Out of the Game3 (9 page)

The Reverse Kneeling...?
Wait a second.
“Alex Sullivan, are you teasing me?”

He tightened the arm around her waist. “Yes.”

“Oh!” She wriggled in his arms, trying to get loose. “That’s...that’s so mean.”

He was laughing, whether at her struggles or her indignation, she had no idea. “Come on, Claire, I had to. You left me wide open there.”

“Let me go! I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. Come on. Don’t be mad.” He finally released her and she moved to the other side of the sofa.

“I have every right to be mad.” She was breathing hard, furious. “I shared something with you, something intimate and personal, and you threw it in my face and made fun of it. Is everything a joke to you? Are you incapable of being serious or understanding?”

The hilarity on his face faded quickly as he seemed to realize he’d hurt her feelings. He looked pained and she might have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t been such a complete asshole just now.

“Christ, Claire. I didn’t...I’m sorry. You’re right. That was really stupid of me. I just...you’ve got such a great sense of humor, I thought...” He shook his head. “Lapse of judgment. Huge lapse of judgment.”

She looked at his face again. He seemed genuinely remorseful.

“And I
can
be serious and understanding. It’s just not the tool in my toolbox I go to first. So, how about I share something, too? I’ll share a fear, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Oh, like you didn’t laugh at me?”

He nodded. “Okay. That’s fair. You can laugh if you want to.”

“What’s the fear?” She was still mad and didn’t try to keep it out of her voice.

“I...” He sighed. “I’m afraid you’re not going to like me.”

Of all the things he might have said, she’d never have thought of that. “Alex, I wouldn’t have come on the trip with you if I didn’t like you.”

“No, I know you like me. I just...I just want you to
like me
like me. Fuck, that sounds so fucking high school, but it’s true. I usually don’t give a shit if a woman likes me or not, as long as she goes to bed with me, but...” He got a funny look on his face, like he’d just been given a puzzling algebra problem. “You’re different for some reason.”

Chapter Twelve

Alex woke, looked at the clock and saw it was only 2:00 a.m. The noise he’d heard was Claire walking around in her room again.

Not knowing her normal sleeping routine, he wondered if she had insomnia. He wasn’t sleeping so easily either. He felt bad about what he’d said to her earlier. Sometimes his teasing went too far. He knew that. The only excuse he could come up with was that he felt so comfortable with her, like she was a friend, a buddy.

Then he admitted that was bullshit. She was anything but one of his buddies. First of all, she was all woman. To confirm that, all it’d take was one look at her tits. She was also way too sophisticated for him. She was a patron of an art museum, for fuck’s sake. She knew what pork belly was, how to tell soup from salsa. She probably also had a college degree and knew how to use commas. Or even semi-colons. She was so far out of his league, he wanted to kick himself for even thinking she’d be interested in him.

But she was.

Well, she used to be. Until he opened his big mouth and stuck both his feet in it.

He sighed and waited for her to settle back down. This was probably the third time he’d heard her get up. He didn’t remember her drinking a ton of water at dinner, but when nature called...

This time, though, he didn’t hear a toilet flush.

Her door opened.

He sat up. She was going downstairs. He threw the covers back and followed her.

In the kitchen he found her checking out the refrigerator. Perfect. Nothing he liked better than a midnight snack. She’d left the light off but the one from the fridge illuminated her face. She wore a T-shirt and knit shorts. He stole a look at her breasts, unhindered by a bra. Fuck. He had to knock
that
shit off or he’d embarrass himself because all he was wearing was some boxer briefs.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning a hip against the counter.

She looked up and winced. “Did I wake you up? I tried to be quiet.” She closed the refrigerator door.

“I was up anyway. Can’t seem to get to sleep.”

“Me either.”

They got out some packaged cookies and two glasses of milk and stood at the counter. He dipped his cookies. She didn’t.

