The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance (9 page)

He looked up, tilting his head back a bit. His eyes scanned her up and down, a look of pain on his face. “Sure,” he said, his voice quiet. “Make you a brew?”

Eloise smiled and took a stool, unraveling her scarf from around her neck. “I’d love that.”

As the machine hummed and gurgled, her eyes drank him in, from the top of his spiky head, down his ripped midsection covered in a tight t-shirt, to his bare feet shod in sandals. In February. Cole Fiorino’s mind worked in mysterious ways, and Eloise found it intriguing. She chuckled at his optimism in sporting flip flops in Minnesota. His cool blue irises intermittently flicked in her direction as he worked.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the Town Hall,” she began as he pushed the coffee cup across the counter toward her. “I know you felt I was siding with Sheehan, but I was only doing my job. I do appreciate you coming to my defense. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting him, and I have to admit… I… I.” She blew out a breath.” Well, I didn’t have his permission to hold that Town Hall. I thought I knew what was best, and I performed a blatant act of insubordination. Things got out of hand, and I guess it shook me up a bit. I was confused when my work and my feelings shot the first bullet in my internal war.”

Cole remained still for a few moments, the silence between them deafening. Why didn’t he say something? Even if it was fuck you? “So you do have feelings in there somewhere,” he said tonelessly. “Funny. That’s not what I heard.”

Eloise stiffened, her hands wrapped around the warm concoction he’d prepared. Squeezing it so hard the hot ceramic threatened to burn her palms. She welcomed the searing sensation. It seemed less acute than the burning in her gut. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He took a step back, clearing the coffee tools away. “I mean, your reputation precedes you,” he answered. “The ice-queen, wearing her career as her crown. I had hoped it was a bunch of bullshit perpetuated by an asshole that hadn’t gotten laid since Kanye West dissed Taylor Swift the first time. Seems like it’s all true.”

“Who said this?” she demanded, feeling equal parts insulted and embarrassed. But her heart pummeling to her boots said she already knew.

“If the shoe fits, does it matter who’s the cobbler?” He asked the rhetorical question all puffed up and arrogant. This was the NHL bullshit she was used to. Somehow, she’d thought this one was different. But he was just a sleazy jock like all the others, only out for himself and his own interests. But there was another sleazy jock who’d pay.

“Ryder Martin,” she whispered angrily, her eyes narrowing. “Ryder doesn’t know his ass from a dressing room drain. He’s stuck in the past, mourning his lost chances as a pro hockey player. He doesn’t know anything about me, other than I wouldn’t sleep with him on a first date. Our
only
date. Are you saying a girl shouldn’t have scruples? Or standards? Or taste? That’s not how you felt when we had dinner together.”

Cole blinked, seemingly taken aback by her vehemence. Then a slow grin burgeoned on his face, bringing that beyond-cute dimple out to play.

Have mercy! If this man keeps boomeranging me, I might never recover.

“So you two never…” he waved a finger in the air in place of the completed sentence.

Eloise shivered in spite of the warm interior temperature. “No.”

Cole nodded, looking smug. Then he winked. “Well, you’re right,” he said. “I like a woman who has high standards. Especially in baked goods.”

Eloise smiled and relaxed her shoulders. His sense of humor was like a soothing balm, relieving the tension and making the world seem right again. Her world would be so right with him in it. “Ditto,” she said. “But before I was so rudely interrupted, I was trying to tell you something.”

He cocked his head, waiting for more.

She took in a deep breath to steel her quivering nerves. “I came to tell you that I feel some crazy connection between us and I want to explore where that leads. And I hope you do too. But if so, we’re going to have to make some compromises. I can apologize for my behavior, but I won’t apologize for my work ethic. Can we agree to keep work and dating separate?”

“Dating?” he asked, sounding dubious. “Are you saying you want to go out on another date? And then another, and another?”

She bit her lip, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I am. Willing to give it a try?”

The smile on his face could have lit up the Twin Cities in a power failure. He moved around to her side of the bar and plucked her up off her seat. He spun her in a three-sixty then set her down again. “Cool!”

“Okay, okay, hold on,” she said, laughing breathlessly. “We’ve got to set some ground rules.”

“Okay, shoot,” he said, his arms still around her waist.

“We won’t talk about work when we’re alone together, and we won’t talk directly to each other during any business meetings, fair enough? The last thing we need is to start rounds of gossip and make the media start sniffing around. I might not be able to PR my way out of my own negative PR.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, his eyes meeting hers in a lustful visual embrace.

