Checked (Gold Hockey Book 7) Page 5

  Rebecca frowned. “Knew who was there?”

  “You. This.” He pulled into the parking lot of the rink. “I knew you’d be feisty underneath.”

  Feisty.

  Now she could honestly say that was a word no one had ever used to describe her.

  “Don’t get quiet on me now,” he murmured, pulling into a spot. “I like feisty Rebecca.”

  She picked up the jar of oats she’d been too busy talking to eat. “I have anxiety,” she said, playing with the top, running her finger over the bumps on the shiny metal lid. “I’ve had it my whole life.”

  Silence.

  Then, “I know, sweetheart.”

  Her breath caught.

  “I should have known sooner, should have realized that was why you acted the way you did sometimes.”

  “I can be a pain in the ass,” she agreed with a shrug. Or at least, that’s what her sister always said.

  “And that’s different from anyone else how?” He rotated to face her. “Because as far as I can tell, you’ve witnessed my pain in the ass multiple times.”

  “I—” Her mouth opened and closed. “Well, yes.”

  A laugh. “And here’s the thing. I’m a doctor. I should have realized you were struggling. I should have helped rather than—”

  That pissed her off. “I don’t need help,” she snapped. “I’m fine. I’ve been in therapy for a decade. I have ways to cope, ways to push through. I’ve gotten this far without—”

  He rested his hand lightly on hers. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed. “I created a work environment that made it harder for you when I should have—”

  “I don’t need people going around and making my life easier. I’m not weak.”

  His fingers squeezed. “I know that.”

  “I’m good at my job. I don’t want someone to make allowances for me.”

  “I know that, too,” he said gently. “However, we’re supposed to be a team, one that I’m in charge of. And the sign of any good leader is being able to pull out the best in their teammates. I didn’t do that.”

  “You didn’t have—”

  Another squeeze. “Do you think we can agree to disagree on this?”

  Rebecca paused. Sighed. Then, “Fine.”

  “Good, because despite the fight I put up during the process, I like your plan and I like you.”

  “I-I—” What the hell could she say to that? He’d said it once before, but she’d assumed it was anger talking and had put it out of her mind. He couldn’t like her. Not when she was who she was and he was . . . Gabe.

  But this?

  This was offered up casually, as though it weren’t a big deal to declare such a thing.

  “You can’t be surprised,” he murmured. “I did tell you that at Kevin and Bex’s party.”

  “You growled it at me,” she said.

  He considered that. “Yes, that’s true. And because of that, you thought I was lying?”

  “Not lying, exactly . . .” Okay, so yes, lying. Or maybe purposefully choosing the wrong words because he was annoyed.

  “Not lying,” he said. “Exactly, or otherwise. I’m a good guy. You’re a cool chick. I just know it’s going to take time for you to accept both of those facts as truth.”

  Thankfully, Gabe didn’t seem to expect a response. He popped open his car door, got out, and this time rounded the hood to pull hers wide. Her backpack went over his shoulder as she was scooping up her purse and climbing out.

  “I can—”

  “You should probably call Triple A to look at your car. They might take a while to come out.”

  “You’re right—”

  “I also found a few other research papers I think you might find helpful for the meal plan stuff. You probably have already read them, but a colleague sent them over, and I thought you might enjoy—”

  “Gabe. Blinders.”

  He blinked.

  “Conversational this time.”

  His mouth twitched. “Sorry.”

  She closed the door, snagged her backpack. “Don’t apologize.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’d like those papers.”

  “Okay.”

  “And to keep being friends.”

  He bumped her shoulder with his, and she tried to ignore the zing the contact sent down her spine. “Okay.”

  “But only if you stop saying okay.”

  A shrug. “Okay.”

  She smacked him. He laughed. They walked into the rink together, talking about the plan for the team and upcoming events with the staff. It wasn’t entirely free of awkward, she still occasionally got quiet and shy, but when she looked back, that conversation marked the beginning of her friendship with Gabe.

  It also marked the end of her life as she knew it.

  Seven

  Gabe

  He knocked on Rebecca’s office door.

  It was partially closed and the panel glided inward at the contact.

  Which meant he caught her red-handed. Or maybe red-wrappered? Since she was shoving a large piece of chocolate into her mouth.

  He grinned and walked in, plunking himself into the chair in front of her desk and loving the flush of pink on her cheeks. “I thought you didn’t eat sugar?”

  She chewed and swallowed. “I—uh—” That jerky shake of her head.

  “I’m teasing. Pomegranate with honey. From Molly’s,” Gabe said and set the to-go cup of tea he’d picked up for her on the desk, having bummed the name of her favorite place and drink from Mandy. She’d given him a knowing look, and he knew asking would no doubt garner him no end of shit from the guys. Worth it, though, to see Rebecca’s smile.

  “I don’t eat refined sugar,” she said, holding up the wrapper. “And this is actually sweetened with honey. See?”

  He took the foiled paper, giving it a cursory look before sticking it in his pocket.

  For later consideration.

