The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance (17 page)

Adam’s folks had been killed in a combine accident five years ago while she and her brothers were all in college. The scene was gruesome and the sorrow had ripped through their town and lasted for months. Gail and Jim Spencer had been beloved and had worked their farm for generations. Maybe Adam didn’t have anyone to sit with him. To care.

Chapter 3

Beep … beep … beep.

The sound of the heart monitor echoed through the room, piercing his consciousness. Adam tried to pry open his heavy eyelids, but the pounding pain in his brain and limbs prevented him from moving. At all.

He took inventory of his body and a small river of relief flowed when he found he could move his fingers and toes. At least he wasn’t paralyzed. The last thing he remembered was flinging Heather’s shit out onto the lawn of the farm. Pretty much everything else was a blur. He knew he’d been drinking and nothing good ever came from the intimate relationship of Adam Spencer and straight whiskey.

He slowly raised his bruised hand to his forehead and hit the bandage above his right eye. There was a window in this private room, but the blinds were closed and it was gloomy. Blessedly dark. It had to be nighttime because the floodlights outside created dancing shadows across the grey walls of his room. As he continued taking stock of what he could see without moving his neck, his eyes darted over a shape outlined in the padded chair pushed into the corner.

His eyes must be deceiving him. A woman was curled up under a white cotton hospital blanket with only one side of her face exposed. But her hair. Glorious waves of auburn silk flowed over the arm of the chair with the tips almost touching the tile below. He’d know that hair anywhere. He remembered the first time he’d seen it. The day her girlish giggles had pealed out over the snow covered pond as she twirled by him on her white figure skates and that mass of thick hair had spun around her shoulders from underneath her hat.

What was she doing here? He hadn’t seen her since Roger Daughtry’s kegger at the Alpha Nu Omega frat party right before college graduation. And the NHL draft when his entire life had changed. He could still remember how her clothes had clung to her new woman’s body. The halter top had hugged her full breasts and tiny waist. Not to mention the tight skinny jeans on her round ass. Blake’s sister was all grown up. The lust had hit him. Hard.

Inappropriate and pathetic though it was, he’d spent the entire night in her space, wanting to be close to her. Talk to her. But Julia Wales was so far above his dipshit jock ass, she could take flight like a jet and soar that far above him.

“They call that out punting your coverage, moron,” Jeff’s voice had spoiled the fantasy he’d been having of Julia splayed out on his bed. Naked and attentive to his every whim. Every desire.

“I know,” he’d sighed as he ran his fingers through his thick head of wavy hair that never quite kept to its original style. “She’s breathtaking. There’s something about her and I want to push her up against the nearest wall and …”

“Like the pathetic loser you are,” Jeff had just continued laughing at his expense. “You better talk to her before she leaves. She’s looking for her jacket right now.”

“I can’t,” he’d whispered. “She’s Blake’s sister. Off limits.”

But Julia was here now and for the life of him, he had no idea why. They’d never shared more than a few sentences in all the years they’d known each other.

Julia’s eyes fluttered open as she heard him start to move.

“Hi,” she whispered as she brought her hands up to rub the sleep from her eyes. As she did so, the blanket fell down around her hips, revealing the layered lace top she was wearing. It had shifted with sleep and a dangerous amount of cleavage was exposed. If it wasn’t for the damn pounding in his head, he’d enjoy the view a lot more.

“Hi, yourself.” He stared. He just couldn’t help himself. Adam wanted to ask her what the hell she was doing in his hospital room, but he waited. Waited for her to explain.

Julia jumped to her feet, the cotton blanket landing in a pool of white at her stiletto clad feet. Where the hell had she been dressed like that? Some party?

“I’m sorry … I thought … your folks. I thought you might be alone. How silly of me.” Her face turned red, and she seemed acutely embarrassed as her hands flew through the air as she stammered. Damn cute. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman so flustered around him.

“I’m sure Heather’s on her way,” she whispered as she started toward the door. “I’m so sorry I bothered you, Adam.”

“Don’t go.”

Adam’s softly spoken plea stopped Julia dead in her tracks. The only sign that she’d heard him was a slight gasp of breath that softened her rigid back. And that ass. Jesus. This woman was just as spectacular from the back as she was from the front. Just like in college.

Thank God he was in excruciating pain and he welcomed it. Felt it completely. Fully. Because it was the only damn thing keeping him from doing or saying something completely inappropriate.

The sound of Heather’s voice jolted him out of his haze of lust over the alluring Julia Wales. “I’m his fiancée. I have to see him right now.”

Heather’s shrill voice pierced the stillness of the hallway. It had to be after visiting hours. Leave it to her to make a scene. Why hadn’t he noticed her selfish flair for the dramatic before? Because he was blinded by her fake smile, fake personality, and knockout blonde beauty.

