped his cheek as she moved past him into the kitchen.

“Never seen you dance,” Duncan said to Marc.

Marc shrugged.

“You’re a good dancer, Marc,” Lovey said. “We should all go out dancing sometime. I haven’t been to any dance clubs since I’ve been here.”

Both guys made grunts of what could have been agreement or maybe they were non-committal, but whatever. Like the song, she was happy.

Chapter 17

“He’s in rehab.”

Marc shared the news with Lovey just over a week later.

“Oh my God. Really?” Her pretty eyes went wide.

“Yeah. Somewhere in California, apparently. Coach told us all in a meeting this morning. He didn’t give us a lot of details.”

“Oh wow.” She shook her head. “Well, I hope Dale gets the help he needs and he’ll be back better than ever.”

“I hope so too. The guys were all kinda shook up.”

“He’s an important player to the team. Enforcer.”

“Yeah.” Marc’s lips twisted. “Just means we all need to step up for one another.”

She nodded, her eyes warm on him.

She sat on the couch with her computer on her lap and her earbuds for her iPod hanging over her shoulders now. She’d been listening to music when he came in, home from their practice. For some reason, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about getting home to tell her the news and get her take on it.

“Sorry, I’m probably interrupting your work.”

“No problem. I am working, but it’s okay.” She set the laptop on the coffee table. “So. What are they doing to replace Dale?”

“Calling up Ryan Kirby from Rockford.” The farm team. “Young guy, only ever played a few games in the NHL. Know him from training camp.”

“Is he big?”

“Yeah, but not like Dale. Not that kind of player. Faster.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Is Coach going to move some lines around?”

“Probably.”

She thought about that.

He liked being able to talk to her about hockey; she got it. “So…I have to go to this thing tonight…I know it’s kind of short notice, but…” Christ, he sounded like a high school kid asking a girl out for the first time. “But I was wondering if you might want to come with me.”

She blinked. “What kind of thing?”

“It’s at this school. It’s an inner-city school for high-risk kids.”

A small notch appeared between her eyebrows.

“I do some work there,” he said. “Help raise some money. They just completed a big renovation and tonight’s the open house to celebrate.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“It’s not fancy. It’s just a school. Some of the kids there are cool. But you don’t—”

“I’d love to come. I was thinking the other day that I need to get more involved in some kind of service work. I used to volunteer at Priscilla House in Madison—they help abused women. It’s good to do stuff like that. You seem to get a lot out of helping sick kids and it made me think that I hadn’t gotten involved with anything here yet.”

“You just moved here.”

“I know. But still. I didn’t know you did other stuff too.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. The Aces Community Foundation supports this school, so I got involved. It’s been good.”

“So, what time?”

“It starts at seven.”

She bit her lip.

“What? Problem?”

“What should I wear?”

He laughed, relieved at the simple question. “Whatever you want. I’m not dressing up that much, just dress pants and a shirt.”

“Okay. That helps.”

“Hey, we should go get dinner first.”

“Sure. Okay. You pick a place, make a reservation if we need one. I’ll go inspect my wardrobe.” She stood.

“That could take a year.”

She shot him a very female look over her shoulder as she walked down the hall. He grinned, letting his eyes drop to her ass as she turned away. Nice.

The neighborhood the school was in wasn’t the greatest, but he knew a restaurant between here and there that was good. They didn’t take reservations, but it was a Tuesday night and it shouldn’t be that busy. They’d just have to leave in good time.

He checked the time on his cellphone. He’d go screw around on Twitter and Instagram for a while. He tapped on Lovey’s door.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll leave at five.”

“Okay! I’ll be ready.”

He turned and entered his own room. Social media. That was Lovey’s business. And he still hadn’t checked out her blog. Time to rectify that.

He closed his bedroom door behind him and booted up the laptop on his desk. While it was starting, he took off his jeans and moved around the room in his boxers and T-shirt, putting some clothes away, straightening books. He liked things neat and orderly. Chaos and clutter bugged the shit out of him.

