Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

JACK

T he start of my pro career has been, on one hand, awesome—having made two assists and scoring a goal against Dallas. There’s no doubting I’m happy with the way things are going. Even Tyler’s set aside our differences on the ice, and the past four days have been less dramatic.

Though that’s where the positives have stopped. Off the ice, he won’t even look in my direction, let alone speak to me. It’s possible he thinks I care about his cold shoulder.

Too bad I don’t.

I’ve been living in Brooklyn for just over three weeks, and other than my teammates, Jon, and Mum, I know next to no one.

What I have found is the best bakery a couple of blocks down from my three-bedroom apartment. And it sells cakes that are almost as good as being back home in the UK.

Almost.

Rise Up is jam-packed as I push through the door and pull off my beanie, shoving it in my jacket pocket. It’s early October, and the temperatures in Brooklyn have already fallen to below freezing.

As the line of customers moves forward, Ed—the owner and main guy who usually serves me—approaches with an extended arm and shakes my hand over the counter. The first game of the regular season is in two days, and I probably—definitely—should not be here. But whatever. He makes scones the way they should be made.

“Jack, nice to see you, man. What can I get for you?”

I tap the glass a couple of times and point to a cherry scone and then a brownie right at the back. “These two, please, Ed.”

He nods and gets to work. “To eat in or take out?”

Since I don’t have practice or any commitments today, I have time to kill. I swivel round, searching out a place to sit. Every table in the small café is taken, but as I’m about to give up and ask for them to be bagged, my attention snags on a mass of blonde hair. Her back is to me as she bends over the table, tapping away on her phone.

I turn back to Ed, my day already feeling a little fuller. “Eat in, please, and can I take an extra scone?”

With a plate in each hand, I come to stand in front Kendra as she remains focused on her phone. I realize she’s calculating something when I see the app she has open. As she hits the total button, she lets out a forlorn sigh and drops her head down on the table, the screen reading, -200.

I pull out the chair opposite Kendra, setting the plate down in front of her, jam and clotted cream on the side of the scone. “Is this seat taken?” I ask, sitting down anyway.

“Huh?” She lifts her head, and it’s then I see the dark circles around her eyes.

Fuck.

“Hey,” I say when she looks from the scone to me and then does a double take.

She pushes her hair away from her face, straightens in her chair, and quickly locks her phone. “Jack, um, what are you doing here?”

My eyes are still fixed on her, and I lean back in my seat and pick up my brownie, taking a bite. She’s not wearing an inch of makeup, and her hair isn’t styled, but fuck if that doesn’t make her more beautiful.

Even more stunning than when I saw her at Lloyd’s.

Swallowing my mouthful, I try to act like I’ve casually bumped into a friend on a whim and I’m not fantasizing about the way I’d bring her here for breakfast the morning after having her in my bed all night.

I normally smile a lot, but I’m starting to realize I wear a particular one around Kendra, and it’s all over my face right now.

“I live a couple of blocks away, and this is the best café I’ve found so far.”

I move my plate to the side and lean on my forearms, eyes still on her and the smile aching in my cheeks. “What about you?”

She glances down at the scone in front of her and then back up at me. “I don’t usually, but I was in this part of town, and it’s freezing outside, so I came in to get warm and grab a coffee.”

I take in her face as she tries to smile but fails.

“What’s this?” she asks, pointing at her plate.

I pull back, my eyes wide with shock. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Um … no, I literally have no idea what it is.” Her brows knit together.

I tip my chin at her plate. “It’s probably easier if you try it.”

She scrunches up her nose, which makes her even fucking cuter. Like a kitten refusing to follow instructions. “Do you dip it in the jam?”

A laugh bubbles out of me as I clasp my hands under my chin. “What, like a fry in ketchup?”

“Yeah?” She shrugs her shoulders, lifting her deep brown eyes to mine for the first time .

Jesus.

We maintain eye contact as I reach out with one hand and pull her plate toward me. Picking up the knife set on the side, I cut the still-warm scone in half. “These are English scones. You can get them plain, with currants, or flavored with cheese.”

She motions to the scone. “I’ve only been to England a couple of times, and that was when we watched my dad play. We never ate those when I was there.”

I flick my gaze up to hers and find her watching me intently. “Back home, there’s this ongoing debate about whether you should put the cream on before the jam or the other way around.”

“Which way do you take it?” Kendra asks.

To prevent my laughter, I bite on the inside of my cheek. There are so many ways I could turn this conversation in a completely different direction.