He inhaled and steeled his resolve for what was about to come. What he deserved for thinking he wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone like
her
.

“Who are
you
?” Heather breezed through the door and stopped about two feet in front of Julia, who was trying to escape the room. Escape the drama. Escape
him
.

But she wasn’t the one he wanted gone.

“I was just leaving.” Julia ignored Heather’s glare as the other woman sized her up with her cerulean blue eyes.

Adam watched her slip from the room and his life. With class. He’d probably never see her again. Now why did that thought hurt more than the thought of the bitch standing beside his bed and her betrayal?

“Adam…”

Heather tried to take his hand and he snatched it away, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. Only a perverse curiosity to hear what lame excuse she’d come up with, coupled with an inability to think straight due to the pain kept him from tossing her out into the hallway on her skinny ass.

“Please what? But then, I already know. You thought when you walked in here, I’d be so overwrought from the accident, my injury, or both that I’d need you. Want you. Hold you. I’ve got news for you, Heather.” He narrowed his eyes at her round ones. The blue orbs pooled with tears. Another attempt at her fake bullshit to pull at his heart strings. But his heart was dead. Dead to her.

“Wha … what?”

“I hate you.” He held his tone steady. Poisonous. Lethal. “Get the hell out of this hospital room. I never want to see you or my cock sucking brother again. If you ever contact me, in any way, you’ll regret it.”

Tears streamed down her face as she stared at him in shock. He glared back at her and held his body motionless until she turned and pranced from the room, wiggling her backside. For that, if nothing else, he cursed. Typical Heather. Trying to manipulate him to the bitter end. Only one good thing had come out of this whole sordid mess. From this day forward, Adam Spencer would recognize a whore when he saw her.

Adam clamped his eyes shut until he heard the swish of the door closing behind her. Closing the door on the idyllic future, he’d imagined. The problem with the fantasy is that the reality hadn’t even come close to living up. He covered his face with his hands, trying to rub the shame and humiliation from his eyes. From his heart. From his soul.

His hand snaked out to grab the remote from the wheeled table. Feeling completely defeated, Adam flipped on the TV. The wreck was being discussed on almost every news channel he came across. So much for ESPN to carry him away from reality.

A nurse came in to check his vitals.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

“I’ve paged the doctor so he should be here soon,” she chastised. “You were lucky you weren’t seriously injured or killed. No broken bones, no internal injuries. You’re just bruised and battered which will heal in a few weeks. What’s your pain level?”

“A hundred and two.”

She smiled and pushed some meds into his I.V. “This should help. Just hit the buzzer if you need anything before the doctor arrives. You should be able to go home in the morning.”

Chapter 4

“I can probably argue this down to a misdemeanor but that’s going to take time,” Adam’s agent, Harold Tucker sat next to his hospital bed wearing his famous ‘you’ve seriously fucked up again’ expression. “And money.”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut against the waves of embarrassment. Harry had been his agent since he was drafted and this was the first time they’d had this type of uncomfortable conversation.

“I know,” Adam sighed as he opened his lids to find Harry staring down at him with empathy instead of censure. “I guess I’m lucky I was injured so I didn’t have to face the humiliation of the Nick Nolte mugshot and fingerprinting by Duluth’s finest.”

Harry snapped his briefcase shut after collecting some signatures. “I took care of it. You won’t even have to go to the station. Since the semi driver wasn’t injured, this is a civil case.”

“He’s suing me then?” Adam questioned. “I realize I should never have gotten behind the wheel even to drive one farm over but isn’t he just out a new truck and a load of corn? Things covered by commercial insurance?”

Harry took his reading glasses off and shoved them in his interior jacket pocket as he speared Adam with a stern look. “Doesn’t matter. You’re rich. He’s not. Welcome to the world of professional hockey, my boy. Add to it all the fact that you were drinking and I have a huge mess to clean up as well as a PR nightmare. Maybe I can get the public to feel sorry for you because of …”

Harry waved his hand to Adam’s legs underneath the sheet.

“What?”

“The injury.”

Adam looked away. Sick and damn tired of being reminded that he didn’t play in the NHL anymore. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’m not playing on people’s sympathies about my career. Even to avoid a payday for The Jolly Green Giant.”

“Don’t let anyone else but me hear you talk like that, Adam,” Harry chided. “I’m in your corner. Other people … they tend to like to beat a man when he’s down.”

***

It hadn’t been difficult to get her number. Being famous sometimes had a few perks. Thoughts of her had consumed him the entire night in the hospital. That and a compelling need to understand why she’d been sleeping in his hospital room.

