Winning Streak (21 page)

She sat on a concrete step and leaned her forearms on her knees. “You have every right to be upset. But you know him. He wouldn't do something like that to hurt you. You're his best friend. That night wasn't about you at all, even though you got dragged into it.”

“What do you mean?” He leaned his stick against the glass.

“Earlier that day, he asked me to move in. It would take days chatting up Freud on a Ouija board to fully unpack my mental baggage, but I said no. And he's going through some serious stuff with his sister, but you should probably hear about that from him.”

Cole's face went blank, then concern replaced his anger. “Shit.”

“He knows he handled that night the wrong way, and he is
so
sorry.”

“So why isn't he telling me all this?”

“He tried. You wouldn't let him.”

Cole lowered his head for a minute, studying his skates. When he looked up, it was with playful suspicion. “Why are
you
telling me?”

She blanked at how quickly he'd shifted her to the hot seat. Her only response was a guilty smile. “When I got over wanting to tape his picture to a punching bag, I missed him. I realized my life was less without him in it. That's never happened to me. My brother might have told you stories.”

Cole glanced away and shrugged.

“Uh-huh. Well, I've broken up with guys for every possible reason. Sometimes for no reason. But I never regretted it or doubted my decision.”

“Until now.”

“Yeah. Madden saw the best in me before I could even see it in myself. I think he does that for everyone. Will you at least talk to him?”

It took a few seconds, but Cole nodded. “I didn't want to believe he would do something like that just because. Besides. Colly snores like a moose. I can hear it from his couch.”

She grinned. Ben Collier's dating life might hit a snag if that piece of information got out. Most likely it already had with Cole sleeping in his living room.

The captain picked up his stick and angled for the locker room.

“Oh, hey. I didn't get to say before, but I'm sorry. About Tricia. I know this doesn't mean anything now, but believe me when I say there's someone better out there who will realize you're a catch and appreciate that.”

His face had fallen, but it brightened by the time she finished. “Thanks. It was hard. But I guess if she couldn't be okay with my schedule, it never would have worked out. It's not easy to find someone who understands you.”

“I know exactly what you mean. You'll find her. Don't give up.”

“Not in my DNA. And thanks, but my chances might improve if I take a shower. Guess I better … ” He gestured down the tunnel.

“Yeah. That might be a good idea.”

He lifted a gloved hand in goodbye and ambled down the carpet to the locker room. Mission Break the Ice: complete. The rest was up to Madden.

Tuesday, April 8th

“Dude, you have a rock collection or something?” Madden hefted a box that had to weigh thirty pounds and trudged up the marble staircase behind his best friend. On the surface, it was needling, but in man-speak, it meant
I'm glad you're back
.

“Those must be my pucks.” Whatever Cole was carrying, he didn't struggle at all. Must've been clothes.

“Did you keep one from every game you ever played?”

“Just the benchmarks. Hat tricks, every time I hit 100 games, the Cup winners, stuff like that.”

“Just the benchmarks” for Cole might as well have meant every game. When they got to the kid's room, Madden dropped the cargo with as much ceremony as he could manage. “I know I said it already, but I'm sorry. This place was really empty while you were gone.”

“It's all right. We're cool.”

“And I swear I'll never—”

“
Dude
, I know. Seriously, it's okay.”

No matter how many times he apologized, it didn't feel like enough, even though Cole insisted otherwise. The self-inflicted guilt would take time to go away, and maybe that was a punishment on its own.

“Please say you ordered a pizza. Colly's a health freak. His fridge is full of celery and kale. His idea of junk food is low fat, non-dairy ice cream, which he eats once a month. I've been starving for more than a week. One night I broke down and ate McDonald's in my car. He accused me of fry breath as soon as I walked in.”

Madden made a face. “That's no way to live.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Pizza's on its way. In the meantime, I have frozen hot wings we can stick in the oven.”

Cole feigned a sob and wiped his dry eyes with a fist. “I'll never leave home again.”

“Yeah, okay. Why don't you bring up the last couple boxes, and I'll throw the wings in?”

