Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) (4 page)

THEY’D TOLD ME
there was a woman on the team back when I’d first arranged for the sledge team to take part in the event, but no one had ever mentioned the fact that she was a shit disturber. It would’ve been nice if someone had thought to bring it to my attention, not that it would have changed things.

Quite some time after the game had ended and I’d finished giving all the interviews expected of me, I was still stewing over how I’d allowed London Hawke to get under my skin. Not only that, but I hadn’t yet been able to leave the BOK Center, as Sergei hadn’t finished up.

The pair of us didn’t get to see each other too often these days, and I wanted to have dinner with him, spend some time catching up. He planned to stick around Tulsa until a few days before Christmas, but I didn’t see any reason to put off getting out of here so we could talk. Sergei was the closest thing to family I had now and had been since my father had died more than a decade ago.

It wasn’t taking him so long because he needed more time to change and adjust his prosthetic leg or anything like that. Sergei usually got dressed faster than I did. The problem was that he wouldn’t stop talking to the other sledge players around the room. All of a sudden, my best friend was
everybody’s
best friend.

That wasn’t fair of me. He’d always been the friendlier one of us, the popular guy in the locker room. Our wreck had only left me more sullen than ever, but if anything, Sergei had come further out of his shell. He tended to be the life of the party.

The room was full to bursting, not only with those who’d played in today’s game but with their friends and family, too. Zee and Dana had brought in all three of their kids to help celebrate Dana’s coaching win, even the baby, Patrick. Most of the sledge players had parents or siblings with them, and a couple of the guys’ girlfriends had dropped in. London’s corner was overflowing, with a man and woman, plus four kids of varying ages. The other woman held a baby on her lap, which made me wish Hunter and Tallie had come and brought Harper. If Harper were here, she could rip out a few of my beard hairs and help me forget my frustrations.

My focus went straight to London, though. Now that she didn’t have all her hockey gear on and I could see her face, I recognized her. She’d been in the news a few years back after an accident in a women’s hockey game. Her story had struck a chord with me, and once they’d started raising money for her treatment, I’d badgered my teammates at the time to give me money so I could make an anonymous donation.

With her family surrounding her, she was all smiles and laughter. Her face lit up the room when she leaned over to tickle one of the children. This was a very different side of her than what she’d shown out on the ice today. Not only that, but she might as well be my polar opposite.

I sat in my stall, brooding and wishing I were anywhere else. My only consolation came from the amount of money we’d raised for the Para-Pythons—something in the range of twenty-five thousand dollars. The Thunderbirds had promised to match everything we’d brought in, and they were organizing an auction for the signed, game-worn jerseys to raise even more. With all of that and what I’d haggled out of my teammates, we could possibly write them a check for close to a hundred grand. That money would go a long way toward meeting their expenses this year.

Viktoriya Chambers came in, cautiously scanning the room for her husband. Razor was deep in conversation with Sergei, so I thought I’d go over and talk to her for a few minutes. She was at least Russian, even if she wasn’t family. I needed to make sure Razor was still treating her right, anyway. It’d been a week or so since I’d checked in with her.

I hadn’t even made it halfway across the locker room when London Hawke wheeled into my path and glared up at me.

“Can I help?” I asked when she neither moved nor spoke. I didn’t want to help her. I didn’t want to have anything to do with her, because every time she stared at me, I felt like she could see all the way into my soul.

Most likely, she knew every detail about what had happened that night so many years ago. Seemed like everyone did. Maybe she had figured out that I was the son of a bitch who’d caused Sergei to lose his leg, and yet I was still playing in the NHL when he couldn’t. Hell, maybe she wanted to take out her own injury on me. Whatever it was, I wished she would just cuss me out so we could move on, both of us knowing exactly where the other stood.

“Yeah, you can help me.” Her eyes roved over me, up and down, before stopping on my face. Or really, my beard. She stared at it a long time before moving back up to my eyes. “You can buy me coffee,” she finally said.

That didn’t make any sense at all. “Why you want me to buy coffee?”

She raised a single brow, not wavering in the least. “Because I do. You ready? I’ll drive.”

I got the sense that she was determined to have her way, whether I liked it or not.

“I don’t want to have coffee. Sergei is coming—” At that very moment, I caught sight of Sergei following a group of the other sledge players out of the locker room.

He glanced back and caught my eye, waving. “We’re having dinner,” he said in Russian. “I’ll come by your place later.”

Well, there went my ready excuse.

“Looks like he’s got other plans,” London said dryly. “Come on.” Then she wheeled herself around and headed for the exit.

“Don’t you have plans with your family?” I demanded. Even though I was racking my brain for an excuse, my feet were moving along behind her.

Then I remembered she’d said she would drive, and I really didn’t want to go.

My trepidation wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair. I knew better than most just how many modifications could be made for accessibility. I just didn’t want to get trapped somewhere with her and not have a way to get out of it.

