Blindsided Read online

  “Then bring them along.” They can chaperone, he silently added. She stared at the refrigerator door and didn’t say anything. “Getting cold feet?”

  “No,” she answered slowly, “doing the math on what another motel room will do to the expense sheet.”

  What an innocent. “You guys are welcome to crash with Nic and me.”

  She laughed and came off the counter. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said, grinning as she picked up her mug again. “We’ll get our own room.”

  Yeah, Nic was right. She was a babe in the woods. Nic always put an accent on babe, though. But Logan would behave himself, even if it killed him. It would be just too easy to sweep Cat off her sweet little feet. Logan cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Speaking of Millie, where is she?”

  “In the study, I think. She went after the pictures of you and Tom and probably got distracted by something else. I’ll go check on her. Be right back.” She came around the bar and headed out of the kitchen, adding over her shoulder, “If you want a cookie, help yourself. There are fudge covered grahams in the jar.”

  A cookie would be nice. But the kind in a jar wasn’t what he had in mind. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Needing and wanting were two different things. He didn’t need a cookie. Of either kind. The one out of the jar would put him back on the fat sloth track. And the one wearing jeans and the knit shirt would complicate the hell out of his life. Aside from being the owner of the team and his employer, she wasn’t the sort of woman who did one-night stands. And he sure didn’t want anything more than that.

  “She’s gone to bed,” Cat said from behind him. “I looked for the pictures, but didn’t see them anywhere. I hope you don’t mind not getting them tonight.”

  He watched her come around the breakfast bar. Nope, wants got a man into trouble more often than not. The deeper the want, the deeper the regret. “Some other time. Maybe Millie can bring them along to Albuquerque.”

  “Good idea. I’ll make sure they get packed.”

  He absently twisted his cup on the counter and asked, “Is she forgetting this kind of stuff often?”

  “It sort of depends on how much has been crammed into the day. If there’s been a lot of information to keep track of, or a lot of tasks involving complex steps, she’s more likely to drift away.”

  “Can she handle traveling anymore?”

  Cat shrugged one slim shoulder. “I have no idea. Guess we’ll find out this weekend, huh?”

  She didn’t look all that optimistic about the possibilities. “If you ever need any help with her, all you have to do is ask, okay? Whatever, whenever. Call me.”

  She looked at him like he’d just morphed into a lost puppy. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

  His stomach quivered. His blood went hot and straight to his groin. And his brain said, reach for her or run. “Well, I should be going,” he said, climbing off the bar stool. “It’s getting late.”

  “Yeah, tomorrow is a workday,” she agreed, coming around the end, apparently intending to walk him to the door. “At least I don’t have to be at the rink by five.”

  He didn’t exactly run down the hallway, but he didn’t waste any time, either. As retreats went, it probably would have gone into the “cool but desperate” column. “I’ve moved practices to six if we play the night before,” he supplied to cover it. “My days of operating well on four or five hours of sleep are long gone.”

  She said something about understanding how that went, but her comment didn’t require a reply, so he didn’t offer one and kept going. He was out on the porch, breathing cool air and with his car and escape in sight when she said, “Hey, Logan?”

  He stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back.

  “Thanks for being willing to compromise.”

  He shrugged and waved goodbye without saying another word. He’d already said way too many of them tonight. And made deals he shouldn’t have. He’d even invited her out on the road with the team. He was already sorry he’d done that and they weren’t even to the motel in Albuquerque yet. Thank God Millie and Kyle were going to be there. Little old ladies and young boys were great buffers.

  Chapter Seven

  C at rolled her suitcase down the sidewalk thinking how wonderful it was that sometimes, usually when you least expected it, life served up a reward or two. A weekend away. Alone. Well, not exactly alone, but close enough to have her practically hyperventilating in anticipation. Bless Lakisha’s aunt Florence. Bless the exterminator who said the older woman had to vacate her house for a few days. It had been a sign from the gods of bubble baths and romance novels. To ignore it would have invited a lightning bolt.

  Florence Jackson was delightful and grateful that she didn’t have to go to a motel. Millie and she had taken to each other in an instant and discovered a mutual love of cribbage within the next five. Kyle had been bummed to discover that he wasn’t going to get out of a science and a math test after all, but was relieved to know that he wasn’t going to have to miss his Saturday morning hockey game. Add in two new DVDs, two older women who considered him an absolutely darling boy who deserved to be spoiled rotten… On balance, he was happy enough with the way things had worked out that he was even willing to learn to play cribbage.

  She stopped beside the underneath storage compartment of the bus and undid the bungee cords that held the cardboard box on top of her suitcase

  “Where are Millie and Kyle?”

  She smiled up at Logan as he stopped beside her. He was tall and just too handsome to be real. And Lord help her, she couldn’t remember ever seeing a man who looked as sexy in a suit and tie. She cleared her throat quietly. “Home,” she supplied, handing him the box. “Lakisha’s aunt is staying with them this weekend. Millie didn’t come right out and say so, but I think she was incredibly relieved to get out of going. She and Florence—that’s Lakisha’s aunt—have a very busy weekend planned. Music Theater is doing Chicago and the library is having a used book sale.” She punched down the handle on her suitcase and handed the whole thing over to the bus driver for stowing.

