Charging (Gold Hockey Book 10) Page 14

  Char had taken one look at the box and frozen.

  Now, as she processed the shoes inside, she felt her throat burn, her eyes sting. Silly, romantic, lovely man.

  “I haven’t worn Converse in years,” she whispered. “Not since . . .”

  She trailed off, heart hurting even though she was happy deep inside.

  “I coaxed you into going hiking with me the last time,” he finished, running his fingers over the shell of her ear. “I know it’s not your favorite, not by a long-shot, but I do think there’s something beautiful that you’ll really like.” He smiled and pointed to a paved path disappearing among the arboreal giants. “And it’s not far up the trail.”

  They’d parked in a lot tucked past the main entrance, and as she’d gotten her ass up at an insane hour, and then had gone over to Logan’s at a very impolite hour—so impolite that her mom would have been pissed she’d rung the bell so early—the lot was empty aside from their car. But it was the weekend and it was summer in Northern California. The lot wouldn’t be empty for long.

  Soon there would be other—she shuddered—hikers and dogs on leashes and families with cute little kids who were either having the best day of their life or their worst.

  Her heart pulsed.

  She wanted that, and she could admit it—if only to herself, only in her own brain—that she’d always dreamed of having that—kids and dogs and tantrums and day trips—only with one person.

  This man.

  And perhaps that was why she’d focused on work so intently, had tucked that desire down so deeply.

  When Logan had gone, she’d buried that longing.

  But now that he was back, now that she knew the full story, the craving had made a reappearance.

  Either that, or her biological clock was ticking.

  She snorted.

  “Don’t trust me?” he asked innocently, and she narrowed her eyes. Because it was too innocent, the scamp.

  “When you look at me like that?” She shook her head. “That’s a no.”

  He grinned, unrepentant. “I was going for earnest.”

  “You succeeded in serial killer.”

  Laughter filled the interior of the car, bubbling in her veins, making her lips turn up in humor, and then her laughter join in.

  “Fuck, I like you, Starlight.”

  Her breath caught, those emerald eyes holding him captive for long moments until she remembered her suspicions and asked, “What are you going to show me?”

  “Something special.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Special how?”

  He sighed.

  She smiled, took his hand, and squeezed lightly to let him know she was teasing. “No bears?”

  “No bears,” he said then shrugged. “Just on the very rare occasion, a mountain lion.”

  “What?”

  His face sobered. “I’m kidding.”

  “Are you really kidding, or are you just trying to get me out of this car so I can see whatever it is you want to show me?”

  “One of those.” He tugged a curl lightly, asked before she could press him further, “So, what say you? Will you swap the heels for sneakers and a short, paved path?”

  “Do you have a sweatshirt for yourself?” she asked, knowing it would be cold in these hills, especially with the marine layer still visible overhead. Later, the whole area would warm up, a sunny day forecasted, but for now, she snagged the snuggly cotton covering from him and tugged it over her head. The box slid, but she grabbed it as she toed off her heels, plucking the shoes out and thinking that this was probably a bad idea without—

  “Socks,” came his voice, paired with his hand in front of her face, holding out a brand-new pair.

  They were patterned with brightly-colored curly lines—

  Or not, she realized with a grin.

  Because those curly lines actually formed a hidden pattern of cursive f-bombs.

  She grinned up at him. “You didn’t forget my favorite curse word.”

  He cupped her cheek. “I didn’t forget anything.”

  “Log,” she murmured, her freaking eyes stinging again. “You’ve got to stop being so sweet.”

  He snagged the socks from her and tugged off the label and hook at the top, handing them back to her one at a time. She pulled them on, shoved her feet into the pale blue converse that matched exactly the pair she’d worn with him a lifetime before.

  The size was perfect.

  Not that she’d expected anything less after he’d surprised her with the slippers and the treats and the cooking and—

  He was thoughtful.

  Very thoughtful.

  If this worked, she needed to make sure she was thoughtful right back.

  Her heart pulsed and her eyes went stingy again, but as she tied the shoelaces and rolled up the sleeves of the sweatshirt, she blinked any extra moisture away.

  “You didn’t answer me about the sweatshirt,” she said, when she’d finished.

  “I’ve got another in the trunk.”

  “Good.” A nod as she pushed open the door. “Let’s go.”

  She stepped out and felt her breath hitch. Even a non-nature girl like herself could appreciate the sheer size of the trees. Huge redwoods towering over her. A cool dampness to the air that made her shiver. The smell of the earth, a preternatural sort of quiet.

  The soft pop of Logan’s door opening broke that silence, and she watched as he moved around to the back of his SUV and opened the hatch.

  A minute later, he had a sweatshirt pulled over his head, the trunk closed, and was walking toward her.

  “Okay?” he asked, gaze flicking toward her bare legs. “Not too cold?”

  “It’s not far, right?”

  “Right,” he confirmed.

  “Then, no,” she said. “I’m fine, so long as you promise to cuddle me close when it gets too chilly.”

  He grinned. “And now you know my nefarious plan.”