I spread cream and then jam on one half and do the opposite on the other. And when I slide the plate back her way, this time, she reaches out and brings it in front of her.

“Why don’t you settle opinions for a nation and tell me?” I reply.

The second she brings one half to her lips, I instantly regret throwing on gray sweatpants to come down here. I’ll freely admit that I’ve thought about how Kendra’s mouth would feel more times than I probably should have, but letting her know that with my dick is not ideal.

She swallows down her first mouthful and twists her lips to the side.

“Good?” I ask.

“Hmm …” She rests her cheek in her left palm and then picks up the untouched half in her other hand, this one with the cream underneath. “I need to compare before I give you my decision.”

When she finishes her second bite, she sets the remainder of the half down and looks intensely at the plate.

“I like how seriously you’re taking this,” I say .

For the first time since I sat down, she smiles, and even if it’s only brief, it makes me feel good, knowing I’ve distracted her from whatever is responsible for the circles under her eyes.

“It feels kind of weird to have the jam on top of the cream.” She points at the second half she bit into and pins her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m saying jam first, cream second.”

I sit back in my chair and run a hand through my hair, and she tracks my movements.

Is it possible Kendra Hart finds me attractive?

“Good answer,” I reply.

She breathes out a sigh of relief as she crosses her legs underneath the table, picking up her phone in the process. “Okay, phew. That was a lot of pressure for a Wednesday morning.”

I nod at the phone in her hand, remembering her reaction to the calculator. “Wanna talk about it?”

She pockets her mobile and brings her hands to the table in front of her, twisting them together. “No offense, Jack, but why do you care? I’m the enemy, aren’t I?”

I can’t stop the way my brows pull together. I don’t like her thinking my issues with Tyler extend to her. Because of her? Yeah. But again, how the fuck am I supposed to tell Kendra that I’ve harbored a crush on her for years?

“You aren’t the enemy, Kendra,” I reply.

“Because I’m not with Tyler anymore?” she asks.

I shake my head, my smile obvious. “You’ve never been the enemy. I care because I saw.” I pause, sitting forward and drumming my fingers lightly on the table, searching for the right words. “I care because I saw a girl being treated like shit by a guy who was supposed to care for her. And nearly two weeks later, I see her with her head in her hands and circles around her eyes. I was brought up to give a shit about others.”

Her full lip makes its way back between her white teeth as she nods subtly. “I … ugh … I’m kind of in a bit of a jam, and I’m running out of options beyond my teammate’s sofa bed. ”

“Wait,” I say, rage tearing through me. “You’re telling me you lived with him and he kicked you out?”

She shakes her head. “Nah. It’s actually worse. I had my own place, but the night after I ended it with Tyler, the ceiling in my apartment fell in.”

I sit up. “Shit. Fuck. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. My apartment? Not so much. My landlord initially told me it would be several weeks to get it fixed and livable again, so I figured I’d ride it out in Jenna’s living room. But since the mattress is like sleeping on nails and she’s, well, in a new relationship …”

Her cheeks flush as she looks up at me, and, fuck, I’m growing hard again.

She clears her throat. “So, yeah, last night, my landlord called me to say the contractors working on the repairs had found asbestos.”

“Shit,” is all I can manage.

“Yep.” She pops the P . “I’m being released from my lease early since the entire building is now condemned, and I’m left trying to find a new place on a limited budget and a pathetic contribution from my team since the league isn’t made of money …” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “And moving into team housing is not what I want to do.”

I go to open my mouth, but she cuts me off.

“Oh, and before you ask, no, I don’t want to ask my dad for money or my brother or anyone else for help. I made it as a pro soccer player, and at twenty-two, I’m not about to ask my parents for handouts.” She sits back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest in frustration.

Her eyes narrow at me as I smile at her—again.

“It’s not funny, Jack.”

I hold out a hand in defense. Yeah, this girl is definitely giving me kitten vibes. “Whoa, whoa. I never said it was.”

She huffs and looks down at the floor, pinks still painting her cheeks. I know Kendra’s dad was a big-time Premier League player back in the day, and her brother, Ollie, is also playing in Europe right now. They could easily put her up in a penthouse, but something tells me this girl has fought her way to the top of a game that’s male-dominated, and it’s that same determination that’s causing her to hang back from going to them for money.

“I respect the fact that you don’t want to go to your family for help. Also that you want to have your own space.”