Eloise felt electricity shoot through her as he moved his body close, wedging his hips between her knees as she balanced on the tall stool. He slipped one hand to the nape of her neck, cupping her head beneath her thick mass of brunette curls and tipping her face upward. The kiss he gave her rivaled and exceeded the one from the Town Hall night, and Eloise could feel the exuberant passion of this man in the power of it; that he would love fully and freely and give it everything he had, just as he did on the ice. She reveled in the spicy scent of him, the touch of beard on her face and his lips on hers, their tongues exchanging wordless, magical promises.

When a few customers sent wolf whistles, they broke their heated kiss amid smiles and giggles. Eloise felt her face heat up.

“Hey, wanna know something?” Cole asked. “A lot of people liked your
Riot for Rochester
concept, and they’re organizing a talent showcase, a kind of ‘battle of the bands’ with local groups and artists. Congrats, PDL!”

“PDL?” she asked on a sigh of continued desire. She couldn’t think straight after that kiss.

“Pretty doughnut-lady,” he said with a grin. “Sorry, El, but your nickname has been sealed since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“I suppose it could be worse” Eloise smiled in relief. “It could stand for public display of lethargy. What about your friend Trey? Was that him with you at the meeting? Did he like the idea?”

Cole gave an ambiguous nod. “Yeah. Trey has his own agenda, but he’s thinking of doing a karaoke sing-off here at
Blues.
I’m going to ask some of the team to come out as celebrity guests. Will you come watch?”

Eloise beamed. “I’ll be here with doughnuts on.”

Chapter Ten

The phone on Sheehan Murphy’s desk rang in shrill warbling tones as multiple lines lit up. Kylie collected her notes and prepared to leave Murphy’s office where they’d been going over the bar’s opening night checklist. “Will that be all, Mr. Murphy?”

Sheehan looked across his desk as he reached for the handset. “Yeah… I gotta take this call. Tell your boss the TV promo looked great.”

Kylie nodded and turned toward the door, grateful the old goat had shit some goat pellets all over his trash pile and calmed the fuck down. As she reached for the handle, the door opened from the other side, and Kristoff Helios breezed in. All she knew about the guy was that he’d done El a bad turn and for that, she didn’t like him.

“Kristoff,” she said, a bit startled. He stood aside as she exited.

“Close the door, will you?” Sheehan barked. Kylie did as he requested and as she walked away, heard the lock slip into place. What the hell would be so important a discussion that the two men would need the office door locked? Kristoff was in charge of sales, advertising, and merchandise. Seemed like something beneath Sheehan’s notice.

She continued down the hallway to her own office.

“Hey, El,” Kylie said, walking up to Eloise’s desk. “Here’s the checklist. Murphy says he liked your commercial spot.” Eloise sat with her eyes fixated on her computer screen and didn’t look up, seemingly lost in her own little world. “El?” She placed her notes on the desk and waved her hand in Eloise’s line of sight. Eloise jumped and pulled a set of earbuds from her ears.

“What? Sorry, Kyles.”

Kylie laughed as she saw the Bob Marley YouTube video playing on her screen. “OMG, Satan called and reported it’s frostier than a polar bear’s ass crack down there. You’re listening to reggae?”

Eloise made a face. “I don’t
want
to listen to it, but since Cole likes it so much I thought I should at least give the classics a chance. I still don’t get it. It all sounds the same to me.”

“That’s a big step for you, cottoning to a man’s likes and dislikes. This must be serious between you and Cole. What else does he like?” Kylie asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Eloise telegraphed a warning look. “None of your business, Miss Nosey Rosie. We’ve gone to dinner a few times, some movies, live music. That’s all.”

“I don’t believe you. Hockey jocks don’t waste any time getting ‘into the slot,’ if you know what I mean,” Kylie said, chuckling at her very inappropriate reference. Luckily, El didn’t care, and no one else was within earshot.

Eloise hid a shy smile but refused to comment. Her slot remained closed. “Hey, miss social media. They’re having a karaoke competition at
Blues & Brews
tonight. Cole’s doing a song and so are some of the guys on the team. You should come. And tell your legion of followers to come too. It’s a good idea to support the local businesses.”

Kylie pursed her lips and gave a nod. “Sounds like fun, maybe I will. Oh, Murphy likes your commercial, by the way. Seems you’re making everybody happy lately. See what a little love in your life does?” she teased.

“Who said anything about love?” Eloise scoffed. “Sheehan’s only happy that we’re on schedule to open April fifteenth and the protesters have disappeared, thank goodness. They’re all busy organizing acts for the talent showcase.”

“I’ll say it again El, the
Riot for Rochester
thing – a stroke of brilliance. Now I know why you make the big bucks.”

