Every muscle in Brody’s body coiled tightly as he stared at the screen, wondering if he’d misheard the anchor. Next to him, Hayden made a startled sound.
“An hour ago, the league announced they will be launching a full investigation into these allegations.”
The newscaster went on to recap the allegations that Presley bribed players to throw at least two games at the start of the season, and that he’d placed bets on the outcomes. The divorce was also mentioned, as well as Sheila Houston’s alleged affair with a Warrior, but by that point Brody had tuned out the news segment.
Who the fuck had come forward? It couldn’t be Becker. His friend would’ve called him with a heads-up before he did anything like that.
Craig Wyatt, though, seemed like a likely candidate, especially after what Brody witnessed at the arena that day. The reporters had been pretty rough on Sheila, many of them holding the firm belief that she was lying. If he was having an affair with her, it made sense that Wyatt would step in and try to support the woman.
Brody reached up to rub his throbbing temples. Fuck. He wished he knew which one of his teammates had confessed. Whoever it was, this probably didn’t bode well for tomorrow’s home game. How would anybody be able to focus with a possible criminal investigation hanging over their heads?
“It’s not true.”
Hayden’s soft voice jarred him from his thoughts.
He glanced over to see her big eyes pleading with him.
“Right?” she said wearily. “It’s not true.”
“I don’t know.”
He raked a hand through his hair, then absently picked up a french fry. Not that he had an appetite anymore. The news report had destroyed any desire he had for food. He dropped the fry and looked back at Hayden, who seemed to be waiting expectantly for him to continue.
“I really don’t know. So far, there’s been no proof that your father bribed anyone.”
“So far. But if that report is true…”
Her breath hitched, and her pained expression tore at his heart.
“Were you… Did he…” She sounded tortured, as if saying each word took great effort. “Did he offer you a bribe?” she finally asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“But he could have bribed someone else, another player.”
“He could have,” Brody said guardedly.
She grew silent, looking so achingly sad that he reached over to draw her into his arms. Her hair tickled his chin, the sweet scent of her wafting into his nose. He wanted to kiss her, but it was totally not the time. She was upset, and the way she pressed her head into the crook of his neck and snuggled closer told him she needed comfort at the moment, not sex.
“This is such a mess,” she said, her breath warming his skin. “Dad is already stressed because of the divorce, and now…” She abruptly lifted her head, her lips set in a tight line. “I refuse to believe he did what they’re accusing him of. My dad is a lot of things, but he’s not a criminal.”
The certainty in her eyes was unmistakable, and Brody wisely kept quiet. He’d always admired and respected Presley Houston, but experience had taught him that even people you admired and respected could screw up.
“Whoever came forward has to be lying,” Hayden said firmly. “This will all get cleared up during the investigation. It has to.” She slid close to him again. “I don’t want to think about this anymore. Can we just pretend we didn’t see that? And while we’re at it, we can pretend I came home for a vacation rather than to deal with my father’s problems.” She sighed against his shoulder. “God, a vacation would be so good. I could really use some fun right now.”
He smoothed her hair, loving how soft it felt under his fingers. “What did you have in mind?”
She tilted her head and smiled. “We could go see a movie tomorrow. It’s been ages since I’ve been to the movies. Or we could walk along the waterfront, go to Navy Pier. I don’t know, just have fun, damn it.”
As much as he hated disappointing her, Brody smiled gently and said, “I would love to, but I can’t. I’ve got game three tomorrow night.”
The light drained out of her eyes, but she gave him a quick smile as if to hide her reaction. “Oh. Right. I keep forgetting it’s the playoffs.”
His arms felt empty as she disentangled herself from the embrace and inched back, absently reaching for a fry on her plate. She popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly, not looking at him.
“How about Sunday?” he suggested.
“I have this Gallagher Club party to go to.” She pushed her plate away, apparently as uninterested in eating as he was. “It’s important to my dad.”
