Текст книги "The Girl with Hearts"
Автор книги: Savannah Blevins
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Chapter 10
LEILA’S UNEASE
The night eased on without a hitch. Being with Henrik was effortless. Easy. They laughed at the same stupid jokes, and got excited about the same ridiculous re-runs of their favorite shows. And Henrik kept talking. He talked about his career, what he’d do if he ever got his day with Stanley, and even about the harsh conversations with his coach about the trade rumors.
Henrik told her everything. He was honest and open.
It scared her.
She couldn’t be any of those things with him.
“I have to admit I’m impressed,” he said, leaning back to look at the clock.
Leila glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“Did you really think our siblings would leave us alone this long?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “No. I’m actually kind of surprised.”
Henrik looked around the room, suspicious. “Austin must have the placed bugged.”
“I would be more worried about Drew.” She laughed. “He probably has a hidden camera somewhere.”
“Yeah,” he nodded solemnly, “that sounds like something that pain in the ass would do. I bet if I kissed you, they’d break the door down.”
She could imagine it perfectly. Henrik’s lips on her neck, brushing across her skin. “I guess your door is lucky you’re on good behavior.”
Henrik snorted before taking a sip of his beer. “Who said I was on good behavior?”
She shot him a glare. “Do you really want to prove your brother right?”
“He’s already right, or have you forgotten about that little visit to my hotel room?”
His smirk turned wicked, and she glared harder. Of course she hadn’t forgotten it. She just didn’t want to think about it, not with him sitting so close, and almost naked. The memories were too real. She straightened her shoulders, determined to end it now. “I think we can both agree our brothers need to remain clueless.”
“Obviously.” He nodded, looking around the room nervously, as if he were actually worried about Austin and Drew listening in. When his inspection was complete, he scooted down the couch. Way down the couch.
“What are you doing?” she practically blurted out, sinking into the corner.
“Asking you a question,” he said innocently.
“Does your mouth require your ass to be that close to me?”
He ignored her, his body sliding up next to her, invading her space. “My brother seems to think you’re all heartbroken about this Derek thing.”
“That isn’t a question,” she pointed out, crawling up the armrest.
It was suddenly hot. Unbearably hot.
“I have my reasons to believe you don’t really give a crap about your break-up.” He grinned. “Call it a hunch.”
“Henrik.” It was a warning.
“My brother thinks I need to leave you alone.”
“I’m still waiting on the question.”
“You know my question.”
And she did. That didn’t mean she would answer it. “I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble between you and our brothers.”
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” he finally asked.
“There doesn’t have to be a choice.” She sighed, avoiding the question. “We may not be friends, but I’m sure we can manage to co-exist enough to share Drew and Austin.”
Co-exist.
It was a thought she’d been contemplating a lot lately. The prospect of somehow living life alongside Henrik without actually being involved in his life. He was quick to catch her meaning.
“Wait a second.” He moved away from her, running his hand down his face in obvious frustration. “I understand we’ve had our issues in the past, but you just said that like we’re never going to be friends.”
Leila laughed, assuming he was making some kind of joke, but when he stood, his gaze glaring down at her, she realized he was actually pissed. “Henrik.” She paused, trying to find the right words to explain herself. “Let’s be honest with ourselves here. You don’t have friends of the female variety.”
“Says who?” he scoffed, offended.
“You have female friends?” She stood, taking a challenging position in front of him. It was time he put this ridiculous notion that they could be friends out of his head. It would only make things harder in the long run. “Ones you don’t have sex with?”
“Yes,” he stated assuredly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Sex of any kind,” she added, mimicking his stance.
His eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“You know, you’re awful judgmental for someone who showed up commando on my doorstep.”
She rolled her eyes at him, turning away to pick up her plate from the floor and take it to the kitchen. “I’m not judging you,” she announced over her shoulder. “You’re a grown man. If you want to whore yourself out to the entire city of New York, that’s your business. I’m just trying to be realistic, here. We are completely incompatible as friends.”
