On Thin Ice (The Baltimore Banners Book 8) (4 page)

"The next time you have a question for me, man up and ask it yourself instead of sending a little girl to do it for you."

"What? I didn't send anyone to do anything." But it didn't matter what he said because the ref had already closed the door with a loud bang and was skating away from him. Mat pulled on his arm again, leading him outside as Kenny kept glancing over his shoulder, trying to understand her parting words.

It wasn't until a few hours later that Kenny realized she must have thought he was Taylor's uncle. That he was the one who had sent Taylor over to ask her name.

He was going to kill JP, no doubt about it. 

Chapter Five

"I'm so sorry, Lauren. I really am."

Lindsay sat curled in the corner of the sofa, her knees pulled tight against her chest. Her arms were wrapped low around her ankles, her hands fisted together so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Because she was really upset? Or to stop her hands from shaking for another reason?

Lauren released a heavy sigh and stared at her sister. Lindsay wouldn't meet her gaze, hadn't for the last thirty minutes, not since Lauren got home and Lindsay asked if they could talk.

If was the first time since that morning a few weeks ago that Lindsay had gone out of her way to say anything to Lauren.

And yeah, some talk. All Lindsay had said was that she was sorry. That was it. The same phrase repeated over and over. She was sorry. She really was. But she couldn't say what she was sorry for, wouldn't apologize for anything specific. And something told Lauren that the only thing Lindsay was sorry about was being told they needed to discuss her living arrangements tonight when Lauren got home.

Because Lauren asked Lindsay why she wasn't getting ready for work this morning and found out that Lindsay had quit her job. Again.

Quit, or was fired. She didn't really clarify, just told Lauren that she was tired of the job and didn't like working there anyway. The job was too restrictive, too menial. The job didn't pay her what she was worth and they expected her to do too much for what they paid her.

Lauren took a deep breath and held it, pinching the bridge of her nose and ignoring the small throb starting at the base of her neck. Lindsay was—had been—a cashier at a grocery store. For two months.

And she still wouldn't look at Lauren. Her head was bent, strands of her platinum-streaked hair falling against her cheek. Her gaze was focused down by her feet, on her brightly-polished toe nails. Recently polished, from the looks of it. And even though she wouldn't look at her, Lauren could see the wetness in her wide blue eyes, the same wetness that spiked her dark lashes and sparkled like glitter in the light coming from the lamp on the table next to her.

Real tears? Probably. But there was no doubt in Lauren's mind that the tears were for all the wrong reasons.

"You just don't get it, Lindsay. You never have. You can't keep doing this."

"But what am I doing? I don't understand."

Lauren rolled her eyes at the whine in her sister's soft voice, like she was a ten-year-old who didn't understand why she was being scolded. "You're not doing anything, Lindsay. That's the problem. You flunked out of college then threw a fit and moved out when Mom and Dad told you they weren't going to pay for a third try until you grew up. You disappeared for a year. Then you begged me to let you move in, told me you'd get a job and help out."

"But I did get a job. It's not my fault they expect people to do so much but won't pay anything. If they paid me more, or promoted me—"

"Promoted you? Lindsay, you were a freaking part-time cashier with absolutely no experience. Why would they promote you to anything?"

"Because I'm worth ten times what they were paying me! And then they had the nerve to get upset if I went on break or left for lunch."

"You got fired again, didn't you?"

Lindsay's head snapped up, anger flashing in her eyes for a brief second before she looked away. Her hands tightened around her ankles and she took a shaky breath before becoming meek and humble and apologetic again.

"It was a stupid job anyway. A moron could do it."

"Yeah, apparently not, since you got fired. Again. Lindsay, what is your problem? I just don't get it. Why can't you even hold onto a simple job?"

"I told you. Nobody appreciates what I can do, they don't value me. I was overqualified."

"Overqualified? How can you say that? You don't have any experience. You can't keep a job longer than a few months. But you expect them to pay you a six-figure salary and promote you? It doesn't work that way."

"Oh God." Lindsay drew out the phrase, rolling her eyes. "Please. Now you sound like Mom and Dad."

"Because Mom and Dad happen to be right. If you want something, you need to work for it. You need to earn it. You can't expect people to just give you money for something you haven't even worked for."

