The Mighty Quinns: Thom (11 page)

Tristan and James stared at him, brows furrowed, doubt in their eyes. “Nah, it can’t be that simple,” James said.

“It might be,” Thom said. “This girl—this woman—is complicated and smart and beautiful, and she thinks I’m the same. I keep worrying she’s going to see the real me and walk away. But when she does, it doesn’t seem to make a difference to her. God, I don’t want to mess this up. But I can’t help feeling it’s going to go to hell sooner or later.”

“Why?” Tristan asked. “Maybe your theory is right.”

“If I get traded, she won’t be coming with me. And if I stay here, I’m not sure I can even date her. She’s the daughter of the club’s owner.”

“You’re dating the boss’s daughter?” Tristan asked.

Thom winced. “Yeah. Only we’re not really dating. Right now, we spend most of our time in bed. And we can’t be seen in public. But so far, other than that, it’s going very well.”

“Is this one of those instances when you complain about something and we’re supposed to feel sorry for you, when in reality you’re bragging and we’re supposed to feel jealous?” Tris asked.

Thom took a long sip of his beer. “No. I was just hoping for some insight.”

Jamie cleared his throat. “Here’s some insight, big brother. If you’re really falling for this girl, you’re going to have to think seriously about where this is leading. Relationships are not just about having a woman there to tell you how wonderful you are or to keep your bed warm. You’re talking about marriage. And kids. And fifty years together. Are you really ready for that?”

Silence fell over the trio on the porch before Tris cursed softly. “Leave it to James to find the dark side in every happy moment.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest. We’re all in the same boat. After what we went through as kids, none of us is equipped to make marriage work. The sooner we admit that, the better.”

“I don’t believe it,” Thom said. “I’m not going to just give up on finding happiness. If you’re going to do that, then what is your life really worth?” He pushed to his feet. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you guys later.”

Thom pulled open the screen door and walked inside his grandmother’s house. He found her in the kitchen, taking a tray of cookies out of the oven. “Are you finished in the yard?” she asked.

“Almost. Tris and Jamie are going to finish up. I have to get going.”

“Let me pack up some of these cookies,” she said. “They’re peanut butter. Your favorite.”

“Thanks, Nana,” Thom said. He stepped around the kitchen island and pulled his grandmother into a gentle hug. The Quinn boys had never been very demonstrative, so he wasn’t surprised to see the shock on his grandmother’s face.

“If I haven’t told you lately, you saved us all. We should have come to you sooner.”

“If only I had known you boys were in trouble, I would have brought you here in a heartbeat.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I blame your mother for pushing me so far away I didn’t come looking for you until it was almost too late.”

“No blame,” Thom said. “We’re all healthy and happy. We made it through.”

She reached up and pressed her palm to his cheek. “You are a dear boy. And I hope you know how heartbroken I’d be if they sent you to another team. I like having you close.”

Thom hugged her again. “I’ll be heartbroken, too, but it’s time I took responsibility for what I’ve done. And I’ll be back in the off-season,” he said.

She tipped her head up as she scrutinized him. “I’m happy to hear that but...is everything else all right?”

“Sure.”

“There’s something different about you. I’m not sure what it is.” She brushed his hair back, then paused. “Contentment,” she finally said. “You look content.”

“Maybe I am,” Thom said. “Maybe I am.”

He grabbed the box of cookies and brushed a kiss onto his grandmother’s cheek, then left her to the rest of her baking.

When he reached the porch, Jamie and Tris were in the middle of an argument over Jamie’s new car, and like most of the arguments between the brothers, it would probably end in a wrestling match.

“Later,” Thom called as he headed for his truck.

But neither of them seemed to notice him leaving. He hopped in his truck and wove through the old St. Paul neighborhood. He’d bought the house for his grandmother after he signed his first free-agent contract with the club. He and his brothers had spent nearly five months rehabbing the place.

They’d moved her in on Christmas Eve, bringing her home to a fully furnished home, complete with a Christmas tree. He smiled at the memory. Not every moment from his past had been bleak and filled with sadness. He just had to seek out the happiness and stay focused on that.

When he got to his car, he dialed Malin’s number and waited for her to pick up. “Hey there,” he said when he heard her voice. “I’m on my way home and I wondered if you wanted me to pick up dinner.”

