A New Life. Dana Corbit

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ much in adult company. And she really did need to get out more. They could probably even grow to be great pals, like some of the men attending this game together, if she only gave them a chance.

      She was still convincing herself when Brett shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pressure—”

      “I’d like that.”

      Brett stared at her a few seconds and then grinned. “Well, good. That’ll be great.” He touched her hand again, and she had the strange feeling the brief caress wasn’t one a couple of hockey buddies might share. Their gazes met, and an awareness unfolded inside of her, until she forced herself to look away.

      Obviously, she hadn’t explained the parameters of their new friendship to him, and he’d probably misunderstood her interest. With a quick brush to expel the tickle on her hand, she turned to him to clear up the misunderstanding.

      However, whatever had caught her date’s attention near the Red Wings’ team box earlier had grabbed it again. The way his body tensed, he appeared at a strange full-alert. Tricia saw them then, several men, swilling tall plastic cups of beer and wearing jerseys for teams that weren’t playing. They crowded close around the tunnel through which hockey players were emerging from their locker rooms.

      Someone must have alerted security guards to a possible disturbance because they were making their way across the stands. Before the guards reached the tunnel, though, one of the men upended his cup, narrowly missing a player.

      At once, fists started flying—not from the players, who were being ushered by their teammates toward the ice, but from fans who took exception to the treatment of their hometown heroes. A huddle of bodies appeared from nowhere as reinforcements leaped into the fray and other fans stood to catch the action.

      Brett came out of his seat just as quickly, but his movements were automatic—fast glances toward the exits and a hand reaching reflexively for his right hip. Coming away with nothing. A gun? A shiver clambered up Tricia’s spine, and bile backed up in her throat. Had he been reaching for a holster? Only after he patted his sweater-covered hip a few times did Brett lower into his seat again.

      Further down the stands, security guards removed the instigators from the arena, but Tricia barely noticed. Brett shoved both hands back through his hair and shook his head as he turned back to her.

      “Now that was embarrassing,” he said.

      He seemed to want her to say something, but she could only stare, her blood now as cold in her veins as her cheeks from the arena’s refrigerated chill. Her pulse raced, and an icy sweat covered her hands. When she started to speak, she choked.

      Brett’s eyes widened, and he reached over to pat her back, but she jerked away from his touch. The situation that had felt so comfortable before became awkward, and his nearness, suffocating.

      Finally, she found her voice. “I need you to tell me something. Are you a cop?”

      “I can’t believe no one ever told you I was a trooper,” Brett said with an exasperated sigh as he pulled out of the parking structure nearly an hour later. What he wanted to say was I can’t believe it matters so much that I’m a cop, but from her stiff posture and wringing hands, he’d be a fool not to see that it did.

      She sat still in the car seat next to him, the same way she’d been for most of the game’s third period and even during the walk through the tunnel that connected the arena to the parking garage. Jubilant fans had packed in all around them, still cheering and making the cattle sounds of the exit ritual, but Tricia had been eerily silent. Her strange reaction cut him a lot deeper than it should have, like history coming back to bite him on the backside. But he wouldn’t sit back and wait for it to happen this time.

      “No one mentioned my job at all?” he asked, still incredulous. “Nothing about me moving to Livingston County so I could be close to work at the Brighton Post?”

      She released a long, slow breath. “Charity didn’t tell me anything about what you did.”

      What Tricia didn’t say, what she couldn’t possibly have known, made more difference to him than what she’d said. Had Jenny mentioned that he worked for the Michigan State Police, her friend would have passed that along to Tricia when they’d arranged the date.

      Of anyone, his sister, who’d followed her own heart into nursing, should have understood his need to follow his, especially after Claire called off the wedding. But this was proof that even his sister was ashamed of the career that had become so much a part of his identity. Why should she be any different from the rest of the family?

      “What exactly did your friend tell you about me?” He had to unclench his jaw to continue. “No, let me guess. Decent guy, twenty-nine, not a jerk, without any facial disfigurement. Goes to church. Has a job so he won’t expect you to pay for the movie tickets. That’s all, right?”

      A strange sound, like an ironic chuckle, erupted in her throat. “That’s about it.”

      “I can’t believe that. Jenny told me you worked part-time at Kroger, you were taking college classes, and you wanted someday to own a gourmet cooking store in Milford.” About him, his sister had purposely mentioned nothing. “If she didn’t tell you what I did, then why didn’t you ask?”

      Tricia shrugged, her silence answering for her. It didn’t matter to her how he earned his living when she never intended to see him more than once. One blind date. No second one. Obviously, something had gone awry in her plan if she’d agreed to go out with him again. He remembered her reluctance to answer when he’d asked. Now it didn’t matter, anyway. She’d changed her mind about him. All because he was a cop.

      His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t get it. Why did you agree to be set up when it’s obvious you didn’t want to go?”

      She sighed again. “It was easier than saying no and having Charity try to convince me. And it was easier to let someone do something for me than to let them feel sorry for me.”

      Something struck inside him that he might have called a connection if he weren’t so determined to stay angry with the whole situation. “That’s why I agreed, too, but I made Jenny wheedle first.”

      “And then I stood you up.”

      The sides of his mouth pulled up against his will. “Yep, that’s the way I remember it.” He paused, searching for a safe topic. Since she’d finally started talking, he didn’t want to risk making her clam up again. “Hey, I think it’s time for that hockey quiz.”

      Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn slightly toward him, so he took it as a go-ahead. “What is the definition of a forecheck?”

      “Hey, that one wasn’t on the study guide. I protest.”

      “Okay, okay. A player forechecks when he blocks the progress of an opponent in his own defensive zone. So, what’s a face-off?”

      “I know that one. That’s when two players from opposite teams stand in one of those circles and fight to get control of the puck.” She settled back into her seat, satisfied with herself.

      Brett tried to continue the hockey quiz, but another question ate at him until he finally couldn’t resist asking it. “Tell me, how many blind dates have you been on…lately?” When she tightened, he was glad he hadn’t said “since your husband died.”

СКАЧАТЬ