Empty Net (57 page)

“It’s quite simple really,” he said with a wink of his eye. “Just a simple kiss, and my lips are sealed.”

Fallon giggled, looking off to the side before looking back up at him. He liked that she was tall. Usually the girls he hooked up with were shorter and the tall ones were models who didn’t eat anything. He couldn’t stand them. Lucas loved to eat and when he was stuffing his face, he hated having a female watch him with a ‘please feed me’ kind of look.

“If your lips are sealed how are you supposed to kiss me?” she asked in a low, intimate voice.

Ooh, she had a little country flair to her. The way she drew out the
e
in
me
, told him she wasn’t from California. Mm, he liked that too.

“Naughty girl, who said anything about open-mouth kissing?”

He was rewarded with a deep blush and a shy smile. “I just assumed.”

“Or you were hoping.”

She giggled, and rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up, and kiss me already.”

A slow grin went across his face before he took her chin in his fingers and slowly lowered his lips to hers. When Lucas’ lips touched Fallon’s, he swore his whole body caught on fire. She slowly moved her hand into his hair, bringing him closer, so their bodies molded together. When she slowly parted her lips, he drove his tongue into her mouth, sweeping and swirling his tongue with hers. He had never kissed a girl with such passion, never put his whole self into it, never felt the so-called sparks. With Fallon, he did.

When they parted, only for air, she smiled sweetly up at him.

“So my secret is safe?”

Lucas was still stunned as he nodded. “Oh you are safe with me baby girl. Come here.”

Lucas wrapped her back up in his arms, kissing her senseless, excited for the future that was before them. Yeah, after a kiss like that, he was looking at the future because he knew he had just found
The One
.

Nine years later.…

Fallon Parker’s feet hurt.

Bad.

Her decision to wear a brand new pair of black Kate Spade ankle boots on the night of the Assassins’ New Year’s Eve party would haunt her for weeks. She wanted to look cute because she would be seeing friends and a lot of customers so she had dressed to impress. She had done that by wearing a high-waisted black pencil skirt with white lacy shirt.

Even if her feet were killing her; it was the price of fashion.

Fallon tried to walk lightly as she made her way around the bar to look over the crowd of 500 that had gathered at the Luther Arena. The party was in full swing since the crowd was celebrating the New Year and also the run for the Stanley Cup. The Assassins were having a winning hockey season from what Fallon was told, not that she cared.

Those days were over.

All Fallon cared about now was that the sponsorship was perfect between Rocky Top Wines and the Assassins. For the most part it was. Rocky Top Wines had its own level in the Luther Arena AND a restaurant. But what Fallon
really
wanted was a cellar in the arena. A place where customers could pick up a bottle of their favorite wine for the after party at home. It was her dream, and she was working hard to make it a reality.

Fallon slowly leaned against the bar, sipping on her own glass of the company’s Chenin Blanc. It was one of her favorites, going down smoothly as she took in the scenery of the arena. The team colors, purple and black, covered every inch of the arena. People moved around her, buying bottles and getting refills of their favorite wines.

God, she loved her job. Being surrounded by wine all the time!

Who could ask for more?

A smile broke across Fallon’s face when she spotted one of her dearest friends. Of course, Elli Adler was dressed to impress in her floor length black sparkly dress. Her beautiful brown hair was in an intricate updo and her makeup was done to the nines. No one would ever be able to tell that Elli had just had a baby two months ago. No matter how many times Fallon told her, Elli still didn’t believe it. But it was true. Elli was beautiful. She was also the team’s newest owner, which made her the center of attention that night. Elli wore a full smile as she wrapped her arms around Fallon, hugging her tightly.

“I know you’ve been here at least an hour! Why am I just now seeing you?” Fallon teased as Elli rolled her eyes.

“You know I gotta go around sucking up to people! You become the darn owner and everyone wants a piece of you!” Elli said as she talked with her hands, “Plus, why am I gonna come on over here to my favorite wine bar when I can’t drink?” Elli asked with an annoyed look.

Fallon stood there for a moment, confused. Was she missing something? “Huh?”

Elli slowly nodded her head, “Shea knocked me up again!”

Fallon’s mouth dropped as Elli just shook her head. “You just had Shelli two months ago!”

