Iron Dog. It was the same place Bleu and her friend Sergio had gone to after Bleu’s fateful fall.
I should actually call it my fateful fall. Though she’d been the one to fall over the railing, I’d fallen under her spell.
Instead I was going to her house. Alex knew, but he didn’t bust me out. If she completely shot me down, I didn’t want to hear the shit from the other guys.
Clenching the bag from the team store in my hand, I hoped I wasn’t fucking up. I tossed the bag into my passenger seat.
Uncaring that I could get a big fat ticket, I drove my Porsche like I stole it. Part of the reason was the adrenaline rush. The other was that I was anxious to get to my destination.
Uncharacteristically nervous, I knocked on her door. It seemed to take forever before footsteps approached. When the door swung open, my heart stuttered.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I blurted out, much to my embarrassment. Where the suave playboy and confident hockey player had gone was a mystery, but there I was with nothing cool to say.
Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she bit her lip before casting a worried look over her shoulder. The TV was playing behind her, but she held the door in such a way that I couldn’t see into the living room.
“I brought you something.” I held out the bag. She put a hand over her mouth and appeared torn.
Dammit, I shouldn’t have bought her this. It’s dumb and maybe too much.
When she dropped her hand, she hesitantly took the bag from me.
“It won’t bite.” I chuckled.
“Cameron, this isn’t a really good time,” she said as she met my gaze and held the bag to her chest. My heart that had stuttered at the sight of her fell to my feet at the realization that she wasn’t alone. We’d talked earlier in the day when I called to check on her, and she hadn’t said anything about having plans.
“Oh. Um, okay. Sure. I just stopped by to see how you were doing,” I muttered as I walked backwards from the open door. We had nothing official between us, but the fact that she would have someone else over after what I thought was happening Sunday night hurt.
“I’m sorry. I’ll call you,” she said softly, I assumed so whomever was inside didn’t hear. My jaw clenched, but I nodded.
Without another word, I descended the steps, footsteps heavy. Yet, I couldn’t make myself give up and leave. The door was starting to close as I spun around on the pavers.
“Wait!” I called out, suddenly not giving two shits if the person inside heard me.
She canted her head as she frowned in confusion. “Cameron….” Her pleading voice trailed off.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I slammed to a stop in front of her. “Bleu, please. One more chance. Go out with me once more. If you don’t have a good time or split your head open,” I tried to joke, “I’ll walk away and leave you alone. I swear.”
She sighed, and her shoulders drooped. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Cameron, we don’t have anything in common. You live a life that’s so far out of my league, I can’t see straight. Your job is one I don’t like,” she said as she paused to take a breath. Right about then, the door pulled back and a boy almost as tall as Bleu but with shaggy blond hair and blue eyes looked over her shoulder. It was the same kid who was at the game with her the one night she’d voluntarily gone to watch me play.
Well, that worked out well if she looked in the bag.
Curiosity shone in his eyes until they widened slightly, and he burst out, “Hey! That’s the guy from the game on TV!”
My gaze darted to Bleu to see her cheeks flame and her mouth opening and closing like a fish. It did something strange to my chest to hear that she’d watched my game that night. I wanted to beam and maybe gloat a little, but I kept my expression neutral.
“That was a great shot! Three seconds left in the third period and McGregor sends a slapshot through the goaltender’s legs to win the game 3-2.” He rattled it off like he was a professional sports announcer, and I couldn’t help but give a humble chuckle.
“Thanks, kid,” I said.
“No problem. Wait.” He cocked his head to stare at his sister. Then he