What the hell had she said the name of her blog was? Sugar Blossom. Cute.

He Googled it and made an impressed face as it came up first in the search results. He clicked the link and found himself looking at an attractive, professional-looking blog. Definitely feminine. She had not been wrong when she said this probably wasn’t his kind of thing. But still. Rotating images on the side advertised several different products.

He clicked through various pages. Yeah, he wasn’t into shoes or accessories or cupcakes, but he had to admit it all looked really good. He scrolled through comments on some blog posts…tons of comments. Holy shit.

He wanted to know more about her social media company. But she hadn’t told him the name of it. He frowned. If he Googled her name, would he get something? Couldn’t hurt to try. He typed it in. First up was the blog, but the next hit was Big Cheese Media.

He lowered his chin. Seriously?

He clicked.

He had to poke around the site a bit, but yep, that was her. A grin spread across his face. Big Cheese Media. Jesus, she was funny. And it worked. It totally worked. Again, a professional-looking site that included her clients so far.

She could probably teach him a thing or two about social media. The team gave them some training, which was mostly “Be fucking careful what you post on the Internet.” He got that. He erred on the side of caution, posting infrequently, but it might be fun, especially some of the banter that could go back and forth between players. And not just on his team, but friends he had who played for other teams. When he’d joined Twitter he’d instantly had ten thousand followers or something like that. That was cool but also scary. He didn’t want to screw up and say the wrong thing.

He wasted some time on the Internet, but that was okay because he didn’t do it very often, then got up, stretched, and changed into black pants and a charcoal shirt. No tie.

He paused at the bedroom door. What if Army was around? What was he going to tell him? He closed his eyes, sorting through options. But wait. He hadn’t heard Army come home. Unless he’d been so engrossed in Instagram that he’d missed it.

He opened the door and stepped out just as Lovey opened her bedroom door across the hall. She stepped out, and his jaw dropped.

Fuck. She’d been there a few weeks and he’d seen her in jeans and yoga pants and completely naked. But he’d never seen her in a dress. It shouldn’t be so stunning. He swept her up and down with his gaze, from fiery gold hair curling back from her face, and shiny lips, to an ivory turtleneck sweater dress that hugged her, throat to knees. His gaze dropped lower, to knee-high tan boots with a high heel.

“Fuck,” he croaked. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” Her smile teased him. “So do you.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here before Duncan comes home and shoots a billion questions at us.”

“Good idea. Just need my coat.”

He found her long camel coat in the closet and helped her into it. She thanked him with a demure smile. Then he shrugged into his own coat and grabbed his keys, and they were out.

“So where are we going for dinner?” She leaned against the elevator wall, purse over her shoulder, hands in her coat pockets. He took in the visual, so fucking gorgeous.

“Chester’s. Little place on West Randolph, really good food. Shouldn’t be too busy tonight.”

They ate dinner, which was awesome. He had the grilled bratwurst with mashed potatoes. Lovey took a while looking over the menu and he started to wonder if he’d made a mistake bringing here there. If she was looking for low-carb, there weren’t many options. But she finally settled on an omelet with spinach, blue cheese, and caramelized onions. They both ordered a beer.

They talked about all kinds of things over dinner—their families, their dogs, what they missed about being a kid. It all just flowed, easy and organic.

“So tell me what you do for your social media clients.” He was genuinely curious.

“Well, I do a variety of things, depending on what they want. Basically, I develop a creative strategy and some engaging content, trying to build an online community for the client and cultivate a loyal customer following. People talk online about everything, so I get my clients into the conversation and make sure it’s good. Like if someone mentions cheese on Twitter, I’ll pop in and suggest Kleinheinz cheddar or maybe link them to a recipe.”

“So it’s not just Facebook posts and tweets?”