“It’s the movie,” she said. “I keep seeing the terminator coming after her in that factory. I can’t get that out of my mind. I knew I shouldn’t have watched it.”

“Really? You can’t sleep because of the movie?”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Don’t you dare make fun of me again.”

He shook his head. “I won’t.” He leaned forward and risked cupping her cheek and kissing her forehead. “I’m really sorry I was a shithead. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

She lifted a shoulder.

“Now come on. Let’s get some rest. We have that hike tomorrow. We’re going to need energy.”

She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay down here for a little while. Read one of those magazines...” She gestured toward the living room.

“Claire. Come on, you need sleep.”

“I know. I just don’t think I’m going to get any. I’m too...agitated.”

“What if you had company?” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I promise I’m not suggesting that so I can make a move on you. It’s just...” He shrugged. “I could hold you until you fell asleep.”

She didn’t say anything. She looked thoughtful.

She looked tired.

“I can trust you?”

Instinct told him to spout off something clever and charming, but he ended up just saying, “Yes.”

Another moment passed before she gave a small nod.

Leaving the empty milk glasses in the sink, they went upstairs. He watched her ass as she preceded him. Holy fuck. What had he gotten himself into? As he slid between the sheets he mentally prepared himself like he was about to play a game of hockey.
Be tough
,
Sullivan.
Ignore distractions.
You can do this
.

All he really had to do was do nothing. Just lie there. Easy, right? He thought about all the things he’d done that were way harder than this. That Herb Brooksian bag skate Coach Mandeville had made them do after the blow out in ‘09. He hadn’t been the only player who’d thrown up after the punishing drill, although admittedly, Alex had probably vomited because of his hangover.

Then there was the semester-long torture of English Lit his senior year in high school. Alex had never been the smartest tool in the shed, but until that class, he’d always assumed he would graduate. He didn’t “get” Shakespeare. What was the point of reading a bunch of shit that no one these days could understand without a study guide? And who
read
plays anyway, except actors? Unless Alex was going to drone on stage about Juliet’s this and Juliet’s that, he didn’t see the point. It was only with massive help from a tutor that he pulled a passing grade in that class.

But the hardest thing he’d ever done or probably ever would do was be a pallbearer at little Mollie Hollander’s funeral. A long time ago, Tim had married a girl he’d accidentally gotten pregnant. Alex remembered thinking,
You’re fucked
,
dude.
You have royally fucked yourself.

But then Mollie had been born and Tim had fallen in love with her. If there was a silver lining in that whole scenario, it was that. Seeing his friend so happy, doing the whole daddy thing, warmed Alex’s heart, and Mollie had been the cutest little girl, so happy and smiling. Until she died. Five years old, dead from leukemia.

God, Alex could still remember how her casket felt as if it weighed nothing. He hadn’t wanted to go to Chicago. Even though he knew Tim needed him, he’d thought about fabricating an excuse. But in the end, he’d gone, and just like he’d expected, the funeral had ripped his heart out. Tim had broken down. Alex and Jason Locke had closed ranks around him as he cried. Every muffled sob had twisted Alex’s guts, but he and Jason had remained until Tim’s tears had run their course. Then they’d carried the small casket to the hearse, and then from the hearse to the gravesite. Hours later, it didn’t seem like there was enough alcohol in the world to erase the pain of that day, probably the worst day of his life.

So, sleeping next to Claire without trying anything would be a piece of cake compared to that.

Chapter Thirteen

The next morning when Alex woke, Claire was still sleeping. He slid out of bed without waking her and went straight to his own bathroom. He��d wanted to kiss her good morning, but decided against it. One, his breath was foul. They still hadn’t shared a real kiss, and he didn’t want to have gutter-mouth the first time. Second, he’d resisted her all fucking night and enough was enough. His dick would probably revolt if he attempted a kiss and nothing more.

After a shower, he went back into her bedroom and ruffled her hair gently.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Up and at ‘em. We want to get an early start on the hike.”

