Breakaway, page 14
part #5 of Northbrook Hockey Elite Series
Camila smiled then, and Declan’s pulse thrummed.
“So, where are you taking me?” she said. “And it better not be Rockie’s.”
Okay, his pulse had skyrocketed. “How about Kyoto. That is, if you like Japanese food.”
“I like it,” she said, turning and beginning to walk.
He walked with her. The arena was mostly empty, and Declan stopped to sign a couple of autographs for some lingering fans. After he finished, they headed into the parking lot. The night was cold and windy, but the coolness felt good on his skin.
“We can take my SUV, then I’ll bring you back here.”
“All right,” she said simply.
Declan couldn’t quite believe this was happening, but he was glad about it. He opened the passenger door, then stood aside as she moved past him.
“Wait,” he said in a quiet voice.
She paused before climbing inside.
Declan reached for her hat and lifted it off her head. She didn’t move but merely watched him. He tossed the hat inside the SUV, then he gazed into her eyes and saw a woman who was both vulnerable and confident. Beautiful yet real. “That’s better,” he said softly.
“You really hate that hat, don’t you?” she said, her mouth quirking.
They were standing rather close, and he had to admit he was enjoying her subtly sweet perfume.
“Why do you keep hiding?” he asked.
“A lot of people wear hats.”
The wind tugged at her ponytail, and Declan moved the bit of hair that blew against her cheek. Her skin was smooth, and he might have let his fingers linger on her jawline before dropping his hand. “Now who’s avoiding questions?”
She smiled, and he smiled back.
“Let’s go eat.” She effectively moved past him and sat in the passenger seat.
He gazed down at her for a second, then nodded and shut her door.
Once in the driver’s seat, he started the SUV and turned up the heat. Not for his benefit but for hers. He was far from cold.
The Japanese restaurant was small but cozy. Camila appreciated the privacy, since nothing about her and Declan had ever been private. His phone had buzzed almost constantly on the drive over, until he’d finally shut it off.
They didn’t say much, and Camila didn’t mind. She figured Declan had some things to work out in his mind. About the game and his career. He was an extremely talented player, yet, like tonight, there were times when he simply didn’t perform. It was like he was only going through the motions. Didn’t care.
But he’d said he did care.
Declan was an enigma.
He was also a gentleman. She probably had his parents to thank for that, yet there was something ingrained in Declan. Trane’s story about their early days at Northbrook proved that.
After they’d ordered—Declan a hibachi steak dish and Camila a salad with no dressing—he leaned forward. “You can’t have that salad without ginger dressing.”
“Why not?”
“Because you might as well eat at home and skip all restaurants.” His brown eyes were dark tonight against the backdrop of his navy button-down shirt, the sleeves of which he’d rolled up to his forearms. “You should at least try one bite.”
“It’s easier to cut it all out rather than make exceptions,” she said, but Declan wasn’t giving her an inch.
His gaze moved over her slowly, and she was reminded that he’d been the one to remove her hat.
“I think exceptions are an important part of life,” he said.
“Oh really?” She wanted to laugh, but she was pretty sure he was serious.
“Like this date,” he said. “I’m an exception, right? At least according to Bree. She said that you’d sworn off dating hockey players.”
Camila bit her lip. “Yeah, I have.” She couldn’t look away from the intensity of his gaze. “This date is an exception. But only because all of your friends apparently think you’re a great guy, and Bree vouched for you.”
Declan smirked. “I’m glad that’s all it took. About eight endorsements.”
“A woman’s gotta do her homework.”
“Honestly, I’m glad you did,” he said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She took a sip of the ice water that a waiter had brought earlier. She’d probably need a refill soon.
“What happened with Stephen Goodman?”
So . . . maybe it would be good for Declan to know. She could get another guy’s perspective. Especially a hockey player’s. “It was simple, really. He dated me to get on my dad’s good side. When Stephen pressured me to talk to my dad about trading to Denver, my dad said no. And Stephen doesn’t like to be told no.”
Declan rubbed at the scruff on his jaw. “That explains some things.”
“Like what?”
“Like how Goodman acted tonight and why you wear that dang hat.”
She took another drink of her ice water.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” he asked.
“What for?”
Declan shrugged. “Tell him that he’s an idiot.”
The comment shouldn’t have made her laugh, but it did.
Declan merely watched her, amusement and maybe a little speculation in his gaze.
The waiter showed up with their platters of food, along with various dressings. Camila’s plate looked miniscule compared to what Declan had ordered. He eyed her food choice with disapproval. As if to prove him wrong, Camila took her first bite of the salad. “It’s good,” she told him, because he was watching her instead of eating his own food.
“Try one bite with the ginger dressing,” Declan said. “Just to see what it tastes like.”
“I’m fine, really.”
Declan arched a brow, but Camila ignored him and took another bite.
“Come on, you’re already making exceptions tonight.”
She set her fork down. “Why do you have to be so persistent?”