He was behind her, his heavy footsteps tracing hers. “If you didn’t want to be friends, why did you agree to hang out with me tonight?”
Her stomach cringed at the thought. She told herself it was her only excuse to get out of dinner, but it was more than that, even if she already pushed the notion out of her mind. “I just wanted a little peace and quiet,” she suggested.
“And you thought your best chance at peace and quiet was with me?”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re an arrogant asshole? Oh, wait—”
“Yes, I know. I got the memo. I get that I should have been paying closer attention to Drew, that I could have been a better teammate, and that I’ve shut everybody out. I’m working on it.”
“You’re working on it?” She laughed. “Is pissing Drew off part of your ‘be a better brother’ effort?”
“He doesn’t trust me.” His face strained when he spoke the words, his voice even in an attempt to hide the emotion his features couldn’t.
“So this being friends thing—it’s to prove a point to your brother?”
“No. If I wanted to prove a point, I’d just leave you the hell alone.”
“Then what is it?”
He stepped closer, leaning down so close his breath brushed across the tip of her nose. “That’s the thing, there is no point. I want to be friends, just to be friends. No ulterior motive, no hidden plot line. Just you and me—friends. It’s time we complete the whole Blakey-Rylander friendship circle we have going on.”
A part of her wanted his words to be true, but even if they were, she knew it would never work. “It’s too late for that,” she whispered, taking a step back.
He took a step forward, closing the distance and more. His hands rested on her hips. “Why?”
She very slowly reached up, taking hold of his arms and moved him backward. “Because you said yes.”
He raised his eyes in confusion, but there wasn’t enough time for him to question it, because his phone began to vibrate across the counter. She glanced over at it, a picture of a scantily clad woman popping on the screen.
The flash of jealousy that hit her system took her by surprise, and her face flushed with heat, similar to the way it had that first night when she’d stepped off the elevator and saw the half-dressed woman stalking away from his apartment.
“You have a phone call,” she announced through her teeth. “One of your other friends, I suppose.”
She had no right to feel jealous, and in fact, it made her mad at herself that she did. She had no claim on Henrik, and she didn’t want one. Except, as she glanced over at the flashing screen, she could feel her pulse begin to race with a territorial thud. This was exactly why they could never be friends.
His eyes flickered to the screen over his shoulder, and then back to her. “Answer it,” he challenged.
Her mouth dropped open. “I most certainly will not. I am not your pimp.”
The phone stopped buzzing, a voicemail popping up, but it didn’t dash the contempt she felt toward it. Henrik rolled his eyes. “You could have just said you had a problem with the women.”
“I do not have a problem,” she practically gasped. “I couldn’t care less what you do.”
“Yes, that scowl on your face really makes me believe you.”
She forced her features to fall flat, and as if he cued it, the phone began to ring again. Her gaze fell sideways to look at the screen.
It was the same woman. Again.
She was persistent, or a gold digging trollop. She was pretty sure she knew which as she glared over at the picture on the screen again.
“Go ahead,” he instructed, turning to stomp out of the kitchen, leaving her alone with the flashing phone. “Answer it. Answer all of them if that’s what it takes for you to drop this insane idea that we can’t be friends.”
She gritted her teeth, glancing back at the picture again. She blew out an annoyed breath before grabbing the phone and pushing the green button. He wasn’t serious. She knew Henrik too well. There was no way he would just let her answer all his calls and ruin his potential hookups. She’d take him up on his offer, he’d end up pissed off, and that would be the end of it.
“Hello,” she said simply, though it was loud enough that he would hear her in the next room. She hoped he was squirming in his seat.
It was silent on the other end for a moment before the female voice finally spoke up. “I’m sorry. I must have dialed the wrong number.”
“Oh, no, sweetie. I’m pretty sure you have the right one.” Her voice sounded snarky because she meant it to be. If Henrik wanted to play games, then she would make sure she won. “You’ve called it twice in a row now. This is Henrik’s house of regret and self-loathing. I’m his new secretary. Can I make you an appointment? When’s the soonest you’d like to be disappointed and forgotten about?”
