Breakaway, page 9
part #5 of Northbrook Hockey Elite Series
“I feel sorry for your knees,” Camila said. “I mean, you’re constantly bending to the ground.”
“Gotta have strong thighs, you know,” Trane said.
Declan took another long swallow of his water. He could use more ice. Just then the waiter showed up with Camila’s salad.
“Can I get more water?” Declan said. It bugged him to have to ask, but he understood that the three waiters working the room were kept plenty busy.
“Sure thing,” the waiter said, then hurried off.
“It’s interesting that you’re both laying off the alcohol,” Trane observed, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms. “I know why Declan doesn’t drink. What about you, Camila?”
Camila’s gaze flicked to Declan, then returned to Trane. Declan had seen curiosity in her gaze, but she didn’t ask him anything. She’d taken a couple of bites of her salad, but now she set down her fork.
“My mom’s first husband was an alcoholic,” she said simply. “Abusive too. Luckily she got out of that marriage and married my dad. Although, he ended up being a poor match for different reasons. But my mom always told me that a relationship should be between two people and not a third party. I guess I took it to heart.”
Declan had no words. He hadn’t realized Camila had such a volatile upbringing. The pictures of her online sure covered up a lot.
“Sounds like a good motivator,” Trane said in a quiet voice. “How long ago did your parents get divorced?”
Camila shrugged, as if she’d left the past far behind. “When I was a kid. But my mom has since passed away, so it’s just me and my dad. And his new wife, Angela. In fact, my mom’s cancer turned my dad into a health nut. You know, green smoothies and all that.”
“Right,” Trane said. “I’m glad your dad is healthy, though. My dad stayed on the hard road. He had things rough and never did turn his life around.”
Declan was surprised to hear Trane talk about his dad. It had been a hands-off topic during Northbrook. “What’s he doing now?” Declan asked.
Trane met Declan’s gaze. “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since I left Chicago.”
Camila reached across the table and placed her hand on Trane’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, well, are you going to introduce me to the lady?” someone said, approaching their table.
Declan looked up to see one of Trane’s teammates. It was the guy who’d elbowed him. In the face. Todd Something.
“Oh, ouch,” Todd said, his gaze landing on Declan. “Sorry about that, Dice.”
“Are you?” Declan asked, knowing his tone sounded peeved.
Todd smiled, completely unruffled. “You know, a shiner gets you a lot of sympathy.” He glanced at Camila, then back to Declan. “If you know what I mean.”
Declan already didn’t like the guy, and when Todd helped himself to the chair by Trane, that dislike tripled.
“So . . . I hear you’re the marketing whiz on the Chargers staff,” Todd said, his eyes focused on Camila. “Camila, right?”
“Right, but I don’t know if I’m a whiz,” Camila said. “I get stuff done, that’s about it.”
Todd chuckled. “That’s what we like to hear. Have you ever been to Michigan?”
Surely Camila could see right through this guy, Declan thought.
“I haven’t.”
“It’s beautiful,” Todd said. “Really green. Some humidity, but not too much.”
Camila smiled.
A smile that Declan didn’t like aimed at a guy like Todd.
Declan pulled out his phone as Todd continued to regale Camila with details about how great Michigan was. He sent a text to Trane. What’s up with this guy?
Worried? Trane texted.
Should I be?
Not unless she likes him. He’s a player.
Declan pocketed his phone and thanked the waiter for the drink refill. The conversation shifted to Trane and Todd swapping team stories. Some were funny, and Declan might have laughed a time or two. At least when he wasn’t worrying about Camila flirting with Todd.
It wasn’t like she was flirting; it was more that she was paying Todd more attention than Declan liked.
Then . . . Todd went in for the kill. “Hey, Camila, I’ll still be in town tomorrow morning. Want to catch breakfast?”
Camila didn’t hesitate. “I’m working. Sorry.”
Good, Declan thought.
“I could meet as early as you want,” Todd pressed. “I mean, losing sleep would be worth it.”
“She said she’s working,” Declan said.
Camila glanced at him but then said to Todd, “I’m not much of a breakfast person anyway.”
“I’ll see if I can change my flight and hang around for lunch,” Todd said. “I mean, you have to get hungry some time.”
“Aren’t you flying out with your team?” Camila asked in a perfectly pleasant tone.
“Yeah,” Declan said. “You can’t miss your team flight.”
Trane chuckled.
But Todd ignored Declan completely. “I might get my hand slapped, but it’s not like the coach will bench me.”
Camila gave a soft laugh. “You’re pretty confident, Todd.”
“I’d have to agree with that.” Todd winked at her. “I’m confident in a lot of things.”
Enough was enough. “Can I talk to you for a second?” Declan said to Camila.
Her brows lifted as she looked over at him. “Sure.”
When she didn’t make a move to stand, Declan said, “Somewhere else.”
She took a sip from her water. “Now?”
Was she messing with him? It was hard to tell. She had come in wearing a killer dress and was chatting up the one guy in the room Declan couldn’t stand, second only to Hammer. “Yeah.”
“Seriously, dude?” Todd said, then looked at Trane. “Your buddy is a piece of work.”
