Smooth as Silk, page 13
“What if it doesn’t? What if we get a tornado?”
“Then we would go to the safe room on the ground floor of your building.”
“There’s a safe room where I live? How do you know about that and I don’t?”
“I know because Claire told me about it when she was renovating the building and said I’d always be welcome there. You probably don’t know because you didn’t read the paperwork you were given when you signed your lease.”
He sighed, but he looked calmer. “That is possible; it sounds like me. Camp was starting. I had to buy a bed. And some phone chargers.”
She didn’t intend to lay her hand on his arm, but she did. “Do you feel better?” Despite the aggravation he’d caused her, she didn’t want him to be afraid. Fear was a terrible feeling, even when it was mostly unfounded.
“Yeah. Thanks for the weather lesson.”
“You’re welcome. I’m changing the settings on your phone.”
“Thanks.” He closed his eyes and wrinkled his forehead, like he was deep in thought, hopefully about All Dressed in White. Should she bring it up again or wait for him?
“Hyacinth?” He sounded serious.
“Yes?”
“What’s a bug-out bag?”
Of all the things she’d said, he remembered that?
“A bag with essentials in case I need to evacuate in a disaster like a chemical spill, fire, or tornado.”
“What do you keep in it?”
“Insurance information, a list of phone numbers, safety deposit box key, a hatchet, my prescription allergy medicine, a toothbrush, change of underwear and socks, phone charger, protein bars, bottled water, fifty dollars in cash.” She hesitated. “I also have a roll of tin foil.”
“That must be a big bag.”
“I like to be prepared.”
“What’s the foil for?”
“Nothing, really. Evans and Ava Grace gave it to me for a joke when they found out about my bug-out bag. They said it was to make a hat in case of an alien invasion.”
He laughed, but there was no mockery in it. “And you actually put it in your bag? Do you believe in aliens?”
“No, but there was room in the bag, so why not? I mean, you never know.”
“Your friends may yuk it up now, but if that invasion comes, they’ll be looking for you and your bag.”
“That’s what I think.”
He smiled. “You wouldn’t be a bad one to have around in case of a tornado.”
So now they were back to tornados. Time to reel it in. “You wouldn’t be a bad one to have around for All Dressed in White. Where are we on that?”
His sweet smile morphed to a grin with a little devil in it. “I was blackmailing you—or so you said.”
“I’m at your mercy.” Might as well admit it.
“I have to buy two tickets and attend some Christmas party in December.”
“The Christmas Gala at Fairvale, Ava Grace’s house. It benefits the historical society.”
“Yes, that. I want you to go with me.”
“Fine.” She was going anyway. Everyone said Skip was finally going to propose to Ava Grace there this year. Even if that wasn’t true, it wasn’t like she had a choice.
“And also out to Hammer Time with me after the hockey games.”
“All right. But you have to pay. And I’m going to eat a lot. Maybe get takeout for later.”
“You wound me. You think I would let a woman—even one who is about Satan’s business—pay for her own food? I’m a gentleman.”
“The epitome, I’m sure. A gentleman and a golfer. And a blackmailer. What else do you want?”
He thought for a few seconds. “That’s it. We have a deal.”
Finally. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“I assume there will be releases and such to sign. Tell the TV people to get in touch with my agent. Miles Gentry. I’ll send you his contact information.”
What now? Did he think he was getting paid? “There’s no money involved.”
“Doesn’t matter. Everything goes through Miles. He’s also my lawyer.”
Then he tilted his head and gave her a look she couldn’t read, but she felt a ripple down her spine that radiated out all the way to her fingers and toes.
Stop it, Hyacinth! Don’t let him make you feel special. You’re not.
Without another word, he got out of her car and into his.
Still shaken from the whole ordeal and weak with confusion and relief, she sat motionless until he drove away.
Then she picked up her phone and dialed. “Ava Grace? Evans said you were going to the hockey game tomorrow. I’d like to meet you there. And I need a favor. Do you think you could help me with some Christmas decorations for Trousseau? You’ll never believe what’s happened.”
Chapter Twelve
“Good game, Scotty,” Logan Jensen said as he and Robbie emerged from the locker room together and headed to the area where players’ families and friends waited. Robbie hated that place. “The best you’ve played all season.”
“Thanks,” Robbie said. “A lucky night, it was.”
“The more you practice, the luckier you get.”
Before Robbie could answer, “Daddy!” rang out through the air and Logan whipped his head in the direction of the little voice.
“Hey, pal.” Logan took the little boy from a middle-aged woman who Robbie assumed was the nanny. “Thanks, Mrs. Houston. See you Monday.”
The boy—Alexander—looked older than two, but not three yet. Robbie was a good judge of that, from his nieces and nephews. Logan had someone who had come to watch him play, even if it was a kid who couldn’t know what was going on and the woman who’d been hired to bring him.