“I know! He’s on me like white on rice! I swear he’s gonna have me pregnant for the next three years!”

They both shared a laugh at that. If Shea Adler, the Assassins’ captain, had his way, he probably would. “Well the good thing is that your kids will be like me and my sister. We are 10 months apart and the best of friends.”

“Yay.”

Fallon laughed as Elli just looked longingly at the wines. “Oh come on, I know you’re excited.”

A small sweet smile went over Elli’s face as she said, “I am, but it’s gonna suck the next couple months with him being gone all the time.”

“I thought he was quittin’.”

“He said he will when this baby is born, but I know he won’t. He loves hockey too much and who am I to ask him to quit?”

Fallon was green with envy as she listened to Elli talk about her perfect relationship with her hunky, gorgeous husband and her perfect baby girl with another on the way. Fallon couldn’t be happier for Elli. She loved Shea and baby Shelli, but Fallon desperately wanted a family, too.

Why couldn’t she find her Shea Adler who wanted to impregnate her all the time?

“So when is this big wine party?” Elli asked, bringing Fallon back to reality.

“March first. I’ll be by the office to drop off tickets and stuff soon.”

“Great, Shea will be on a break,” Elli said with a grin. She still got that dreamy look in her eyes when she talked about her husband. It was expected though; they hadn’t even been married a year.

“I know, that’s why I planned it like this. I need all the players. I need everything to tie together. Hockey and wine will work.”

“Isn’t it beer and hockey?” Elli asked with a grin.

“Not no more, we are gonna sophisticate this damn sport.”

“Good luck with that,” Elli said with a laugh before a pair of arms came around her. They both looked up to see Elli’s husband smiling down at them.

“Hey Fallon,” Shea said before placing a kiss on Elli’s cheek.

“Hey Shea,” Fallon sang as she smiled up at him, “heard ya knocked her up again.”

“Sure did,” he said with a bold grin. “Gotta keep the baby train going. We’re knocking on 30’s door.”

“Oh Lord! Not 30!” Fallon said in mock horror, making everyone laugh.

“It’s the excuse he’s using,” Elli said with a laugh.

“I think it’s all a ruse, he just likes making babies,” Fallon giggled as Elli’s cheeks warmed with color.

Shea let out a booming laugh before saying, “You got that right!”

They shared a laugh before Fallon took a sip of her wine. She loved hanging with Elli and Shea, they were so cute and perfect together. Even if their love made her want to puke, she still loved them.

“Fallon is going to sophisticate hockey,” Elli said with a grin for Shea. He laughed as he looked back over at Fallon.

“Are you now?”

“Yes, I am. I can do it. I’m awesome.”

Elli giggled as Shea smiled, then Elli said, “You sure are babe! Oh Shea, there’s Ricky Owen. Hey, excuse us Fallon, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Sure, great seeing y’all,” Fallon said. She watched as they walked away, hand in hand, with big smiles on their faces. They were so stinkin’ happy, it was sickening. But then she thought of what they had to do to get to where they were, and she couldn’t help but be happy for them.

What could she say? She was a sucker for love.

Fallon stood for a little while longer before starting to work the room. She grabbed a bottle of the Rocky Top’s Big Orange Cabernet Sauvignon and started towards the crowd.

Fallon always walked with confidence—she had to or no one would buy from her. She knew what she had with her products and knew that with only one taste anyone would fall in love with Rocky Top’s wine. It was
that
good.

It had been in the family for over 80 years. Fallon grew up with dirty feet and grape-stained clothes. She loved it, she lived it, and now that Fallon ran the PR department, it was finally getting to the level it needed to be. Rocky Top should to be at the top and if Fallon had anything to do with it, it would be.

After handing out business cards and vouchers for free bottles, Fallon spotted Elli standing with some older guy who had an empty glass. Since he looked like he had money, Fallon made her way towards him. She always liked to schmooze the big money guys. If Fallon got lucky, they usually hired Rocky Top to supply the wine for their company parties.

“He has a bad rep. Money, booze, females, I don’t know,” the older guy said when Fallon reached the group. It was only Elli, Shea and the older guy. Elli didn’t seem very happy.

“He’s clean, I feel good about him,” Elli said sternly. The older guy shook his head.

“I don’t know Mrs. Adler. Brooks is a fighter.”

