“Uh, I’ve been called a lot of things—”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Drew snorted,joining the party.
“Oh, and Drew,” she continued, darting her eyes to theceiling, “I added MMA fighter, male escort, and stripper to the list.”
“What?” T.J. and Drew chorused. The randomoccupations ping-ponged through T.J.’s brain. He put them aside forlater analysis.
Drew didn’t seem amused. “Nat, will you tell me what thehell is actually going on?”
She pulled in a steadying breath. “As soon as Tyler-T.J.here gets his dog and leaves.”
“So you don’t want me to beat his ass?” Was that ahint of relief in Drew’s voice?
Natalie shook her head. “No, unless he tries to weasel hisway back into my life again.”
Hello, standing right here, T.J. wanted to saybut motioned toward the sunporch instead, silentlysignaling he was getting Ford. She trailed him, and his heart lightened withhope—only to crash down when she bagged up and handed him Ford’s toys, bowl,and food.
In a final act of ejecting T.J. from her life, she kneeledin front of the dog and ruffled his neck. “I’m sorry, buddy.” Ford licked herchin, and T.J. thought she sniffled. “You can’t come here anymore. I’m going tomiss you.” She threw her arms around the dog’s neck. Ford seemed to smilesmugly, as if to say, “She’s hugging on me, not you.”
Yeah, you don’t get it, dumbass. We’re both out.
She rose, walked T.J. to the door, and opened it, giving hima look that lacerated him. “Everything you’ve done or said is bullshit.” Hervoice was laden with ice, scratching at him like nails on a chalkboard.
Defeated, dejected, he cast her a regretful glance. “Noteverything, Natalie.”
She closed the door in his face without a word.
CHAPTER 25
No Excuses
Paige scooped up a clipboard and bag.“We’ll go in my truck, Natalie,” she sang, “But first I need to drop somethingoff for Beck.”
“Sure.” Natalie was excited to see the progress on Paige’slatest project. She’d visited it a few weeks ago, but now tile was laid andcabinets set. It was field trips like this that made her love working forPaige—and kept her mind off one maddening hockey player she hadn’t communicatedwith since their falling-out a week prior. Oh, he’d been bugging her, the pest.She’d replied with a single—and final—text telling him she was not keepingFord while he attended his charity whatever. End of story.Except she missed that damn dog. And a part of hermight have missed that guy who made her laugh and who fixed everything,especially when her fence blew down during a storm, damn it.
Paige had been chatting away, and Natalie didn’t noticewhere they were until the Blizzard practice arena loomed. Her boss slid into aparking spot behind the building, snatched the bag from the back, and hoppedout. “Coming?”
“Wait. Beckett’s here?”
“Yeah. He’s helping some disabled guys while he’s home for afew days. Let’s go.”
“Um, okay.” Natalie darted her eyes around the parking lot,hunting for a black H1. To her relief, she only recognized Beckett’s whiteMercedes-Maybach S 560, which was parked beside abrand new blue Audi A8.
She hustled to keep up as Paige scurried through theentrance to one of the arena’s three rinks. When Paige reached the glass, shewaved frantically, her profile glowing with a Beckett beam. It didn’t take longbefore her hulking husband was tapping at the glass separating them, his broadsmile mirroring hers.
“How’s my baby?” Natalie heard him say through the barrier.
Oh, puh-leeze! He probablymeant the baby in Paige’s belly, but still! They’d just left each other an hourago. Ugh.
Paige shook the bag. “Brought you something.”
When his brows furrowed in question, she continued, “Youleft your hoodie at home.” His puzzled look deepened, and Paige shot Natalie aguilty look over her shoulder.
Paige was obviously up to something, and Natalie’s spidey-senses went on high alert. Scanning the ice, shetook in men strapped to sleds, shortened sticks in their gloved hands. Theyseemed to be scrimmaging. Riveted by the play, she blindly trailed Paige, whoheaded toward a rink door. The players were chasing a puck, checking oneanother, popping back up, whooping, hollering. Havingthe time of their lives.
Only one person stood upright among them, holding aregulation stick as he smoothly skated into a small fracas. Electricity boltedthrough her at the sight of his familiar form. Long, thick legs in blue jeans,a T-shirt that hugged chiseled shoulders and chest, backward ball cap keeping alid on his dark, wayward curls.
Tyler Johnson Shanstrom.
With a face-splitting grin that plucked her reluctantheartstrings, Tyler tapped one of the players. “Mark! Two minutes!”
The guy named Mark struck an astonished look. “For what?That was a clean hit!”
“It was a tackle. This is hockey, not football.”
Tyler pointed toward the side of the rink where Natalie nowhid in Beckett’s shadow. Beckett had opened the door and was hugging on hiswife, the two lovebirds oblivious to Natalie’s presence. Natalie rocked on herfeet, impatient to flee before Tyler spotted her.
Beckett suddenly stepped aside and looked down at Mark,who’d made his way over and had eyes on Paige. “Hey, cutie. Ready to dumpSasquatch for a real man?”
Paige chortled. “What would your wife say?”
“Carla would be the first to agree I’m a real man.” His eyeslit on Natalie. “Oh hey! You the stripper Miller hired for after the game?”Mark somehow winked at Paige and Natalie simultaneously. To Beckett, he said,“Good job! This one’s really hot! Unlike that skank you—”
Beckett gave him a none-too-gentle shove, toppling him sideways.“I didn’t hire a stripper,” he said to Paige.
She patted his cheek. “I know. I’d have killed you.”
“Watch your mouth,” Beckett said to Mark as he jerked hishead toward Natalie. “This lady happens to be Shanny’s,uh—” He darted help-me-out eyes to Paige, who shook her head. “Dog-sitter,” headded.
Mark’s eyes lit up. “You’re Natalie? Oh wow! Shanny said you were gorgeous, but if the guys had known howgorgeous, they’d’ve all listened to him and hired youto dog-sit—whether they had dogs or not.”
The convoluted compliment jabbed at the sore spot left byTyler’s deception. Heat crept up Natalie’s chest and neck, flaming her cheeks.The urge to run seemed to grow wings. “Thank you, Mark. Um, Paige, I’ll
