“That explains your intensity.”
Luck, desperation, and a colossal amount of hard work hadgotten him where he was. Intensity? You bet. Mix in a healthy dose of attitudethat rivaled a pissed-off grizzly bear, and he possessed the secret sauce tomaking it in the bigs. Something he never took forgranted.
Thousands of hockey players would step into his skateswithout thinking about the cost. Spit out all their front chiclets? Where do I sign? Tear a groinmuscle? No problem. Take an eighty-mile-an-hour puck to the face that breaksa jaw or orbital bone? A shot of cortisol and some stitches, and I’m back onthe ice without missing a shift.
She lay quietly.
“You still with me, or have I killed you with boredom?”
She squeezed his fingers. “Still here. Just processing. Keepgoing. I want to learn more.” With a little sigh, she added, “I love the soundof your voice.”
That made his cock stir. He tried to ignore thetightening his thin boxers wouldn’t contain. “I made it to The Show earlierthan I expected. That’s when I met Becks. He was a helluvagood hockey player, one I’d always admired. He took me under his wing.”
“In the hockey department or the party department?”
“Man, you’re nosey.”
She snickered. “I prefer inquisitive. You were saying…”
“I’ll admit I wanted to match Becks on and off theice, though I didn’t touch the drugs. The alcohol I took care of on my own.”
“Mr. Jameson?”
His stomach executed a slow roll, like a rotisserie spitspeared through a dripping, greasy hunk of meat. “Shit, don’t remind me.”
“You did earn it.”
“Smartass. Yeah, I did. Anyway, there I was, this kid withno home, no ties, making tons of money, trying to leave my past behind, so Iwent a little nuts.”
“Understandable,” she said softly. “Did it work?”
He tugged her hand up a little higher and wrapped his armsaround it. “For a while. I was playing hockey, having lots of fun, meeting myhockey heroes, but it started to catch up. Guess you can’t run from your demonsforever.”
Why was he even going there? Because hecould. He could talk about this with her like he’d never opened up toanyone. Maybe it was the alcohol still floating in his system, or maybe it waslying in the dark, but some of the shackles of his past seemed to loosen.
Natalie shook her head, and her hair tickled his bare skin.“Those demons can be pretty tenacious. You’ve got to show them you’re tougher.”
He rolled onto his back. She was backlit by the moon outsideher window, and he took her in, this fierce warrior woman. The thin black strapof her camisole hugged the curve of her shoulder. Her hair, long and loose,draped onto the pillow. Everything about Natalie glowed: her skin, her darkwaves, her eyes. God, she was beautiful.
His heart burst with an Ilove you, taking him by surprise. Jesus, he’d said it earlier, hadn’t he?Out loud, when he’d been wasted. He cringed inside with the realization.
Natalie blinked. “Right?”
“What?”
“Give the demons a John Wick ass-kicking.”
He chuckled. “Easier said than done.” He twiddled a strandof her hair and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch. Her face was smalland cool in his hand, her skin light compared to his. She was silk, a whippedmeringue to his burlap and chaff.
An image of a bloodied, bruised woman’s face, her bones shattered,barreled into his consciousness, making him recoil inside, sending his heartcrashing against his ribs.
Mom.
Natalie must have sensed the shift inside him because shelaid her head on his shoulder and, in a voice as soft as a breeze, said, “Can youtell me about your parents?”
God, he didn’t want to dive any deeper than he already hadtonight, hunting his demons down. He’d rather open a vein and bleed out slowly.But wasn’t that exactly what he’d been doing his entire adult life?
“Don’t think I can go there right now,” he said.
She nodded against him. His racing pulse ratcheted back afew notches as he toyed with her tresses. He closed his eyes, breathingin the scent of her hair, her skin, her serenity, fortifying himself against thefamiliar, agonizing question that tore at him.
Was he capable of his father’s viciousness?
CHAPTER 28
Still Waters
Gears were locking into place.Everything was beginning to fit now, and Natalie had a betterunderstanding of the enigma that was T.J. Shanstrom.And her heart ached for him. The stoic façade, arm’s-length relationships, andhooded eyes served one purpose: to keep a very tender heart well out of harm’sway.
He’d been hurt badly. Melissa had trampled him. Who doesthat anyway? Natalie held back her gust of contempt.
Beneath her hand, T.J. lay frozen, every muscle taut, coiledas though he prepared to spring into action. She’d stirred something big andbad inside him, and the kimono was closed, cinched tight.
Deflect. “Tell me about the tattoo?”
His body relaxed a fraction, then a fraction more. “Now?”His deep timbre rolled from his chest in calm waves. “How about I take you tobreakfast first? Then we’ll get Ford.” He peered at her, and though the roomwas dim, she felt his eyes, like tractor beams, locked on her.
I love you, Natalie Amber Eyes. Had he meant it? Orhad it been a drunken mumble?
“Actually, I have a better idea.” He was grinning now, whiteteeth flashing in the gloom. Hailey cartwheeled through her stomach. Yes!
“How about I take you to breakfast and tonight I take youout for dinner?”
“Like a date?” she squeaked. God, she sounded laughable,like a teenager dragging her sneaker toe in the dirt, unable to look at thehunky captain of the football team talking to her. Holding her. Without his clothes on. Yeah, okay, so she’d