“I see them all the time,” she said, picking up speed once we were in the concourse. “They live five miles or so away from me, so I can hang out with them any time I want, and with the holidays right around the corner, I’ll be sick to death of them before too long. It was a fun day for my nieces and nephews, but they’re going home now. The older kids have homework to get done this weekend. So…I’m all yours for the rest of the day, and it looks like your plans got changed.”

This was not what I wanted. Not at all.

She’d parked her gray Chevy sedan in the handicapped spaces up front. When she angled her chair inside the open door, I almost asked if she needed help before stopping myself with memories of Sergei’s early days learning to walk with a prosthetic flashing through my mind.

She locked the wheels and easily lifted herself over into the driver’s seat. “I need a minute to get my chair in the back, but then you can get in,” she said, already halfway through the process before my brain had caught up. In no time, she had the wheelchair disassembled and stowed behind her. “There,” she said, grinning at me. “All set for you.” She pushed a few buttons, and the passenger seat slid backward so there was room for me and my long legs.

What the hell was I getting myself into? I didn’t know, but I still climbed in.

“So tell me,” London said, backing out of her parking spot. There was a pole next to her steering wheel that she used to brake and accelerate with nothing but her hands. She looked both ways before turning into the lane.

“Tell you what?”

“What are you trying to hide with that beard?”

She certainly didn’t mess around, did she?

THE QUESTION WAS
barely out of my mouth, and he was already flinching.

Guess I’d hit a sore spot.

“Just like having beard,” he said after a quick recovery.

Straight to defensiveness. Not surprising. I took a right turn to get to the closest Starbucks and thought through a different tack. “I’ve seen pictures from before,” I said cautiously, easing into things. “You used to have such a baby face. I bet you still do, but no one can tell with all that hiding your smile.”

“No smile to hide.”

Indeed. “Why don’t you smile?”

“Why you ask so many questions?” Then he muttered something in Russian beneath his breath.

“No fair speaking in other languages. If you can’t say it to my face, then don’t say it.”

“Said fuck me, you’re shit disturber off ice, too.”

I burst out laughing as we arrived at Starbucks. Once I’d parked, I turned to find him glowering at me. I tried to put on a straight face, but it was no use, so I shook my head. “I think I like you, Nazarenko. Don’t ask me why, because I couldn’t tell you. But I like you.”

He climbed out and slammed his door before stalking off to pace on the sidewalk.

I quickly transferred my chair out of the car and reassembled it on the ground. In no time, I was ready to go in, but he still looked ready to bite my head off.

“Does caffeine improve your attitude?” I asked. “Can’t see how it’ll make it any worse, but occasionally I’m surprised.”

He held open the door for me. “Does caffeine put civil tongue in your mouth?”

“It hasn’t yet.” I winked as I wheeled in past him and headed straight for the line.

“I can hope it starts today.”

“Sure. If you want.” I shrugged.

Neither of us said anything else as we waited for our turn in line. When I got to the front, I ordered a venti skinny caramel latte and gave them my name. Instead of paying, I angled my head in Nazarenko’s direction.

“Espresso,” he bit off. “Double shot.” Then he glanced down at me. “No, make it triple.”

“And you can put Captain McGrumpy Pants on his cup,” I added. Then I left him to pay and found us a table in the corner, well away from the mom and her kids near the door. I didn’t trust either of us to keep a civil tongue, as he’d put it, so we would be much better off keeping out of the kids’ hearing.

He waited to join me until our drinks were ready, carrying them both over. He set mine in front of me before taking a seat. Once he set his cup on the table, I saw that the barista had followed my directions. There was no hiding my smile.

“You enjoy poking at me,” he said. “Sparking my temper.”

I met his eyes. “Poking the bear was always one of my favorite sports. Used to do it all the time with my brother.”

“Lots of practice. Lucky to be alive.”

“And practice makes perfect. Something you should keep in mind if you intend to play another sled hockey game. You were awful out there.”

He rolled his eyes, but I didn’t miss the life in them. Whether he liked it or not, I was getting a rise out of him. He was enjoying this back-and-forth as much as I was.

“Why you Americans always have to be different from rest of the world? Everyone else says sledge. Uses metric system. Makes more sense.”

“Why do you Russians always have to be macho assholes?”

“Why you can’t be feminine? Act like a lady?”

“I’ve never been very feminine, and I don’t have any intention of changing that for you or anyone else. I’m athletic. I work out. I play with guys, and I’m not going to apologize for it.”

“Could at least not talk like sailor.”

“Oh, so are you going to watch your mouth around me? I doubt it.”

“Men cuss, they’re just men. Women cuss, it’s—”

“Unladylike,” I cut in. “Yeah. I know. And I don’t fucking care.” I took a sip of my latte, never taking my eyes off him. “So what’s the deal with your beard?” I demanded again. “You never had one before the accident.”