She waited for Lindsay to argue with her, to tell her she was wrong or to say something else. She knew she wanted to, because she could see the muscle working in Lindsay's jaw, knew her sister was getting angry. But she must have reminded herself she needed to stay meek and humble because she just sat there, twisting her hands. Lauren leaned back against the chair and shook her head. "It needs to stop, Lindsay. I can't keep supporting you when you refuse to even help yourself."

"Why? It's not like you don't have the money."

"Money I earn by going to work each day and busting my ass."

"Oh please. All you do is sit there and answer phones and goof off with Rick all day."

Lauren clenched her jaw until her back teeth ground together, something that she'd been doing more frequently since her sister moved in. There were so many things she wanted to say. She wanted to correct Lindsay, tell her what she really did all day. Tell her how hard she had worked, how she had helped Rick grow his business, that she didn't just work for him but was actually his business partner. That she had money because she worked hard and saved it instead of blowing through her paycheck before she even got it, wasting it on clothes and parties.

But Lindsay wouldn't listen, no matter how many times she said it. It wasn't worth wasting her breath, not any longer. Her sister lived in her own little world and would stay there until something drastic forced her out of it.

And if Lauren was smart, she'd tell Lindsay to pack her things and get out. She wasn't helping her sister by supporting her, by letting her get away with the same things day after day.

She opened her mouth, certain the words she needed to say would come out this time, that she'd finally have the strength to do what needed to be done. But she couldn't do it. Not when her sister huddled there, curled into a ball with big fat tears falling from the corners of her eyes. Yes, she knew the tears were fake, there for all the wrong reasons, but that didn't matter. She was Lindsay's big sister. Her last chance. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

"No more, Lindsay. If you want to keep living here, you need to follow the rules. Get a job. Keep it. Clean up your act. Help out around here. No more partying. And no more bringing guys here. Period."

Her head snapped around, that flash of fire appearing in her eyes for a brief second. "What guys?"

"What guys? Um, how about that one you brought home the other week that I threw out?"

"Oh, him." Lindsay waved her hand, dismissing him. "He was just some guy I met at a party."

"Really? Is that why he had you bent over the counter like a cheap hooker?"

"I can't believe you would say something like that—"

"We're not discussing it. Those are the rules. Abide by them or find yourself another place to live. I'm not putting up with it anymore." Lauren pushed out of the chair, ignoring the flash of hurt and anger in her sister's eyes.

"Where are you going?" There it was again, the little girl whine that made Lauren grind her back teeth.

"I'm going to go take a shower then read for a little while then go to bed. Is that okay with you?"

"You don't have to get snippy with me, I was just asking."

"I wasn't snippy. I'm just—" Lauren took a deep breath then let it out. "Did you need anything else?"

"No. But you spend too much time at home. We should go out. Together. I'll show you how to have some fun."

Not in this lifetime, Lauren thought. "No thanks, I'm fine."

"But you're not. You don't do anything fun."

"Lindsay, enough." The last thing she needed was her irresponsible sister giving her advice on how to live life and have fun. And how could her sister could go from being upset about possibly being asked to move out to trying to liven up Lauren's life? That should be enough right there to convince Lauren to change her mind, to convince her she wasn't doing anything to help her sister by giving into her. Again.

But she wasn't in the mood to deal with anything else tonight, not when she knew she'd probably never have it in her to do what needed to be done. So she shook her head and tossed a small wave over her shoulder, heading down the hall to her bathroom.

"Lauren?"

She stopped, wondering what her sister could possibly want to say now. Lindsay was leaning over the arm of the sofa, her long hair pushed behind her ears, the expression in her wide blue eyes more serious than she thought her sister capable of.

"Thank you. For giving me a chance."

Lauren nodded then kept going without saying anything. She couldn't, not around the sudden lump forming in her throat. Did Lindsay mean it? Yeah, probably. For this moment in time. But even Lauren knew that could—and probably would—change in five minutes, depending on what her sister wanted next.

She stopped at the door to her room and looked back without knowing why, without really thinking about it. Lindsay was still curled up in the corner of the sofa, hugging her knees. And she looked so…lost. Sad. Lauren paused, indecision warring within her. Before she could stop herself, convince herself she was making a huge mistake, she walked back to the living room and leaned against the corner of the wall.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?"

