The Wingman Page 10

  Kane laughs and turns his focus back to the road as a Maserati pulls up beside us, clearly wanting to race. But when the guy sees the two of us in Kane’s car, his eyes go wide and he backs off. Kane laughs and guns it a bit.

  His phone pings, and I glance down to see that it’s Lindsay. I toy with my own phone, anxious to message Jules, but she’s at work. Why can’t I get that woman out of my thoughts?

  I rest my head and close my eyes, a strange headache brewing in the base of my skull. Yeah, fucking dipshit Mackenzie Windsor gave me a good body check in last night’s game, sending me head-on into the boards, but I shouldn’t be feeling woozy this long after the hit. Maybe I’m coming down with something. Maybe that’s why my stomach is roiling.

  “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine.” I tug my ball cap lower onto my head, and will the nausea in my gut to go away. By the time I make it home, I’m really not feeling so great. I thank my brother for the ride, and make my way inside my house. After being on the road, the silence is almost deafening. I toss my gear aside, make my way to the bathroom and grab a couple of pills from the medicine cabinet. I toss them back, swallow a mouthful of water, and plunk down on my comfy bed. The next thing I know, my buzzing phone is waking me. I blink my eyes in to focus and turn to see the clock. Fuck, it’s past dinner, and I slept for hours. I reach for my phone and grin when I read the text from Jules.

  Jules: Make it home okay?

  Her concern for me fucks my heart over a bit. I slide my fingers over the phone.

  Rider: Went to sleep just waking up now.

  Jules: I hope I didn’t wake you.

  I laugh quietly. She could do anything she wanted to me and I’d still like it.

  Rider: Nope. How’s your shift going?

  Jules: Work has been insane. I haven’t stopped for ten hours.

  I can’t see her expression or read her body language, but exhaustion colors the words in her text. I sit up a little straighter, everything in me going on high alert. With my headache gone, and my stomach grumbling, I text back.

  Rider: Did you eat?

  Jules: No time.

  Rider: I can bring you something.

  Jules: That’s sweet but I’m okay.

  Rider: How about I cook for you? Come to my place after work.

  Focusing all my energy on the task at hand, I mentally examine the contents of my fridge. I pretty much cleaned it out before leaving, but I think I still have time to do a grocery run and cook before her shift finishes.

  Jules: I can’t. I have to go home and feed Peaches. She’s been alone all day.

  A wave of disappointment zings through my veins, but I’m not a guy to give up easily. No, I fight for what I want, go after it with single-minded focus, and right now, I want to make sure Jules is properly nourished and rested after her long shift.

  Rider: The cat who loves me.

  Jules: She just doesn’t know you. Once she does, she’ll see you’re loveable.

  My heart misses one beat, and then two. Did Jules just call me loveable? I scratch my head, and choke out a laugh. Yeah, maybe I do have a concussion.

  Rider: Okay, how about I take care of Peaches for you, and cook at your place.

  Three dots appear for the longest time and then her response finally comes in, much shorter than I would have thought, considering the length of time I waited. Perhaps she deleted what she was going to say.

  Jules: Are you serious?

  I shake my head. This woman is not used to people taking care of her, which makes me want to do it all the more.

  Rider: Do you keep a spare key under a planter or anything?

  Jules: I don’t. But I have one here at work. It’s close to my place. If you want to come by, but I don’t want to put you out.

  At the thought of seeing her sooner rather than later, I throw my legs over the side of the bed.

  Rider: But I love putting out for you.

  Jules: We’re still talking about my key, right?

  Rider: Of course. What floor are you on?

  Jules: I’m in Emerg today. Just come in through the main doors and ask Sally in admissions to call for me. I’ll come right out.

  Rider: Be there in a few.

  Jules: Okay, have to run. I’m being paged.

  I’m about to set my phone down when another text comes in.

  Jules: Rider…

  Rider: Yeah.

  Jules: Thanks.