Hyacinth had not come. He’d left her a ticket, but the seat had remained empty. He’d been sure she’d come. She’d been so sweet to him about the storm that he’d decided he’d judged her too harshly over the whole ambition versus Jake and Evans thing—but come to think of it, one didn’t have anything to do with the other. He had to stop letting her confuse him; more than that, he had to stop letting her hurt his feelings. That ought to be easy enough. After he paid her for the dress, avoiding her would be easy because he wouldn’t be doing All Dressed in White.
It was just as well. He shouldn’t have asked all those things of her anyway. He hadn’t meant to. At first, he was only going to make her let go of that ruined dress business. Then he’d added on the games, curious if she would agree. Then she’d seemed to expect more, and he’d gotten carried away. But a bargain was a bargain and she hadn’t kept her end.
Maybe they’d do the show without him and maybe they wouldn’t. Not his problem.
But, still, disappointing. Logan was right. He’d had a good game—one of his best and, damn it, he’d wanted her to see it. Not because he was like some horny fifteen-year-old trying to get in her pants, either. It was a matter of pride. It was clear she thought he was a mindless buffoon with no discipline, talent, or skills. He’d wanted to show her she was wrong.
Alexander threw his arms around Logan’s neck and kissed him on the cheek, causing Logan to laugh as he hugged him and patted his bottom.
“Hey there, laddie.” Robbie took a puck from his jacket pocket and held it out. “Would you like this?” Robbie always took a game-used puck to give to a fan in the autograph line.
The boy looked from Robbie to the puck and back. Then he grinned, snatched the puck out of Robbie’s hand, and hit Logan in the head with it.
“Hey!” Logan said. “No hitting.” But he laughed.
“Coming out to Hammer Time?” Robbie asked.
“I wish. I could use some ribs, but I need to get him home. I guess it’s leftover chili for us.” He caught Alexander’s wrist before the boy could hit him again. “Guess I’ll sign a few autographs and head out. See you, Scotty.”
He was about to walk away when he saw her. Hyacinth. She was in a three-way embrace with Evans and Ava Grace while Jake looked on.
What the hell? Was she going to try to pretend she’d come to the game? He knew better, knew where her seat was, and he’d kept an eye on it even after he’d realized she wasn’t coming.
He approached the group. Jake caught his eye and shrugged. “Come on, ladies,” he said. “We’re not going to the South Pole. I’m only taking her to New Orleans for two days.”
“It’s just that we’re so happy for y’all,” Hyacinth said. That’s when Robbie realized she was teary. So were Ava Grace and Evans. Wiping their eyes, they disengaged.
“Even if I didn’t get you on All Dressed in White?” Evans teased. She was teasing, wasn’t she? Seemed like it.
“I forgive you,” Hyacinth said. “Leaving me stranded in Mississippi is something else again.”
Stranded? Really? He wouldn’t have left her.
All the women were laughing and hugging again.
“I accept your reprimand and repent,” Evans said.
“You do not,” Ava Grace said. “You have to be sorry before you repent and you’re not.”
“No comment...” Evans looked at Jake like he was the best piece of chocolate in a heart-shaped box.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Hyacinth’s voice was all soft and she laid her hand on Evans’s cheek. “Totally worth it to see the look on your face.”
She sounded sincere; maybe she was. Damn it. Every single time he thought he had something figured out, she confused him again. Anyway, nothing changed that she’d stood him up.
“We’re going to have the best party ever for y’all,” Ava Grace said.
“We are.” Hyacinth nodded.
“I hate to break up this love fest,” Jake said. “Except I don’t. Evie, we need to go.” There was another round of hugs, with Robbie getting his share this time.
“I’ll walk out with you,” Ava Grace said. “Hyacinth, I’ll see you tomorrow, like we talked about.”
Hyacinth wiped her eyes again as they left.
She turned to Robbie. “Congratulations on the win. I don’t know anything about hockey, but Evans said you had a great game.”
The nerve of this woman. “Evans said, did she? I guess that’s the only way you’d know.”
Hyacinth nodded. “Everything moves so fast. It’s hard to tell who’s doing what all the time.”
“It’s easier to tell if you’re actually at the game.”
Hyacinth frowned. “What are you talking about? I was at the game. I’m right here.”
“You weren’t in your seat. I looked. A couple of times.”
“How do you know where my seat was?” She looked puzzled—and annoyed.
“I left you a ticket.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
Hadn’t he? Surely. But maybe not. He’d picked up his phone to text her. He remembered that. But then, his mum called. The next plan was to call her at Trousseau, but something else had distracted him. Distraction had always been a particular problem of his.
This was downright embarrassing, but he wasn’t admitting it. “I would have thought it was a given.”
“Why would you think that?”
A reasonable question, but he still wasn’t convinced she hadn’t snuck in here after the game.
“Who did we play?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “I don’t know the name, but their outfits were red and blue.”
Those were the colors of the Montreal Caribous, but it could have been a lucky guess. Red and blue were good colors, some of the best. “What was the final score?”