Lindsay started, surprise on her face when she faced Lauren. "Nothing definite, why?"

God, she was making a mistake, she just knew it. "I have an extra ticket to a Casino Night. Did you want to go?"

"What's that?"

"It's a charity thing that the Banners do each year. They have food and drinks and casino games. You don't play with real money, but it's still fun. And you get the chance to meet the players."

"Who are the Banners?"

Lauren closed her eyes and took a deep breath, silently counting to five. "The Baltimore Banners? The professional hockey team? Ice hockey?"

"Oh. Um…with you?" Lindsay looked away, a frown on her face, and Lauren realized she was already hoping her sister would say no. But then Lindsay smiled and nodded, excitement suddenly replacing the sadness Lauren thought she had seen just a few minutes earlier. "Yeah, I think I would like to go. That'll be fun. It'll be just like when we were kids, just the two of us."

"Okay. Great. Yeah, no problem." Lauren forced a smile to her face, not wanting her sister to see that she was already regretting asking her. She nodded, the stupid smile still in place, then headed back to her room.

Fun? Like when they were kids? Lauren certainly hoped not because even as a kid, Lindsay had been a little spoiled and determined to get her own way, no matter what. Back then, it involved Lindsay following her around, tormenting her and whining until Lauren or Dale gave in.

It couldn't be any worse than that, could it?

Chapter Six

Lauren moved to the bar, walking faster than she should in the heels she was wearing. The last thing she needed was to trip and fall and attract unwanted attention.

Lindsay was doing enough of that without her help.

"Oh my God, why didn't you tell me these players were so hot? I was expecting a bunch of beat-up guys with no teeth but these guys…oh my God." Lindsay caught up to her, grabbing her arm to keep her in place. Lauren narrowed her eyes and pulled her arm free of Lindsay's loose grasp. She didn't have to look around to know that people were watching them. Staring at them.

It wasn't just the inappropriate words uttered in Lindsay's voice, a little too loud, entirely too excited. Too eager. Even if she had developed a sudden case of laryngitis and wasn't able to speak a word, people would still be watching. Staring.

Because Lindsay's idea of cocktail attire was vastly different from the majority of those in attendance.

It wasn't that her dress was cut too short, or that it showed off too much. If it had, Lauren would have made her change before they left. It was the way it fit, the way the bright purple material clung and swayed when she moved. The way just the color stood out among all the black and silver and gold.

The way Lindsay stood out, too eager, too excited, too extreme. From the excitement in her voice to the constant stream of appreciative comments that could be heard over all the other conversations around them. She was drawing attention, no doubt about it. And it wasn't all good.

"Who's that? Would you look at how he fills out that suit? Wow. I think I need to start watching more hockey." Lindsay waved her wine glass around, some of the clear liquid sloshing over the rim and dripping onto her hand. She didn't seem to notice because her gaze was focused on the far corner of the room. Lauren turned her head in that direction, barely refraining from rolling her eyes and groaning out loud when she saw the three players standing there.

No, not three. Her eyes were focused on only one. Kenny Haskell. He looked so different from the last few times she had seen him. No jeans or workout pants, no tight-fitting t-shirt or loose sweater. Tonight he was dressed in a crisp black suit tailored to fit his broad shoulders and chest, his lean waist and trim hips and muscular thighs. The crisp whiteness of the shirt set off the healthy tan of his skin and the barest hint of stubble that darkened his jaw.

Like all the players here tonight, he was wearing a bright blue tie with a matching silk handkerchief tucked neatly in the pocket of his suit jacket. The color matched the blue of the Banners' home jerseys, set off by a white carnation pinned to his lapel. He should have looked sophisticated but he didn't. He looked dangerous instead, especially with the small butterfly bandage taped over the fresh cut below his left eye, the edges of it bruised a dark purple.

Lauren didn't realize she had been staring until Lindsay nudged her in the side. Did her sister know she had been staring? Could she hear the sudden pounding of her heart, beating loud in her chest? Or maybe it was just Lauren's imagination, this unexpected reaction and thrill of excitement coursing through her when she looked at him.

It had to be her imagination, that was the only explanation. Nothing else made sense.

"Well? Do you?"