  I smile at that. Fuck, she’s so sweet and always so grateful when I do anything for her. I stand, drop my phone onto my nightstand, and with renewed energy, I head to the master suite for a quick shower and change of clothes. Once I’m clean, I shave—wanting to look nice for her— dress in my favorite jeans and navy t-shirt, and head straight to the hospital.

  Outside the even sun sits low on the horizon, and I climb into my Jeep and drive to the hospital. With quick strides, I hurry inside and check in with admission. Sally glances up at me, and her eyes bug out of her head.

  “Aren’t you—”

  “Yeah, I’m Rider Lewis.”

  She waves her hands, her cheeks flushing as she stands. “I’m such a fan.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “You played great last night. Wait…” Her demeanor quickly changes, her professionalism back in place as her concerned gaze moves over me. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Actually, I’m here to see Jules…” Holy fuck, how do I not know her last name. We’re friends. Friends with benefits. But, friends just the same, which means I should know more than her first fucking name. What a douche. I really should have found that out, and in an effort to cover my mistake, I lift my hand about five feet from the floor and says, “Little Jules, who’s hair is always in a ponytail.”

  She stares at me for a second and I get it, she’s putting two and two together. “Jules Murray?”

  “Yes,” I say. “We go way back,” I fib. It’s not true, but it does feel like I’ve known her for a lifetime.

  She picks up the phone, and calls Jules. After she hangs up, she says, “I shouldn’t ask this. It’s not the time or place, but my husband would lose his mind if I got a picture of us. And my son. Oh my God, don’t even get me started with him. Do you mind? I don’t want to bother you. I’m sure you get asked that all the time.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  She fishes her phone from her purse, and a few people in the waiting room rise when they see her taking a selfie of us. Before I know it, I’m posing and smiling with numerous people. I don’t mind at all. My fans are everything. Hockey is everything.

  Jules finally comes through a set of double doors, and the smile on her face when she spots me seeps under my skin and wraps around my damn heart. My gaze races over her, takes in her blue scrubs. They do nothing to showcase her beautiful body, but she looks amazing just the same.

  Don’t fall for her, dude.

  “Entertaining the waiting room and staff I see,” she says, as I finish my last picture and move off to a quiet corner with her.

  “I do what I can,” I say in a low voice.

  I don’t miss the whispered words, the hum of excitement as Jules and I lower our voices to talk privately.

  She steals a glance around the room, and I don’t miss the way Sally is gawking at us. She lets loose an exaggerated sigh. “I think I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

  My knuckles brush hers, and her fast intake of breath, the way she leans toward me, doesn’t go unnoticed. An unconscious invitation? I’m not sure, but fuck, man, I love the way she reacts to me. I resist the urge to grab her ponytail and tug until her sweet mouth is open, welcoming mine. I briefly imagine myself kissing her, drowning out her stress of the day until she’s lost in euphoria. Yeah, that’s what she needs, my mouth on her, helping her wash away the stain of a hard day.

  “What would they do if I kissed you?” I ask, only half joking. I can’t seem to focus on anything but her mouth, and those s
weet lush lips I want to taste in the worst fucking way.

  “Don’t do that,” she warns, and glances over her shoulder. “My God, I’m going to get grilled as it is, and I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea here.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” I say quickly. A nurse comes into the emergency area and calls a patient. “Wait, I know her,” I say and shift so she can’t see me.

  Jules glances at the nurse. Her eyes are narrowed, her mouth tight when she turns back to me. “Someone you dated?”

  “No, I think she was the one who got off on sticking needles in me last time I was in Emerg.”

  Jules frowns, her expression serious. “When you had the concussion last fall?”

  My head jerks back. “How did you know about that?”

  “Lindsay follows the game. She mentioned it last night.”

  The pieces of the puzzle begin to click in to place. “Ah, so that’s why you were so worried about me?”

  She plants a hand on her hip and juts her chin out. “Friends worry about friends, Rider,” she shoots back, but then she covers her mouth to stifle a yawn.