  She picked up the cup, smiled shyly at him. “Thanks.”

  God, she was pretty and warm. How had he missed the warm before? Oh yeah, because he’d taken one look at her, panicked and then amplified every negative he could find about her.

  Which was basically nothing.

  So yeah, lots of ass-hattery to make up for.

  She started telling him how Mandy had recommended the brand, saying that no woman should have to do without chocolate—which was totally something Mandy would say—when her cell buzzed.

  He started to stand, but she just glanced at the screen and silenced it.

  “No, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s my sister, and those calls are never short. I’ll catch her later.”

  He nodded, sat, and silence descended.

  Teeth nibbling on the corner of her mouth, she murmured, “Thanks again for the tea.”

  “No problem.”

  “D-do you have any family?” The question was abrupt and blurted out.

  He sucked in a breath.

  Rebecca flushed. “You don’t have to answer that,” she said quickly. “My parents are both alive but divorced. It’s just that my sister is much older than me and sometimes it seems like I have three parents because of it.”

  “A lot of pressure.”

  “Definitely a lot of opinions.” Her lips quirked. “Mom moved to a small town, knows everyone there, and the pace of life is slow and easy. It’s perfect for her. My dad and sister live in L.A. now. Fast living, lots of business opportunities, and judgment aplenty. Perfect for them.”

  He nodded then shared, “My parents are gone. Lost dad about five years ago. Mom, while I was in college. No siblings, but I had a group of close friends growing up.”

  Until they’d lost Maggie.

  Then they’d drifted apart.

  “Mandy and the team are the closest thing I have to a family now.”

  She touched his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “This isn’t the worst place to have a family.”

  She smile
d. “No, I’m starting to see that it’s not.”

  He glanced up at the knock on his office door.

  Rebecca was standing there with pink cheeks and uncertain eyes. It had been a week since they formed their tentative friendship, and he’d been dropping off daily doses of chocolate and pomegranate tea.

  But this was the first time she’d come to him.

  “Hey,” she said. “I was just going to grab a salad at Molly’s. Do you want me to get you something?”

  He set down the file and stood. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Oh no, you don’t have to.”

  Gabe snagged his jacket and wallet. “I’ve been sitting at my desk all morning so could use a chance to stretch my legs. Unless you don’t want company?”

  She hesitated then, “No. Company would be welcome.”

  “Okay.” He gestured for her to precede him, and they walked down the hall in not quite comfortable silence. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, so he thought that was a marked improvement.

  Mandy poked her head out as they walked by, mouth opening then closing before she lifted a brow.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, but she just smiled innocently, giving him a finger wave.

  More gossip for the mill.

  Rebecca smiled up at him. “I’m buying you lunch, just so you know.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  A roll of her eyes. “You’ve bought me tea every day this week, not to mention the chocolate you snuck into my desk drawer. The least I can do is get you a sandwich or something.”

  “I can buy my own lunch.”

  She plunked her hands on her hips. “And I can buy my own tea. I’m trying to be nice here.”

  Spice.

  Yup. He liked it a lot.

  Rebecca huffed, and he couldn’t help it. He smiled.

  Which she caught, of course. “Oh, lord. You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

  “Busted.” Another grin. “But I will allow you to buy me lunch.”

  “Too late. Offer’s off the table,” she grumbled.

  He caught the end of her red ponytail and tugged lightly. “It’s fun teasing you, especially when you give it back.”

  She rolled her eyes, but her lips were twitching. “Fine. I’ll buy you a sandwich, but you have a ten-dollar limit.”

  He laughed, and together they walked to Molly’s.

  It was Friday night and he’d convinced Rebecca to come out with him after they’d both been caught up at work late.

  He’d been walking her to her car when her stomach had rumbled, so had bribed her with chocolate and a vegan restaurant he’d looked up online. But she’d surprised him by suggesting they go see the latest Marvel movie instead.

  Apparently, she hadn’t gotten around to seeing this one yet.

  He never would have picked her for an action movie fan, but then again, she seemed to be a professional at surprising him.

  They sat side by side in the reclining seats and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the movies with a woman and it hadn’t been a date. Maybe with Mandy when they’d first moved here? But definitely not since then. Usually, he took dates to fancy restaurants, not kid-filled movie theaters.

  Still, it wasn’t all bad. He was, after all, sitting next to Rebecca, her cinnamon and floral scent drifting across the air to his nose. That smell was quickly becoming a comfort.

  Or maybe addicting.

  Both.

  Yeah, it was both.

  There wasn’t any butter on his popcorn—because Rebecca was a vegan—which normally he’d call a crime against humanity, but because she was there with him, it was totally fine. She was eating a salad they’d picked up from Molly’s on the way in. He’d stuck with a hot dog and other traditional movie snacks, to which she’d shook her head, but hadn’t said a word.

  “Mom!” came a young voice from the row behind them, trailing the sound of crinkling and food hitting the ground.

  “Shh,” he guessed the mom in question said.

  “But Bethany spilled the popcorn!”