“Thank you,” she replies on an exhale.

“Was that how much you’re short for a new place? Two hundred?” I ask, remembering the figure on her phone.

She uncrosses her legs before crossing them over again in the opposite direction. “Yes. I was viewing a place not far from here. It was perfect, but with the bills and even with the contribution from the Storm, I’d fall way short each month, and I can’t get by on that, obviously.”

Even in my first season in the NHL, I earn way more than I can spend. Both my parents are comfortable, and my sister is just like Kendra—fiercely independent and working two jobs to get her through the last year of college.

“I’m sorry, Kendra,” I reply. “What about farther out of Brooklyn?”

She shakes her head. “I guess that’s my only option other than sharing a house. I can’t wait to get up at four a.m. and ride the subway across town. A pro athlete, and I can’t even afford my own place.” Her voice wobbles on the final word, and, fuck, now I want to wrap my arms around her.

Silence stretches between us for a few seconds, and then it hits me.

My place.

Sure, she’d be living with me and not on her own, but I’m about to start a season where I’ll be away as much as I’m at home.

As I fight with the fear of her laughing straight in my face, I open my mouth to suggest my idea when she pushes back from the table and swipes a quick hand under her eye .

She swings her rucksack onto her back and throws me a brief glance, eyes shining with tears. “Thank you for the scone and for making me smile today. Trust me, I needed it.” She pushes her chair back under the table and looks at me again. “I hope you kill it this season. Ty always said you were riding on your stepdad’s success, but from what I’ve seen in preseason footage, you absolutely aren’t.”

Before I get a chance to reply, she’s past me and heading for the door.

I lean back in my chair and squeeze my eyes shut, knowing this is an awesome but also incredibly stupid idea.

“Kendra,” I say, opening my eyes to see her already out the door.

“Kendra,” I repeat, hot on her heels and waving to Ed on my way out.

“Hart!” I shout down the bustling sidewalk as I push through bodies, trying to get to her.

Jesus, this girl walks fast.

Since I don’t have her phone number and no clue where Jenna lives, this is my one opportunity. And as I reach a crossroads, I look left and then right, but can’t see her, and my heart drops an inch in my chest.

Fuck, Jack. You should’ve just asked her in the café and not pussied out.

“Jack?”

I spin around to find Kendra standing behind me, pulling a purple beanie over her head.

“You basically ran straight past me, calling my name.” She chuckles.

When I step up to her, we’re only a couple of feet apart as the Wednesday morning crowds continue to push and knock past us.

“So … this might sound kind of crazy.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweats, already prepared for the look on her face when I say it .

“Go on,” Kendra says cautiously.

I thumb over my shoulder. “You remember I said I only live a couple of blocks away, right?”

She nods and then checks her watch. Fuck, she needs to be somewhere.

“All I’m saying is, I have a three-bedroom apartment with a solid ceiling, and I’ll be away a lot of the time so you could … if you wanted …”

Her eyes grow wide as she connects the dots. “Jack, are you suggesting I?—”

I can’t fucking stop myself when I place a palm on her upper right arm, and she cuts herself off. The second I touch her, I expect her to move away and for me to be filled with regret, but she doesn’t, and I’m not.

“I get it,” I reply. “Tyler, me, and the possible complications that could bring. But I can’t let you walk away from me and not offer the huge amount of space I have. You can treat the place like it’s yours. You won’t need to pay rent because I don’t fucking need it. You can save up for something, you know, that won’t collapse on you. You won’t even need to use the same bathroom as me.”

Stop talking now, Jack.

Kendra continues to stare at me, her face about as shocked as I expected.

I pull out my phone and bring up my number on the screen, handing it to her. “You don’t need to make a decision right now. Think on it if you want. But here’s my number.”

She types my details into her Contacts and then hands me my mobile, her upper lip raising slightly. “I don’t even know what to say.”

I shrug like I’m not fucking desperate to hear her thoughts. “It’s nothing. I could use a few more friends around this city anyway.”

When she flips her hair out of her jacket collar, I’m hit with something sweet I remember from college, and it takes me right back to the house parties we both went to, but never really spoke at.

Checking her watch again, she winces. “I need to get to an appointment, but is it okay if I think about it? It’s just … with Tyler and?—”

“He doesn’t need to know,” I interrupt.

On another wince, she takes a step around me before turning and smiling again. “I’ve got your number, Jack. I’ll be in touch. And thanks again for … well, everything.”