Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

“With training camp just a few weeks away, fans are anxious for updates on top-liner, Bohdan Zacha. Coach Trasier offered an injury update today. Zacha is in recovery from a concussion and lower body injury. He is expected to attend camp.” Renegades Rinkside Report

Novy

After work on Thursday, I took some time to write out recipes for my channel and design meal plans for my patients. I’d happily spend hours distracting myself with details, with the minutiae of measurements, with the updates from Scout and the girls… with anything that might hold at bay the memory of Boh’s lips on mine. Of kissing him. With each passing day, the memory of the kiss, of the feel of his body beneath mine, of his cock against my belly… the memory was taking on a life of its own, full of sensation, rousing my senses and putting me on edge. I needed to wipe the memory, not turn it into a movie that played over and over in my head.

But the memories stirred up feelings I’d long ago shoved aside.

I shook off the distraction and moved into the kitchen. A grocery list would occupy me for a while. I opened the fridge to take an inventory, but instead of bare shelves and empty crisper drawers, I found all my favorites in plentiful supply.

My groceries had been restocked. Same brands, same quantities, same everything.

A small smile crept onto my face. Maybe I didn’t need to avoid Boh. Maybe I was being ridiculous.

God, I was being pathetic. Was I really going to forget the way he growled at me? Forget his history, put the Killblossoms at risk, just because the man bought me groceries?

And lent me his car so my best friend would be comfortable.

And tugged on my hair in a way I was positive meant he was flirting.

And kissed the living hell out of me?

Yes. Yes, I was.

At the very least, he deserved my appreciation for saving me this chore. The living room was empty, so I slowly moved toward his office. I paused at the door, sucking in a reassuring breath. His voice reached me just as I looked inside. He stood near the window, his cell phone to his ear with one hand, the other holding a single crutch.

“Yes,” he said then, his lightly accented voice a low rumble in the quiet of the space. “Tomorrow morning at eight. Got it.”

He listened for a few more minutes, before speaking again. “And PT at eleven. I’ll be there. I’ll arrange a car to take me.”

When he fell quiet, I slipped into the room. He must have sensed my movement, as he looked up, but he still held the cell to his ear. He wore an irritable expression, scowled at the sight of me, then turned back to the window to finish his conversation. Another minute passed and I shifted from foot to foot. He was already obviously in a bad mood. I should leave. But good manners and a healthy dose of curiosity held me in the room.

Mostly curiosity. And a craving to be in his company, to share his space, even if only for a moment.

Boh ended the conversation and finally turned to face me with his dark brow cocked in question.

I wanted to thank him for restocking my groceries. I wanted to ask why he’d done it. And while we were collecting whys, I wanted to know why he’d pulled my ponytail the other day. Why he’d lent me his truck to pick up Scout.

Were we friends now?

Did I want Boh Zacha for a friend? Could I be in a friendship with a man I was viscerally attracted to?

Add in the elevator kiss and the time I’d spent sprawled on top of him in his bedroom… my emotions danced like a kaleidoscope of different colors and feelings and reactions.

Thoughts and feelings and emotions I’d spent years suppressing.

I attended a million events each year with Scout. Pendleton events. Renegade events.

Boh’d held my attention since the moment the team traded a first round draft pick to get him six years ago. From his welcome press conference to his attendance at the annual spring picnic a couple years ago, he fascinated me.

But it was weird. Watching my best friend pine away for the head coach, her heart a little more fragile with every careless dismissal, I didn’t understand why she didn’t put up a little armor, why she allowed herself to be so vulnerable to a man. Knowing everything she felt for the coach and knowing he either didn’t know or didn’t care broke my heart. I didn’t want to fall into the same trap of an unrequited love affair.

Emotions aside, making a living—earning enough money to safeguard the independence I’d fought for—had to take precedence. What could I offer a man like Boh, a professional athlete at the top of his game? I could barely pay my rent some months, between student loans, credit card debt and all the other expenses that came with a fresh degree and no family support.

