The Mighty Quinns: Thom (6 page)

“You’d be surprised,” Malin said. “It’s the best way to communicate with your fans. Jeff Stromhall has almost a million followers. And he can talk to each and every one of them just by typing in a short little message every day.”

Thom rolled over and peered down at the screen of Malin’s iPad. “Show me how it works,” he said.

Malin quickly prepared a Twitter page for him, copying photos from the Blizzard site and answering bio questions for him. “Here’s your name. Thomquinn3. And your picture from the team site. And here’s your banner picture—the overtime goal that you scored against Chicago.”

“Nice,” he said.

“All right, now you have to say something. It should be short and pithy. You only have one hundred forty characters.”

“Pithy,” he said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever said anything pithy.”

“Then something inspiring. Or interesting. Or witty.”

Thom groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “This is a lot of pressure. I don’t want to sound stupid.”

“Anything.”

He flopped back into the pillows and covered his eyes with his arm. Malin watched him, surprised that a guy unafraid to start a brawl on the ice was so scared to say something about himself.

“All right,” he said. “How about this? ‘Nothing better than a lazy afternoon—’”

Malin held up her hand to stop him while she typed in the first part of the message. She nodded for him to continue.

“‘In bed with a very beautiful and very naked woman.’”

Malin stopped typing and looked up at him. “You can’t say that.”

“But it’s true.”

“Some things should be kept private.”

“All right, you make something up.’

“Fine. How about, ‘Lazy afternoon watching my favorite movie.’ What’s your favorite movie?”

“The Wizard of Oz.”

“You like
The Wizard of Oz
?” Malin shook her head. She really knew nothing about this man at all. “Tommy the Beast’s favorite movie is
The Wizard of Oz
.”

“I like the flying monkeys. And the lion. And the Munchkins. It’s been my favorite movie since I was a little kid. What’s wrong with it?”

Malin smiled. “Nothing. It’s perfect.” She keyed in the tweet. “‘Lazy afternoon watching my favorite movie, The Wizard of Oz. There’s no place like home.’” She showed it to him and he nodded. “Click Send,” she urged him.

He sent the tweet. “All right, I’ll go get the DVD. I haven’t watched it in years. We always used to watch it around Christmas.”

“We haven’t talked much about your family,” Malin said. Beyond what he’d said about why he’d started stealing, Thom had avoided mentioning his family. He’d mentioned his two brothers, Tristan and James. From what she’d made out, his parents hadn’t played much of a role in raising them, but his grandmother had.

“I don’t want to tell you more sad stories,” he said. “That’s all part of the past.”

“It’s part of who you are,” she said.

Thom shook his head. “No, it’s not.” He turned away, his gaze fixed on a stream of sunshine coming through the bedroom curtains. “Yes, it is. You’re right. But some of it is just so...pitiful. I never wanted people to pity me. I think that’s why I was okay with the whole Tommy the Beast image. My past made me tough. Not...wounded.”

“Are you wounded?” Malin tried to keep the tremor out of her voice, but it was nearly impossible. Just looking at his expression, tinged with torment, brought forth a surge of emotion. She didn’t want to cry. It would only confirm the worst of his fears.

“My father died when I was a kid. I’ve been told that he was a great guy—funny, the life of the party. My parents were just eighteen when they got married, and they were happy until my father lost his job. He started drinking a lot and my mum had to work longer hours. She worked nights so that they didn’t have to pay for child care, although my da wasn’t around much once my older brother, Tristan, was able to watch over us. I was about ten when the bad times started.”

“Did he get sick?”

“My father was killed trying to rob a gas station. My mother started drinking after he left, and things got even worse when they sent us into the foster care system. We bounced in and out of that, back and forth between my mother and the system. There was the occasional nice family and some not-so-nice group homes. Sometimes we were together, sometimes not. We rarely had money and we lived out of our car one summer. School was a joke. But then one of my foster parents enrolled me in an after-school hockey program. I learned to skate and play the game, and I was good at it.” He’d avoided her gaze for most of his story, but he took a moment to look at her. “Do you feel sorry for me?”

