Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (10 page)

"Where and when?"

Is she serious?
He could honestly say
he'd never been less aroused in his life. "Look. I don't know if I
gave you the wrong impression—"

"Are you gay?"

Holy shit! Really?
"This was a
mistake. I'm sorry I called."

His finger was on the 'end' button when she
spoke. "Wait! Please, please don't hang up!"

He put the phone to his ear, waiting.

"Are you still there?" Her tone sounded
small, desperate. "Landon?"

"I'm here."

"I'm sorry. You must think I'm a real bitch."
Her exhale came loud and staticky through the phone. "I'd love to
have lunch. Can you come pick me up?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea." He
pressed his eyes shut, ignoring the shouts from the players
speculating about 'The Honeymoon'. Maybe he'd been wrong about the
girl. He was new here. There was a lot he didn't know. "I don't say
shit I don't mean. You said you needed a friend. If you don't—"

"I do!" Her voice hitched. "More now than
ever. If you meant it—"

"I meant it."

She sighed. "Good. Then please, come get me.
Without a friend, right now, I might lose my mind."

"Where are you?" His pulse quickened.
Something in her words made him nervous. She'd done her best to
pass them off as light, but she meant them. Something had happened.
The girl was going to snap. He dressed in street clothes and kept
talking. "I don't get how people think you're easy if you make it
this hard on your friends to ask you to hang out."

"I don't . . . ." She swallowed audibly. "I
don't have any friends."

"Then what does that make me?"
Keep
talking, sweetie.
He elbowed past the crowd blocking the door
and ignored the reporters.
I'm on my way.
"Do you not want
friends?"

She laughed. "Are you for real? Who doesn't
want friends?"

"Hold that thought, buddy." He grinned and
fished his keys from his jean pocket. "You might want to rethink
that after we hang out a few times. I like playing darts and I'm a
sore loser. We'll get along better if you're not any good."

"I've never played darts."

"Well, I'll teach you." He slid into the
front seat of his rented jeep and started it up. "But you've got to
promise me one thing."

Giggling, which made him feel much better,
she asked, "What's that?"

"If you get better than me, you'll still let
me win. I wasn't kidding when I said I was a sore loser."

"You've got it!" She laughed. "But you
explain it to my victims when I shoot wide."

"Hey." He hooked his cell up to his Bluetooth
and maneuvered out of the parking lot. "What are friends for? I'll
distract them while you slip out."

"Sounds good." She paused. "Shit, I never
told you where to pick me up!"

"Then tell me!"

"I'm at the forum." Poor girl sounded so
lost. "And I'm in way over my head."

"I got that." He tightened his grip on the
steering wheel. "Get out of there. Meet me outside."

Silver almost felt guilty about leaving Asher
after he'd gone out and gotten all her favorite foods, but the
guilt couldn't stand up to her anger. She drained half a flask of
rum, stuffed it in her purse, and fished out a cherry Tootsie Pop
as the elevator descended. Sugar, caffeine, and liquor mixed
together made her jittery, yet kinda mellow, almost the perfect
balance. There were other things that could give her a better fix,
but she wasn't going there ever again.

As she made her way across the main floor,
her resolve weakened. The cold dismissal from Dean had hit her
hard. Not that she'd
ever
consider fooling around with him
now that she'd gotten him out of her system—
Have you?
Really?—
but damn it, she hadn't expected him to react the way
he had. The team mattered more to him than she did.

Get over it. It's not like you've never
felt this way before.
She realized she'd worked her hand into
her purse to cup the tiny vial in her palm like a cherished
memento. Jerking her hand out, she clipped the purse shut.
You
don't need his approval. Or anything else from him. You just need
him to accept that you're in charge.

Still, that weak, needy part of her she
usually ignored refused to shut up. Not because of Dean—
forget
him!—
but because of Asher. More and more often he showed, in
little ways, that she wasn't all that important to him. He loved
Cedric, and she wanted to believe he loved her too, but . . . hell,
she might as well admit it. He didn't. So where did that leave
her?

