Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (27 page)

Her breath hitched and she
stared after him as he made his way through the throng and out of
sight. The way he did that, switching from business partner, to Dom
mode, to seducer and back made her head spin. If she let herself
think about it, she might even admit—admit what? There was nothing
to admit.

Still, she had fifteen minutes
to kill.

The crowd had thinned in
the stands, but they flooded the small concession area and stood in
long lines outside the bathroom. Their urgency was contagious. None
of them wanted to miss the puck dropping for second period and she
found her own pace quickening to match those of the people around
her. So many bodies in such a small space—the stadium was a third
of the size of the Delgado Forum—made it stuffy and she felt a
little claustrophoebic. She joined the crowd trickling out to the
parking lot.

The sun blinded her as she
stepped past the heavy metal doors. She fetched her sunglasses from
her purse and slipped them on. A thin cloud of smoke hovered over
the small group of smokers and she held her breath before she was
tempted to take a whiff. Smoking was the only bad habits she'd
managed to ditch before it did any serious damage, but sometimes
she still got cravings. And stifling the urge to smoke brought on
worse urges.

She'd almost reached the
corner of the building, past the stands set up for donations and
the area where children were getting their faces painted and taking
pictures with the teams' mascots, when she spotted a familiar face.
Dean's daughter, Jami, snuggled up on a bench at the edge of a line
of evergreens with a man big enough to be a member of one of the
teams. Silver was pretty sure he wasn't a Cobra. They passed a
cigarette—no, a
joint—
back and forth between them
and Jami giggled as the man cupped his hand around his mouth and
blew smoke into her face.

None of your business, Silver.
She's an adult.

Which was true. But she was also
doing drugs way too close to where kids could see her and Silver
was responsible for the event. Maybe if she put it the right way .
. .

Squaring her shoulders, she
approached the pair. "Hey, Jami! I'm glad to see you here. It's
really nice of you to show support for your father. But if you're
going to get high, you need to do it somewhere else."

Jami giggled again. "Why? We're
fine here, thank you very much."

"There are
families
here."

"Yeah, way over there." Jami
pointed towards the front of the building. "We're not bothering
anyone."

So much for
being nice.
"You're bothering me. Either
put it out or leave."

The man took the joint from Jami
and notched it on the edge of the bench before she could protest.
He smirked at Silver. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you." Something
about the way the man looked at her made her nervous. It was like
he had a secret he was just dying to share with her. And it wasn't
anything good. She formed her lips into a neutral smile and stuck
her hand out. "We haven't met. I'm Silver Delgado. Are you on one
of the teams?"

He let out a dry laugh as he
shook her hand. "No. I'm a bartender. The name's Ford."

"A pleasure." She tried to sound
sincere, but he laughed again in a way that made it obvious she
hadn't succeeded. "So, are you and Jami—"

"He's my boyfriend, so hands
off." Jami draped herself over Ford and glared at Silver. "I've
heard about you. Apparently you went through the whole team before
you left for Hollywood. And now that you're back, you're starting
over at the top. Does my dad know what a slut you are?"

Aww, how
sweet. Stoned out of your freakin' mind and still looking out for
daddy.
Silver shrugged. "It's not exactly
a secret. You want to know what happened the night we
met?"

"Eww!" Jami hid her face in her
boyfriend's leather jacket. "Seriously, just go away."

"Glad to," Silver said. She slid
her sunglasses down a bit and kept her eyes on Jami until the girl
sighed and lifted her head. "But just a friendly piece of advice
before I go. You fucking reek. You might want to make yourself
scarce before your father gets wind of you."

"Ha ha." Jami flipped her the
bird, then stood and dragged Ford to his feet. "Come on. I don't
want to deal with my dad's fuck friend anymore."

Ford tucked Jami against his
side and nodded to Silver. "Until next time."

Silver watched them walk away
and rubbed her arms as a chill crawled over her flesh like a
thousand icy little worms. Apparently, Jami was going through one
of those phases, and since she'd gone through a few herself, she
refused to judge. But that guy was bad fucking news.