“I’ve got everything covered,” Malin said. “I did a big grocery shop on my way home.”

He knew she’d spent the day at the office, but Thom was afraid to ask her whom she’d seen. “How was your day?” he ventured.

“Interesting,” Malin said. “I’ll tell you later. By the way, you now have over two hundred thousand Twitter followers. Pretty big numbers for just one week.”

“Great,” he murmured. He wasn’t quite sure what those numbers meant, but if they made Malin happy, then he was all for it. “I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

He tossed the phone on the passenger seat and pulled away from the curb. Home. It had always just been the place where he kept his stuff, a place to sleep and a place to get his mail. But since Malin had moved in, the firehouse had become something more. He looked forward to walking in the front door and finding her there.

Oh, hell, he was in so deep, Thom had to wonder if he’d ever find his way out.

6

O
N
W
EDNESDAY
, T
HOM
flopped down on the sofa beside Malin, holding a bowl of soup that he’d purchased from a local deli. “Are you sure you don’t want some of this?” he asked.

“Not now,” she murmured, staring down at her iPad. “I have to get this work done. I’m way behind.”

“You have the perfect job,” he said. “You could be lying on some beach and still be able to do your job.”

“I suppose I could,” Malin said. “But I wouldn’t have you there to keep interrupting me.”

Thom frowned. He knew she was teasing. After nearly two weeks with her, he’d learned a lot about Malin Pedersen. He could read her moods as easily as he could read a newspaper. And right now, she was slightly irritated about the amount of work she had left to do. She was also worried about something she didn’t want to talk about. Thom suspected it had to do with the trade hanging over his head. Though she’d worked hard to marshal the power of social media, Thom wasn’t sure it was making a difference. The number of followers he was gaining had slowed, even. Malin had insisted that he post twice a day and had recently given him a poll to send out on whether he should stay or go.

Of course, the results weren’t difficult to guess. Only seven percent wanted him to go, and Malin explained that those votes probably came from fans of Blizzard competitors.

“I’ll be done in fifteen minutes,” she said. “Why don’t you do some laundry? Or work out?”

“I could go buy you some skates,” he said. “I really want to get back on the ice. It’s been almost three weeks.”

She set her tablet down and focused her attention on him for a moment. “I completely trust you to go out on your own.”

“I don’t want to go alone. I want you to come with me,” he said. “Who will take the photo for social media if you’re not there?”

“Go!” she shouted.

“No, I think I’ll just finish my lunch and hang around here.”

She gave him a dirty look and he took the hint. He’d just have to figure out another way to find out what was bothering her.

* * *

M
ALIN
SHOOK
HER
head as Thom headed for the kitchen. She’d wondered if the day would come when she wanted some time to herself, and she realized that the “honeymoon” they’d been on was coming to an end. She’d let her work slide to the point that she was now three or four days behind.

Or maybe she was just reacting to a severe lack of sleep. After another passionate night together, she’d been left with only four hours of sleep.

Her phone rang. She picked it up, and a Snapchat of a naked and very muscular chest appeared.

There was no question as to who the chest belonged to. “Thom!”

He didn’t answer, and the picture disappeared from her screen, only to be replaced a few moments later by a close up of his abs, finely carved into a perfect six-pack. “Do not send me a dick pic,” she shouted.

Her phone beeped again and she didn’t even want to look. With a soft curse, Malin tossed the papers off her lap and began to search the house for him. She found him in the workout room, taking a picture of his butt in the mirror on the wall.

“Who taught you how to use Snapchat?” she asked, her hands on her waist, her expression as fierce as she could manage.

“I taught myself,” he said. “The question is, why didn’t you tell me about it? It’s really quite useful. Do you know the pictures disappear after five seconds?”

“That’s what they tell you,” Malin said. “But there are so many ways around that. I want you to take that app off your phone.”

“I will only use it to send stuff to you,” he promised.

“That would be fine in theory. But then, one day, you’re going to get distracted and press the wrong button and you’ll post an obscene photo on your Twitter feed and the whole world will get a peek at your bits and pieces.”

He froze, his gaze fixed on hers. “Could that happen?”

“You’d better give me that phone right now,” Malin said, holding out her hand.

He did as he was told, and she checked to make sure he hadn’t made any blunders. To her relief, he hadn’t. She dumped the app, deleted the pictures then handed his phone back to him. “And you haven’t posted anything to Twitter today?”

