Across the Line (In The Zone) (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

On the last day she had at the cabin, Becca looked at the sheet of paper on which she’d written the pros and cons of moving to San Diego. Calder’s name headed up the pro column. She was in love with the guy, but she’d never moved in with anyone before. Ever. She’d had a roomie when she was in college and it had taken a long time for them to get used to each other. What if he was a slob? His place had seemed neat enough when she’d been there for the wedding, but he might have just been on his best behavior for the weekend and/or had a maid come. Maybe he usually left his flip-flops all over the house and let the dishes pile up.

On the other hand, he’d have to get used to her too. He might find her a little compulsive about things being in their place. If she reopened Cups in San Diego, he might come to resent her long hours, especially at the beginning.

But if they loved each other, in theory, they should be able to overcome any small irritations that arose day to day.

Second on the pros list was the fact that there would be some distance between her and the family. The surprise visit from her parents had bothered her. The memory of the awkward encounter popped up at inopportune times. Up until then, she’d harbored the slender hope that they were proud of her but couldn’t say so because then they would appear to have been wrong about her quitting med school. But no. Her mother had ladled on a heap of sly criticism, disguised in questions.
Why isn’t there more Chinese food?
Why no waiters?
She supposed she should be grateful her mother had unloaded before Calder’s parents had come. Being thousands of miles away from her parents would be a definite good thing.

Third, Calder did have a point about the weather. San Diego had one of the most temperate climates in the country. It certainly wouldn’t kill her to deal with year-round temps in the seventies and eighties. She would have welcomed the opportunity to get rid of much of her foul-weather gear, except that it had all burned to ashes. And despite what she’d told Calder, she did like wearing flip-flops from time to time especially when she treated herself to a pedicure after being on her feet all day.

In the cons column, there were only two items. The lack of a pretty autumn and a snowy Christmas.

She looked out the window at the trees across the lake. The foliage was gorgeous. A breathtaking tapestry of russet, canary, copper and burgundy, pumpkin and scarlet. People came to the East Coast specifically to enjoy the fall colors. There were dozens of websites dedicated to the trees changing colors so people could time their trips. And hello, the joys of a white Christmas had been immortalized by the song and the movie.

But Christmas wasn’t her favorite holiday, with her family situation being what it was. She considered what this coming Christmas might be like with Calder. The NHL didn’t schedule games on December twenty-fifth anymore, so his family likely gathered here in Ithaca. She knew she’d be welcome to join them, so she wouldn’t actually lose out on a white Christmas after all.

And the fall colors?

She’d have to be stupid to choose pretty leaves over Calder Griffin.

* * *

Savannah didn’t take the news well. Since the wedding shopping makeover, they’d gotten to be friends, despite the boss-employee constraints. They both loved hockey players and that seemed to trump everything else.

After an initial period of disbelief and resistance, Savannah eventually accepted the fact that Becca was leaving.

“Well, damn it. I’m happy for you that you’re moving in with Calder. Really, really happy. He’s a great guy. You guys deserve each other. But at the same time, this so sucks. Why can’t you reopen here
and
open a second one in San Diego? This could be Cups, The Original. Eddie and I could run it for you.”

Becca shook her head. “Look, it’s too early to talk about that kind of thing. That would be a huge commitment. My head is spinning from the idea of starting over in San Diego, let alone doubling down and opening two locations at the same time.”

“Okay, look, just keep it in mind then,” Savannah said. “You know I could do it. I learned from the best, after all.”

Becca rolled her eyes.

“I’m not kissing up, I swear. I’d have a lot to learn about the money stuff, the ordering, but I could do it. I know I could.”

* * *

Becca decided she owed it to her parents to inform them too. Luckily, they ended up calling her the day after she’d made her decision to move. She assured her mother that she was unharmed and gave her the basics about the insurance claim and the investigations.

“A year is a long time,” her mother said.

