Baden, page 10
I’m just frustrated it hasn’t happened yet.
“Are you good paying bills?” she asks.
This is funny, because her tone implies she’s going to step in and help me financially. But Frankie makes a pittance now compared to her former salary at Reynis, so between her living expenses and paying back student loans, she doesn’t have much.
“I’m good. I have a good chunk in savings, and I’ve got leads on several interesting jobs.”
“Have you considered going back to school?”
I had been, in fact. Without any strong idea of what I want to do with my life, perhaps I need more education.
“I thought about it. Along with a million other things. Unfortunately, when you’re paralyzed with fear, it makes it hard to conceive what your potential might be. But I’m working on it.”
“I know you are,” she affirms, nudging my leg with her own. “Okay, enough with this boring stuff. Tell me what I really want to hear. Lunch with a devastatingly gorgeous man. How did you meet? How did you get the guts to go downtown? Are you seeing him again? And will you be having sex anytime soon, because, girl… you are way overdue.”
My face heats—the thought of having sex with someone as fine as Baden Oulett is completely overwhelming. He’s totally out of my league.
“It’s not like that,” I rush to assure her.
She smirks, and I can read it in her eyes. She doesn’t believe that for a moment.
“I had lunch with Baden Oulett.” As expected, that knocks the smile from her expression. “He’s moved to Pittsburgh to take on the position of goalie coach for the Titans.”
Confusion is etched on Frankie’s face. “But the team is dead.”
“Oh my God, Frankie. You have got to get at least nominally up to speed on the news. They’re rebuilding the team. Baden was offered the goalie coach job, and he took it. He came to see me yesterday and invited me to lunch today.”
“Wow,” she murmurs and then hesitantly asks, “And… how is he?”
A wide grins breaks out. “He’s wonderful. He’s walking on his own, healthy and whole.”
“A miracle,” she whispers. While she doesn’t know the extent of his injuries, she knows he was paralyzed from the waist down.
“An absolute miracle.”
I explain how his recovery has gone, his goal of getting back on the ice with the Vengeance but then the offer by the Titans’ new owner came up, how he decided to take the job here since a return to play at his previous level was such a long shot.
And lastly, how he showed up yesterday to check on me.
To see how I was doing.
“And lunch?” Frankie prods. She wiggles into the cushion slightly, pulls the tea to her lips, and takes a small sip, staring at me over the edge of the cup as if waiting for something juicy.
I shrug. “He’s only trying to help me get over my fears. He used the lunch invitation to push me out of my comfort zone.”
“Bullshit,” Frankie says, shaking her head. “No man is that gallant.”
“Baden is,” I say quietly.
Assuredly.
Frankie nudges me again. “So, there’s nothing there? No spark?”
I should immediately deny such a thing could exist, but I can’t. Because there is something.
“It’s a bond.” I test out that word, and yes, it seems right. “Because of what we went through. What he went through to save me.”
“I get that,” Frankie says with a flip of her hand. “But I’m talking about attraction.”
I shake my head. This is easier to deny. “He wouldn’t be interested in me like that.”
“Fuck what he’d be interested in,” she says, a rarity for her to drop an f-bomb these days. “Are you attracted to him?”
I kick Frankie in the hip, not enough to spill her tea but with enough force to make a point. “There’s not a woman in the world who wouldn’t be attracted to him. He’s hot, okay? Like, superhot. And funny, and kind, and genuinely humble. But he’s my friend and roommate. I think he’s going to become a very good friend, but that—”
“Wait a damn minute,” Frankie yells at me. “Roommate?”
“Oh yeah… forgot to tell you that part.” I give her an innocent look, and she glares at me. “He’s staying at the Fairview until he can find his own place, so I offered for him to stay in my guest room.”
“And he accepted?” Frankie asks, eyebrows knit and face twisted in consternation.
“He did.”
Frankie bursts out laughing, head tipped back. When her attention comes back to me, she says, “Oh, you two have it bad for each other.”
Pursing my lips in amusement, I stare at her pointedly. “You’re way off base. And you’ve never even met or talked to Baden. There’s no way you could make a judgment call like that.”
“Pfft.”
“I’m telling you—”
“My dear, sweet Sophie,” Frankie drawls, then sips her tea. “I bet you a million dollars you two fall in love.”
“You’re crazy.” I’m sure she’s crazy, but she’s staring at me like she knows something, like maybe the universe is talking to her. And it’s freaking me out. “Okay, stop it. No more talk of that. Baden and I are just friends, temporary roommates, and that is it. It’s nothing more and will be nothing more, and I don’t want you trying to create something that’s not there.”
Frankie smiles smugly, then shrugs. “If you say so.”
“I do.” I punctuate that with a firm nod.
She inclines her head solicitously. “Fine.”
“Fine,” I repeat.
“Great.”
“It is great,” I echo.
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
“Are we done?” she inquires sweetly.
“Done with what?” I ask innocently.