Texting her with the pathetic excuse that he had no one to pick him up and take him to the salvage yard had worked like a charm. Julia Wales was nice. Too nice for the likes of him.

“Need a lift?” Julia called out the window with a smile as she pulled into the pick-up zone of the hospital. Damn the fact that her first sight of him today was in a wheelchair. Like an invalid. Not the mental image he wanted her to have of him. He wanted to be the star of her fantasies. The ones she had at night alone in her bed. Or maybe she wasn’t alone? Shit. He hadn’t even thought about a boyfriend or husband.

As she came around her Escape to help with the clear plastic drawstring bag with his bloodstained clothes, he glanced at her left hand. Empty. There was hope.

“Nice scrubs,” she commented with a laugh. “Couldn’t Heather or Mark bring you a change of clothes for the ride home?”

“I’m alone,” he replied as he clutched the plastic bag in his blue cotton clad lap. “There is no Heather. No Mark.”

She glanced over, her face a mask of confused concern. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He instantly regretted the surly tone. This woman was going out of her way to help him. And her mere presence … well, it lit up this shitty day like the December sun on a fresh snow.

It was a beautiful Friday afternoon without a cloud in the sky. Chilly but not too bad. He needed to steer the conversation in a safe direction and also let her know he wasn’t a complete asshole.

“I’ve been hearing great things about you from the locals,” he commented. “They say what you did with the Miller barn conversion is nothing short of miraculous. Tilly Miller said it’s booked solid for weddings every Saturday for the entire year. I’m going to have to go over there and check it out.”

Julia’s face lit up at the compliment. Adam could tell she was passionate about her business. Judging by the photos he’d seen on her website and the ravings of the people in town, she had every right to be proud. She’d accomplished a lot in twenty-five years and she was just getting started.

“So, where to?” she asked as she eased away from the curb.

“The salvage yard,” he offered. “I need to get some things out of my truck. Then the farm.”

“Is there another vehicle there for you to drive?” She giggled and he found the sound intoxicating. “Besides the combine?”

“There is,” he smiled back and found he appreciated the easy banter. “But wouldn’t it be much more fun to pull up in front of Nan’s in the old John Deere as opposed to my ’62 Corvette convertible?”

“I’d like it.”

“Just the kind of stunt I might have pulled back in high school,” he said. “With your brother.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Blake’s got that same sense of humor. My dad says most of his grey hairs are courtesy of Blake. Brock, he was the milder and more mature older brother.”

They went back and forth with escalating stories of Blake’s antics as he directed her to the local salvage yard where the tow had taken his totaled out Dodge. The drive only took about five minutes and he almost wished the salvage yard had been farther away. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a conversation with a woman. Sharing laughs and a comfortable camaraderie.

The small SUV bounced over the potholes on the gravel road leading to the chain link fence and Adam appreciated the view as her body jiggled in all the right places. He shook his head. Jesus.

I’m being a complete reprobate. Twenty-four hours ago, I was engaged.

Julia pulled up to the office and switched the engine off as he got out. She waited patiently, deciding to stay put, and said she needed to answer some client e-mails. She was really excited about a farmhouse renovation she was starting next week. The old home needed some serious love and she was just the woman for that arduous task. It seemed that the more ramshackle the project, the more she loved the transformation. Adam found he could listen to her all day when she talked about her work. Her life.

He walked with the owner of the yard to his crunched up truck and sighed. He’d really loved it and now he’d have to replace it and deal with the annoying insurance companies as well as some bogus lawsuit. He could handle the hit to his wallet but maybe not the one to his ego. As he ran a hand through his thick hair and sighed, he grabbed his Caribou duffle bag out of the extended cab and slammed the door. It immediately fell off the hinges and straight onto the dirt below.

“You’re lucky to be alive, dude,” the older man commented as he watched the fallout. “If you hadn’t been in a newer vehicle with all the safety features, this would have been much worse.”

“No doubt.” He didn’t need to have people keep telling him what a dipshit he was. Shit. He’d never driven drunk, even in high school and college. Damn Heather. And Mark.

He glanced up and found Julia bent over her iPhone, her cloud of silky, auburn hair floating around her torso. She looked like an angel. His angel.

She jumped when the car door opened and slipped her phone into the center console. “Okay, I’ll need help navigating to your house,” she said as he slipped beside her and closed the door. “I have a general idea, but I’ve never been to your place.”

“It’s super easy,” he replied as she turned the ignition.

Julia pulled back onto the highway and toward a rural area as Adam directed her. She slowed when they passed the scene of the accident. The roadway littered with glass and metal. The jackknifed semi had been removed, but a large tree, minus its branches, lay in the ditch.

Adam gave out a low whistle. “I guess I am lucky to still be here. That doesn’t look good. Thank God no one was hurt.”