Lauren finally looked at her sister, not surprised to see the impatience on Lindsay's face. "Do I what?"

"Do you know him?"

"Which one?"

"All of them. Any of them, it doesn't matter. But especially the one with the cut under his eye." Lindsay ran her free hand through her hair, doing something with her fingers to separate the light blonde strands. "So do you?"

"I don't know them, no. But I know who they are." Lauren glanced over at the bar, which just happened to be close to the corner where Kenny Haskell was standing with his teammates. She suddenly wanted a drink but not that bad, not when there was another bar on the other side of the room.

"Where are you going?" Lindsay grabbed her arm, stopping her when she turned to head in the opposite direction.

"I was going to go get a drink."

"But the bar's right there."

"I wanted to go to the other one." The excuse must have sounded worse out loud than it did in her head because Lindsay tilted her head back to look at her, an odd expression on her face. 

"This bar is closer. And why did you have to wear heels tonight? They make you obscenely tall. How can you stand it?"

Lauren clenched her jaw and leveled a cool look at her sister. "Lindsay, I am not ashamed of my height. I never have been."

"Whatever. I just don't understand why you insist on flaunting it. It's embarrassing."

"Really? Where is this even coming from? And honestly, why do you even care?"

"Because your height is freakish. And it makes people look at you instead of at me." Lindsay fingered the edge of the scalloped neckline of her dress, playing with the sparkling stones that decorated the front while her lower lip pushed out in a pout. Lauren rolled her eyes, already regretting bringing her sister with her. Why had she thought this would be a good idea?

Oh yeah—because she had felt sorry for Lindsay. A split-second of unexpected softness was going to be responsible for turning what should be a fun night into a long few hours of discomfort instead. When would she ever learn? With Lindsay, probably never.

She shook her head and stepped away. "I'm going to get a drink."

"Not over there. This way." Lindsay grabbed her arm and pulled her in the opposite direction—to the corner where Kenny Haskell and the other players were still standing. "You can get your drink, and then you can introduce me to them."

"Lindsay, no. And I told you, I don't know them."

"But you know who they are and that's good enough. Now come on, I want some autographs." Lindsay hooked her arm with Lauren's and practically dragged her toward the corner, ignoring the odd looks from some of the other attendees when she pushed around them. Lauren finally dug her heels in, pulling Lindsay to a stop in front of the small bar. There were only two people in front of them and Lauren hoped they'd take a really long time getting their drinks.

Because she did not want to get any closer to the players than she already was. At least not to one player in particular.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you, I wanted a drink."

"You're really going to get a drink? But you don't drink."

"Yes I do. Just not that often." Lauren swallowed back a groan of disappointment when the couple in front of them left, then wondered how long she could take pretending she didn't know what she wanted. Not long enough, unfortunately. The choices in the VIP bar—the hour-long pre-party gathering that included the meet-and-greet with the players—were limited to beer, wine, and water. Water wasn't going to cut it right now and she wasn't in the mood for a beer.

Less than a minute later, she had a white wine in hand and was trying to take a sip when Lindsay started tugging at her arm again. She gave her sister a dirty look when the wine nearly spilled, but Lindsay wasn't paying attention. Lauren was pretty sure she wouldn't have cared even if she was, not when she finally had her prey in sight.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Lauren heard the muttered words of disbelief but refused to look up. She didn't need to, not when she sensed Kenny Haskell stiffening as they approached. She kept her eyes down and focused on taking a sip of wine from the glass in her hand.

"Better watch your junk, boys. She's liable to slam you below the belt when you're not looking."

Lauren looked up and met his gaze, her eyes narrowing the slightest bit. "And then kick you out for being an obnoxious asshole." She took another sip of wine then looked at the other two players before turning her gaze back to Haskell. "Oh, wait. You're the only one who has to worry about that."

The other two players laughed. Lindsay grabbed her arm, tilting her head closer so she wouldn't be overheard. Her voice still came out in a shriek that could be heard all around them. "Lauren! What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Get your autographs so we can go mingle."

"I thought you said you didn't know them."

"I don't."

"Then why—"

"Lindsay, enough." Lauren tugged her arm free and inched away from her sister, trying to ignore the odd look Kenny Haskell was sending her way. She looked over at the other two men and tried to smile. "Um, my sister wanted to get your autographs."