She could have sworn she heard him laugh in the next room, which only made her blood boil. He should be pissed that she called his bluff.
“Excuse me?” the woman sputtered, bringing her attention back to the phone. “Who the hell is this?”
She huffed, tugging at the end of one of her long curls. “Trust me. That’s a complicated question at the moment.”
“Is this Leila?” the woman inquired in a high-pitched, snippy tone.
She immediately narrowed her eyes as ice flooded her simmering veins. “How do you know my name?”
The woman let out a frustrated grunt and hung up. She sat there staring at the phone, confused.
She rounded the corner into the living room, her voice already rising an octave. “How did that woman know my name?” she demanded.
Henrik, who had returned to his seat on the couch, casually propped his feet up on the coffee table before shrugging. “That’s the kind of thing friends discuss.”
“Obviously, you do want to discuss it, or you wouldn’t have told me to answer it. Was that the woman from the elevator?”
He smirked. “Still upset about her, huh?”
“Henrik.”
“No, it’s not the girl from the elevator.” He grinned. “Though I suspect she isn’t very fond of you either.”
“How did she know my name?” she repeated, each word seething out between her clenched teeth.
This time when he smiled, it almost sent her over the edge.
“Tell me!” She threw his phone at him. “Or next time you can grow some balls and piss off your own mistakes.”
“Don’t get mad.” He laughed, noticeably turning his phone off and sticking it in his pocket. “There was a slight miscommunication during a late night call the other night.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“It was three a.m. I was half asleep when I answered,” he explained further, as though it should be obvious, “and I thought she was you.”
She froze, her mouth suddenly dry. “Why would you think she was me?”
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shrug it off. “I don’t know, because I was half asleep. That’s why.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Try again.”
“All she said was, ‘I really need you. Can I come over?’”
She scoffed, placing her hand on her hip. “And you thought that was me?”
“Wishful thinking?”
“This isn’t funny.”
He shot her that sorcerous smile that drove her crazy. “It kind of is.”
She was more determined than ever not to let him win. “No, it isn’t. That woman has feelings, and you just disappointed her—again, apparently. Does it even bother you?”
He shook his head, half laughing. “Okay, let me get this straight. First, you’re pissed that they call, and now you’re upset when I blow them off. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. That’s the point. I expect nothing from you.” She whirled around, acutely aware of the heat flooding her face, and her pulse racing. She’d let herself go too far, and she would surely pay the price for it later. She needed to leave before things got worse.
Henrik was on her heels, though, and he caught the edge of her shirt before she could reach the door and turned her around to face him. “Stop. Please.”
She bit her lip, her entire body trembling. “No. This conversation is over.”
They would have been nose to nose if Henrik weren’t so damn tall. “Not even close,” he growled back at her.
The handle on the door behind them started to jiggle, but neither of them moved. When Austin walked in, Drew tight on his heels, they stood off to the side, staring at the sight of them.
“What the hell is going on?” Austin demanded, his evaluating glare going between them.
“Nothing,” Henrik answered, never breaking eye contact. “Just a gentle disagreement between friends.”
“Gentle,” Austin scoffed. “We could hear you yelling at each other all the way down the hallway. Now, I am going to ask you one more time. What’s going on?”
Her blood pumped too fast through her system. Her head felt light. Small balls of light flashed in front of her eyes, and she knew she only had minutes before everything would go from terrible to tragic. She needed to take her medicine. Lie down and rest. She spun around on her heel and headed for the door.
“Running again,” Henrik said bitterly. “Really?”
She knew it was mean, but the words left her mouth before she even thought it through. “Watching me go again. Really?”
She slammed the door in his face and rushed down the hallway. She had more important things to worry about right now than Henrik Rylander’s stunted feelings.
Chapter 11
HENRIK’S JEALOUSY
Henrik was dead tired, his muscles aching after the three-hour practice, and any other day, he would have trudged home and crashed in his bed until he lost consciousness. Except, it was pointless, because he’d already tried that yesterday and every other day this week, only to end up lying there for hours thinking about Leila. Her words haunted him, and he couldn’t quite figure them—or her—out.