“You acting like I didn’t nail something on the head and me agreeing with you, even though I know I’m right and you’re wrong?”
“Ugh,” I mutter, giving her another kick. “You’re rotten.”
“I know,” she says and sips her tea with a satisfied smile.
CHAPTER 10
Baden
I’m here.
A simple text to Sophie to let her know I’m in the alley behind her house, waiting to be let in to her detached two-car garage.
It’s late, and I’ll bet she’s nervous about meeting me out here. I’ve observed enough about Sophie to know that any time she’s outside the cocoon of her home, she’s pressed under the weight of her fear.
I step outside the rental car while it idles so she can clearly see me as soon as she opens the garage from within.
The simple plan we made at the end of lunch today was that I’d check out of the Fairview after I finished for the day at the arena and come straight here. Sophie said she would make dinner, and I didn’t argue. I’ve tasted her cooking, and I’m looking forward to whatever we’re having.
Plans aren’t always so simple, though.
I didn’t realize how late we’d be working, finalizing the remainder of this week’s practice schedule, as well as planning various line combos we could test to get the best possible players together who would complement one another’s skills.
I called Sophie at five p.m. to let her know I didn’t know when I’d be leaving. She told me not to worry, that my food would reheat.
At eight p.m., I called and told her there was still no end in sight. I didn’t want her to have to wait up for me, because she’d have to let me in the house. It’s not like she had an extra key on her today when we decided to become roommates. I told her to go to bed and I’d stay at the Fairview again tonight, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted no matter what time I made it to her house, she’d be awake.
The gallant man inside me wanted to insist I stay at the hotel so as not to impose, but the part of me that had a fabulous time with her at lunch today wanted to see her again, even if it did disturb her evening. That man has a selfish streak, apparently, as I willingly let her talk me into coming to her place whenever I finished work, no matter the hour.
It’s almost eleven now, and I feel guilty about showing up so late.
The rolling garage door opens, the interior light revealing Sophie standing there looking relieved to see me outside the car. I smile before ducking back inside and slowly pulling the car in beside hers.
As I switch off the ignition, I study her in the illumination of the headlights, and I like what I see. She looks both adorable and curiously sexy in a pair of baggy flannel pajamas in a black-and-red block print and black boots with faux fur trim that come no higher than midcalf. She’s not wearing a coat, hat, or gloves, and her arms are crossed, shoulders hunched in an “I’m freezing my ass off” stance.
Exiting my car, I give her a rebuking look from head to toe. “Are you crazy coming out here without a coat? It’s twenty-seven degrees.”
Sophie smirks, throwing her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the house. “It’s a thirty-foot walk.”
“People have caught pneumonia in less,” I chastise as I move toward her, removing my wool coat. It’s not appropriate for extended periods out in this weather, but absolutely sufficient to get me from car to arena and back again.
She makes a sound in her throat and holds out her hands to stop me, but I ignore her and drape my coat over her shoulders. “Don’t argue,” I warn in a low voice.
Sophie scoffs and mutters, “Bossy.”
“Let me get my luggage.” I move around the car and pop the trunk, gathering the one large suitcase and duffel bag I brought with me from Arizona. After leaving the arena, I ran over and grabbed my stuff, leaving a hefty tip for the maid service before checking out.
Once I have my bags in hand, Sophie slaps her palm against a button on the wall and the garage door lowers. I follow her through a regular swing door and into the backyard, startled by how pretty it is despite the browned grass of winter.
At the bottom of the porch step is a stone patio with a nice set of outdoor furniture—a couch, table, and two chairs—with several pots that I imagine hold plants and flowers in the warmer months. The base of her house is uplit behind the barren bushes. The lights provide not only safety but a pleasing ambient glow. A fountain sits off to the side and strung along the entire length of her fence are lights with Edison bulbs.
The minute she steps one foot into the yard, floodlights on the back of the garage flash on, and the entire yard is lit up. We walk toward the house and midway there, motion sensors catch us, triggering floodlights atop the house.
It’s overkill to someone like me, but to someone like Sophie, it’s probably not enough.
As we move up the porch steps, I apologize again for being late.
“No worries,” she assures me with a quick look over her shoulder. “You don’t have to be here at a certain time, and you should come and go as you please. I have a spare key for you so you can sneak in at whatever time you need. And I’ll give you the alarm code.”
The back door leads directly into the kitchen, which is filled with amazing aromas. Once inside the house, she locks and dead bolts the door before reaching for the alarm panel and reengaging the system.
She shrugs off my coat, handing it to me with a demure smile. “Thanks for that.”
“No problem.” I lay it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
“I went ahead and reheated your dinner when you texted you were on your way. I did it low and slow in the oven rather than murder the chicken in the microwave.”
The last thing I am is hungry. When we realized we’d be working late, we had food brought in. While it’s been a couple of hours since I’ve eaten, I’m definitely not hungry for a full meal.
But there is absolutely no way I’m going to decline after she went through all this trouble. I clap my hands together and rub them in anticipation. “I can’t wait. I’m starved.”