Malin shook her head. She crawled closer to him and tucked herself beneath his arm, then pulled him down to lie next to her. Their naked limbs tangled beneath the bed linens, and she pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. “Did your brothers play hockey?” she asked, hoping she’d found a question that might keep him talking.

“No, they had their own interests.” A long silence descended between them. He grabbed her hand and began to toy with her fingers, weaving them through his as he contemplated his next words. “So, do you pity me?”

“No, I really like you. I mean, really, really, I do. I never expected to like you so much.”

“I like you, too,” he murmured.

Thom slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her naked body against his. The contact was electric, and Malin felt the breath suddenly leave her body. When he wanted something, Thom Quinn didn’t hesitate to take it.

He kissed her and she was lost in the sweet taste of his mouth, the way he drew away and toyed with her bottom lip, catching it between his teeth before kissing her again.

Thom rolled over her, stretching his body out over the length of hers. Malin loved the weight of his flesh pressing against her breasts and hips.

“Do you know what I think we should do?” he asked.

Malin swallowed hard, wondering if this was when they’d finally make love. She was ready. She’d even considered taking control herself but then remembered he had his own reasons for the delay.

“We should go on a date,” he continued. “I’m going to take you to dinner. I know this wonderful Italian place right in the neighborhood. They have the best lasagna. If you hate lasagna, they have—”

“We can’t go out,” Malin said. “If I’m seen with you, there’ll be photographs and all kinds of speculation.”

“I’m not always recognized,” he said.

“All it takes is one photo to be posted online and suddenly you and I are engaged. Believe me, I know how these things can flare out of control.”

“I guess you’re right,” he murmured.

“We could always call and get takeout.”

He nodded, but Malin saw the disappointment in his eyes. She should have been pleased about the prospect of a real date, but in truth, she had to be realistic.

If he was traded, they would never see each other again. And if he wasn’t, there was no way she could continue to sleep with him. As soon as his fate was decided, hers would be, too. Thom Quinn would be off-limits.

* * *

S
HE
SLEPT
CURLED
against his body, her legs tucked into his lap, her chin resting on his shoulder. Thom couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so absolutely content with his life. As long as she was with him, all was well with the world.

Still, he knew it was only a matter of time before the wolves were at the door. He’d never regretted the choices he’d made in his life until this very moment. And now all the stupid moves had come back to haunt him. The drinking and the women and the partying had poisoned the possibility of a happy future.

Though he knew a relationship with Malin was impossible, he couldn’t make himself stop dreaming that it could be. He imagined the two of them together, living a normal life, finding happiness in the simple things they shared. She was the first woman he’d ever met who seemed to understand and accept him—the good and the bad.

But if life had taught him anything, it had taught him that wishes and dreams were a waste of time. Happiness was for other people, not him. But Malin was with him now, and he was determined to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

He rolled over onto his back and felt something hard pressing into his hip. Thom pulled out Malin’s tablet. Curious, he turned it on. The Twitter page she had made for him came up, and he skimmed the heading. “Two thousand seven hundred and three followers,” he murmured. What did that mean?

He leaned over and gave Malin a gentle shake. “Malin,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

She moaned, burrowing deeper into the bedcovers. But when he shook her again, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him. “What time is it?”

“Early. About four a.m.”

“Too early,” she murmured.

He held out the tablet. “Look at this. I have followers. What does that mean?”

“That’s good,” she said. “People are finding your account and signing up to see what you have to say. Almost three thousand—that’s a lot of people for such a short time. And once we link you to the team page, you’ll probably have a half million within a week.”

Thom wasn’t sure what that all meant, but as long as Malin was happy, then so was he. He dropped the tablet on the bed and curled up against her. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” she said.

“I was thinking we could still have that date we were talking about.”

“We discussed that,” Malin said.

“There’s somewhere I want to take you. For breakfast. And I promise, no one will know we’re there.”