“I was going to take a photo of my soup, but then I ate it,” he said.

“Say something about your workout,” she said. “We should at least pretend you’re keeping in shape.”

Her phone rang again and she sighed, shaking her head. “What now?” Malin read the text message and smiled. “Delivery. I think it’s my dress!”

“Dress?”

Malin raced down the stairs and then through the main floor to the front door. A delivery man stood out front, holding a huge box. He handed her a clipboard and she signed the receipt, then took the box from his outstretched arms. “Thank you.”

Malin turned to find Thom standing behind her. “Who sent you a dress?”

“A friend of mine in New York. A designer. I needed something to wear for the hospital benefit this weekend.”

“The benefit for the children’s hospital?” Thom asked.

“Yes. The team does a lot of charity work for them. Of course, you know that. You’ve been there before, haven’t you?”

Thom nodded. “Sure. Lots of times.”

Malin had decided to take a different approach to get Thom to go to the gala. Instead of demanding that he attend the event and forcing him into a tuxedo, she was hoping a little reverse psychology would do the trick.

“You’re going alone?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I’ll have to find myself a date, I’m sure. But that shouldn’t be too hard. I was going to ask Drew. He’d probably like to go.”

“The team doctor?”

“Yeah.” Malin set the box down on the table and opened it, then brushed back the layers of tissue paper. Looping her fingers through the shoulder straps, she slowly lifted the dress out of the box and held it in front of her.

It was the most spectacular gown she’d ever seen. Heavily beaded and fitted to the body, the garnet color was perfect against her pale skin. Without even trying it on, she could tell the neckline was daring, but she wanted a dress that would make a statement.

“You can’t ask Drew,” Thom said.

“Why not?”

“Because he already has the hots for you. Once he sees you in that dress, it will be all over.”

“But I need a date.”

“I got an invite,” Thom said. “We could go together.”

Malin forced back a smile and pretended to consider his offer. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. Besides, how did you get a personal invitation?”

“I’ve helped out a lot at the hospital outside of team events,” he said. “They sent me an invitation directly.”

“You didn’t mention that. Were you going to go?”

“No. I normally don’t care for events like that. I usually just send a big donation. But I guess I could go this time. It would be worth it just to see you in that dress.”

“We wouldn’t be able to go together,” she said. “But we could meet there. Maybe I could get you a spot at our table.”

“Let’s just leave it at drinks and a few dances, shall we? I don’t want to start some gossip. There are bound to be photographers there.”

Malin could barely control her delight. How could this be so simple? She’d expected to have to do more to convince him to come. Another roadblock might be in order. “You’ll need a tux. And not a rental. You’ll have to buy one and get it fitted. Are you willing to do that?”

“I have a tux,” he said. “A real nice one.”

Malin watched as he disappeared into the bedroom. A minute later he returned with a garment bag. She unzipped the front and took out a beautiful jacket with matching trousers. The designer name on the inside was proof enough that Thom did indeed have a proper tuxedo. “Very nice. When did you get this?”

“I dated an actress for about three weeks during awards season. I went to one of the ceremonies during the all-star break, and she got the tux for me. They just hand out free clothes at those award ceremonies. I have a shirt, too, and studs and cuff links. Even shoes. The whole deal.”

“Then I guess there’s no reason for you not to go,” Malin said.

He slipped his hands around her waist. “I think you should try that dress on and let me get a look at it.”

“No,” Malin said, playfully slipping out of his embrace. “You’re going to have to wait.”

“How are we going to handle this? Unless you’re wearing a potato sack, I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you.”

“You’re going to have to gather your resolve and do your best,” Malin teased. “My parents will be there, and most of the management team. I’m sure they’re going to be keeping a close eye on you.”

Thom grew silent, and Malin knew exactly what he was thinking. His position with the Blizzard was still up in the air. On misstep could ruin everything. But that’s why she wanted him to go. “This will be a great opportunity to show them that you’re a lot more than just Tommy the Beast.”

“There is one more thing I’m concerned about,” he said.

“Besides my dress?”

Thom nodded. “I can’t dance. I mean, I can move if I’m drunk enough, and everyone else is drunk enough. If the lights are low, it maybe resembles dancing. But the kind of dancing they do at these events is beyond my capabilities.”