Trane lifted his hands as if he was innocent of all things Declan.
“Hammer warned me,” Todd grumbled.
His comment was a level ten on the annoyance factor. “About what?” Declan knew he was about five seconds away from calling this guy out. And it wouldn’t be pretty. If his shoulder weren’t still so sore, he probably would have already.
Todd shook his head as if he was totally irritated.
Good. Declan stood and placed a hand on the back of Camila’s chair. “Come on.”
He sensed her hesitation, her stubbornness, but then she rose to her feet.
“This way,” he said, placing his hand on her lower back to steer her around a couple of tables and out into a hallway. Next they passed the bathrooms, then Declan pushed his way into a room that was empty, his hand grasping her arm now.
The lighting was dim, and it looked like a catchall room. Tables were piled with boxes, and shelving lined the far wall, stacked with all sorts of restaurant supplies.
“Let go of me, Declan,” were the first words out of Camila’s mouth.
He let go immediately, then met her gaze. The green color of her eyes had been replaced by fire.
Declan had steered her like he was a man on a mission, and now they’d ended up in a back room that was half full of tables and boxes. Some sort of storage place lit with low lighting. Music thumped from the restaurant in a steady beat.
When he let go of her, he stood between her and the door leading back into the restaurant. Like a formidable barrier.
He folded his arms, and she didn’t miss how he winced from his hurt shoulder. His dark shirt made his eyes look nearly black, and the fabric stretched across his chest, giving a hint of what she’d already seen earlier that night when he’d been shirtless. A chain glinted at his neck, which only drew her attention to his muscled shoulders.
She forced her eyes up, taking in the scruff on his jaw and the grim set of his mouth. His long, dark eyelashes had probably made more than one woman envious, including her.
“Todd’s bad news, Camila,” he said.
So this was about Todd. “Oh really?” she countered. “How so?”
“Trane said he’s a player.”
“Isn’t every hockey player like that?” she said. Maybe not Declan, since she still hadn’t been able to find any dirt on him. And Trane seemed totally decent. Friendly, but not flirty. Of course, he thought she and Declan were dating—which was so far from reality it wasn’t even funny. “So, it’s okay for you and Trane to hang around ‘bad news’ guys, but not me?”
Declan didn’t even flinch. “It’s different.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
This time, he did release a sigh. “Yes.”
“Wow, look at you, all smug and sexist,” she spat out before she could curb her words.
He flinched at her accusation but didn’t defend himself.
She hadn’t expected this night to go like this at all. Not Declan’s silence, his watchfulness, how he’d answered for her when Todd was talking to her. He’d been acting all . . . what had Paige called it? Caveman-like. Yeah, that was it.
And what right did he have to tell her who she could and couldn’t talk to? He wasn’t her brother, or her father, or anyone who had a say in her life at all.
“You know, Declan Rivera,” she said, “I’m tired of you acting like a controlling older brother. I have enough of that with my dad and his wife. I don’t need another person thinking they can take on that role.” Her voice heaved with emotion, mostly because it seemed that her words were falling on deaf ears. Here he was looking all tough and imposing—the big hockey hero of the night with a black eye to prove it. Well, none of that intimidated her.
“Camila—”
“Stop, now, Declan.” She pushed a finger against his chest, determined to get her message through. It was her turn to speak, not his. “I don’t need you hovering over me or censoring who I talk to. Stop acting like a brother.”
His dark eyes glinted in the dimness of the room, and there was something in them that Camila hadn’t seen before. He was letting down his guard, and his gaze seemed to flare.
“Challenge accepted, Camila,” he said in a low voice.
Before she could unravel what he was talking about, Declan closed the distance between them and slid his hands to her hips. Camila’s hand went flat against his chest. What was he doing? And how did he always smell so good?
“What are you doing, Declan?”
“I’m thinking about kissing you so you know I’m not your brother.”
She stared at him, not sure if she’d heard his words right. But then, it seemed her hand had a mind of its own, because she curled her fingers into his shirt and tugged him close until his mouth was barely an inch from hers.
A split second passed before Declan closed the distance and kissed her.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss but a hard kiss, a demanding kiss. His mouth on hers was all heat, making sparks race straight to her belly. One hand anchored her hips against his, and the other hand slid up her back, radiating warmth throughout the rest of her body. Apparently he wasn’t as injured as she thought, because his arm was working just fine.
His kissing deepened, and despite every bit of frustration she felt toward him, she kissed him back. Matching his urgency with her own. Like she wanted this as much as he seemed to. Her mind had forgotten all of her protests, and she could only think of one thing: Declan Rivera was kissing her. And it was amazing. She should want to push him away, to stop how his touch was turning her legs into water, but her heart wasn’t listening to her brain.
Instead of breaking off the kiss, she gripped his shirt with both hands until she felt steadier, then she slid her fingers through his hair. She dragged him closer, and he obliged, the planes of his body pressing against her curves as he backed her against the wall. The heat of his mouth on hers, tasting, savoring, and the smell of his skin was intoxicating, causing her senses to buzz. And the way his hands held her, like he wasn’t ever going to let her go, made her feel like she might never walk a straight line again.