  “Kyle’s thinking he’s fallen into the honeypot,” she went on as they ambled toward Nic, who stood beside the bus’s open door. “He had his hockey catalogs out this morning, looking for things he can’t possibly live without. I begged Millie not to dial any one-eight hundred numbers while I’m gone, but I think she had her fingers crossed when she said she wouldn’t.”

  “So it’s just you going along.”

  It was a good summation. A little lacking in enthusiasm, but accurate. “Me, my freesia bubble bath and a couple of romance novels that have been on my TBR pile forever.”

  “TBR?”

  “To be read. I can’t wait to curl up and get lost in a romance. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had three whole days of not being a mom-type person? It’s going to be bliss, pure bliss.”

  “They must be big books,” Nic said, eyeing the box Logan held.

  “Oh, the books are in my carry-on bag.” She patted the black nylon courier pouch hanging at her left side. “They’re just regular paperback size. The box is full of trip munchies. I baked brownies and made a big batch of cereal mix. There’s some granola bars, too. And a four pound package of string cheese—individually wrapped portions, of course—and two boxes of those little buttery elf crackers.”

  Nic slid a wide-eyed sort of look at Logan. Logan’s smile looked slightly pained. He cleared his throat. “We’re going to stop along the way to eat.”

  “You never know when traveling,” she countered, wondering if he had a wedgie or something. “It’s always best to be prepared. Especially when the bus is as old as this one is.” She took the box from him. “Are there assigned seats?”

  Nic answered. “I’d suggest you take one of the ones up front. That way you’re not going to be bothered as much by everyone moving up and down the aisle.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  She started aroun
d them, then stopped as Jace Dody bounded past her and onto the first step. He turned back, grinning. “Hey, Ms. Talbott. Are you going with us this time out?”

  “I am.” Since she wasn’t going any farther than the front row of seats, she held out the box, saying, “And if you’d be so kind, Jace, as to put this box of goodies somewhere on the bus where everyone can get into it, I’d be really appreciative.”

  “You’re awesome, Ms. T.”

  She followed him up and into the bus, glad that someone appreciated her procurement and late-night cooking efforts. Too bad Nic and Logan didn’t know how to have a good time on a bus. It was their loss, though, and she wasn’t going to waste one minute of reading pleasure over it. Cat dropped into the first seat, scooted until her back was against the side, then turned and put her feet up. She was into chapter two by the time the doors closed and the bus lumbered out of the parking lot.

  Cat opened her eyes and looked around. God, the last thing she remembered was seeing the sign for the World’s Deepest Hand Dug Well and thinking that it might be something they should stop and see on the way home. The sun had been drifting slightly toward the west then and they’d been in Greens-burg. Kansas, still, but definitely with a desert edge. Now… She studied the town and land outside the window as the boys filed past her and out the door. The land was not just past the edge of desert, it was well into the middle of it. The buildings were adobe—white and pink and tan, their windows lit with neon signs. One of them claimed that the Tucumcari Café had good eats.

  She scrubbed her hands over her face and swung her feet to the floor. Her book tumbled to the seat beside her and she quickly found the last passage she remembered reading, then laid it facedown so she could come back to it when they started rolling again.

  Her knees creaked as she stood and a twinge shot through her lower back when she straightened. Thinking that being able to stand under the overhead storage compartment was the one good thing about being short, she looked back to see if there was a break in the manly parade that she could slide into. Nic, the very last man in the line, grinned and made one for her, inviting her to step into it with a sweep of his hand.

  Cat smiled her thanks and forced her stiffened joints to move. She managed to be fairly smooth until she started down the steps. It was there that her knees and ankles had to really coordinate. They didn’t. And Logan was there to see the less than graceful effort.

  His grin went from ear to ear as he stepped up and held out both hands for her. Under normal circumstances she’d have hesitated to take them. But having all the elegance of a drunken sailor made a difference; accepting help was a whole lot less embarrassing than falling off the bus. She grabbed his hands, held on for dear life, and let him guide her down the steps.

  A series of realizations stuck her as she reached the ground and looked up at him. He smelled really, really good. Spicy and woodsy. His hands were huge, but gentle. And she liked the way hers felt wrapped up in them. She liked standing in front of him even more. She felt warm and wonderfully sheltered. God, he’d be heaven to kiss. And, judging by how his smile softened, he knew just what she was thinking.

  She mentally kicked herself and pulled her hands free. To salvage her dignity, she stepped to the front of the bus and looked around Tucumcari. The boys were spreading out, heading in twos and threes toward various fast-food places. Will Rivera was the only one alone and he was walking slowly, his head down, toward a Laundromat.

  She looked over her shoulder at Logan and Nic. “Where’s Will going?”

  Neither one of them moved to where they could see him. Nic shrugged. “Who knows. He’s a goalie.”

  She thought about it and then frowned. “If that’s supposed to be an explanation, I’m not getting it.”

  “Goalies are different,” Nic explained. “They go around in their own world. It’s a zone thing. It’s kinda like they can never quite come all the way out of it and be regular.”