He set his fork down, his brown eyes boring into hers. “Because you should be able to eat what you want. You’re a beautiful woman, Camila. A dozen pounds up or down isn’t going to change that.”
She looked away from him as her cheeks heated. Was she so transparent, and had she always been caught up in her weight like this? Her mom had continually worried about her weight, but Paige didn’t seem to obsess to all that much, even though she worked in the modeling industry. And now that Camila thought about it, she hadn’t been until she’d dated Stephen. He used to comment on women’s bodies all the time, which made her more self-conscious of her own.
She could feel the heat of Declan’s gaze on her, and she lifted her eyes to meet his. In his dark eyes, she saw the truth. At least his truth. Of how he viewed her. “Okay, I’ll try the dressing. But if I don’t like it, I’m blaming you.”
He smiled, and Camila decided she loved his smile. Then he picked up the dressing from the various choices on the table. She scooted her salad toward him, and with great ceremony, he drizzled dressing on top of it.
Inside, she warmed. Then she stuck her fork in the salad. The first bite told her that Declan was right. The salad was much better.
He took his own bite of her salad. “It’s good, am I right?” he asked after he’d chewed.
“Yes, you were right.” She took another bite.
He chuckled and returned to his food. It wasn’t long before he was trying to talk her into trying his hibachi steak.
Camila gave in easier this time and took a couple of bites from his plate. It was all delicious. And sharing food with Declan was sort of romantic.
“Do you come here a lot?” she asked.
“I’ve been a few times,” Declan said. “But I always seem to get the same thing. What about you, what are your Denver haunts?”
“Wherever Paige drags me,” she said. “We were college roommates back in the day. So it’s been fun to spend time with her now that I’m back.”
“Then you left Denver for a job?”
“After I graduated, I worked in Texas for a few years doing advertising for a law firm, then I moved to Seattle to work for their hockey team. When things, uh, went south with Stephen, I couldn’t really work there anymore. My dad told me he’d give me a trial job. I don’t really know why I took it over something else. Maybe I wanted to prove that I could see the same ticket-sale success. Or maybe it was a weird daughter thing to try to impress him.”
“I’d think he’d be impressed with you no matter where you work,” Declan said.
“My dad’s always about numbers,” she said.
“I hope I didn’t mess things up this week.”
Camila raised her brows. “What do you mean?”
Declan took a swallow of his water. His plate was mostly empty. “You know, losing the game.”
“You think it was your fault?” The hollowness in his gaze told her he did. “One player can’t lose a game. There’re multiple moving parts all of the time. I mean, the forwards didn’t do the team any favors tonight by only scoring once.”
Declan sat back in the booth and folded his arms.
“You can’t be that dense, Declan Rivera,” Camila continued. “I’ve seen your other games. The ones where you are making incredible plays. Then the games, or periods, where you fold. But that doesn’t mean a single player loses a game for the whole team.”
He still wasn’t responding.
Had she offended him? Well, she’d already set down this path, might as well stay on it. “You know that playing a sport is mostly mental. Two equally good teams on the ice, and the team with the strongest momentum will win. What about the game last week when you shot the goal while your shoulder was dislocated? What was going through your mind at the time?”
She fully expected him to say he didn’t remember, but instead he said, “You.”
Camila blinked. “What?”
“I thought about all your hard work trying to get tickets sold and how the arena was more full than it had been in a long time.” He rubbed his jaw. “So I pushed through.”
Camila didn’t answer for a moment. She couldn’t. Her mind raced with how she should react, how she should feel, what she should say . . . “And tonight?” she asked in a quiet voice. “What was going through your mind as the game started?”
Declan hesitated, then he said, “I was worried about not getting benched again. I was thinking about myself, I guess.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Maybe I should be thinking about you more when I play.”
Was it possible to blush all the way to her toes? “Maybe.”
His mouth curved upward. “It wouldn’t be too hard. I mean, you’re easy to think about.”
Okay, she was for sure blushing now. The waiter appeared with the check just then, thankfully, and Declan pulled out a few twenties from his wallet. Then he rose before the waiter could return, and he held out his hand to Camila. To help her to her feet, she guessed.
She put her hand in his, and sure enough, he drew her up. Then he grasped her jacket from the back of her chair and helped her into it. Camila tried not to sigh at the small courtesies he paid her, but apparently one escaped.
“What was that sigh for?” he asked.
Like she would tell him. “Long day, I guess.”
“Definitely,” he agreed. He pushed open the restaurant door, and they headed into the cold night. “Do you want to go see a movie or something?”
She cut her gaze to him. “I’d probably fall asleep in a movie.”
They’d reached his SUV, and he opened the passenger door for her. “We could go dancing or something, get a drink at a bar.”
She didn’t get into the SUV yet but looked up at him. “Do you go to bars for the dancing?”
“No, but I’d take you if you wanted to go.”
Of course he would. In the shadowed lighting of the parking lot, his eyes were dark yet warm. “Why don’t you drink, Declan?”
He looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. Finally, he said, “My best friend in high school was killed by a drunk driver.”