“Declan,” she gasped, but then promptly forgot what she was going to say when he pressed his mouth beneath her jaw. The scruff of his unshaved whiskers was rough yet soft at the same time, and goosebumps skittered across her skin.
She leaned her head against the wall behind her and closed her eyes as his mouth explored her neck and his hands slowly moved up her arms. Then he lifted his head and cradled her face. She opened her eyes to look right into the depths of his brown gaze.
“I’m not your brother, Camila,” he murmured.
Her mouth tugged into a smile, and she couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “I’m glad we got that settled, Declan Rivera.”
“You are?” he said, his own lips curving upward.
She nodded, because she needed to concentrate on catching her breath again. She moved her hands over his shoulders, lightly, worried that he might be feeling some pain.
But his gaze didn’t give any indication that he was bothered. Instead, he brushed his mouth against hers, slowly this time, lingering. It was like the cooldown after a sprint. Except Camila was far from cool. The heat had never really left.
Declan kissing her had been unexpected, and she didn’t know what she thought of it, or what it meant, or what he was thinking. Besides the obvious. For now, she was enjoying Declan’s strong body pressed against hers and becoming lost in his taste and touch.
“I’ll be right back,” someone said, really close to the door they’d come through.
Declan released her immediately and stepped away just as someone walked into the room.
And flipped on the overhead light.
The florescent glare made Camila blink as if she’d just stepped into the bright sun.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t know anyone was in here,” said a guy who wore one of the waiter uniforms. He passed by them with a smirk, then shuffled through the boxes on the table.
Declan rubbed the back of his neck as if he was debating what to do.
Camila knew what to do. Leave. Right now.
She straightened from the wall and moved past Declan. She heard his footsteps follow, but she didn’t turn. She didn’t know what to say anyway. They’d nearly been caught in the storage room making out, and that was embarrassing enough. Her steps slowed as she approached the doors leading to the restrooms.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, pushing open the ladies door. Before Declan could answer, she hurried inside. Thankfully it was empty, and she moved to the mirror. Yep. She looked like she’d been kissed. Good thing she hadn’t returned to their table like this. She smoothed her hair and twisted some of her waves back into place. Then she wiped off the lip gloss that had strayed from the lines. No sign of any lip gloss now. She turned on the cold-water faucet and ran her hands under the water, then dabbed at her neck.
She leaned closer to the mirror when she saw a red mark below her jaw. It was faint, but it was definitely new. Had Declan marked her on purpose? She felt both annoyed and . . . tingly.
Her purse was back at the table, so she couldn’t cover it with concealer. She fluffed her hair a little, and brought a section forward, over her shoulder, so that it would at least cover up most of the mark. She’d have to remember not to smooth her hair back.
She didn’t know how long she’d been in the restroom, but she should probably return to the restaurant. Declan might think she’d escaped out the window. Camila stifled a slightly hysterical laugh as she scanned for said window. There was none in this bathroom.
But her pulse was still racing, and her skin still heated, and she didn’t want to face any curious gazes right now. Besides, what was Declan telling Trane? And was Todd still at the table, or had he given up?
Camila exhaled, then inhaled. Exhaled again. She could do this. The evening hadn’t gone exactly as she’d planned, and she was pretty sure Declan felt the same way. Maybe he was second-guessing himself right now? Regretting his impulsivity?
Because surely it had been completely impulsive. She’d basically challenged him. What had he said? Challenge accepted.
Yeah. So. It had been a mistake. Declan had said himself he wasn’t like other guys. That she didn’t need to hide from him. So maybe that also meant they could have a one-time kiss and nothing had to change.
Two women entered the restroom, laughing.
Time for Camila to leave. She gave them a fleeting smile and walked into the hallway. One step in front of another, Camila, she told herself as she headed back to the restaurant. A bunch of guys were standing clustered in front of a TV screen.
It took only one glance for her to see they were watching the highlights of the hockey game on some sports news channel. Declan was sitting at their table, though, talking to Trane. No Todd in sight.
By the loud laughter and jeers of the hockey players, she knew they each had multiple beers in them. Time for her to leave. She’d come up with some excuse to Declan and Trane, then go home and spill her guts to Paige. Because Camila’s mind was whirling, and she felt off-balance.
What if . . . what if Declan’s kiss had been planned? What if it wasn’t an impulse thing? What if he was like the other guys? His steady gaze was on her again, and an involuntary shiver of warmth ran through her. She couldn’t be reacting to him like this, wanting him to pull her into his arms again and kiss her senseless.
No, she had to keep her wits about her.
He stood and pulled out her chair.
The gentlemanly act made her insides give a little sigh. “I have to, uh, leave,” she said, picking up her purse from where it was hanging from the back of the chair. “I have some reports to finish up for work. Thanks for, um, dinner.”
“You hardly ate,” Trane said. “Sit down. A few more minutes won’t hurt. The spreadsheets can wait.”
Camila gave Trane a half smile. “I know, but then I’d have to get up really early, and I’m not much of a morning person.”
“All right then,” Trane said in a conciliatory tone, although Declan had yet to say a word. “I’ll see you at the video shoot, right? Declan says you’re helping Bree.”