So my crush stayed a secret. No, not a crush. My admiration. Because how could you crush on someone you didn’t really know?

But these past weeks sharing space with Bohdan had introduced me to the man behind the image. The surly, grumpy athlete might be going stir-crazy with inactivity, but he had his good side, too. The kind of good side that stocked the fridge with his roommate’s favorite foods.

I thought of the conversation I’d eavesdropped and straightened up my shoulders. Maybe this was just a friendship. I’d take it. I’d curb the need to throw myself at him and be the kind of friend Boh could lean on. “I’m off until Monday. If you need a driver, I can help.”

“Is driving me around part of your agreement with the team?” His voice held a cutting edge. But I’d spent enough time with him now to know it was about the situation and not me.

“It can be this time, if driving you would help you out. I owe you.”

“Owe me?”

I tipped my head in the direction of the kitchen. “For letting me use your car for Scout. And you restocked my groceries. It’s the least I can do.”

He looked away, one shoulder moved in a dismissive shrug as dull color turned the tips of his ears pink. “A few taps on a shopping app. Not a big deal.”

I smiled. “Okay, then. If you prefer a rideshare, that’s fine, too.”

“I hate rideshares.”

I laughed at his grumbly complaint. “Then what time do we need to leave in the morning?”

“I’ve got an appointment with Medical at eight then another with P.T. at eleven. If it’s too long to wait, you can just drop me off and I’ll find my way home.”He sounded like an irritable little boy. “Is there a cafe or somewhere where I can just park my butt and chill?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, his eyes finally latching on to mine. Some of the lines of tension feathering out from his eyes softened. He almost looked grateful. If an arrogant grump like Boh could ever manage gratitude. “The team chef will probably be around. You can wait for me in the team cafeteria.”

My shoulders bunched in excitement, a grin pulling at my lips. “That would be fantastic. You think he’d mind me picking his brain?”

“You can swap refrigerator organizational charts and how to optimize energy levels through protein shakes and whatever else your type likes to talk about while I get cut loose from this cast.”

“I love this plan!”

His eyes flashed with a smile. “You have derby practice or something tonight?”

“No, why? I was going to go shopping, but that was the sum total of my big plans for the night.”

“Grab my key fob and let’s go eat.”

My heart fluttered, but I didn’t hesitate. How silly I’d been all week. No way I was going to miss out on sharing a meal with him. I was going to ace this friend business.

Minutes later, I pulled out of the resident parking area behind the wheel of his gray Range Rover. I sat about a hundred feet higher than when driving the Honda. The seat and mirrors were still positioned the way I’d set them when I took Scout home. Once underway, Boh gave directions, saving me of the torture of programming the fancy infotainment screen embedded in the dash.

When we turned into the parking lot of a steakhouse, a mix of interest and apprehension filled me. I wasn’t one for heavy meals and there were a million better ways to get healthy proteins.

As though he read my thoughts, Boh spoke. “Don’t start. Consider it a reward for surviving the week.”

A host guided us to a table and I thanked them with a smile as I plopped into the chair. “A reward for you or for me?”

He looked up from the menu and slid me a slow wink. “You already had your reward.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. Flirty Boh? Who was this gorgeous man? This did not bode well for Friend Novy. “Someone puts an awful high value on an incomplete little nothing of a moment.”

“A ‘incomplete little nothing of a moment’?” He nodded, set his menu aside and fastened his gaze on me. “Perhaps my English isn’t as good as I thought it was. Is it nothing when a woman crawls all over you? When she kisses you as though starved for oxygen and the only way she can breathe is to steal my—”

“I’m going to have the top sirloin, a nice lean cut of beef will be perfect. With the roasted brussel sprouts and sweet potatoes.”

“I guess your definition of nothing is different from mine.”