Her whisky eyes went mean. “You think I drove all the way downtown to trick you into thinking I came to the game? I’m not answering any more questions. You made me come and I’m here. You did not tell me you were leaving me a ticket. If you had, I would have told you I’ve got my own damn tickets. Claire gave them to me. I was sitting in one of those little box things with Ava Grace. Evans was there part of the time, too. The rest of the time, she was where the wives sit. Ask them if you want, but I’m not getting a note from them or my mommy.”
She’d have been sitting in a VIP suite then—way better than the ticket he’d left her. And failed to tell her about.
So she had come to see him play, even if it had been under duress, but had no idea what she’d seen. He could not win with this woman.
“Sorry.” The apology came easy. He’d had plenty of practice over the years, often due to that distraction problem.
She stared him down for a beat or two and nodded.
“I got two goals and an assist. Did you see me?”
“I don’t even know what an assist is. Are we going to eat? I’m hungry.”
“Yeah. Almost. I have to hit the autograph line for a bit first.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” It wasn’t late, but it was dark and he wasn’t sure how safe this part of town was. “The autograph line is fun.” He took her arm and guided her toward the exit. “Then I’ll follow you back to Laurel Springs and we’ll drop your car off at home before going to Hammer Time. The parking after games there is tight.”
She wanted to argue with him; he could see it in her eyes. But she just set her jaw and gave him a half nod.
“Robbie! Over here!” came a voice as they neared the autograph line. He glanced to see if she’d heard it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell.
Chapter Thirteen
“You have got to be kidding me!” Hyacinth closed her eyes and looked again. Surely she had misread the sign—but no.
The parking spot that Robbie had pulled into at Hammer Time had a sign that read Reserved for Yellowhammer Robbie McTavish, #5. “Is this why you insisted on taking my car to my house first? So I would see that you have your own parking place?” She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d wanted her to see him signing autographs, too. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered. But he had been sweet to the fans—especially the children.
He gave her a sidelong look. “The first star of the game gets the parking place until the next game. This is the first time I’ve had it.”
She supposed the first star meant the best player that night.
She had lied to him earlier, though what she’d said was close enough to the truth that she could rationalize it. She didn’t know anything about hockey, and the fast-moving game was hard to follow—but she hadn’t needed Evans to tell her he’d had a good game. Even she could tell when he put the puck in the net, which he’d done twice. She wasn’t as clear on that thing called assist, but that slamming opponents up against the sides of the rink... That happened a lot and it was exciting. It woke something almost primal in her and for the first time she understood why the girls in high school wanted the guy who could throw a football fifty yards or knock a baseball over the fence. It made her uneasy—especially in herself—but she understood it.
However, she wasn’t going to praise him. He didn’t need her praise; he had a sign and a parking place for that.
“Good thing I didn’t drive,” she said breezily. “If I’d have seen this, I would have parked here. I might come back tomorrow and do it. I might leave my car here all week.”
“Yeah? Claire gave me this space. Are you willing to cross her?”
“I might. I guess you’ll know when you come here and try to park.” She reached to unbuckle her seat belt and he was there opening her door before she could do it herself.
Holding his hand out to help her from the low-sitting vehicle was such a benign gesture, but then her hand was in his and it felt anything but.
“Your hands are cold. Don’t you have gloves?” He didn’t let go of her hand, even when she was on her feet beside him.
“You don’t have gloves,” she pointed out.
“My hands aren’t cold.”
And they weren’t. He took her other hand, folded them together, and rubbed them between his.
The feeling was dizzying. It shouldn’t have been. It was just hands on hands. It shouldn’t have meant anything—and it didn’t. Not to him. But there was something about his hands. She had the unexplained, insane desire to kiss his palms, first one and then the other. Crazy. She had to stop.
“Thanks. That’s better.” She withdrew her hands and put them in her coat pockets.
And damn if he didn’t put one of those hands on the small of her back to guide her into the restaurant. She needed a Kevlar bodysuit.
When they stepped inside the door, cheers went up. Robbie waved to his public.
“That’s because I’m first star,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s important.”
“I got that, what with the parking place and all.”
The restaurant was packed. He put an arm around her shoulders to steer her past the bar toward the back room. “I have to enjoy it while I can. It’ll be somebody else next week.”
“Maybe not. Maybe you’ll be first star again.”
He shrugged. “That’s the way of it. You’re up. You’re down. In between, people are asking, ‘What have you done for me lately?’”
“It’s not like you to be cynical.”
“That’s not cynical. It’s just life, la—I mean, Hyacinth.”
An icicle ripped through her. Why, why, why had she told him to never call her lass?
Their progress across the room was slow. Every two steps, someone stopped Robbie for a handshake, back slap, or selfie. Sometimes all three. She wondered idly if they looked like a couple or just a man running a woman through a crowd like a trolling motor on a bass boat.
“Here we are.” He pulled out a chair for her at a long table full of hockey players—some with women, some not.
Robbie took off his jacket, slung it over the back of his chair, and loosened his tie.