  Professional nurse that she is, she presents as strong and steadfast to those all around her, but underneath that bravado, it’s clear she’s exhausted, and everything inside me responds to the weariness in her body.

  “That’s right, and that’s why I’m here,” I say. “You haven’t eaten all day, and I intend to fix that.”

  “Why?” she asks, a teasing edge to her voice. “Am I going to need my energy tonight?”

  I get that she’s hinting at what she thinks we’ll be doing later—what we talked about on Skype—and that she’s keeping this thing between us, whatever it is, about sex. A good reminder to me, but deep down, the truth of the matter is, she works hard taking care of others all the time, with no one to take care of her. That doesn’t sit well with me at all.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  A grin spreads across her mouth. “Thought so.” She produces a key, and reaches for my hand. She presses it into my palm quickly, and folds my fingers around it to hide the glinting silver from observing eyes.

  “Peaches might freak out at first, but just fill her bowl with some food, and she’ll love you forever. You’ll find her plastic container in the pantry.”

  “Is that all it takes to get a girl to love me?” I tease.

  “She’s kind of slutty like that,” she says, and I laugh.

  “So, feeding you isn’t going to make you fall for me, is it?” I ask.

  What the fuck are you doing, asshole?

  “Not in this lifetime,” she says with a laugh. She winks and adds, “Don’t worry, you’re safe to cook for me all you want.”

  “Good,” I respond, and shove the key into my pants with more force than necessary. She eyes me for a moment, her brow furrowed. “You like seafood?” I ask, redirecting.

  “Love it,” she says, her smile back in place. She brushes a loose strand of hair from her face. “Honestly, Rider, I’m so hungry, I’d be happy with a hot dog.”

  “I am not feeding my girl a hot dog after a twelve-hour shift,” I say without thinking.

  My girl.

  Fuck me.

  Jules is turning as an alarm sounds, and I can only hope the high-pitched sound drowned out the crap I just spewed. The next thing I know, she’s waving me away, and running through the double doors, disappearing from my sight. Once she’s gone, I head back outside and climb into my vehicle. I head to the grocery store, pick up all the ingredients for tonight’s meal, and grab a bottle of white wine. I’m about to head to the cash register when I think of Peaches. Turning around, I walk to the pet aisle and grab her a treat. One way or another, I’ll get her to like me.

  Twenty minutes later, I let myself into Jules’ condo, and a sense of warmth falls over me. Her warm scent of vanilla and citrus fills my senses as I make my way to the kitchen. It’s only my second time in her place and it’s strange being here without her. Meowing reaches my ears as Peaches comes around the corner, rubbing up against the doorway. Her back arches when our eyes meet, and I set the paper bags on the counter and hold my hands up.

  “Hey Peaches,” I say. “Take it easy. I’ve got something for you. I’m just going to reach into the bag real slow and get it.”

  What the fuck? I’m negotiating with a cat now? I must really like Jules to go through all the effort. I slowly reach into the bag, and she sits at the crinkling sound of the bag of Friskies. “Chicken and liver, all things cats love according to the packaging.” I say and shake the bag.

  She purrs, and slowly moves toward me. I rip into the bag as she eyes me like she’s the superior being in this arrangement, and I’m not about to disagree. “You like these, huh?” She turns, and her tail lifts. “Playing hard to get, are you? Don’t worry. I can sell you on them. They don’t call me the wingman for nothing.”

  I walk to her bowl and drop a couple in. They tinkle on the bottom of the metal. She saunters around the table like I didn’t just give her the best treat in the world, and I can’t help but wonder if all cats are assholes.

  “Okay, Princess. You can drop the act and eat. I’m so over this.”

  Her head lifts like she’s done with me too, and I wash my hands in the kitchen sink as she slinks to her bowl and chows down.

  I do a fast fist pump. “Point goes to the wingman.”

  I dry my hands and pull the food from the bag to lay it out on the counter, and the next thing I know, the cat is weaving its way in and out of my legs. She’s either looking for affection, or hoping to trip me. I’m pretty sure it’s the latter. I open the pantry, but her container of food is nearly empty. I check the shelves for the bag, but come up empty.