“It may be less but there’s nothing I can do about it. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Becca was trying to figure out how to break the news she was moving to California when her mother said, “Your father and I talked last night. We’ve agreed, if you need it, to loan you money so you can open a real restaurant, brand new.”

That shocked Becca. She could remember her parents refusing to discuss her attending culinary school.
You will go to medical school and become a doctor.
She’d heard that over and over like a mantra.
Medicine is an honorable field.
Cooking is not.
Then, once the message finally got through that she had quit to pursue her real dreams, they’d stopped talking to her altogether. Despite the dig about Cups not being a real restaurant, she told herself this was a long-overdue olive branch.

“That’s really nice of you, Mom,” she said. “But I—”

“You can make good Chinese food. Ithaca needs a good Chinese restaurant. Mandarin Palace is the best one and your Kung Pao is much better.”

“Mom, I’m not going to open a Chinese restaurant.”

“And we have employees ready to work for you. Cousin Martin has many wastrel children who need jobs.”

Becca winced. If she were going to reopen in Ithaca, she certainly wouldn’t hire the wastrel cousins.

“Mom, listen to me. I’m not going to open a restaurant in Ithaca. I’m moving to San Diego.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Remember the couple I introduced you to at Cups? Mr. and Mrs. Griffin? Their son, Calder, plays hockey for the San Diego Barracudas, and I’m going to move in with him, and I’m going to see about opening a Cups in California.”

A stony silence followed. Becca realized her stomach wasn’t tied up in knots. She actually felt relief because her mother’s intention to take control of the restaurant’s cuisine, and even the staffing, freed her. There was no way she would ever consent to letting her parents interfere in her business, and if she let them loan her money, she’d feel an obligation to consider whatever they suggested.

Her mother coughed. “I see.”

“I’m leaving in a couple of days.”

“You driving all the way to California?”

“No, I’m flying.”

“I see. Very well, daughter.”

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Becca wondered if it mattered whether she did or not.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Because she’d loved it so much when Calder surprised her by getting a room at the Statler, Becca decided to surprise him right back. She formulated a loose plan to show up at the Barracuda Ice Center where the team practiced. She thought she might call him when it ended, and ask him what he was doing. He’d say he was just finishing up practice and going out to grab a bite with the guys, probably Tim Hollander, Alex Sullivan, maybe Jason Locke, or maybe even his brother. By now she had an idea of what his normal routine was. Hockey players were known for their routines. Then she’d say something like, “Can I go?” And he’d chuckle and say, “You’d never make it in time.” She’d reply, “I bet I could.” Being the clever man that he was, he might figure it out by then.

She smiled in anticipation.

But she managed to find a super-early flight that got her to San Diego an hour
before
practice. She had no luggage, so that bought her even more time. A cab brought her to the BIC. She’d never been there before, but Calder had told her once that the practices were open to the public.

By some crazy stroke of luck, she saw Tim Hollander getting out of his SUV.

“Tim!” She hurried over to him, hoping Calder didn’t drive up. She scanned the parking lot for his car but didn’t see it.

Tim looked up then smiled when he saw her. “Hey, Becca. What a surprise. What are you doing here?” He gave her a quick hug. “I didn’t know you were coming into town. Calder usually walks a couple of feet off the ground when he’s anticipating a visit.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “He does?”

“Absolutely.”

She tucked that tidbit away for enjoyment later. Right now, she didn’t have time. Calder might arrive at any moment.

“Well, he didn’t know I was coming. I’m surprising him.”

Tim’s eyes lit up. “Hot damn. I love surprises. Remind me someday to tell you about how I proposed to Erin. How can I help?”

“I’m not sure.” She told him about her plan B, which was to just hang out in the bleachers and wait for him to notice her, but Tim frowned.

“Not good enough.” He glanced around the parking lot then grabbed her hand and her carry-on. “Come with me.”

He walked fast, and being a good foot shorter than him, she had to practically jog. He brought her to the front entrance.