She made a noise that clearly said, “Fuck off. I’m sleeping.”

He knelt. He’d brushed his teeth, so it was safe to get close. “Claire, come on,” he said softly into her ear. “I’m going to make coffee. And breakfast. So, come down in twenty minutes.”

She made another noise. This one was slightly less surly.

Smiling, he jogged downstairs and got started making his favorite fast-and-easy breakfast.

He started the coffee first, then bacon went into the microwave and bread into the toaster. He got out eggs then cut up some orange wedges. While the pan was heating for the eggs, he threw some snacks into a bag. Later, he would transfer the food into a waterproof backpack at the outfitters.

He hustled to the foot of the stairs and called, “Claire! Ten minutes!”

He waited, listening, and was gratified to hear the toilet flush. Progress. She was up and moving.

He went back to the kitchen and fried the eggs in butter. The bacon dinged. The toaster dinged. He took out the toast, put in two more slices of bread. He needed more than one measly sandwich. Then he slapped an egg on the bread, topped it with a bunch of bacon and a slice of cheese, put another piece of buttered toast on as a lid. He finished just as she entered the kitchen.

“Hey, perfect timing,” he said.

She moved like a zombie toward the coffee.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

She held up a finger, poured herself a cup, sipped it and sighed. After another sip, she pointed to the cup and gave him a thumbs-up. As he put breakfast on the table, she shuffled to a chair.

“My famous egg sandwich. With nutritious orange slices.”

First thing, she took off the top piece of bread and put it on his plate which meant she couldn’t eat it like a sandwich the way he’d intended. But he’d eaten breakfast with enough women to know sometimes they cut back on calories by getting rid of carbs. It always made him glad he was a man.

She’d eaten about three bites and gone through most of her coffee before she seemed to reanimate. “This is really good. Thank you for making it. I’m not much of a morning person.”

“I figured that out when you nearly bit my head off upstairs.”

“I’m sorry. I should have warned you.” She gave him a rueful smile. “To answer your question before, I slept better than I would have if you hadn’t been there. That was really nice of you. And thanks for not making fun of me because I was scared of a movie.”

He got up to make his second sandwich. “We all have fears.”

“What are your fears?”

“I’m afraid of cleaning the toilet. No, seriously,” he said when she laughed. “I just can’t make myself do it. It’s the main reason I have a regular cleaning lady.”

“You can wear gloves, you know.”

He sat down again and started on his second sandwich. “Nope. Not going to do it.”

“What are you going to do when you’re a dad? Assuming you want to be one someday. You can’t make your wife change all the diapers.”

“Why not?” He laughed. “Just kidding. I don’t think I’ll ever get married. Marriage isn’t for guys like me.”

“What do you mean, ‘guys like you’?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Confirmed bachelors. I like the single life, that’s all. I like my freedom.”

“Sounds to me like someone’s afraid of commitment.” She went to work on one of the orange wedges.

“If I am, I’m not alone. I bet you are too. Now, anyway.”

Pain flickered in her eyes and he immediately felt like an asshole.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s all right. It’s true. If there’s anything I
don’t
want right now, it’s a commitment.”

* * *

Claire was nervous about the hike. She kept telling herself no one ever died on a hike like this, but then at the entrance kiosk, the park rangers gave them a pamphlet about Zion and inside she read that people
had
died during flash floods.

“Alex, it rained yesterday. This could be dangerous.”

To reassure her, Alex went into the Visitor’s Center, asked about the threat risk and found out that the rain the day before wasn’t worrisome.

“They said we should have perfect weather.”

There went
that
excuse.

She had to admit the views from the shuttle bus that drove them to the base of the hike were spectacular. Forests climbing the slopes, lush green meadows, sparkling streams, even wildlife. She’d seen some kind of four-legged animal, but wasn’t sure if it was a mountain goat or bighorn sheep. The shuttle was moving too fast.