  “Okay Peaches, where does your mom keep your food?” She walks to the garage door, just off the kitchen, and purrs. “We’ve really got a rapport going on here, don’t we?”

  I open the door and Peaches darts into the garage. I follow her and come across a shelving unit with dry goods, cat food and cat litter, but my attention shifts when I spot two freshly painted chairs off to the side. I step up to them, and examine Jules’ handiwork. If I had to guess, I’d say they were antiques, and the fresh nails make me think Jules repaired them herself. I steal another glance around the garage and notice a few more pieces in the corner. One, a swivel mirror that’s hanging to the side as the stand is broken. Two, there’s an old wooden bedframe worn from time. All it needs is a little love and attention to restore it to make it right again. What is it about old broken things that she likes so much?

  Clearly impatient with my snooping, Peaches lets out a loud meow, and I turn in time to see her knock a can off the shelf. It dents and rolls across the cement floor. “My God, what is your problem.” Her eyes narrow in on me as I place the can back on the shelf, and grab the bag of food. Her lips peel back, like she’s unimpressed with me, and flies past me to enter the kitchen first. “Does your mother know how you behave when she’s not around?”

  Okay, I really need to stop talking to this cat, but then another thought hits. “And don’t you dare tell Jules that I was snooping,” I warn. “Or no more Friskies for you. Got it?”

  She hisses at me and I arch a challenging brow. “Fine, you tell her about the snooping, I’ll tell her about the can you tried to destroy.”

  She gives me a wide-eyed, almost innocent look, but I’m not falling for it. She’s evil and I’d be wise to remember that. I fill her bowl, give her a drink of water and wash up again. With the wine in the fridge chilling, I turn my attention to the seafood casserole. I cook up all the seafood, boil the pasta, and make the cheese sauce. Once done, I search for a casserole dish, combine the ingredients, and slide it into the hot oven.

  With that done, I snoop around the house a bit more. I head upstairs and glance into the spare room. It’s full of old furniture that Jules saved from the dumpster. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway reaches my ears and I take the steps two at a time, meeting Jules at the door
. I pull it open and her eyes go wide.

  “Did you forget I was here?” I say, and slide my hand around her waist, unable to wait another second to get my mouth on hers.

  “No, you just surprised me.”

  I dip my head, and press my lips to hers. Her weary body leans against me and it makes me want to take care of her all the more. I tug her bag from her shoulder and toss it over mine.

  “Come on, you’re tired.”

  “What smells so good?”

  Peaches saunters down the hall and she drops to her knees to give her love. “How did you two make out?” she asks and casts me a quick glance.

  “We came to an understanding.”

  She laughs. “OH, you did, did you?”

  Peaches purrs, lifts her tail, and saunters by me.

  “And what might that be?” Jules asks.

  “That she’s the superior being and I’m here to do her bidding.”

  “That pretty much sums up the human-cat relationship.” She stands, and her smile is soft. “Thank you for this.” She looks around, past my shoulders. “It was such a rough day, and coming home to…” Her words fall off and she swallows.

  “Come on,” I say, and capture her hand. “Time to wind down.”

  A garbled sound catches in her throat as we enter the kitchen. “Oh my God, Rider. Time to wind down? It’s eight o’clock on a Saturday night. What are we, an old married couple?”

  I reach for the dish towel and my brain stalls. Jules and me, an old married couple? Settling in early and spending our nights together. More importantly, waking up together every morning.

  That’s an insane idea. Totally insane.

  And I really shouldn’t like it so much.

  “You’re right,” I say. “Do you want to hit the bar after we eat?”

  She forces a smile, and her eyes roam my face. “Yeah, great idea,” she says, a false high in her voice. I pan the length of her tired body, the smudges under her eyes. Okay, I get it, she’s taking one for the team, assuming I want to go on the prowl after a game.

  “Or…” I begin. “We can eat, and you can have a glass of wine after I pour you a bubble bath.”