“I'd say you just want to get out of manual labor, but my stomach's about to digest itself.”

“Done deal.” And yes, he was happy to get out of box duty, especially since there was a weight set that hadn't made it back up yet. Cole could consider it cross-training. Win-win. He jogged into the kitchen and pulled out a baking sheet. One of the few kitchen basics he could find with his eyes closed. Before she left, Jace had organized everything to her OCD standard, and while he liked to cook from time to time, all he needed on a daily basis was a way to heat up frozen food. Dump and defrost.

As soon as he set the timer, the doorbell rang. The sound of a box dropping preceded Cole's disappointed, “You're not the pizza guy.”

“Thank you for noticing. And making a girl feel welcome.” Saralynn's voice boosted his heart rate.

When he joined them in the foyer, Cole had picked her up in a hug. She laughed and patted his shoulder. “Okay, okay. I'm sufficiently welcomed.”

“You can put her down now.”

Cole set her back on her feet, but not before kissing her cheek. He pointed at Madden. “
Now
we're even.”

“So it's gonna be like that, huh?” He hoped there was no ire in his tone. The kid hadn't done any serious flirting even though Madden's gut tightened anyway at the display. Then Saralynn skipped over, took his face in her hands, and planted one square on his mouth. With heat. No mistaking her affiliations. When she rocked back on her heels, he winked at Cole. “Never mind. Wings in ten.” He kissed Saralynn's nose. “Was there something you wanted to discuss … ?”
Preferably alone?

“Yes, but Cole can sit in. In fact, he might have some ideas.”

Well, there went hopes of naked time. “Oh. All right, well—” The doorbell chimed again. “That
will
be the pizza man, so how 'bout you guys go sit in the kitchen and I'll be there in a minute? And Cole? No more touchy.”

“Whatever you say.” He held his hands up in innocence and disappeared around the corner. Saralynn blew Madden a kiss then followed.

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a twenty. The pizza was only fifteen. He opened the door, took the box, and handed the man the folded bill. “Keep the change.” Madden skidded into the kitchen, but the two of them were just sitting at the island, watching him with amusement. “Didn't want to let it get Cole. Cold. The pizza.”

“Smooth, man.”

Little brothers.
Who was he kidding? It was still good to have Robin back at the Batcave. “Observations to yourself and get the wings out of the oven.”

“On it.” Cole jumped up and grabbed the insulated mitts off the counter.

“So.” Madden set the pizza in the middle of the island and got three plates from the cupboard. “What are we brainstorming?”

Saralynn crossed her legs on the stool. In those fitted jeans, it took concentrated effort to pay attention to her response. “I want you to host Skates and Plates this year. We'll make a big deal about promoting it that way, and you can even serve with the rest of the team. I think it'd be a good chance to show your loyalty and dedication while at the same time showing there's no bad blood between you and the guys.”

Skates and Plates was an annual charity event where the players dressed up in tuxes and served dinner to donors at the arena. He'd attended every year, but never as a waiter.

“Uh … ” Cole set the sizzling sheet of wings on the counter. “I forgave him, but I'm not sure the rest of the team has.”

Madden frowned. “I tried to talk to them, but they didn't want to hear it.”

“I'll try my luck. And Cole, if you and Reese can vouch for Madden, I bet they'd listen.”

“Worth a shot, but I can't make promises. They think Madden believes they can't win without my head in the game.” Cole picked a few pieces of chicken up with his fingertips and dropped them onto his plate then piled on a tower of pizza.

“You're an integral part of the team and the best player in the league. But there's a lot of depth on every line, and I never meant for them to take it the way they did. Not that I can blame them.” Madden sat next to Saralynn and took his own helping of fortifying comfort food. “Skates and Plates. You really think that'll work?”

“One way to find out.” Not the most reassuring words in the world, but the confidence in her big, dark eyes made up the difference. Even with his doubts he trusted her instincts.

