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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dozer

Before her invite, I was still pretty convinced that Marissa didn’t really like me. Saw me as an object of pity? Sure. Otherwise, I’m not sure what else could’ve motivated her to help me out with my car like she did.

And maybe it’d be safer for me if I just let her go on pitying me without insisting on paying her back. But my own sense of honor won’t let that kind of debt go unpaid. It’s not like she did something small and frivolous that could easily be swept aside. She took hours out of her life to take me shopping and then showed me how to replace my own battery.

There’s no way I’ll still remember what to do whenever I might need that knowledge again, of course, but that’s not the point at all.

The point is, she helped me out of a jam. I owe her, hence the tickets. And that’s apparently set us on the road to some kind of friendship.

Based on what she said, I’m guessing I’m the only non-coworker she knows here. And since she’s in charge of her office, I can see how it might be difficult to strike up a friendship with other people at work when you’re the boss.

Even though it’s a friendly hangout at a bar, I still change into a pair of dark wash jeans and a gunmetal gray button-down shirt that I leave untucked and cuffed at the elbows. I slip on my favorite pair of black leather loafers, and I’m good to go. I shoot her a text to let her know I’m heading to my car.

I’m not sure if she just lounges around all dolled up or what, but I don’t have to wait long for her to appear, and when she does, she looks stunning.

She’s not in her usual workwear that makes her look stiletto sharp and forbidding. Jeans and a leather jacket make her look almost approachable. Almost .

If I didn’t know she’s actually funny and down to earth, I’d still think she’s a prissy princess in this outfit with her immaculate makeup and hair and her almost casual outfit. Sure, she’s wearing jeans, but there’s nothing casual about the way she carries herself.

She’s a ballbuster. A go-getter. It’s no surprise she rose through the ranks at her job. She’s the take no prisoners type without a doubt.

A wide smile stretches across her face as she approaches me, and I almost glance behind me to make sure there’s not someone else she might be smiling at. I manage to return her smile like a normal person, though, instead of acting like a dumbass.

“Thanks for coming out with me,” she says as she stops in front of me. “I felt too cooped up, but the thought of going out alone also sounded terrible.”

“My pleasure.” I step to the passenger door and pull it open for her. “M’lady,” I say with a little bow.

She laughs, which was the goal and makes me smile like an idiot, and climbs into the cab. “Thank you, good sir,” she replies in a fake quasi-British accent.

Chuckling, I close the door and walk around to the driver’s side. When I climb in, she’s buckled and examining the interior. Good thing I got it detailed recently. I try to keep my car fairly clean, but sometimes wrappers and random papers end up circulating on the passenger side.

“She’s running good for you with the new battery?” she asks as I buckle myself in.

“Good as new.” My truck starts immediately when I turn the key in the ignition, no hint of spluttering. “I know it’s not as fancy as your car,” I start, but she holds up a hand to stop me.

“Please. I don’t need any justification for a modest car. Before I got my current car a couple years ago, I drove the old Subaru my parents got me when I turned sixteen. It still worked. I did all the maintenance. It was paid for. There was no reason to upgrade, in my opinion.”

I glance at her as I get us on the road to the Salty Salmon, where I know we won’t be bothered by random fans. “What made you finally get a new car?”

She makes a face. “When the amount of work and money needed to keep that car going became too much.” She sighs heavily. “Plus, I was getting pressure at work to upgrade my car.” When I glance at her again, she’s giving me a meaningful look. “I represent the company, after all. And an older car isn’t the image they want their representatives to give off. The only reason they didn’t give me much grief before was because my track record spoke for itself. None of my clients had any complaints—about me or my car—but when the head of the office here announced he’d be retiring, it became more important to follow their guidelines if I wanted to get the promotion.”

“That makes sense,” I murmur. “That’s cool you kept that car for so long. That’s like me and my truck. I bought it when I first started getting paid to play hockey. I could afford something newer and fancier. The last woman I dated didn’t understand why I wouldn’t upgrade.” I make a face. “We went to a cabin with a couple of my teammates over the summer, and she insisted I rent a nicer car for the drive.” I glance over at Marissa, who’s watching me, rapt. “It was only a few hours’ drive, by the way. And my pickup is just as roomy as that car.” I shake my head in disgust, both at her insistence that my truck was beneath her—because even if she didn’t come right out and say that, that’s what she was thinking—and at the fact that I gave in.

What was I thinking?

Oh, right. I wasn’t. Well, I guess I was, but I was thinking I wanted to keep her happy so she’d keep having sex with me. I was thinking that’s what you do in a relationship, right? Make sacrifices for the other person’s happiness? Except somehow, she never seemed to need to sacrifice anything on my behalf. And all she wanted from me was money. Money for fancy clothes, fancy cars, fancy furniture …

None of my simple, practical choices were ever good enough for her, even though some of the things she disliked—like my couches—were plenty expensive. They just don’t look flashy.

And with her, it was all about looks from start to finish. I just wish I would’ve realized that sooner.

Marissa clears her throat, pulling me out of my dreary thoughts. “How long ago did that end?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Not long enough.” Shaking my head, I glance at her again. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be griping about my ex while we’re together, should I?”

She gives me a small smile. “Gripe away. We’re friends, right? Don’t friends complain about their shitty exes? I could trade stories with you if you like.”