Sophie beams and then orders me to take a seat at the table. She offers me something to drink, and I accept a beer, sipping it while she dishes up chicken breasts topped with melted mozzarella and sautéed tomatoes, green beans, and a slice of sourdough bread. When she sets it before me, it smells and looks so damn good, my previously full stomach rumbles with a hunger that was nonexistent when I walked through the door.
I know without a doubt that if I become a permanent roommate of Sophie’s, I’ll probably have to schedule extra workouts to compensate for all this great food.
Of course, I could tell her not to cook for me, but oddly, I don’t want to do that. In addition to the food smelling amazing and looking like it came from a gourmet restaurant, there’s a level of comfort I’ve never felt before when coming home at the end of a workday. Something about her waiting for me and making sure I’m fed is so appealing, and I’m smart enough to know that this might indicate a deeper level of interest beyond just making sure she’s okay.
I dig in to my meal as Sophie pulls out the adjacent chair and sits.
Sophie rests her elbow on the table and props her chin in her palm. “So, how was your first day?”
Having just taken a bite of the chicken, I can’t quite answer, not just because my mouth is full but because I’m relishing the taste. I groan with appreciation and wipe my mouth with a napkin after I swallow. “Holy hell, that is delicious, Sophie.”
“Thanks.” She smiles brightly.
As I cut my next piece, I answer her question. “My first day was an absolute roller coaster. Parts of it were enjoyable, and parts of it were a clusterfuck. Excuse my language.”
Sophie waves off my cursing. “Tell me about the clusterfuck first.”
In between bites, I tell Sophie all about Drake McGinn, about our time playing with the Buffalo Wolves and our friendship, as well as the circumstances under which he left the team and the league last year. I tell her about my bright idea to bring him out of retirement because he would make a fabulous primary goalie for the Titans. He was the best talent they would be able to get this late in the season.
“And then he fucked it all up,” I grumble. “Basically went off on Brienne Norcross and stormed out of the conference room. He’s just way too bitter about what happened to even try to open himself up for another shot.”
Sophie nods in understanding. “I get it. He was betrayed not only by individuals, some of whom he probably considered friends, but he was essentially betrayed by the industry as a whole. No other teams stepped up to offer for him last year. No wonder he’s suspicious.”
“I know,” I reply with frustration. “But he’s an adult. Put that shit aside because you’ve got a great opportunity.”
“Is there any chance you could get him to change his mind?”
I shake my head. “He’s burned that bridge with Brienne. With Coach Keller as well, but he didn’t really want Drake, anyway.”
“Why not?”
I study Sophie, wondering whether she’s being polite in keeping me company while I eat or if she’s truly interested in my day. Either is acceptable, touching in its own way. What little I know about Sophie, it’s probably both.
“Keller is an odd duck,” I admit. “He talks out of both sides of his mouth. We spent a lot of time yesterday talking about coaching philosophies and values, making sure we were all aligned. He spoke a big game about understanding there might be limitations and giving the incoming players their best shots. But the minute I brought up Drake McGinn as a possibility, he wrote him off just because of the ex-wife’s allegations.”
“Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Sophie murmurs, shifting in her chair and settling back against it. She crosses one leg over the other, her feet still encased in her winter boots.
“That’s my theory.” I spear a green bean. “Brienne said nearly the same thing, but again, Drake was such a dick to her, I’m sure she doesn’t feel that way anymore.”
“It’s a shame. Sounds like he needed a second chance.”
I nod as I chew. When I swallow, I sip my beer. “You need a second chance too.”
Sophie blushes and ducks her head. Her arms cross over her chest, almost defensively. “Not really. I just need to get off my ass and—”
“Don’t,” I say. Her head snaps up. “Don’t diminish your demons. They’re real and legitimate, and no one judges you for having them.”
“My employer did,” she points out.
Shrugging, I smile sheepishly. “Okay, there are those who judge you. But I don’t, and no one else’s opinion matters.”
Sophie laughs, but there’s still pain in her eyes. She’s a work in progress, but I will continue to work on her.
When I showed up on her doorstep yesterday, I had no intention of doing anything more than checking in on her. A quick visit—in and out.
Instead, I have a new friend who my gut tells me is going to remain an influential force in my life. Sophie is the one, after all, who changed the trajectory of my future to begin with. Not intentionally, of course, but her attack, when I just happened to be nearby—those events led me to be sitting here today. That’s some kind of cosmic shit, but not surprising. We shared an experience that bonds us in a way no one else will ever understand.
What is surprising is that my thoughts have strayed to areas distinctly out of the realm of friendship. Do friends acknowledge how attractive they find each other? I’m thinking not.
For right now, I’m incredibly grateful to have made this connection with Sophie. We’re strangers in a way, but in many ways, we’re not. Moving to a new city, not knowing anyone… she’s exactly what I need.
I think I’m exactly what she needs too.
CHAPTER 11