“Oh,” Camila murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
His eyes were back on her. “It was a wake-up call for my group of friends. I haven’t kept up with all of them, but at least during high school we all stayed dry.” He paused. “I think that’s part of the reason I’ve been intrigued by you. You’re not a party girl.”
“It makes my life simpler,” she said.
One side of his mouth lifted. “I like it.”
“You do?” she asked.
He leaned close, and her betraying heart thumped hard.
Slowly, his fingers wrapped around hers. His hand was much warmer than her increasingly cold one, and that warmth shot to her belly, waking up at least a dozen butterflies. “I do,” he said in a low voice. “And maybe we could skip the bar and go for a walk or something.”
Yep, her heart was racing. And she was pretty sure that if he continued holding her hand, they’d end up kissing. Her pulse was definitely on overdrive.
“It’s freezing,” she said.
His fingers tightened on hers. “I can’t feel a thing.”
She smiled because he was smiling at her. And . . . he should still be off-limits, but the more she was with him, the more she forgot why.
“We’ll see.” She untangled her fingers from his, then moved past him and climbed into the SUV.
“Okay, you’re right, it’s cold,” he said with a chuckle. He shut her door, and as he walked around, she took a few careful breaths. Was this really happening? Was she really considering moving into something with Declan Rivera?
As Declan climbed into the SUV, a text came in on her phone. She glanced at it and scoffed.
“What is it?” he asked, starting the engine.
Oh. She hadn’t meant to scoff aloud. “It’s Paige. Her engagement party is next week. She said to bring you. You’d probably hate that sort of thing.”
Declan started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. “I’d go.”
She stared at him. “What? Why?”
He glanced over her with a smile before pulling onto the road. “Free food?”
She laughed. “You do like to eat.”
“I do.” They reached a traffic light, and his gaze shifted to her again, lingering.
“You really don’t have to go,” she said. “It will probably be boring, and it’s black tie too. Although there will be dancing.”
“Then I’m in for sure,” he said.
She couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Okay, then I’ll text you the invite she sent me.” After she forwarded the digital invitation, Declan reached for her hand and slid his fingers between hers.
Her breath stalled as a warm shiver traveled through her at his touch. He held her hand the rest of the drive back to the arena, and Camila didn’t know if she had a coherent thought. She’d wait to text Paige back, because a flurry of texts would follow with a million questions. And Camila didn’t want to interfere with whatever was going on between her and the man next to her.
As they pulled into the arena parking lot, Declan drove to where her car was parked, now the lone car in the parking lot.
“Do you want me to follow you home?” he asked. “To make sure you get inside okay?”
“No,” she said. “Are you trying to get a free ticket into my place?”
He released her hand and put the SUV into park, keeping the engine running. “I’m not a player, Camila.”
His tone was so serious that she felt a bit guilty for her glib comment. Then he popped open his door, but before he could come around and open her door, she opened it herself.
Declan had reached her side by the time she climbed out. She felt a bit awkward as he walked with her to her car.
“I know you’re not a player,” she said at last, turning to him after unlocking her car.
“Good.”
He might have a serious expression, but his eyes were warm. Kind of intense, if she was to be honest, which woke up another round of butterflies.
“Well, thank you, Declan,” she said, knowing her voice sounded too high-pitched. “The food was great, and you were . . .”
At this a smile edged its way onto his face. “I was what?”
She shrugged. “You know, great, too.”
Stepping closer to her, he lifted his hand, and his fingers traced her jaw. Then his hand moved behind her neck. She was pretty sure fireworks had gone off inside her chest.
“You’re a stunning woman, Camila,” he said in a low tone. “I’m glad you stopped hiding from me.”
She didn’t answer because his lips brushed against hers. Barely there, so unlike his first kiss.
She wanted more though. And when he said, “Goodnight, Camila,” and stepped away, she grabbed his hand.
His brows lifted in surprise, but she ignored that and pulled him toward her. She rose up on her toes and kissed him then, wrapping her arms about his warm neck. She didn’t want him to leave, not yet. His hands slid beneath her jacket and moved up her back, bringing her into a tight hold. She sighed into his strong, solid body. His mouth was warm as he kissed her, and he smelled amazing. The scruff on his jaw might be scraping her chin, but she didn’t mind.
Her heart rate spiked as he took the lead and his kissing deepened. And she was pretty sure his heart was thumping just as hard. Even through her layers of clothing, she could feel the heat of his body. She didn’t know where things were going with this man or where they could go, but right now, she didn’t care.
“Camila,” Declan whispered against her mouth. “I think we have company.”
She drew away, reluctantly, and one of Declan’s hands remained on her back as she turned to see a car approaching.
She’d know that car anywhere. It was her father’s.
Things were still so new between Declan and Camila that they hadn’t talked too much about what their future might bring. If they were officially dating. If things were going to progress. The only thing they’d decided was to go to Paige’s engagement party, so Declan was more than surprised when Camila took his hand as her father’s car approached theirs in the parking lot.