Malin took his hand, then twirled beneath it. “I guess I’m going to have to teach you.”

* * *

“J
UST
RELAX
,” M
ALIN
SAID
. “Try to think of it as having sex, only fully clothed and standing upright. And move to the beat of the music.”

Thom bit back a curse and tried to calm his frustration. This was his third attempt at a dancing lesson. The first had ended after five minutes, when he’d stepped on Malin’s foot and she refused to continue. Their second attempt didn’t go much better. He couldn’t seem to get the hang of moving to the beat of the music, especially when Malin switched the count from one-two to one-two-three.

She wore a loose cotton dress, thin enough that he could feel every curve beneath. Thom knew she wasn’t wearing anything beneath the dress. He’d seen her pull it on. And he knew how easy it would be to tug it over her head and expose her naked body to the moonlight.

“Be patient,” she said. “You’re trying too hard.”

“There is no such thing as trying too hard. If you don’t try, you’ll never master anything. And if you don’t try hard, it will take forever.”

They’d eaten a late supper up on the roof and were now standing beneath the strings of lights, soft music drifting on the warm night air. In any other situation, it would have been a setting ripe for seduction. But the dance lessons had killed any sense of romance.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t venture near the dance floor,” he finally said.

“I’m not giving up. Think about how you move in bed,” Malin explained.

“If I do that, they’ll toss me out on the street.”

Malin groaned, shaking her head. “All right, let’s try this.” She grabbed his hips and yanked him against her body. “Stay close. Our hips need to move together.”

As she began to move against him, she softly counted to the music. “Sway with it. Just a little more. Think about taking my clothes off. About running your hands over my naked body. But just keep moving. Right, left, right, left.”

“Am I supposed to get aroused?” Thom asked.

“No, but we’ll just chalk that up to rookie inexperience. Now slip this arm around my waist and pull me a little closer. Now it’s full-body contact. One, two, three, one, two, three. Let the music move you. Don’t worry about counting.”

To Thom’s surprise, he actually seemed to be making some progress. “This is good,” he said, running his hand over her back. His fingers found a natural spot, right above her backside, his fingers splayed wide as he directed the sway of her hips.

She’d tried to explain to him what it meant to lead, but now he felt it, how she silently ceded control and just followed his direction.

The more they moved, the easier the dance became. She rested her head against his shoulder and Thom kissed her temple. He’d never really appreciated how amazing she felt in his arms. Slender, delicate, her waist almost narrow enough to span with his hands, her breasts perfect.

Thom understood the allure of dancing. It was foreplay in slow motion. Instead of acting, he was left to anticipate, to imagine, what might happen between them.

“You’re dancing,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he murmured. “Don’t mess it up.”

They continued to dance, moving seamlessly from one song to the next. But the mood was spoiled when Thom’s phone rang. He recognized the ringtone as the melody he’d assigned to his agent.

“Let it go,” she said.

“I can’t. It’s Jack Warren, my agent. He might have some news on the trade.”

Malin grabbed his shirt and held tight, pulling him down into a long, languid kiss. For a moment, Thom considered ignoring the call. The odds of his agent having good news were pretty thin. But then, if it was bad news, he’d rather know now. If he’d been traded, then there wouldn’t be any reason to dance with Malin at the benefit.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he said. He let go of her, leaving Malin to stand in the middle of their makeshift dance floor. When he got to the phone, it had already gone to voice mail. He quickly dialed Jack’s number.

“Hi, it’s me,” he said when Jack picked up.

“Hi,” Jack said. “I’m outside your place. Do you have a moment to talk?”

“Yeah,” Thom said. “Sure. I’ll be right down to let you in.” He hung up the phone and turned to Malin. “Jack is here. He wants to talk to me.” Over the last couple of days, Malin hadn’t said anything about her trip to the office on Sunday. She’d claimed that there wasn’t any news about his trade. But as he looked deep into her eyes, he saw the raw fear behind her calm demeanor. “What do you know?”

“Nothing solid,” she said. “Just that they’re getting close to working out a deal.”

Thom felt a sick knot tighten in his stomach and he drew a deep breath, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass. He’d never once believed that his career wouldn’t begin and end in his hometown. And now that it was all about to change, he realized how lucky he’d been.