“Stick with me, kiddo, you’ll go places,” Eloise said with a wink.

***

The inside of
Blues & Brews
was warm and festive despite the late-March cold snap that had settled over Rochester. Spring couldn’t come fast enough, Eloise thought, then her blood might finally thaw. She entered the establishment dressed in black leggings, a long V-neck sweater tunic, and tall riding boots, drawing unabashed stares from several men as she passed by in her form-fitting attire. She’d paid extra attention to her hair and make-up tonight, knowing he’d be on stage performing and wanting him proud to have her by his side.

She scanned for Cole and found him near the raised structure, arranging the microphone, amps, and control board. His eyes raked her up and down as she approached, clearly appreciating the view.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he said back, a sexy smile forming on his unshaven face. “You look fabulous, babe. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead tonight.”

“Oh, no, BB, you’re not getting me up on that stage,” she said, reverting to the initials that reflected his nickname. Two could play at that game. “I’m a terrible singer. Just think dying cow and you’ll have the tune for your listening pleasure.”

He walked over and planted a kiss on her lips. “Oh, I’ll make you sing,” he said confidently, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Just maybe not on
that
stage.”

“Promises, promises,” she replied, kissing him again as he dropped a playful swat on her sweater-clad rump. “I’ll look forward to the day they cease to be empty.”

“I’ve never made an empty promise,” he whispered. “Especially to a woman.”

Over his shoulder, she spotted someone looking in their direction, and her stomach twisted. Ryder sat at the bar, nursing a beer, and glaring at them. It shouldn’t have surprised her to see him here, but it felt uncomfortable just the same. El hoped he didn’t start something that Cole would feel compelled to finish.

“Hello, Ryder,” she said as they approached the bar. His head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed.

“El,” Ryder nodded. Cole ordered beers, and Eloise glanced around the room, avoiding Ryder’s pointed gaze. Several players from the Riot gathered around tables near the back.

“Hey, Shred!” Cole called out. “You guys need more brews?”

Sheldon “Shredder” Politski, their starting goalie, waved in assent. “Yeah,” the guys all answered in unison.

Spud appeared behind the bar and started pulling pints and setting them on a tray. “Hi, Spencer,” Eloise said, still not comfortable with the penchant for strange nicknames.

“Hi, Eloise. Spud will do around here,” he replied with a wink.

She smiled and nodded. “Spud it is, then.”

“You gonna sing tonight?” he asked.

“You kidding? Trust me, you’d rather hear tomcats fighting in an alley than listen to me sing.”

“Aw, you’re too modest, I’m sure.” He finished filling the last pint mug and turned to serve another customer. Cole walked the tray of beers over to the guys’ table, leaving Eloise and Ryder alone. She tried to look fascinated by the label on the bottle of craft beer in front of her – a blonde ale called Death Rides a Pale Horse. Hopefully, it wasn’t a foreshadowing of her future.

“So how’ve you been, El? Haven’t seen you around much lately,” Ryder said, taking a swig. El watched the movements of his throat as he swallowed. Tension. It practically rifled through his strong body.

“No, you haven’t,” she answered matter-of-factly, sparing him a sidelong glance. Despite her animosity toward him, he still cut an impressive profile, his brown hair full and glossy, his pretty-boy face flattered by the ambient lighting. He’d be good-looking in any lighting, for that matter. But now… well, she no longer found him physically attractive in any way. His personality had chased away any yearning she’d ever felt for this man. “I hear you’ve been busy.”

Ryder spun his beer bottle like a top by the neck, his university grad ring glinting on his slender hand as he did so. “I stay out of trouble.”

“Hmm,” she acknowledged with a nod. “That’s wise. Too bad you don’t stay out of other people’s business.”

He threw her a suspicious gaze and pursed his full lips into a man-pout. “Something on your mind, Eloise?”

She worked her jaw, deciding on the most appropriate response. “Only that I’ll thank you for keeping your private opinions exactly that – private.”

Ryder shrugged. Dismissing what he’d done. Dismissing
her
. “I call them like I see them.”

“Well, you should make a date with your optometrist,” she said. “Because you’re not seeing very clearly. Just because I wasn’t interested in sleeping with you doesn’t make me an ice-queen, or a tease, or any other juvenile noun you have stored in your limited vocabulary.”

“You seemed impressed with my vocabulary when we were arguing,” he rushed in a defensive flow of verbal sparring. “Are all our conversations going to be restricted to knock down drag outs? Because if they are, I’d rather not waste the energy.”