  Char rolled her eyes but didn’t protest when Logan laced their fingers together and led her down the path. “Should I be happy that you didn’t pair that with a muhaha?”

  He bopped her on the nose. “Too far, Starlight, too far.”

  She shook her head, rested it on his shoulder so he wouldn’t see her smiling, and walked with him. The trail curved to the right just past the tree line, and she had the immediate feeling of being both dwarfed in size and feeling perfectly sheltered and protected. There were large gaps between the giant trunks, these ancient trees needing plenty of space to grow, but they were so tall, their branches overhead so vast and intertwined that she felt like she’d been transported to another planet.

  That was, of course, if she ignored the paved path beneath her sneakers.

  In her mind, alien planets didn’t have asphalt trails.

  Although, it did show that, once again, Logan knew her.

  This wasn’t a difficult uphill trek, nor a dusty and rocky terrain to traverse. This was flat. This was beautiful. This was . . . short.

  Because barely fifteen minutes later, he tugged her to the right, and she found herself in a circular grove of trees.

  Of charred trees.

  She gasped, hand coming to her throat.

  “The fires last summer came through here.”

  She spun in a circle, taking in what remained and what had been destroyed by those rapidly moving flames. And God . . . there was black, so much black.

  So much beauty reduced to ash.

  “I see that,” she said, sad for no other reason than it hurt a part of her deep inside to see what had been lost last summer. Fires were part of California, or at least that was what she’d been told by those she knew who had grown up here, but there was no doubt that the fires had grown in intensity and frequency over time.

  That, paired with an increasing population, soaring house prices, years of drought, meant that property and businesses and lives were in ever-magnifying danger.

  And places like this one burned.
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br />   “This is so sad,” she whispered, eyeing the circle, of which only a few trees appeared to have survived. Many others had fallen to the ground, the path of blackened trunks a searing visual amongst the rest of the green forest.

  “I didn’t bring you here to be sad,” he said gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her to his side.

  “Well, it is sad,” she said. “I remember the news stories. I remember how so many people lost so much, and these trees—God, this clearing must have been absolutely majestic.”

  He nodded. “It was.”

  At her questioning look, he smiled. “I found quite a bit of time to explore during my time in L.A.” A shrug. “And I discovered that I much preferred this northern part of California to the plastic and fakeness of Hollywood.”

  “So, it wasn’t hard for you to come to San Francisco.”

  He shook his head. “Though, full disclosure, I would have moved to Siberia to play for your team, Starlight. Not only because of this”—he held her tighter, brushed his lips over hers—“but also because you’re very talented and smart, and any player would be lucky to be a part of your organization.”

  Her heart stuttered, and feeling oddly shy, she found herself dropping her forehead to his chest, not moving when he rested his palm on her nape. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Well, thank you for meaning it,” she whispered.

  “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  They stayed like that for a minute before Logan slid his hand down her spine and wrapped it around her hip. “Come this way,” he murmured, guiding her over to the far side of the clearing.

  A huge, absolutely huge tree had fallen over, black charring its side.

  She could barely process the breadth of its size, a car could drive on it with plenty of room on either side, and . . . it had collapsed. The strong, seemingly impenetrable giant had been felled by flames.

  “Look,” he said, pointing and drawing her gaze to what she’d missed on first glance.

  She’d been obsessed with what had been, mourning what might have been if the flames hadn’t torn through this forest, and in focusing on the might have beens and the had beens, she’d nearly overlooked the beauty of the now.

  Because, yes, that tree had broken into pieces when it had fallen. Yes, it was less majestic on the ground than it was compared to its brethren growing into the sky. Yes, it might have gone on living and growing and becoming even more breathtaking if only the fire hadn’t come.

  But . . . fire had come.

  But . . . it wasn’t less beautiful just because it had been knocked down, because it had collapsed.

  And it didn’t lose its value.

  Because in the ruins of that wonderful fallen giant was new life.

  “Did you know that some of these Redwoods need fire in order for their cones to open, for their seeds to be exposed, and ultimately for new trees to grow?”

  Carefully, she reached out and ran her fingers over the rough bark coating the trunk in one spot, the ashy, charcoal directly next to it, and then, finally, over the delicate green blades of what would someday—if the conditions were right—be a new giant redwood.

  “I didn’t know that.” She sniffed. “You’re making my eyes burn again, dammit.”

  Logan chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. “We’re like these trees, Starlight. We burned hot and bright and furiously. And then . . . we fell.”

  Another sniff. “I’m not missing the symbolism, baby.”

  He was grinning. She couldn’t see it, not with her head plastered against his chest, the steady thrum of his heart under her ear, but she could feel it nonetheless. “Then you also didn’t miss that we have that potential, too. That we can make something beautiful and alive out of the ashes of our past.”

  Char closed her eyes and let his words, this place wash over her.

  They could do that. But, more importantly, she wanted to do that. With Logan. She wanted the beauty. She wanted the future. She wanted him.

  Which was why she held him tight and said, “I didn’t miss that either.”

  Twenty-Five

  Logan

  The next week, he strolled up the front walk of Char’s house, confident this time that he wouldn’t have to sneak in the back.