His grin did funny things to my belly. His lips made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Awareness sizzled through me, fiery hot. My friend plan wasn’t even an hour old and on the verge of going up in smoke. Between the memories-turned-fantasies playing through my brain all day and having him just a couple feet away and looking at me like he wanted to pick up where we left off, my brain was in meltdown mode.

“So cast off tomorrow?” Because I wanted to know and I needed this conversation to go in a different direction. I loved flirty Boh, but there was only so much a girl could take. I needed a minute to catch up, to wrap my head around the idea that maybe I could flirt back. That maybe I could be interested in a man like Boh.

“Yes. Díky bohu .”

The server appeared to take our order, and in another moment, we were alone again at the table. We’d been seated quickly on our arrival, but over Boh’s shoulder I could see the waiting area was standing room only. Behind the podium, the bar overflowed with people.

“This place is filling up.”

“They have good meat and they show the games on the screen at the back of the bar.”

I saw it then. A giant screen surrounded by shelves of glasses and bottles. The commercial finished and the national broadcast studio appeared, the four hosts behind the curving desk. “What are they showing? The playoffs are over.”

He jerked around to look, before settling back in his chair with an irritable mutter. “Looks like a rebroadcast of the second round.”

A host led two women by our table, but one spotted Boh and stopped with a squeal of excitement. They hovered over our table, phones out, expressions rapturous. “Bohdan Zacha! I’m your biggest fan!”

“ We’re your biggest fans!” One of the women hip-checked the other with a big grin. “We thought you were in rehab!”

“No rehab,” he said, his accent more pronounced than just a moment ago. Tiny lines spidered off from the corners of his eyes, lines that weren’t there a moment ago when he was flirting with me.

“Do you mind if we get a picture?”

“We’re in the middle of a meal.”

“Your food’s not even here yet. I’m sure your date won’t mind, will you, honey?” The taller woman darted a look at me, dismissing me in an instant.

“We’re really big fans. And we have like a million followers. They’d love to see you, too!”

The other woman nodded. “Plus we’re season ticket holders. We never miss a home game!”

Boh shot me a look, a question in his eyes. Was he looking for my okay? I didn’t know what to say and while their presence at our table felt very intrusive, they were right. Our food hadn’t arrived yet and I would hate to leave a bad impression with genuine fans. “I’m good,” I said to Boh. “No worries.”

He stood, moving between the pair and waited as they each raised their phones for selfies. A man sitting at the bar stared at Boh. He leaned to another guy at the bar, smacking his arm to draw attention to Boh. The little hairs along the back of my neck stood up and I chewed my lip.

“So, how’s your injury? We were really worried when we heard you were gonna be out for the rest of the playoffs.”

Boh motioned to the crutches leaning against an unused chair at the table. “Getting there.”

“That’s great, Boh, really great.”

“Hey, Zacha, how about we get a couple of pictures, too?”

It was the men from the bar. They stalked forward, bouncing looks between them. My fingers trembled as I fiddled with the roll of silverware.

Boh rolled his head, as though to relieve tension in his shoulders. “Nah, man, sorry. I’m trying to have a meal with my friend. She’s been patient.”

“What do you mean, no? You just took one with these two chicks?”

“And that’s all the time I have. I’m trying to eat.”

The man shook his head, eyes flaring with the heat of provocation. “Maybe you only like to get pics with the ladies. Make good with ‘em in case you want to fuck them later.”

Boh jerked to face the man fully. “Watch yourself.”

“Oh right. You only fuck your teammates’ girls. Or fuck ‘em over. All looks the same when the team loses.”

“You’ve said enough. Get lost.”

The two newcomers shared a look. We’d gathered a crowd and with a quick look around the restaurant, it felt like every eye was turned in our direction. My pulse hammered and I felt stuck in a flight or fight moment and I wasn’t even the focus of all these people’s attention. What kind of emotions must Boh be feeling?

“You have a lot of nerve, Zacha. You and Hammer lose us the playoffs and then have the balls to turn down a simple request for a pic?”