Eloise opened her mouth to reply and felt a wash of relief as she heard a familiar voice. Saved by the bell. Tinkerbell.

“Hey, there you are,” Kylie Rose’s bubbly tones carried across the room. She flew in to roost beside Eloise, wearing tight red overdyed jeans and a rose motif print blouse topped with a sparkly red scarf. “Hi, Ryder,” she said with a wave, then turned and threw Eloise a secret, cross-eyed look.

“Hi, Kylie. Great to see you outside of work. Buy you a drink?” Ryder said brightly, as though his dialogue with Eloise had never happened.

“Sure,” she said and took the stool next to him. “I’ll have a beer, please.”

As Ryder signaled for two more beers, Kylie turned to Eloise. “What a cool place,” she commented, glancing around the décor. “Who did you say owns it?”

Eloise realized she hadn’t met the man or even heard his full name. “His name’s Trey, that’s all I know. A friend of Cole’s.”

“Speaking of Cole, where is Mr. Star Centerman? Hot as hell. Cutie patootie. Tall drink of water…”

“Enough already!” Eloise shrieked, even though the words filled her body with unfulfilled desire. Desire she hoped to act upon tonight. She’d waited long enough.

Cole returned to the bar just as the words left Kylie’s lips. “El,” he said, “meet Shredder, an old buddy from junior days and my temporary roommate. Shred, this is Eloise.”

Eloise knew that unmarried players were often boarded together until they decided on permanent residences, but Cole hadn’t mentioned that he and Shredder were roommates until now. And of course, she hadn’t been to his place. Yet.

“Pleased to meet you, Shredder,” Eloise said. He stood just behind Cole, almost as tall and wearing an expensive Lacoste dress shirt that flattered his broad shoulders. The muted lighting reflected a shine off his shaved-bald head. Eloise never particularly cared for that look, but on Sheldon, it seemed to fit.

“Likewise,” he said. His brown eyes twinkled in greeting and as he stepped closer, Eloise notice they were graced with the longest, most luscious eyelashes she had ever seen on a man. He reached out his large hand at the same moment Ryder and Kylie’s drinks were being served, knocking one of the bottles off the bar and straight into Kylie’s lap.

“Oh!” Kylie squealed, her quick reflexes snatching up the bottle but unable to prevent the flood of foam from spurting out.

“Oh, Jeez, I’m sorry!” Shredder said, taking the bottle from her and setting it back on the bar. “I’ve made a girl look as if she pissed herself. I’m usually not so clumsy, miss. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Spud quickly produced a stack of bar towels, removing the spilled bottle and replacing it with a fresh one. “On the house,” he said.

“Great hands,” Ryder said sarcastically. “What’d you say your save percentage was, Shred?” The small crowd of players that had gathered around the action started to laugh.

“I’ll say great hands,” Cole interjected. “Did you see that save? Kylie, we need to sign you to a three-year deal!”

Luckily, the beer only made a few splashes on her jeans, albeit in the vicinity of her crotch and Kylie laughed along with the group. Eloise knew how laid back her assistant and friend could be. It would take a lot more than an ounce of spilled beer to rile her. “No, thanks, I think I’m safer behind a desk, away from you ham-handed clods.”

“I’m really sorry,” Shredder said, offering her one of the towels. He seemed to want to reach between her legs to dab the liquid himself but then sighed in relief when Kylie snatched it away from him. “Next drink is on me.”

“Oh, it will be,” Kylie said, taking the towel and dabbing at her clothing. Then, she planted a lingering look at the fly of his jeans. “I’ll spill it on you personally.”

Eloise chuckled at the humorous exchange taking place between the two. They would make a great comedy duo, she thought. Too bad it was karaoke night and not stand-up. “Shredder, this is my assistant, Kylie Rose,” she said by way of introduction.

“Hi there,” he said sheepishly. “Name’s Sheldon Politski, but call me Shred. After what just happened, I strongly feel we should already be on a first-name basis.”

“I’m Kylie, and you can call me Kylie,” she said with a wry smile. “Because a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Cole scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That’s Shakespeare, Rose. You’d best leave that to the Beantown Bard.”

Sheldon flicked Cole away with a turn of his beefy wrist and smiled back at Kylie, a lopsided, completely charming grin that transformed his face from pleasingly pleasant to downright irresistible. “Well, I would call you by either name if you’d just give me your number.”

It was hard to tell between the dim lighting and Kylie’s bright clothing, but Eloise swore her assistant was blushing. Just then the emcee stepped to the mike and announced a welcome and the format for the sing-off. Everyone focused their attention on the stage as the first contestants queued up for their turn.