"That's what we're here for." Brad Goodrich, the team's back-up goalie, offered them both a shy smile. Lindsay stepped even closer, her head tilted back as she held out the evening's program. Given the way she was standing, there was no doubt Goodrich would have a perfect view down the front her dress if he looked. But instead of looking, he just smiled and took the program from her.

Lauren didn't miss the slight frown of disappointment that crossed her sister's face. But it was only there for a second, quickly replaced by another inviting smile when she slid closer to Harland Day, one of the team's forwards. He wasn't anywhere near as polite as Goodrich, though. Instead of just taking the program, he actually stepped closer to Lindsay, his gaze completely focused on her sister's ample chest.

Lauren took another sip of wine and rolled her eyes, then nearly choked when she saw Kenny Haskell watching her. Had he seen? If the expression on his face was any indication, yes, he had seen. He cocked one eyebrow in her direction, like he was asking her a question, or maybe sharing an inside joke.

Lauren looked away, not understanding the silent exchange, not understanding the spurt of excitement that flared inside her.

"Oh, and I absolutely need yours, too." Lindsay stepped closer to Haskell, her hand resting high on his chest as she held the program out for him. Lauren ground her teeth together at the familiarity then immediately scolded herself for it. What on earth was wrong with her? So her sister was flirting, coming on to the players. So what? That was what Lindsay did, she should be used to it by now.

That didn't stop her from holding her breath, waiting to see what Haskell would do. Would he be a gentleman like Goodrich and step away? Or would he be more like Harland Day and welcome her sister's advances?

She raised the wine glass to her lips, trying not to be obvious as she watched. At least, she didn't think she was being obvious, until Haskell's dark gaze locked onto hers—and held it.

Even as he stepped away from her sister. As he scrawled his signature on the program without even looking at it. His gaze remained locked on hers, something flaring in the deep brown of his eyes. Awareness shot through her, prickling her skin and causing her flesh to heat.

Lauren forced her gaze away and tilted the glass back, draining the wine. What was wrong with her? This wasn't like her. Unsettled, antsy. Like she was expecting something to happen but she wasn't sure what, only knew she didn't want it to happen.

And maybe she was just spending too much time with Lindsay and starting to pick up some of her theatrics. That had to be it.

"We need a picture. Is that okay?" Lindsay grabbed Harland and Kenny, pulling them close to her side as she moved in front of Goodrich. She tossed a look over her shoulder at the goalie then gave him a bright smile before leaning back against him. "Lauren, use your phone and take our picture."

Lauren narrowed her eyes at Lindsay but didn't say anything. She moved to put her empty glass down, digging one-handed in the small purse hanging from her shoulder. Lindsay leaned even closer to Kenny and Lauren ground her teeth again. She was
not
jealous. That was impossible. Irritated, yes. Frustrated, yes. Jealous? No way.

Her fingers closed over the phone and she pulled it out, thinking the sooner she snapped a picture, the sooner they could leave. But someone took it from her hand, holding it away from her. Lauren gasped in surprise, the breath catching in her throat when she turned and found herself looking into a pair of deep warm eyes.

"You should be in the picture, too." Kenny handed the phone to someone behind them, she didn't know who. The only thing she knew right now was that Kenny Haskell had ridiculously long, dark lashes. Sinfully long.

She was still trying to wrap her mind around that inane observation when he placed his hand along her back and gently guided her to the waiting group. Lauren glanced at her sister and almost stumbled when she saw the look in her eyes. Anger, bright and hot, aimed directly at her. But then Lindsay blinked and it was gone, and Lauren wondered if maybe she had imagined it.

Kenny kept his hand on her back, silently guiding until she was standing between him and Brad Goodrich. Lauren glanced at her sister, who was now between Goodrich and Harland Day, and saw the anger flash in her eyes again. Okay, so she hadn't imagined it.

She tried to step away, shaking her head. "I don't really think—"

Kenny wrapped his arm around her waist and held in her place—almost like he was holding her prisoner. "Smile. We only have time for one picture."

"What? Only one?" Disappointment tinged Lindsay's voice. Lauren looked over at her, an apology hovering on her lips until she saw the expression on her face. Lindsay was more than just a little angry and Lauren couldn't figure out why.