  They had plans.

  They’d spent the weekend together, Char surprising him by taking his hand and leading him on a longer hike in Big Basin. Not far, since neither of them were dressed properly for an all-day adventure—no water, no sunscreen, no—in her case—pants and she wasn’t a really outdoorsy person, but they had walked for a little while, stumbling upon a small waterfall that had taken his breath away.

  They stood and watched the stream spilling over the outcroppings of rock, covering the bright green moss in mist.

  Then they’d driven up to the city, those heels had been slipped on her feet, covering the midnight blue nail polish on toes so adorable Logan was considering developing a foot fetish, and they’d spent the rest of the day together. Eating more food that was definitely not on Rebecca’s diet plan then had gone back to her house and watched a movie.

  More lingering kisses.

  More caressing fingers.

  More . . . blue balls.

  But it was worth it, because fuck, but he never felt more settled than when he was with Char, as though he could just be himself, just not worry about anything, just . . . be.

  Thus was the power of his Starlight.

  Then Sunday, they’d driven down to Carmel and had picnicked on the beach, the ocean breeze coating her lips with salt when he’d been unable to stop himself from kissing her.

  Monday through Thursday, he’d cooled his heels, plotting his next moves because Char had needed to work. Several staff members had requested meetings, and then she’d been looped into a Zoom conference with some of the other GMs. After that, she had been drowning in emails—her words, but based on how hard she worked, he didn’t doubt the truth.

  So, instead of going to her office and indulging in his bending-her-over-her-desk fantasy, he’d left her to her work and instead had lunch delivered.

  And dinner.

  Because she was clearing the decks, wanting to go home for a week and visit her family, but she had also promised to go up to his cabin with him. He’d coaxed her into going on a few river walks with him—or rather, had promised her several hours of undisturbed reading in his hot tub if she agreed to the odd walk.

  Thankfully, she hadn’t asked about bears.

  Because Tahoe wasn’t known for being particularly bear-free.

  Last night, he’d delivered dinner himself when he might have kind-of-sort-of-accidentally driven by and seen her bent over her computer through the windows in her kitchen.

  Of course, he would have peeked in through her back door, except he’d also gone to the hardware store and bought a lock for her gate that week.

  A padlock with letters to form a word or combination that could be used to open it.

  He’d chosen stars, for obvious reasons.

  And when he’d texted her the picture with instructions on how to open it, he’d received a tart reply to Stop being pushy. Which had been followed by another text that said simply, Thank you, and was paired with a trio of red hearts.

  Which made his heart squeeze, sap that he was.

  Emojis and a thank you. A tart reply, but not holding his need to take care of her against him.

  Regardless, the lock meant that any sneaking in would be difficult, so he’d gone to the front door, rang the bell, and kissed the surprised smile off her face, before thrusting the bag of food in her hand.

  But when he went to turn away, she’d surprised him by snagging his hand and tugging him inside.

  She’d shared the food—okay, so maybe he’d brought enough to share, hoping for the invite in—then had coaxed him onto the couch to binge watch some dumbass reality show.

  He hadn’t bothered to follow the plotline. Inst
ead, he’d followed her—with his eyes, tracking every shake of her head and smile and eye roll. With his ears, committing her laughter to memory. With his nose, soaking in the floral spice. With his mouth, tasting the chocolate cake and coffee they’d had for dessert on her tongue.

  And, later, when she fell asleep, with his touch, stroking a finger down the soft silk of her cheek as he’d tucked her into bed.

  It had been the best night of his life in years.

  Because of Char.

  Smiling because he got to see her again tonight, that he might be able to kiss her, and maybe, if she was wearing a dress again, get to kiss her other places and—

  His cock twitched.

  “Come on, man,” he muttered, climbing the three steps that led up to her door. “Focus.”

  Keep the charm going, the patience in mind. Go slow. Go steady.

  With that thought, he pushed everything sexual out of his mind and rang the bell. Footsteps echoed through the door, not loud, and perhaps a sound he might not have ever noticed if he hadn’t been so obsessed with all things Char.

  But he did hear the pad of her feet.

  Just as he heard the lock click open.

  The door was pulled wide, and . . . his heart thumped, hard.

  Warm brown eyes, a welcoming smile on lips he wanted to kiss, a dress that had his cock twitching all over again. “Hey,” she murmured.

  “Hey,” he said, too entranced to say anything else.

  And . . . silence as they stared at each other.

  Him because he couldn’t believe he was here, that they were trying this again, that he got another chance with her.

  Her because . . . hell, he couldn’t begin to read her mind.

  All he knew was that she was letting him into her life, and he wasn’t going to squander the chance.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, shaking himself from his Char-stupor.

  She grinned, stepped back, smoothing her hands over the amethyst dress. It had a bunch of crisscrossing straps forming a pattern over her chest, making him want to nudge those thin bands out of his way and bury his face between her breasts. The hem was short, flirting at mid-thigh, and she wore another pair of spiked heels—these were black with interlaced bands that matched her dress. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”