Alone.
Her sister hadn't answered the
one concerned call she'd made. Her father wouldn't want to hear
about her 'drama'.

Her simple, five inch heels clipped briskly
on the marble tiles. The points found a wide gap and she stumbled.
Dropping to one knee, she glanced around to see if anyone had
witnessed her humiliation. The security guard pointedly focused on
his newspaper. Not one person passing even paused.

I might as well be invisible.

A few years ago she would have screamed to
get someone's attention. Would have bitched about the tiles and
demanded they be fixed
immediately.
People would have
scurried around, ready to cater to her every whim . . .

But she didn't make a sound. She stood and
straightened her pants, wincing at the dull throb in her knee.
Limping, she made her way to the door, her vision warped by tears.
The cool outside air smacked her face as she pushed it open.

A big hand smacked the door over her head. A
wall of muscle in a snug grey t-shirt and faded jeans blocked her
path. Before she could react, Landon spoke, his deep, gruff voice
softened around the edges by his accent. "Hey. You all right?"

Doing her best to stand up straight, she
nodded. "I just tripped. My pride hurts worse than anything
else."

He curved his hand under her elbow and guided
her past the doors, helping her lean against the wall before
crouching down. "I'm not surprised, but I'd like to take a look
anyway." His light grey eyes met hers as he curved his fingers
under one pant leg. "Do you mind?"

"No. Go ahead." She pressed her eyes shut as
he gently rolled her pant leg over her knee and sucked in a breath
as the material peeled away from broken flesh. His freshly-showered
scent hit her like a gust of wind rising from a summer rain. His
calloused fingers brushing alongside the wound distracted her from
the pain. Distracted her a little
too
much. She smirked,
sure it was intentional. "Like what you see?"

"Not at all. Torn flesh and blood just isn't
my thing. I'm a breast man, myself." He straightened and grinned at
her. His grin turned to a frown when she evaded his gaze. "Did I
say something wrong?"

She sniffled, hating that she couldn't pull
it together.
A breast man? Just great.
All she seemed to
hear lately was that no one wanted her. "I have tiny boobs."

"I would argue that, considering I've seen
them." Landon winked and she couldn't help but let out a watery
giggle. "But right now all I'm thinking about is patching you up.
You won't take offense if I tell you the only thing I want to put
on you is a Band-Aid, will you? I've got some good lines to
practice on you after if you want."

"Really?" She allowed him wrap to his arm
around her shoulders, encasing her securely against his solid body.
Such a big, hot—
very hot—
man. She peeked up at his face. His
smile was playful, without a hint of lust. She wasn't sure whether
she should be disappointed or not. He did want to practice lines on
her after all. "I'm pretty sure I've heard them all."

"Damn." He led her to a jeep and held the
door open as she climbed in. "So is 'Any more than a mouthful'
lame? Could you help me come up with new material?"

"Why would you bother asking? I—" She cut
herself off.
He almost hung up on you about twenty minutes ago
for suggesting he wanted to fuck you. Don't go there.
He'd been
insulted. He was the only person being nice to her. Time to attempt
her first normal conversation with a man she wasn't related to.
"Yeah. It is kinda lame. You want some friendly advice? Don't
comment on breasts when you're with a woman with small ones. Not
until you've got her naked. At that point, worshiping them
works."

"So if she's got massive hooters I should
remark on them at once?"

"Only if you wanna get slapped."

His deep laugh sent a warm rush straight
through her. "Maybe I'm kinky that way."

You sure he doesn't want to fuck you?

How could she be? She didn't think it was
possible, but Landon made her forget her suspicions as he quickly
cleaned her wound and gently covered it with a large Band-Aid. He
kissed the top of her knee in a way that seemed so automatic she
didn't even try to read anything into it—though her skin tingled
where his lips had pressed long after he rolled her pant leg
down.

Damn, it felt . . . nice. Not sexual. Nothing
sexual had ever been so tender.

I really hope he doesn't want to fuck
me.