“Well, it is, but there are other platforms too. Also I set up blogs and I blog for some companies. But before any of that happens, I have to know all about the company and their brand. I do a pretty intensive needs assessment, then work on a social media strategy that fits within their wider marketing goals. Then I develop a campaign that has measurable goals. It’s about focusing the message on the right people and getting them talking.”

“Wow. So your marketing background at…what was the name of the cheese place? Kleinheinz?”

“Yes.” She grinned. “I had a few other marketing jobs too. None of them lasted that long.”

“I like the name of your business, by the way. Big Cheese Media.”

Her eyes widened. “You know the name?”

“I Googled it,” he admitted, cutting into a bratwurst. “And I looked at your blog. Both are very impressive.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her chin and was briefly silent.

“So your marketing background helps with this.”

“Of course it does. But it’s a bit of a different skill. Content is important, of course; it has to be relevant and substantive. It has to be well written, but it also has to be fresh and engaging. It takes a unique voice and perspective to set a company apart.”

Fresh and engaging. That was her. He’d recognized it in her from the minute he’d seen her in Duncan’s condo that day she’d arrived. He’d seen it in the way she charmed everyone she met, male and female.

“And I’ve also done some training. Some companies want to keep their social media implementation in-house, so I train their staff how to do it.”

“See, that’s what I was thinking. I was on Twitter for a while this afternoon, but I’m always afraid I’m going to go on there and say something stupid that will make the team look bad, so I don’t do as much as I could. I have tons of followers but I don’t know if they get much out of following me.” He grimaced. “I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

Her smile was luminous. “Of course I could. That would be way cool.”

She took a bite of her omelet. “How’s your beer?” she asked. “Oh hey, remember I told you about that course? Matching beer with food?”

“Yeah. That sounds cool.”

“It’s Thursday, December seventh. You guys are home and you don’t have a game that night. Want to come with me?”

Yeah. He did.

This was becoming more than just furtive sex. They were kind of on a date. And that would be another kind of date. And he had to admit he liked it.

“Sure,” he said casually. “Sounds like fun.”

“Okay. I’ll sign us both up.”

“We leave tomorrow on another road trip,” he said. “Not back until Monday.”

“Yeah. I know. You’ll be gone for Thanksgiving.”

She was aware of their schedule. He wasn’t sure what that meant. But it made him feel…something. Good. Whatever. “Oh right. I forget you Americans have a different Thanksgiving. We celebrate it in October at home.” He paused. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going home to the farm. For a few days.” She shrugged. “Better than spending Thanksgiving all alone.”

Yeah, that would kind of suck for her. Jesus, he felt bad now for abandoning her on such a big holiday. But that was his life.

They ate, then he drove them to the school. Many people had already arrived, and he was lucky to find a parking spot in the school lot. They walked through crisp darkness into the building. Right away he saw people he knew—Aces management, Aces Community Foundation staff, Colby Kowalchuck from Communications, a few other players, teachers he’d met, and the principal of the school, not to mention the freakin’ mayor of Chicago.

He shook hands and smiled and introduced Lovey, who at first had been shell-shocked but quickly recovered and responded to people with her own smiles and greetings. Of course, everyone assumed they were a couple. He didn’t say they were. But he didn’t say they weren’t.

After some socializing and networking, they listened to speeches in the gymnasium.

“This is a very special night for us,” began Carrie Thorpe, executive director of the Aces Community Foundation. “The Foundation has been working with Fowler High School for the last five years and tonight’s grand opening is the culmination of our biggest project. We’re really excited to share this with all of you.”

The chief of police spoke next, about the importance of education and how giving these students the opportunity to make their lives better was so valuable. The mayor said a few words and then the school principal, Paul Curran, spoke about the positive results the school had achieved. “This is in no small part due to the enormous contributions of the Aces Community Foundation,” he added. “And in particular those players who give so generously not only of their money but of their time…Oleg Boyarov, Olaf Pilkvist, and Marc Dupuis. You men have made a major difference in the lives of so many at risk youth.”