If she didn’t want to be friends, why did she take his offer to hang out?
If her goal was to avoid dinner, then she could have easily ditched him when they got back to the apartment. She hadn’t, though. Instead, she’d helped order pizza, and they’d had an actual, meaningful conversation.
He’d never told anyone about his mother, and he wasn’t sure why he chose that exact moment to tell Leila, except it felt like the right thing to do.
The right thing.
He wondered if he even knew what the right thing was anymore. Sam told him to be Leila’s friend, to ignore his natural instinct to seek out the physical gratification he knew they could provide each other, and just be a nice guy. Leila wanted no part of his nice guy routine, though. Either that, or she saw through it completely. He couldn’t help that he was attracted to her. It took every ounce of his crumbling willpower not to touch her, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends too.
She was jealous of the other women, or at least, she acted jealous. For all he knew, it was merely disgust, cleverly disguised as jealously. Either way, she made it obvious they could never be friends if he had other women coming around. He’d been honest about one thing, though. He didn’t care if she pissed them off. It didn’t matter to him if she ran off every last one of them.
It should, but it didn’t.
His brilliant plan to prove his disinterest in his old habits backfired. It seemed any choice he made was wrong. Of course, that made Drew pleased as punch. Austin too, even though he wasn’t as vocal about it as his brother was. He could see the way Austin smiled every time Leila barely acknowledged him, a tiny quirk at the corner of his lips.
Throwing his gym bag down the hallway toward his apartment, he stopped at Drew’s door to consider his options. He could go on to his room and continue the constant rambling in his mind as he fought off rest, or he could ruin her day by showing up unannounced again. He knocked on Drew’s door before he could finish the thought.
He couldn’t hear any movement inside, but he knew she was home. Leila was always home. She barely ever left the apartment. When no one answered, after forcefully knocking for the fourth time, he took it upon himself to do the honorable thing and check on her.
One of the perks of paying for your brother’s apartment was you could demand a key. He eased the door open, only to find the living room and kitchen empty. “Hello?” he yelled, but instead of a response, he caught the sound of a muffled television. He made his way down the hallway, stopping at the door of Drew’s bedroom to peek inside.
Something in his gut stung as his hand reflexively clenched around the side of the doorframe, and it made no sense whatsoever. It was Drew, lying in bed with Leila, their feet crossed together at the ankles as they lounged against a sea of pillows, watching a re-run of Gossip Girl. Drew looked up and smiled.
It wasn’t his usual smile, but rather a satisfied one. He felt a little like the Hulk, as if something ugly that lived deep inside was about to spring out and wipe that damn smirk off his face.
“Good morning.” Drew yawned happily as he stretched his arms out above his head.
Leila peered up too, catching his eyes for just a moment, but then purposefully looked away.
Yeah, she was still pissed.
He thought, for a fraction of a second, that he understood women. He’d actually convinced himself he had them all figured out. Maybe he did for every woman in the universe except Leila Blakely. It didn’t seem to matter what he did, she would just look at him with that same lackluster expression as if he went out of his way to see every girl after practice instead of sleeping like a normal person.
“Do you two really have nothing better to do on a Saturday morning?” His contempt was easily readable in his tone, but he didn’t care.
Drew’s smile grew as he snuggled closer to her. “Nope. Not a thing.”
Henrik pursed his lips, his arms crossing over his chest as he stared at him, that same flash of fire burning in his gut.
Okay. So, maybe Leila had a point about the women.
If this scene, his own brother, who had absolutely no interest in Leila, could prick his nerves, then he could understand how the women calling his phone might be annoying to her.
Leila reached her arms over her head, sprawling out on the giant pillows, her hair haphazardly spraying in every direction. He couldn’t quite understand how being ignored could be so damn sexy. It drove him mad.
“I’m assuming you’ll at least manage to make it out of your pajamas in time for the game tonight, right?”