  She must have looked as confused as she still was because Logan added, “It takes incredible focus to be a goalie. They hone in and the stuff on the edges just floats out there, not important or worth reacting to until it comes into the center. It’s a playing skill that they have a hard time shutting off sometimes.”

  At the moment, Will Rivera looked honed in on a bank of Maytags. “He won’t wander off into the street, will he?”

  “If a car comes into the zone, he’ll knock it out of the way,” Logan assured her as he stepped to her side. He slipped his hand around her upper arm and gently turned her away from the street. “Let’s go see if the eats really are good.”

  Whether she was walking any more smoothly than before, Cat couldn’t say. Physically, all she was aware of was the warmth and strength of Logan’s hand. Beyond that, in a vague sort of way, loomed the Tucumcari Café.

  She blinked, found her brain and made it focus. Oh, God. She could tell just by looking at the place that everything on the menu was breaded, fried and served up on a bun. A chef salad was her only hope and, if they even had one, it would be nothing more than a few chunks of iceberg lettuce, a handful of processed ham cubes and some shavings of American cheese.

  And the food options aside… Judging by the number of pickup trucks in the parking lot—and the ropes and rifles in the rear window racks inside them—the café was a local hangout. It most definitely wasn’t the kind of place she would have gone into without a cool mountain on one side of her and an Italian fireplug on the other. Nic and Logan were going to be seriously overdressed.

  And she was right. All conversation stopped as they came through the door. Heads turned. Eyebrows went up and the brims of Resistols were pushed back. Her instincts said to turn and walk out. Logan’s and Nic’s apparently said otherwise because they kept right on going. The hum of conversation was just starting back up as they reached the only empty booth in the place. Four older Hispanic-looking men occupied the booth behind the seat Nic and Logan slid into. Two women—the younger of them looking like she’d been in a car wreck that morning—were in the one behind Cat.

  Oh, yeah, just a great place, she silently groused as she tried to find a comfortable place to sit on the vinyl-covered bench. The center springs were totally shot. If she sat there, her chin was only inches off the table. But shot was better than having the springs poke her in the butt like they did on either side of the hole.

  She was resigning herself to Midgetville when the waitress brought over three plastic glasses of water and three plastic-covered menus. They all ordered coffee and Mavis—she’d pointed to the name embroidered on her pink uniform—left them to go get cups and the coffeepot. Cat studied the menu as Logan and Nic did the same. The dinner choices were laid out simply enough: beef, pork, mutton. No salads except those that came with the dinner specials. You could get potatoes fixed six different ways, though. Or opt for three warmed tortillas instead.

  Mavis came back, filled the cups and then set the coffeepot on the table so she could get her order pad and pen out of her pocket.

  Nic ordered the KC strip, cooked Philly black-and-blue style. Mavis gave him a long look and he changed it to very rare. Logan ordered the strip as well, but went for medium. Mavis didn’t have a problem with that. Both of them picked the Freedom Fry option and passed on the hominy side vegetable. Cat handed her menu over to the woman and took a chance on a medium rib eye. Mavis thought that a steak all alone on a plate was weird, but she eventually shrugged and walked off.

  Cat was taking the first sip of what was an amazingly good cup of coffee when Logan reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a folded square of paper. He handed it to her, saying. “I brought the stat and personal sheets in so you could take a look at them. Crockett is the Scorp’s center.”

  She unfolded it, read and winced. “Poor kid.”

  Logan leaned back and cocked a brow. “Why do you say that?”

  “His first name is David. How cruel can a parent be?”

  Nic frowned. “Huh?”

&nbs
p; “Davy Crockett?”

  He shook his head. “Still not getting it.”

  Unbelievable. Cat started reading again. “You had some lousy teachers along the way.”

  “I thought they did real well, considering.”

  She looked back up at him. “Considering what?”

  “They were fitting it all in around practices and traveling.”

  “You’re telling me that you went to a school where hockey came before education?”

  He shrugged. “I played Junior Triple A. We didn’t go to a regular school. It was more like tutors came to us. Logan came out of pretty much the same deal.”

  Logan shrugged one shoulder and nodded. “Good God,” Cat whispered, stunned. Not that she should be, she reminded herself. When she’d lived in Texas, she’d often thought that football was more important to people than academics.

  “We always finished in the top five in the nation,” Nic added. “Had pro scouts watching us from the time we were fifteen or so.”

  Cat sighed. “It’s too depressing for words.”

  A hint of a smile lifted the corners of Logan’s mouth. “Just read the scouting report on Crockett. It doesn’t matter whether or not he knows his multiplication tables.”

  He was right, not that that didn’t depress her even more. She was halfway through the personal bio stuff when she heard the woman behind her say, “So he roughs you up every now and then.”

  Cat sat back, stunned, and turned her ear toward the conversation. Across the table Logan said, “Ignore it, Cat. It’s none of our business.”

  “If you stopped going to get stitches, honey, you two would get along better. The cops showing up at the house just pisses him off all over again.”

  Cat’s mouth fell open. She started to turn. Logan reached across the table and grabbed her by the wrists. “We are in Tucumcari, New Mexico,” he growled. “These people have the means to kill us.”