She turned over to face him. “At four a.m.? You want to have a date right now.”

“Yeah.”

She smiled. “All right. I suppose you’re not going to let me get any more sleep.” She sat up and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “What do I need to wear?”

“This place is very casual,” he said. “It might be a bit chilly outside, though, so wear a sweater.”

Malin nodded, watching him from the bed, the covers pulled up around her bare breasts. Though they’d spent an entire day naked, the idea of watching her dress suddenly seemed awkward. Thom grabbed his clothes from the floor and headed to the bathroom.

He closed the door behind him, then quickly brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair. As he tested his jawline with the back of his hand, he decided on a quick shave. Who knew what might transpire later in the day? The last thing he wanted was to hurt her delicate skin with a beard burn.

When he emerged from the bathroom, she was waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed with her hands resting in her lap. Thom held his hand out and pulled her to her feet. “You look beautiful.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “I’m wearing the same clothes I was wearing yesterday.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re beautiful.”

He tucked her hand in his, and they walked out of the firehouse and onto the eerily quiet street. “I’ve never been out this late,” Malin said, quickening her pace to keep up with Thom’s stride.

Though they could have driven, the breakfast place was just four blocks from his home. Thom’s downtown neighborhood was a mix of commercial properties, parking lots and old warehouses and factories that had been turned into residential lofts.

The streets were dark and silent, so quiet that their footsteps echoed against the brick buildings. “It’s kind of spooky out here,” she said.

He pulled her hand up to his lips and gave it a kiss. “You’re perfectly safe,” he assured her. “You’re with The Beast.”

* * *

E
XCEPT
TO
M
ALIN
, he didn’t feel like a beast at all. In truth, Thom Quinn was nothing like Tommy the Beast. He was quiet and soft-spoken, a bit unsure of himself, nothing at all resembling his on-ice persona. She hadn’t expected to respect him so much.

He led her into a narrow alleyway, and Malin frowned. The scent of baked goods suddenly filled the air, and Thom grinned. “Smell that?”

“Yes! What kind of place is this?”

He climbed a short flight of steps and held open a screen door. “It’s called Doughnut Nirvana. A friend of mine owns it. They make fifty varieties of doughnuts every day.”

They walked directly into the kitchen, which was blazing with light and activity. Everyone greeted Thom by name and he returned the greetings, knowing each of the workers personally. A woman wearing a black baseball cap hurried toward them and pulled Thom into a fierce hug.

“Malin, this is Nora. She owns this place.”

Malin held out her hand, but Nora ignored the gesture and pulled her into a hug. “Nice to meet you. So nice,” she said. “Tommy’s never brought a girlfriend with him.”

“Oh, I’m not his—”

“Well, you must be someone special. He’s never even brought a guest before.” Nora drew her along to a small table set in a quiet corner of the kitchen. A few seconds later, Thom joined them with a couple of mugs filled with steaming coffee.

He sat down across from her. “Get ready to be amazed,” he said.

Before she could ask why, one of the bakers appeared with a plate heaped with freshly made doughnuts. “I have very few weaknesses,” Malin admitted, “but kind men and freshly made pastries are at the top of the list. Are these all for us?”

“Nora calls this her tasting menu. She expects us to taste each one and give her feedback.”

Malin giggled. “This
is
nirvana.”

“I thought you might like it,” he said.

“How did you know?”

“Try this one.” He held up a long rectangular doughnut with a strip of crispy bacon laid on top of what smelled like maple frosting.

Malin took a bite and rolled her eyes. “So good.” She took another bite, then a sip of her coffee.

As Thom had promised, the doughnuts kept coming, all with imaginative flavor combinations, beautifully frosted and still slightly warm. It was the most perfect breakfast she’d ever eaten.

“We have to take some pictures for Twitter,” Malin said.

“Who’s going to care what I eat for breakfast?” he asked.

“All your followers,” she said. “And it won’t be just to inform them of what you ate. You’re also going to plug the bakery. You just watch. She’ll have a line out the door by next week.”