Fallon blinked a few times, totally stunned. It had been a long time since she had heard that name.

“Yeah, but he’s second in the league for goals.”

“And first for penalty minutes. He’s a got a huge chip on his shoulder.”

“I’ll knock the damn chip off it for him if I need to, or hell maybe we’ll get Fallon to sophisticate him,” Elli said with a grin when she noticed that Fallon was just standing there staring at them. “Ricky Owen, Fallon Parker with Rocky Top Wine. She is one of our biggest sponsors.”

“Who?” Fallon asked totally ignoring Ricky’s hand, and hoping like hell that there was another Brooks in the NHL who fought a lot.

Because she only knew one …

“You probably don’t know him, Lucas Brooks? He was just traded in from the Sharks.”

Fallon wasn’t sure how the bottle of wine slipped from her hands, but the next thing she knew it was in pieces around her beautiful boots. Cabernet Sauvignon was everywhere, and Fallon’s face was beet red as she tried to catch her breath. Everyone looked down in shock before looking back up at Fallon’s stunned face.

Shea starting laughing as everyone still looked at Fallon in shock, then he said, “Or maybe she does.”

Oh, Fallon knew Lucas Brooks alright.

He was coming to Nashville?

Great, that was just
fucking
great.

“Get out of my yard!” Ellen shouted.

The weasel-faced photographer ignored her, too busy snapping photos of the house next door to pay her any mind.

No surprise there. This was the fifth time in as many days that a man with a camera had violated her property lines. By now, she knew the drill.

They trespassed. She yelled. They pretended she didn’t exist. She called the police.

Ellen was thoroughly sick of it. She couldn’t carry on this way, watching from the safety of the side porch and clutching her glass of iced tea like an outraged southern belle.

It was all very well for Jamie to tell her to stay put and let the professionals deal with it. Her pop-star brother was safe at home in California, nursing his wounds. And anyway, this kind of attention was the lot he’d chosen in life. He’d decided to be a celebrity, and then he’d made the choice to get involved with Ellen’s neighbor, Carly. The consequences ought to be his to deal with.

Ellen hadn’t invited the paparazzi to descend. She’d made different choices, and they’d led her to college, law school, marriage, divorce, motherhood. They’d led her to this quiet cul-de-sac in Camelot, Ohio, surrounded by woods.

Her choices had also made her the kind of woman who couldn’t easily stand by as some skeevy guy crushed her plants and invaded Carly’s privacy for the umpteenth time since last Friday.

Enough
, she thought.
Enough
.

But until Weasel Face crushed the life out of her favorite hosta—her
mascot
hosta—with his giant brown boot, she didn’t actually intend to act on the thought.

Raised in Chicago, Ellen had grown up ignorant of perennials. When she first moved to Camelot, a new wife in a strange land, she did her best to adapt to the local ways of lawn-mowing and shade-garden cultivation, but during the three years her marriage lasted, she’d killed
every plant she put in the ground.

It was only after her divorce that things started to grow. In the winter after she kicked Richard out for being a philandering dickhead, their son had sprouted from a pea-sized nothing to a solid presence inside her womb, breathing and alive. That spring, the first furled shoots of the hosta poked through the mulch, proving that Ellen was not incompetent, as Richard had so often implied. She and the baby were, in fact, perfectly capable of surviving, even thriving, without anyone’s help.

Two more springs had come and gone, and the hosta kept returning, bigger every year. It became her horticultural buddy. Triumph in plant form.

So Ellen took it personally when Weasel Face stepped on it. Possibly a bit too personally. Swept up in a delicious tide of righteousness, she crossed the lawn and upended her glass of iced tea over the back of his head.

It felt good. It felt
great
, actually—the coiled-spring snap of temper, the clean confidence that came with striking a blow for justice. For the few seconds it lasted, she basked in it. It was such an improvement over standing around.

One more confirmation that powerlessness was for suckers.

But then it was over, and she wondered why she’d wasted the tea, because Weasel Face didn’t so much as flinch. Seemingly unbothered by the dunking, the ice cubes, or the sludgy sugar on the back of his neck, he aimed his camera at Carly’s house and held down the shutter release, capturing photo after photo as an SUV rolled to a stop in the neighboring driveway.