That makes me grin. “I’m not the only one with a track record of picking badly, I take it?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I never thought about it that way, really. I just have a tendency to give people too many chances. Or at least, I gave one man too many chances, and I’ve promised myself that I won’t do that again. That relationship lasted several years too long, and the ones since have all been short-lived because I wasn’t willing to put up with anyone’s crap anymore.”

I grunt. “That sounds like a pretty good way to look at it, if you ask me. I should do the same thing. I don’t give people too many chances, but I do assume the best and rationalize their bad choices until it’s blindingly obvious they’re just using me.”

“Quite a pair we make, don’t we?”

I flash her a grin. “At least we know we have something in common.”

She chuckles. “I guess so.”

After parking and climbing out of the truck, I stuff my hands in my pockets so I don’t do something dumb like reach out to put my hand on the small of her back when we enter the bar.

Ryan, the manager, is behind the bar tonight, and he lifts his chin in greeting when we walk in. “Heya, Dozer. Nice job at the preseason game the other night. It’s always fun watching the D-men score.”

“Not as much fun as a goalie goal, though,” I shoot back. “But yeah. Lighting up the lantern always feels good.”

“How’s it feel being back without Easton?”

“It’s weird. We’ve been playing together so long, and usually on the same line. I keep looking for him on the ice, but he’s not there.” I shake my head.

“He’ll definitely be missed. I’d hoped to at least see him around here, but I heard he moved out to a small town in the mountains?”

“Yeah. He’s got plans for starting some kind of youth hockey thing over there. But the real reason he stayed is ’cause he met a chick.”

Ryan’s eyebrows go up. “Ah. I hadn’t heard that tidbit. Have you met the lucky lady?”

“I did. Didn’t spend a lot of time with her?—”

“I’m sure Easton kept her plenty busy,” Ryan quips, and I grin before continuing.

“Something like that. She seems nice, though. Quiet. But he fell hard and fast.” I shrug. “You know how that goes.”

“Don’t I ever.” Ryan’s on his third wife, and while this one’s held on the longest, the start of their relationship was fast and furious, if the stories he tells are to be believed.

“This is my friend, Marissa. She’s new in town, so I wanted to show her the best places to get a drink.”

“Places, plural?” Ryan pastes on an offended look. “And where else’re you gonna go that’s as good as here?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Nowhere. Why d’you think we’re here?”

“That’s the answer. What’re you drinking tonight?”

I glance at Marissa, who has almost a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. “Oh, uh … what do you have on tap?”

Ryan lists off the beers and Marissa chooses one of my favorites. “Same for me,” I chime in, then I lead Marissa to one of the secluded booths in the back.

A couple of minutes later, a waitress brings over our beers. “Need anything else?” she asks.

I look questioningly at Marissa, who shakes her head. “I’m good.”

“We’re good. Thanks.”

With a professional smile and a nod, the waitress leaves us. We sip our beers, and I watch Marissa look all around the bar before finally bringing her gaze back to mine.

We’re supposed to be here as friends. This isn’t a date. But somehow it sure feels like an awkward first date. The little bit of rapport we had in the car seems to have evaporated now that we’re here.

“So you come here a lot, I take it?” she asks, sipping her beer delicately and blotting her mouth with the drink napkin below her glass.

This is the same woman who the other night got her hands dirty changing my car battery, streaking grease on her face when she unconsciously rubbed a dirty finger across her cheek to get a strand of hair out of her face. The juxtaposition is enough to make me smile.

She narrows her eyes at me. “What?” She looks over her shoulder, but the only thing behind her is a wall. “What’s so funny?”

Shaking my head, I look down at my own beer and take a sip. “Nothin’,” I mumble after I swallow. “Yeah. I come here pretty often. The whole team does. Like I said, they make sure we aren’t mobbed here. And the staff all knows us on sight. Ryan is the bar manager, but just as often the owner’s around either working the bar or running drinks to customers. It’s one of the reasons we like this place. We know everyone, and they know us. When someone new joins the team, we bring ’em here for a drink and introduce ’em around. And they do the same with us. Whenever we come in and someone new’s working, either Ryan or the owner makes sure we meet them.”

“That sounds really nice,” she says so softly I almost don’t hear her.

“What about at your work? Did they do anything to welcome you to your new role?”

She lets out a rueful chuckle. “The CEO sent me a welcome basket that I shared with the office. And my generosity was met with a host of complaints from people not liking the selections and one person with a nut allergy loudly griping that nearly all of the snacks contained nuts, and the few that didn’t had something else he was allergic to.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, I get that food allergies suck, but A—I didn’t pick out the basket“—she holds up a hand, ticking off her points on her fingers, “two—I had no idea anyone in the office had food allergies, since it was my first. Day. ” She drops her hand, and I hide my smile at her mix of letters and numbers. “And finally, I didn’t even have to share any of it. I did it as a gesture of goodwill! I took one thing .” She plants her elbow on the table and holds up a finger in illustration. “One. And gave the rest away out of a basket sent just to me. So, yeah. That’s how I was welcomed to my new office.”

“Yikes,” I murmur, and she lets out another humorless laugh.

“Yeah. Yikes.” She spreads her hands. “So you see why I’m having difficulty making friends here.”

I grin. “Well, I think I can help you with that.”