“We’ll go this way. He should be here soon, if not already, but he’ll go in the other entrance. I have a great idea, but I need time to set it up.”

He hustled her down the concourse, past one of the ice rinks and through a door to some offices. Two men and a woman dressed in business casual stood near a photocopier.

“Hey, gang. This is Becca, Griff’s girlfriend. Becca, this is Jasmine. That’s Bobby and that’s Tom.”

Becca waved sheepishly.

“I need her to hang out here for a bit while I arrange a couple of things for a prank on him. Is that okay?”

Apparently accommodating players in prank mode wasn’t anything unusual. They all smilingly agreed.

Tim turned to Becca. “Do you know how to skate?”

“I, ah, yeah. I guess so. I’m not going to win any gold medals, but I can do a lap without falling down. Why?”

He told her.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know, Tim.”

“Come on, it’ll be great. Don’t you want to see his face when you unmask?”

“I guess...”

“Good. Put your phone number in my contacts in case I need to call you.” He handed her his phone. “Jasmine, you’re my go-between. I’ll need you to bring her down to the dressing room in about ten minutes.”

“Okay, Tim.”

He cackled. “This is going to be
great.
”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Calder was grabbing a coffee in the players’ lounge when Assistant Coach Plazinic came over to him. The television was tuned in to the news. A few of the guys were making smoothies. Locke sat on one of the couches, reading the paper.

“Calder, I need a favor before practice starts.”

“Sure, Zinny. What’s up?” Calder looked at the sugar dispenser, wrestled with his sweet tooth, then poured about a tablespoon into his coffee.

“We’ve got the daughter of an NHL muckety-muck in the building. Dillabaugh promised to give her the VIP treatment.”

Calder rolled his eyes as he added non-fat milk and stirred.

“Wait, there’s more. Tim’s out on the ice with her right now shooting pucks at her because apparently she has these delusions that she’s a goalie. Could you go out there and schmooze her a little?”

“Sure. I guess so.”

“Go easy on her, okay? We don’t want her spitting Chiclets on the ice.”

Calder chuckled. “As long as she’s wearing a mask, her teeth should be safe enough. What’s her name?”

“Princess.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I am not. Her name is Princess.”

“How old is she?”

Plazinic frowned. “How the hell should I know?”

“I mean, is she twelve? Twenty?”

Understanding dawned on Plazinic’s face. “Oh, she’s an adult. Late twenties, I guess.”

“Okay. Will do.”

After slurping down some of his coffee, Calder headed to the dressing room. When he had his gear on and most of his coffee down about five minutes later, he went to the practice rink. Tim was standing to the right of center with a pile of pucks. Princess was in front of the net, looking awkward in gear that was ten sizes too large for her. As Calder skated out, he wondered why they hadn’t called on Booth MacDonald for this since he was their primary goalie.

“Hey, here he is,” Tim said. “Princess, this is Calder Griffin, left-winger.”

Princess didn’t say anything. She just waved the goalie stick at him.

“She’s shy,” Tim said under his breath. “Doesn’t talk much.”

“Nice to meet you, Princess,” Calder called out.

“So I thought we’d just work on her stick saves, alternating sides,” Tim said.

Backing up to left of center, Calder nodded as Tim scooted some pucks his way. This was a simple drill. He and Tim would take turns shooting pucks at her. Usually, this was done fairly rapid fire,
bam bam bam
, but obviously, they’d slow it down.

As Calder watched her getting into a ready position, he chuckled inwardly. They’d have to slow it way down. Like negative-ten miles per hour.

Tim pushed one toward her. The puck slid flat across the ice so slowly, Calder could have gone back into the lounge, eaten breakfast and come back out with time to spare. Princess shoved it aside with her stick.

“Good!” Tim called out.

She cocked her head at him.

Calder gave her another one, this time a little faster. She fended that off easily too. They went on this way for five or so pucks. He and Tim gave her ample encouragement. “Atta girl, Princess! That’s the way, Princess!” and she batted the pucks away with little difficulty.