  “Luckily, we had enough.”

  “But I’m still hungry.”

  “Hush,” she whispered. “The movie’s on.”

  “But—”

  “Luke,” she said, still whispering. “I just spent a hundred dollars on tickets for us all and food for you both. I don’t have any more mon—”

  The preview on the screen debuted with a loud bang.

  Rebecca slid from her seat. “Be right back.”

  He nodded, debating whether he should offer to buy the family behind him a fresh bag of popcorn. San Francisco, in general, was expensive and having kids in the city even more so.

  But would that make him an eavesdropping asshole?

  Maybe he should offer them some of their bag.

  Yeah, that wasn’t creepy at all. Thirty-something white dude offers treats to children in the dark. Couldn’t go wrong.

  Another preview came on, and he decided that he’d go buy them a fresh bag when Rebecca came back. But then another one started and there was still no sign of her. Finally, when he was just starting to worry, she came walking up the aisle.

  But she didn’t come to their row.

  Instead, she passed by then slid between the chairs behind him until she reached the mom and kids and whispered, “This is for you guys.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,” the mom said softly, and they spent half a minute arguing over the fresh bag of popcorn. Eventually, however, the mom relented with a teary sounding, “Thank you,” and Rebecca came back to find her seat.

  He squeezed her hand as the movie began.

  She squeezed back.

  Then didn’t let go.

  Eight

  Rebecca

  The phone rang as she was neck-deep in Yelp reviews for the restaurant Gabe had suggested.

  She glanced at the screen, saw it was her sister Sandra, and sighed.

  She’d been avoiding this call for the last week, which was the upper limit on what her sister would allow before she flew up to the city and cornered Rebecca at work.

  She knew this from experience.

  So. Much. Fun.

  Her cell rang again, and she answered the call. “Hey, sis.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sandra snapped in a tone that made her jump.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re avoiding my calls. That means something is wrong.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I’m not avoiding your calls”—lie—“I’m just busy with work”—truth—“I’m rolling out a new diet plan and—”

  “The team bought into your woo-woo food ideas, huh?”

  That stung, but she kept her tone even. “That’s what they hired me for.”

  “People do crazy things all the time,” Sandra quipped then laughed, like Rebecca was laughing alongside her. But she didn’t laugh with her sister. Instead, she felt numb to the comments. After a lifetime of them from her dad and Sandra, it was hard to work up any sort of useful outrage.

  Especially when Sandra always managed to be outraged enough for the both of them.

  “Yup,” she said instead. “They sure do.”

  “What’s your therapist say about the job?”

  “That she’s happy I found something I enjoy and am good at.”

  Sandra snorted. “Happy. That’s an interesting way to put it. She help you work up the courage to move down to L.A. yet?”

  God no.

  That wasn’t happening. Ever.

  Four hundred and fifty miles between her sister, her dad, and herself was just about perfect.

  “I—”

  A knock interrupted her.

  “Of course not,” Sandra said, taking the pause as Rebecca struggling with words. And maybe sometimes it was. Just not this time. But she launched into a story of an intern getting decaf coffee instead of regular coffee as Rebecca walked to the door to answer it.

  How terrible.

  She rolled her eye
s and glanced through the peephole, unlocking the dead bolt and letting Gabe in.

  “There’s someone at my door. I’ve got to go.”

  “You have a date?”

  It was Friday night, so not an unreasonable assumption, unless of course, someone considered the complete shock in her sister’s tone.

  “No,” Rebecca said, kind of wishing she could answer the opposite. Not that it would ever happen. Not between her and Gabe. “I’m going out to dinner with a friend. I’ll talk to you soon, okay, Sandra?”

  “Don’t avoid my calls.”

  She purposefully didn’t agree to that. “Bye.”

  Gabe studied her face carefully. “Sister?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In parent mode again?”

  Her heart pulsed, knowing he’d sized up her mood just that quickly. “Yeah.”

  He bumped her shoulder with his. “Know what the cure for that is?”

  “What?”

  “Cashew cheese.”

  She laughed. “My favorite.”

  Gabe helped her into her jacket and then they drove down to the restaurant. He had her in stitches gossiping about Mandy and Blane being caught making out in a supply closet of all places, then had her searching her old anatomy and physiology knowledge as they discussed several of his ideas for treatment plans for a few of the guys. By the time they’d arrived at the restaurant, she’d relaxed enough to not panic being at a new place, not knowing where the bathrooms were or what she was going to order.

  They made it to a booth without issue and she stayed relaxed.

  It was easy with Gabe.

  He stripped away all the parts that made her falter and just let it be the two of them. It was lovely and peaceful and . . . perfect.

  So much so that she even ordered something that hadn’t been described in the Yelp reviews.

  “I don’t know how I let you talk me into these things,” she declared, doing her best impression of a baby deer on ice skates.

  Well, she was on skates.

  She just had two legs instead of four.

  But she still didn’t think that four legs would have helped.

  Gabe laughed and glided past her, executing a spin that was way too graceful for her liking.