Tell her father. Let him deal
with it.

Yeah, not likely. She
hadn't stooped to the level of rat just yet.
But Jami's words reminded her that Landon probably wasn't
the only one she should cool it with. Dean really
didn't
know much about her. He knew her as a businesswoman and as
a sub. And she wasn't really either of those.

Was she?

Spinning around, she decided
she'd had enough 'fresh' air and headed back to the stadium. A
horde of toddlers surrounded her and she froze, scared to step on
one of them. An older kid, maybe seven or eight, stared at her with
something like hero worship. She stared back and stuttered when he
held out a Dartmouth Cobra cap.

"Luke Carter," the little boy
said.

Someone behind her chuckled. "I
think that's for me, hot stuff."

She sidestepped and watched the
young forward who she remembered from the preseason game, and the
club, who everyone called Carter, crouch down to sign the boy's
hat.

"You play?" Carter asked after
putting the cap on the boy's head. The boy nodded vigorously, but
didn't speak. "Oh yeah? What position?"

The boy squeaked. "Left wing.
Just like you."

"Good man." Carter cuffed
the boy's chin and straightened. "Where are your parents? You want
to take a picture or something?"

Eyes wide, the boy glanced over
his shoulder and shouted. "Mom! Mom, it's Luke Carter! Luke
Carter!"

A woman with a baby carrier and
a stroller rushed over, patting her tiny infant's head as it
wailed. In the stroller, a little girl with sweet tiny pigtails
echoed the baby's cries. "Peter, I told you to stay with me!"

"Luke Carter!" The boy pointed
at Carter and rolled his eyes at his mother who'd managed to stop
the baby's hollering with a pacifier. "I couldn't stay with you
while you drooled over Sloan Callahan! Carter is my favorite
player!"

The woman blushed and glanced
over at Silver. "I wasn't, I just—" Her eyes widened. "Oh! Aren't
you Silver Delgado? I loved your last movie!"

Heat spilled over Silver's
cheeks. Not many people recognized her from her movies. Most were
low budget and cheesy. The last had been all right, a comedy
romance with a star people actually knew, but she'd played the
slutty best friend and it wasn't anything to brag about. "Thanks.
It was pretty good."

"Pretty good? Oh my God, I know
you were playing a minor role, but I really felt for you. Sex was
the only way you knew how to connect with men and I could tell you
were so afraid to get involved and get hurt. I was hoping they'd
make a sequel so we could find out what happened to you."

Something about the woman's
assessment made her very uncomfortable. The part had been pretty
easy to play, but she hadn't gone for all the depth the woman
apparently saw. She'd just followed the script. "I'm so happy to
hear you enjoyed it, but unfortunately, the movie wasn't popular
enough for them to consider a sequel."

"Oh . . . ." The woman rolled
the stroller back and forth, tensing as the little girl let out a
piercing scream. "You'll do other movies though, right?"

Silver shrugged and eyed the
stroller bound toddler. Opening her purse, she peaked inside and
took out a lollypop, careful not to let the girl see it. She
glanced at the mother. "Is it okay . . . ?"

"Go ahead." Rocking on her
heels and murmuring to the baby, the woman came to Silver's side
and watched her offer the little girl a bright pink lollypop. "Go
ahead, Sandra."

A little hand plucked the
lollypop from Silver. Big brown eyes met hers. And Sandra's
adorable face broke into a heart melting smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Silver smiled
back, then straightened. "We should go in before you're late,
Carter."

Carter looked at his watch. "Ah
sh—shoot. Yeah. But I promised the kid a picture."

The mother quickly took
out her phone and snapped a few pictures with Carter and the boy.
Then she snapped one of Silver. "I hope you don't mind. My friends
will never believe I met you in person without
evidence!"

"That's fine." Pictures she
could handle. They'd once been part of her daily routine. "It was
very nice to meet you."

After saying goodbye, she and
Carter hurried into the stadium. There were few people hanging
around, which meant the game was about to start.