“I’ll be there,” Drew droned.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he pointed out, shooting his brother a fake smile.
Again, she glanced at him, her seafoam green eyes boring into him and then straight back to the television. “I had no intention of it.”
The heat seeped through his body, into his limbs, down to his toes. It had been almost a week since their argument, and her attitude was slowly starting to grade away his patience. He was supposed to be nice—tolerable, even—but it just wasn’t in his nature, especially when she went out of her way to be cruel. “C’mon, Leila, it’s not like you have anything better to do.”
She shot up like a rocket in the bed, her arms tight at her side, and immediately he knew he should have kept his big mouth shut. “I’m most certainly do have better things to do,” she spat, throwing her long, scarlet curls over her shoulder.
The sunlight beamed through the window, causing her hair to appear as if it were on fire, but it was probably just her temper that flared when he rolled his eyes at her answer.
Drew sat up, anxiously watching the exchange, though he appeared more amused than anything else. It only managed to increase Henrik’s annoyance about the entire situation.
Drew shouldn’t be happy about his misery.
“I’m going out.” Her stare was full of steel. “So I will not be attending your stupid game.”
He took a step forward, leaning over the end of the bed so he could breathe the insult straight at her face. “Didn’t anyone tell you? A date with Drew’s Zac Efron coffee mug and a book isn’t considered going out.”
“Hey,” Drew barked, suddenly offended, “leave Zac out of this.”
Leila, her mouth set in stone, rolled out of bed, and the full vision of her hit him like a brick wall. She wore an oversized t-shirt, and that was it.
No pants.
No socks.
Nothing but long, silky legs peeked out beneath the short hemline, and when you added it with the sexiest case of bed hair he’d ever seen, it was more than enough to hike his adrenaline and his testosterone up a couple notches.
She sauntered toward him, her hand on her hip. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” she sang, bending down to grab a pair of pants off the floor. The shirt came up, flashing a pair of black boy shorts, and he suddenly lost his ability to speak.
A pillow crashed into his head, followed by a deadly glare from Drew. When he finally looked back around, Leila faced him again, her eyes narrowed. “Move, please.”
Without realizing it, he’d barricaded himself in front of the door, his feet spread apart to deny her access to any exit she might attempt. “Friends support each other,” he said through his teeth. “You’re coming to my game.”
“You’re right. Friends do support each other. That’s why I gave my ticket to my best friend, so he could bring a date.” She threw a look at Drew, and then turned back to him. “Now move.”
He frowned, moving to the side as she stepped past him. “So, you don’t really have plans,” he confirmed as he watched her backside sway down the hallway.
“Oh, no. I definitely have plans.” She didn’t even bother turning around as she said it, and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door.
He turned back to his brother, his face returning the daunting stare. “She really have plans?”
Drew shrugged. “I guess. She offered me the ticket like she did.”
The thought of Leila going out, sitting next to some guy, laughing as she pressed those soft, pink lips together, gnawed at him, and the sensation was all too familiar. He’d felt it before, the first time he’d seen her with Derek. He told himself then it was only his fierce hatred for his adversary that had triggered the instinct to protect her from him, but now he started to wonder if maybe it had always been something more.
Yes. The women calling would have to stop. It was only fair.
He attempted to distract himself from the thought of Leila out with another man, someone else on the receiving end of that seductive pout, by turning his attention back to Drew. “So, you’re bringing a date to the game tonight?”
Drew held up his hands. “No. Definitely not a date. Just a friend. Please, don’t tell anyone he is my date.”
“Okay,” he agreed, looking warily at his brother, who all of a sudden looked panicked. “You all right?”
“Yes,” he sighed, hopping out of the bed. “I just don’t need you starting rumors.”
That’s when he noticed his brother wore only a pair of boxers, and his annoyance instantly returned. “You know,” he said gruffly, “if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought something happened between you two.”
Drew smirked, looking down at his half-naked body. Henrik gave him a quick shot to the shoulder. “It’s not funny, asshole.”