They got off at the Temple of Sinawava stop. It sounded so mystical. Dozens of people milled around, making use of the restrooms. Claire noticed a lot of families, which made her less nervous. Really, if little kids could do this, surely she could. And yet, kids did a lot of things she couldn’t, like snow ski, skateboard and hit baseballs.

From the tram stop, they hiked a mile on a paved walkway called the Riverwalk. The walls of the steep canyon shaded a good portion of the path. Alex wore a backpack with all their water and food in it and carried both of the walking sticks they’d rented at the outfitters.

When they arrived at the end of the path, they rested. It was starting to get warm. Lots of people were splashing in the ankle-deep running water, snacking, taking pictures of the aggressive squirrels that wanted food.

“How you feeling?” he asked, handing her a bottle of water.

“I’m good.” She drank. “That wasn’t too bad at all. But that was the easy part, right? Now we’ll be walking on the rocks in the water.”

“Yup. But you’ll have your stick to help you balance. Plus, it’ll be refreshing.”

“There are a lot of people from other countries. Did you notice that?”

He nodded. “Weird how I didn’t expect that. If I came from Turkey or somewhere, I’d probably to go New York City or L.A., you know?”

“Exactly, but then I thought, maybe not. If you think about it, a big city is a big city in a lot of ways. But where is a European, or what have you, going to see natural wonders like this canyon? Not in Germany or France or Japan, that’s for sure.”

After slathering on more sunscreen, they started out. The water was surprisingly icy, but it felt good with the temperature having climbed into the high eighties. Claire went slowly at first, making sure she had her balance before taking another step. The stick did come in handy. Alex sloshed around, surefooted and confident. He went ahead—never too far—checked things out, circled back to make sure she was doing all right. He took a lot of pictures and encouraged her while pointing out the sights. She spent so much time looking down, it was good that he reminded her to look up once in a while.

It turned out that the water never got higher than midthigh, which was fine with Claire. And the scenery only got more beautiful as the day wore on. Looking at pictures in the airport, or anywhere for that matter, couldn’t compare to being there in person, experiencing it with all five senses. The cool water flowed over her feet and around her ankles. The sound of the current echoed off the steep stone walls. She could smell plant life and moss and something metallic, maybe rust in the rock. By the time they got to the spot where they had to turn around, Claire was exhausted and a little light-headed. As they rested on a boulder, Alex made her drink as much water as she could hold.

“But we didn’t pass any bathrooms on the way up here. I don’t pee in the wild.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll sweat it all out. Trust me. Now drink. And eat this granola bar.”

Since he made his living off his body, she conceded he might know more about physiology than she did, so she drank and ate like he told her to and felt better a few minutes later.

“Okay, I feel—”

“Shh.” Alex put a hand on her thigh. “Listen,” he whispered.

That’s when she realized that the chatter from the other hikers was gone. It was like that moment at a party when there was a lull in all the conversations at once. She smiled as the sound of birdsong floated by on a soft breeze. She looked up and saw a narrow strip of sky and clouds that would have been mirrored in the water at her feet if not for the now gentle current. She turned to see how many people were around. Maybe ten or so. Everyone seemed aware of the sudden quiet and unwilling to break the spell.

Alex caught her gaze and smiled at her and, all of a sudden, everything felt
right
. All the decisions she made along the way—getting that cheeseburger, “twirting” with him, agreeing to go to breakfast, then on the trip—all of it had led to this point in time and all of it felt perfect.

His eyes went serious. She felt a shift in energy. Her body felt tingly. The sexual attraction she felt toward him flared to life.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he said.

“You can if you want to,” she said, a little breathless at the suggestion.

He cupped a hand over the back of her head and looked around. There were about fifteen hikers milling around now. “Not here. Not with all these people here. When we kiss for the first time, for real, I want it to be just us. I don’t want you to worry about who might be watching.”