Carter stopped her with a
hand on her shoulder before she could return to the bleachers. "You
were great out there."

"So were you." She took a
moment to really see him, this young man who was about her age, who
drove the other players, and the ladies, nuts. Decent looking, with
short blond hair and nice blue eyes, but it was the edge of
laughter, the ne'er-do-well appeal, that set him apart. He was the
perfect kind of guy to have a bit of fun with. "Are you going to
the club tonight?"

"Yeah." His lashes lowered into
a hooded gaze and he leaned forward. "I'm learning a few new
tricks. Why? Are you?"

"Yes." She fingered his collar
and licked her bottom lip. "See you there?"

"I'll find you." His hand
lifted, and when she didn't object, he trailed his finger down her
throat. "Maybe I can give you a taste of what I've learned."

"I'd like that." She checked to
make sure no one was watching and then got up on her tiptoes to
whisper in his ear. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"You'll give me everything I ask
for."

"Baby, that
won't
be a
problem." He nuzzled his face into her hair. "Just don't expect
breakfast in the mornin', okay? I'm not that kinda guy."

"Good." She stepped back and
patted his cheek. "Because I'm not that kinda girl."

* * * *

Landon slammed his blocker
into his sports bag, on top of the rest of his equipment. Sweaty,
half-naked male bodies moved around the tight confined of the
locker room, stinking it up since most of the men didn't want to
use the showers. The floor was covered in a puddle that smelled
like sewage.

Winning had put most of
the men in a good mood, with a few notable exceptions. Callahan
avoided everyone as he changed and stormed out with a
don't-fuck-with-me look on his face. Mason followed shortly after,
relatively quiet, though he paused to tell their youngest players
they'd done well.

Perron
sat on a table in the corner of the locker room, speaking
softly. "She looks fine, sugar. Yes, Dean was with her. No, she
hasn't spoken to him yet—I wouldn't worry . . . okay, so why don't
you call her?"

He was probably talking to
Oriana. About Silver. And Landon was pretty sure his name had been
mentioned.

Before coming in here to
get changed, he'd tried to find Silver, but she was already gone.
Leaving Richter to deal with wrapping up the event. Richter looked
distracted, which troubled Landon. He'd already decided Richter was
the best man for her, and he wouldn't come between them, but all
that was based on the fact that Richter could take care of her.
Which he couldn't do if he wasn't with her.

Chill,
Bower.
Richter's got this.
Stick with the program.

The program being showing Silver
she needed him. Because she did.

She needs you or you need
her?

A bit of both. But so what? They
had fun together and he liked knowing she could come to him with
anything that bothered her. Which he wasn't so sure of anymore. Not
because of anything he'd done—not that he was aware of anyway. He
hadn't pressured her in any way, hadn't done the one thing he knew
would scare her off . . .

Or maybe he had. It wouldn't
take much. The wrong look. A touch. If she thought he wanted more
than friendship she'd—she'd put up a wall between them.

He pressed his eyes shut.
Damn it, he
had
fucked up. Those little moments that came so
naturally added up to all he'd tried to avoid. He should have tried
harder. He'd done exactly what he'd promised he wouldn't. There was
no doubt about it. All that he'd tried to hide came out in actions
rather than words.

And she knew.

Maybe he could fix that by
showing her the other side of him. If she saw him at the club, as a
Dom, one who hadn't laid claim on her—maybe then she'd relax. He
made a face at the thought of taking another woman when all he
wanted was—

Get a fucking grip!

Right. He wouldn't go
there. What he wanted didn't matter. She could find a man to fuck
anywhere. And hopefully, if
Richter was
half the man Landon thought he was, she would get much
more.

So where did he fit in?

We're friends.
Nothing will change that.
The word had
turned into a goddamned mantra. Without them he might have put up a
fight. Done everything in his power to get Silver to see him and
all he could offer. But it was too late. His sister called him
stubborn. Whatever. He'd set his course and he wouldn't waver from
it. Silver desperately needed a friend and he would give her
one.