Music started up the second he turned the
key. Before long the upbeat dance tune had her swaying and singing
along, tapping her lollypop hand on her knee in time to the beat.
They drove for a bit without a word, both enjoying the music. At a
stoplight, Landon looked at her with an unreadable smile on his
lips.

"So," He spoke loud over the music. "I hear
you're an actress? Is singing part of the job description?"

She winced. Asher told her all the time that
she couldn't carry a note. "Depends. If I started younger, maybe,
but most of my parts didn't involve much more than a willingness to
show a bit of skin."

His brow shot up. "You're not a porn star are
you?" He held up a hand before she could come up with a biting
response. "Don't take it the wrong way, but I have an unhealthy
addiction to pornos, and I would remember you."

Heat spread over her cheeks. "Are you
serious?"

He snorted. "No. Do I look like some kind of
perv?"

At that point, she really couldn't say one
way or another. But if he was a perv, he was a cut above the rest.
He'd passed the fifteen minute mark without leering and groping.
Which earned him some serious brownie points.

She stuck her lollipop in her mouth and
sucked hard. Then shifted it to one side of her mouth. "Why the
question then?" She crunched on what was left of the candy and
dropped the stick in the empty ashtray. "Not that I'm all that
surprised, but why even mention porn star?"

"You brought up showing skin." He shrugged.
"You've got a nice voice. I think you sold yourself short."

Oh, he's so full of shit!
She shook
her head and smiled. "I do not. But you're sweet to say so."

"I get the impression that you don't believe
me." He eased the jeep into a space on a grungy, low-end shopping
district street and shifted into park. "Me and you are gonna do
Karaoke one day. Maybe you'll believe the drunken, cheering
crowd."

Her eyes went wide. "Not now? I'm not up
to—"

"I think I mentioned darts." He got out and
went around the car to open her door. "Maybe we can hit a Karaoke
club this weekend."

"Maybe . . . ." Singing in public wasn't high
on her to-do list. She really, really hated being laughed at. "But
I thought we were going out for lunch."

He glanced over at the bar he'd parked in
front of. "This place serves food. I hope you weren't expecting
anythin' fancy?"

He brought me out for greasy bar food?
She wrinkled her nose. This had to be the oddest date she'd ever
been on.

It's not a date.

Right. Still, if she ate here, she'd be
obliged to sign up to a local gym. Her Dartmouth 'owner' career had
gotten off to a rocky start. And Daddy would take the reins back
any day now. If she wanted to maintain her independence, she might
want to start looking for work soon. And her body was the only
thing she had that was worth anything.

"Do you think they serve salads?"

"Oh, no. You're not allowed to do that. We're
hanging out as friends." Landon folded his arms over his broad
chest. "Save the 'I'll just have a salad' for the men you're trying
to impress. With me, you're gonna eat normal. You're not allergic
to French fries, are you?"

"No, but—"

"Do you like them?"

Well . . .
To be honest, once in
awhile she did enjoy scarfing down all kinds of naughty, fattening
foods. French fries became a comfort food when she quit sniffing.
But after gaining three pounds in a week, she'd gotten back on her
no carbs diet.

"I like them . . . ." She drew her shoulders
back. "But I have to be careful. You must get that? You know about
keeping in shape."

His expression turned serious. "Very true. So
how about after we stuff our faces, we walk to the forum? That
shouldn't burn all those nasty calories."

"You'll be late getting back to
training."

"I like living on the edge." He held the bar
door open for her. "I just got here. I don't want the coaching
staff to think I'm predictable."

She arched a brow as she paused by his side.
"How much am I paying you again?"

"Way too much." He chuckled and gave her a
little shove. "But I won't let you down so long as you don't expose
my strategy. I plan to be an old-style goalie. A little weird. You
good with that?"

With his kind of weird? Oh, hell yeah! She
had no clue what would happen on the ice, but right here, right
now, he was everything she needed and more. He didn't take anything
seriously! And he made her feel like it was okay for her to do the
same.

"I reserve judgment." She gave him a sideways
smile. "I should be honest. I'm a sore loser too. I will so pull
the 'a gentleman would let me win' card."