“Then another time,” he said. “I promise you, I’ll take you out and give you the fun you need.”
Her expression grew strained. “It’s okay. You don’t have to indulge me. It’s probably a silly idea to go out on a date anyway.”
He bristled. “Why is it silly?”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “This is just a fling. Playing out a few sexual fantasies. That doesn’t really involve going on dates.”
A fling.
Something inside him hardened at the word. Casual flings had pretty much been his entire life for the past ten years, serious relationships never even making a blip on his radar. And then he’d met Hayden and suddenly he wasn’t thinking about casual anymore. He liked her. A lot. Hell, he’d actually experienced a flicker of excitement when she’d mentioned engaging in normal couple things like going to the movies or walking by the lake. He’d never felt the urge to do stuff like that with the previous women in his life. He hadn’t cared enough, and that would have sounded awful if not for the fact that they hadn’t cared, either.
Crazy as it was, Hayden was the first woman, aside from a reporter, who’d ever asked him about his parents or his college major. Mundane little questions that people asked each other all the time, and yet something he’d been lacking.
He’d seen the potential when Hayden first walked up to him in that bar. Somehow, he’d known deep down that this was a woman he could have a meaningful relationship with.
And it was fucking ironic that she only wanted a goddamn fling.
“What happened to promising to keep an open mind?” he asked gruffly.
“I plan on keeping that promise.” She shifted her gaze. “But you can’t blame me for being skeptical about this becoming anything deeper.”
“You don’t think it will?”
“Honestly?” She looked him square in the eye. “No, I don’t.”
He frowned. “You sound convinced of that.”
“I am.” Pushing an errant strand of hair from her eyes, she shrugged. “I’m going back to San Francisco in a couple months, and even if I were staying here, our lives don’t mesh.”
Irritation swelled inside him. “How do you figure that?”
“You’re a hockey player. I’m a professor.”
“So?”
“So, our careers alone tell me how different we are. I’ve lived in your world, Brody. I grew up in it. Dad and I had most of our conversations on airplanes on the way to whatever city his team was playing in. I lived in five states during a fifteen-year period. And I hated it.”
“Your father was a hockey coach,” he pointed out.
“And the travel requirements are not much different for players. I had no say in the career my father chose for himself. But when it comes to what I want in a partner, I can choose.”
“The guy in San Francisco, what does he do?”
Her discomfort at discussing the guy who Brody now thought of as the Other Man was evident as she began to fidget with her hands. She laced her fingers together, unlaced them, then tapped them against her thighs. “Actually, he teaches art history at Berkeley, too.”
How fucking convenient.
“What else?” he demanded.
She faltered. “What do you mean?”
“So you’re both interested in art. What else makes this relationship so rewarding?”
He almost winced at the sarcasm he heard in his tone. Damn it, he was acting like a total ass here. From the cloudy look in Hayden’s eyes, she obviously thought the same thing.
“My relationship with Doug is none of your concern. I promised to remain sexually exclusive, but I never agreed to sit around and talk about him.”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” he growled. “I just want to get to know you. I want to understand why you feel I’m not a good match for you.”
“Don’t you see it?” She sighed. “I want, I want. You said so yourself, you always get what you want. And that’s why I feel the way I do. I’ve dated too many guys who want. But none of them want to give. They’re too concerned with getting their way, advancing their careers, and I always come in second. Well, I’m sick of it. Doug may not be the most exciting man on the planet, but he wants the same things I do—a solid marriage, a stable home, and that’s what I want out of a relationship.”
A deafening silence fell over the room, stretching between them. Brody felt like throwing something. He resented the fact that she was projecting her frustration with her father and the previous men in her life onto him, but hell, he’d opened this can of worms. Pushed her too far, too fast. Needled her about her former relationship and demanded she give him a chance she wasn’t ready to give.
Fuck.
Would he still get that chance now? Or had he blown it completely?
“Maybe this fling is a bad idea,” she said.
He’d blown it, all right.
Big-time.