Eventually, she made an exasperated noise and gave them a “bring it” gesture with her arms.

He and Tim exchanged a grin. “You want them faster?” Calder asked.

She crouched, held her glove hand up just like a pro and nodded.

“Hot damn.”

They fired the pucks with a bit more force. Gave them a little lift too. They suggested adjustments, which she made, improving with each save and more importantly after each mistake. In between, Calder noted the bleachers filling a little more. The team was gathering near the bench, most of them watching the action and even giving her a stick tap when she made a particularly good glove save. She faced them and pumped her arms. Calder laughed.

Then a minute later, Princess almost bit on a fake, recovered and took Tim’s next puck in the chest. She went down. The players who had been sitting on the bench, jumped to their feet.

“Fuck!” Tim exclaimed.

Dropping their sticks, he and Tim sped to her. He heard her laughing as she got up. Tim looked like he was shitting a brick. Calder figured if she was laughing, it couldn’t be that bad. Then she took her helmet off.

What. The. Fuck. “
Becca?
”

“Are you okay?” Tim asked, helping her to her feet.

Becca laughed some more. Her cheeks were bright red, her almond-shaped eyes dancing with excitement. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She turned to Calder. “Surprise!”

Calder couldn’t speak for a moment. He was overcome with joy at seeing her. He tried to hug her, but she was covered from head to toe with protective equipment. Throwing his gloves to the ice, he settled for cupping her face and touching his forehead to hers. God, he’d missed her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the team taking to the ice, skating around, warming up. The coaches were talking near the bench.

Before she could answer, Mac skated up, his goalie helmet tucked under his arm.

“Hey, looking good there, Princess Becca,” he said. “I’m Mac.”

“Thanks,” she replied, her eyes still shining brightly. “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

“Have you played in net before?” Mac asked.

Calder still couldn’t quite get over seeing her all geared up. She looked amazingly sexy. On the outside, she looked like a tough hockey player, but underneath all the gear was a soft, smooth, curvy woman. A woman he hadn’t laid hands on in two weeks. Way, way too long.

Becca rested an arm on the crossbar and answered Mac’s question. “My friend Savannah and I have played around at The Rink, shooting a couple of times, but I never tried being a goalie before.”

“You’re a natural,” Mac said.

“You think? Really?” She turned to Calder, a question in her eyes. “What did you think?”

“I think you’re the best thing on skates I’ve seen in a long time.”

Mac nodded at Tim. “I think that’s our signal to take off.”

“Thanks, Tim. That was really fun.”

Tim skated backward toward the other end of the rink and gave her a salute with his stick. Mac followed him.

“I’d better get off the ice,” she said. “I think the coaches are giving me dirty looks.”

Calder glanced over. “Marchand always looks like that. But let’s go anyway. I don’t want you to get hit again. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I think the adrenaline’s fading. It’s starting to ache a little.” She rubbed the area under her left breast.

He escorted her off the ice. Marchand flashed him his palm. Calder had five minutes. He brought her to the deserted dressing room.

“Let me see.”

She pulled the hem of the jersey up and off. He helped her undo and remove the chest and shoulder pads. She had a T-shirt on underneath. A nice bruise was starting to form.

“It’s probably just a hematoma,” she said. “Yeah, see? I’ll take a couple acetaminophen. I’ll be fine.”

“That was crazy. You’re crazy,” he said. “What are you doing here? I thought you needed time to think, to sort out the insurance stuff.”

“I can talk to my agent over the phone.”

“You can talk to me over the phone, too, you know.”

She shrugged. “It’s a lot more fun in person. A lot easier, too, when you’re in the same city.”

Time slowed down. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It means if you still want a roomma—”

He cut off her words with a swift kiss. Sweet, hot desire shot through him, but he was well aware he had only about two minutes left before Marchand put his name on the shit list. He broke the kiss before things got too uncomfortable in his pants.

She smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“That’s not a yes. That’s a hell yes.”