Boh gave his back to the guys. His gaze searched the spectators. I followed his gaze to see our server standing with plates in her hands and a confused expression. You’re not the only confused one, I thought.

But the guys didn’t relent, elbowing past the women who watched with fascinated glee as Boh came under fire. The louder of the two men spoke. “Got all those millions and can’t even manage to play when we really need you. Record season, asshole, down the drain thanks to you.”

Boh shot to his feet again, his knee knocking against the table, the empty chair. His crutches crashed to the floor with a loud clatter. One hand latched onto the back of the chair, the other clenched into a fist at his side. “You gonna teach me how to lace a pair of skates over a cast, asshole?”

“Somebody needs to teach you what it means to have a little bit of loyalty, that’s for damn sure.”

Boh unfurled his fist and pressed his palm to the fabric of his trousers. I saw it then. The fine tremble in his fingers. Sure it could be rage fueling the reaction. But it could just as easily be frustration or self-loathing, apprehension or anxiety.

When he folded his fingers into another tight ball, I reached across the table and wrapped my fingers around his white-knuckled fist. “Boh.”

“Novy, let go.” His words came with a soft intensity. I wouldn’t have heard him at all if every cell in my body wasn’t focused on him.

“Not worth it, Boh.”

“Fucking right, it’s not.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew his wallet and dropped a handful of bills to the table. “I’m done.”

“Some skills you have, Zacha. Throw money at it and make it disappear. Is that how you handled Beckett’s girlfriend, too?”

My head spun, looking for the source of the words, but I couldn’t tell with so many faces pointed in our direction. People had even left their table to circle around ours and the spectacle these belligerent “fans” had created.

I crouched down to get Boh’s crutches, holding one out to him. His gaze lasered onto mine, hyper-fixated and I recognized the coping mechanism instantly. He was pushing everyone and everything else out. He sucked in a breath, his deep brown eyes never leaving mine as he tucked the crutches under his arms.

“Ready?” I asked softly.

He nodded, turned, and powered through the crowd, his swish-walk leaving a stunned quiet in his wake. I couldn’t resist a last glance at the two men. They grinned at one another, almost high-fiving in their excitement at having “bested” Zacha.

Everything in me wanted to snap, wanted to defend Boh with everything in me.

“Novy, let’s go!”

He stood against the open door, holding it open, a scowl distorting his handsome features. I dismissed the morons and hurried after him.

He brooded in silence the whole trip back to the apartment.

I floundered for the right words to say. I wanted to make him feel better. I had no idea how to go about it. “They were out of line, Boh. I hope you know that.”

He didn’t answer, his face turned away, staring out the passenger side window.

We reached the apartment, and his quiet followed us all the way upstairs. I darted looks in his direction all the way up in the elevator. Watched as he crutch-walked into the apartment, paused when he stopped near the entryway table.

He faced me then. His expression blank, his eyes distant and cold. “Novy, stop staring.”

“I’m not staring, Boh. I’m worried about you.”

“Not the first time dealing with an asshole fan. Comes with the territory.”

“But that felt so personal.”

“Nothing he said was a lie. Nothing he said was even wrong. I did fuck over my teammate, then the team and finally the fans.” He shook his head. “Record breaking season. Best season in franchise history.”

“You can’t help you broke your foot. You can’t do anything to make your concussion heal any faster.”

“I could have not been in that car. Could have respected the game, my team, enough to not take stupid risks.”

“Boh, please, you’re being too hard—”

“Stop looking at me with fucking stars in your eyes.” He whirled around on his crutches, moving into the living room. “I don’t need your ‘worry’ any more than I need a damn Designated Medical Guardian. But we’re stuck together until the docs clear me.”

I trailed after him, my stomach whirling, my eyes stinging.

He stopped at the hall leading to the bedrooms. “That wasn’t a date, Novy. There won’t be any kisses goodnight.”