Saturday, April 12th

Madden straightened his bow tie then approached the next group in line. “Welcome to Skates and Plates; let me show you to your table. Can I have your last name?” He didn't even have to concentrate anymore. Those lines had burned into his brain over the past twenty minutes and came out on reflex now. That was good because a million other things occupied his thoughts, chiefly that the entire team
still
hadn't forgiven him.

It'd been a strong joint effort, but a few players wouldn't let it go. He'd felt like an ass for even asking. They deserved to be angry. The problem was, a couple of them weren't okay with turning this event into a public peace summit, and they'd been vocal about that. The truth was, it made him just as uncomfortable, but Saralynn had been so sure this was best for the team's overall image.

So here he was, ushering people to their seats, and in ten minutes, he'd give a welcome speech then start serving with the rest of the guys. The donors didn't appear to have any issues with him playing master of ceremonies. No disapproving looks or underlying hostility. There was enough of that from the handful of players who still considered him a traitor.

He sat three more groups at tables around the transformed rink before someone tugged on his elbow. Saralynn. Her long hair fell over her shoulders in silky, loose curls, and she wore a floor-length, black dress that hugged her slender body and sparkled under the arena lights. His runaway train of thought went off the rails, taking his entire vocabulary with it.

“Hey, handsome. You're up.” She gave him a microphone and nodded toward the small stage.

Oh. Right. Benefit. He swallowed the lump in his throat then wound through the maze of tables and up the few steps to the podium. “Good evening. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to welcome you to the Las Vegas Sinners' annual Skates and Plates dinner and thank you for your generous donations to our youth hockey league.” Polite applause echoed around the dressed up rink, easing some of his nerves.

“I'll be joining the team and coaching staff serving you tonight in our finest because I think this is a very worthy cause.” It was true, but at the same time, it felt like lying. He'd be sitting at the head table with Jacey if Saralynn hadn't orchestrated all this as his comeback, and there was no shortage of guilt for that. “So sit back, relax, and enjoy the night. Thank you again.” More applause, but music cued up in the middle of it, and everyone went back to their conversations. He stepped out of the spotlight and handed the mic off to one of the staff, then headed for the makeshift kitchen on the other side of the locker room.

A PR intern folded a cloth napkin over his arm and handed him a notepad and pen. “You have table twenty. Go ahead and take their drink orders, either red or white wine. There are pitchers of water already on the tables, so you just have to fill those glasses. Serve the wine and we'll go from there.”

Simple enough. Saralynn's crew had every detail under control, but he expected nothing less. They learned from the best. All of the tables were numbered, and his was near the back. “How are you all? A pleasure to serve you tonight.” He walked around carefully filling each water glass then took the wine orders. So far so good.

He felt a little better after delivering the salads. Everything was going smoothly and no complaints. Once he dropped off dinner orders to the cooks, there was nothing to do but wait. The locker room door opened, and Saralynn poked her head around. She met his gaze, winked, and mouthed “looking good.” Maybe it would go off without a hitch after all.

• • •

It was working. It was really working. The crowd had responded well to Madden, and the mood of the room was light and positive. The past few days, Saralynn had been eating her nerves—translation: her body weight in M&M's—to cope with the stress. She'd tried to make it clear to holdouts like Ben Collier that even if they didn't accept Madden's amends, they'd be civil throughout the event and keep their opinions to themselves. Hockey players weren't known for that, hence the M&M's.

She'd checked on donors, servers, and staff. Technically, there was a spot for her at the head table, but she hadn't sat down all night. This was too important. Lacking an immediate task, she stood by the stage and kept an eye on the room.

One by one, players and coaches emerged from the tunnel carrying big trays. Finally, Madden appeared. God, he looked amazing in that tux. He put on a good show for the people at his table, but even from across the rink she could see worry in the lines of his face. He'd been uncomfortable shifting any attention to himself for the event. The only way she'd convinced him to go through with it was by proving that it would help the team. It wouldn't be good for anyone if the public thought there was dissension in the Sinners' ranks. They needed to gloss over the incident and move on as a united front. All of that was true, but deep down she was doing it for the man who'd reached her heart. The man who showed her she had one.