“I dare to disagree,” he sniggered. “And just so you know, she sleeps in my bed every night, in case you ever get brave enough to try to use that key inappropriately.”
Drew walked past him toward the bathroom. “Every night?” he clarified.
“Every night,” Drew echoed, shutting the door, leaving him alone with his sour face and haunted thoughts.
***
Later that night, Henrik sat in the Rangers locker room after his game, sweat dripping down his face as he peeled the layers of clothes and padding from his body. They’d won the game, barely, but it was enough to keep them tied with the Devils for the top spot in the Eastern Conference. Austin sat next to him, a towel draped over his face, groaning like a five year old who got a shot to the nuts for the first time. “Are you going to survive over there, Blakely?”
Austin merely groaned again, pulling the towel down to shoot him an ill look. “Don’t interrupt my misery. I’m trying to rally my energy for tonight.”
Henrik laughed, throwing a glove at his head. “So, can I assume your ass is not going home to rest?”
“Rest?” Austin laughed. “What is this evil you speak of?”
“C’mon Austin, I saw the beating you took out there tonight—”
“The beating I took for you,” Austin pointed out. “I kept them off your back all night.”
“And I appreciate that.” He smiled. “Like I always do. We leave early tomorrow for Toronto. You need to go home and rest.”
Austin ran a tired hand down his face, looking at him as if he’d just transformed into an alien. “I’m sorry. Who are you, and what did you do with my best friend?”
“This isn’t your best friend talking. This is your captain telling you to go home and rest.”
Austin sat up a little straighter, and he could feel his heady assessment. “Can I assume that my dear, concerned captain will also be going home to rest this fine Saturday night?”
“Yes.”
Austin stood, taking his jersey off, but he never took his eyes off Henrik. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me. You know I’m right. If we win tomorrow night, that could put us in the lead for the conference title. We need the rest.”
“This, coming from the same guy who once told me rest is for the weak. That rest is what airplane rides were for, and I can sleep when I’m dead.”
He grinned. “We’re not as young as we once were, Austin.”
“I’m twenty-three. I’m young enough, asshole.”
Henrik shook his head mockingly. “You can barely move, and you want to go to out?”
“If I remember correctly, last year you went out with three broken ribs, and took a girl home. I practically had to carry you on the plane the next day.”
“Yeah, and it wasn’t the brightest decision I’ve ever made,” he reminded him, because that was the same game the trade rumors started. “We’re leaders on this team now. All that happened before I was captain. Look around us. We’ve got to be a better example.”
“For who? The kids? You’re talking like we’re old men now. Are you going to start showing me nursing home applications next?”
He stood, looking his best friend in the eye. “Damn it, Austin. I’m just trying to be responsible, here. You’re the one who nominated me for captain, remember?”
Austin stopped, his face turning solemn. “All right, all right,” he conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just one thing, though, and be honest. Are we going home tonight because you think it’s what’s best for our team, or are we going home because you don’t want a certain feisty redhead we know to get more pissed at you than she already is?”
Henrik pretended to be offended before stepping over to grab an eavesdropping Sam, who stood at the locker next to him, and put him into a headlock. “We’re doing it for the kids, Austin.” He laughed, patting Sam affectionately on the side of the face. “Right, rookie?”
Sam looked awkwardly between Henrik and Austin, until Austin finally nodded his agreement. “Whatever. I’ll take my captain’s word for it,” he added, grabbing a towel before heading toward the showers. “But just remember. I know when my best friend is lying to me.”
Henrik released Sam with a relieved huff. “He’s right, you know,” Sam whispered, maneuvering away from him. “If you keep avoiding his offers to go out, he will get suspicious.”
He rubbed a nervous hand through his hair. “Trust me. Austin’s suspicion isn’t anything new.” Sam’s eyes rose, but he shrugged it off. “Long story.”
“What are you going to do about it, then?” Sam asked instead.
Henrik smiled that same determined grin he always used when accepting a challenge. “Exactly what you told me to do. Be her friend, even if it fucking kills me.”