“Yeah, you’re really lucky,” Julia commented as she started up the long, gravel driveway. Then she turned her face toward him and he took that opportunity to get lost in the depths of her eyes.

“So, how did you manage to get my personal cell number?”

“I have my ways,” he admitted with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Sometimes, it’s good to be a local hero. Everyone steps forward to help you.”

“That’s not fair,” she admonished. “You’re supposed to use your celebrity for good and not evil.”

“I did use it for good,” he said softly. “Julia, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you agreed to pick me up from the hospital. For some strange reason, I feel safe when I’m with you. Like you’re not going to sell me out. Or hate me. I haven’t put my best foot forward lately.”

She blushed that delicious shade of pink again. The same one that looked like she’d been fucked senseless and had just come all over him, screaming his name.

Stop it, Spencer.

“I was happy to help out an old … friend.”

“I hope your boyfriend didn’t mind,” he said, his eyes searching hers.

“I don’t have one right now,” she announced without pausing. Then quickly recovered. “I work really long days. It wouldn’t be fair to pull another person into that.”

Was that her way of issuing a subtle warning to back off?

“I’m glad someone isn’t going to show up here with a baseball bat or a twelve gauge,” he joked. “Besides, I figured you’d be the best choice since you’ve already seen me in my stylish hospital wear.”

“Excuse me,” she snorted. “You’re the one who stopped me from leaving. And I think you looked kind of cute in that ensemble. In fact, I think we should check with SueAnn and see if she could carry something similar in the boutique. It would literally
fly
off the racks.”

He loved how they’d already settled into the comfortable back and forth teasing pattern. And playfulness. Nothing serious.

“SueAnn, now that’s a blast from the past,” he said as he rubbed his chin. “Her boutique is doing well? Hopefully better than that time in Mr. Shelton’s biology lab when she accidentally put potassium in the beaker with water and caused a minor explosion?”

“You know, for someone who is supposed to be shy, you sure do talk a lot of smack,” she stated as she pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of his porch. “Like my equally annoying brother.”

“He is kind of a pain,” Adam laughed. “But I miss him.”

“Wow...this is so homey. Like an old painting,” she exclaimed softly as she stepped out and closed the car door. “I didn’t expect a small town hero like yourself would stay here. Not when you can afford a mansion on the hill.”

“Why?” he asked, liking the look of appreciation on her face as she inspected his home. “You think an old farm kid like me should move off to the city just because I made it to the NHL?”

“Isn’t that what most athletes do?”

“Yeah, I guess they do,” he chuckled, thinking about stereotypes. He’d never bought in. “I don’t know, I really never fit into the whole city life. This … well, it feels like home. It is home.”

They made their way up the porch and through the cedar plank door with a stained glass insert. There was even an old-fashioned, brass dinner bell hanging from the porch roof. If Julia had noticed Heather’s shit littered all over his lawn and trees, she’d had the grace not to mention it. Or stare.

He glanced around his house like he was seeing it for the first time. Through her eyes. His mom’s face stared back everywhere he looked. Her touches were everywhere. He’d never sell this place. Never leave. The oak floor planks that his grandpa had laid himself, each ding and scrape in the boards had a story to tell. The story of his family.

“This house is stunning, Adam,” she exclaimed. “I can feel the love here, even though you’re the only one living here now.”

“It reminds me of them,” he replied. He walked over to the exposed brick fireplace and ran his fingers along the oak mantle. “I miss them. Every moment of every day.”

Julia walked toward him. Closer. Until he could feel the heat radiating off her skin and feel her feminine energy. It felt like an electric shock when she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his forearm. The simple gesture was one of support, but to him, it felt intimate. And hot. Like he’d been branded. Adam put his hand over hers, then laced their fingers together.

“Come with me,” he said as he tugged her behind him. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He led the way out of the back of the house to the old, red, two-story barn, his hand never releasing hers. It felt so good to touch her. So damn right. He’d never felt that way touching Heather. She’d roused his passion, but never his protective side.

Heather had liked being in control of their relationship. Calling the shots and protecting her image as Duluth’s old money. Her family traced their lineage back to the glory days of iron ore shipping. Come to think of it, he’d always felt like a backwards hick every single time he’d set foot in her family’s mansion on first street.

Julia didn’t come from Heather’s world. She and her family were strictly middle class and hard working. Like his own had been.

Adam lifted the wooden bar and swung the double doors wide as he stepped aside for Julia to precede him. Inside, hanging from the upper rafters was a tractor tire on sturdy rope. It could hold three kids or two adults comfortably. Back in grade school, he and Mark had taken bets over how many kids they could fit in it and still swing. The record still held at ten.