* * *

They hadn’t gone far before an angry voice traveled up the canyon.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Alex exchanged a glance with Claire.

“I wonder what’s going on,” she said.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good.”

Picking up his pace, he rounded the bend and came upon a large man with a backwards baseball cap challenging a young, geeky guy who looked like he might be in his last year of college. There was a woman as well. Super short shorts, boobs aplenty on display, blond hair. Alex had noticed her on the way up. Hell, every male past adolescence had noticed her.

“Jake, please,” the woman said to the big guy.

“You will apologize to her.”

“I didn’t do anything,” the geek said.

Claire had caught up by then. “What’s going on?” she asked in a low voice.

“Not sure yet.” He shrugged off the backpack and looped a couple of fingers through the little strap at the top. “But I might need you to hold this.”

Some hikers kept going, probably not wanting to get involved or to let their kids witness something unpleasant, but many stopped, setting the stage like in school or the movies—everyone in a loose circle around the main players. Unfortunately, there was no playground monitor or principal to step in and break things up.

Alex noticed Jake’s hat had the NHL Seattle Cascade logo on it. Interesting. David Riggs, who played for the Cascade, was a bully and homophobe. In Alex’s opinion, that team needed an overhaul. They played just this side of dirty, but had been known to cross the line at critical moments, and arrogance seemed to be their watchword. It made sense that this asshole was a fan of theirs.

“Jake, come on. It doesn’t matter.” The blonde was hanging on Jake, though he paid about as much attention to her as a pitbull would a little Yorkie.

“Yes it does. He insulted you.” Jake took a step closer. He probably had five inches and fifty pounds on the other guy.

The geek spoke again. “Dude. Come on. She’s a pretty girl. You can’t—”

“Damn right she’s pretty. And she has a right to wear whatever the hell she wants. Just like I have the right to pound in the face of assholes who disrespect her.”

With that, Jake swung. The geek tried to avoid the punch, but ended up slipping as he twisted away. He landed in the water.

“Alex, we need to do something. Please tell me this is one of those situations you were talking about...”

Jake stood over the geek. “Get up, you fucking pussy.”

“Where we’re willing to get physical if necessary? Yes, but—”

Before he finished, she surged forward, jamming her stick into the water with each stride. “Hey, you! Get off him. Leave him alone.”

Anger seemed to have boosted her balance. She moved forward without the hesitation that had hindered her before.

Jake turned to her, seemingly astonished. “What the fuck is this?”

Claire had taken a stance in front of the geek, brandishing her walking stick like a warrior monk from a movie.

Alex went to stand between Jake and Claire. “Look, let’s everyone just calm down. It’s Jake, right? Come on, man. There’s kids around. Let’s call it a day, okay?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Who the hell are you anyway? And why do you care?”

“I’ll tell you who he is,” Claire said with a righteous swagger. “This is Alex Sullivan. Looks like you’re a hockey fan, so maybe you’ve heard of him. Left winger for the San Diego Barracudas?”

Alex smiled inwardly as he removed his sunglasses. She’d noticed the guy’s hat, just like he had.

Jake’s eyes widened slightly.

“Maybe you saw him take out Brent Burns with two punches last season,” Claire added. “On slippery ice, scum bucket.”

“Claire, easy, easy,” Alex said. In a softer voice he added, “Ix-nay on the amecalling-nay.” Sometimes hostile hockey fans liked to challenge players, eager to prove themselves against them for bragging rights. Alex hoped Jake wasn’t one of those guys.

“Are you really Alex Sullivan?” Jake peered more closely at Alex.

“You want to see ID?”

Jake frowned. “I thought you’d be bigger.”

“I’m not wearing my gear or my skates.”

“Huh. That explains it.”

“But he can still kick your ass,” Claire said.

“So, how about you lay off this guy, huh?” Alex asked. “You made your point. He’s learned his lesson and your lady love has been avenged, right? Let’s let bygones be bygones.”