"Well, I'm sure part of that is a mother's prerogative, and part of that is she figures you're busy. I mean, you won the Stanley Cup. You're too busy doing press and all kinds of things to worry about making your own sauce."

  He smiled again and swear to God, my borrowed yoga pants nearly caught on fire. "Yeah, well, she taught me early to take care of myself, so I'm always amused that she thinks she needs to take care of me now that I'm a grown man."

  "Well, when you're home, I think she probably likes it."

  He shrugged. "Maybe you're right. How are you feeling?"

  I shrugged and rolled my shoulders back. "Sore in a lot of places. But, otherwise okay. I don't know how to thank you."

  He shook his head. "You don't have to thank me. There's no way I was going to let someone sit in the ditch."

  "I know. But a lot of cars drove by. I counted at least three or four. You were the first one who stopped."

  He scowled. "I hate that people would do that."

  I shrugged. "I'll just believe that they didn't see me. Hell, I'm lucky you saw me."

  "Maybe. It took me a second to see your taillights." He stood at full height. "While we wait for the dinner, let me check you out." He pulled the first aid kit out from underneath the sink. "You want to hop up?" he asked. I stared at the counter, then at one of the stools.

  "You mind if I just sit here? I don't think I can climb up. I'm pretty exhausted, actually."

  Ransom nodded. “I was able to get a call to the doctor. He said to call again if you have signs of a concussion, but otherwise, he told me how to deal with your injuries. With the flooding in some areas, he can’t get up here.”

  “It’s okay. I’m pretty sure I’m fine.”

  “Reception after that has been pretty spotty. I’ll see if it improves a little later so we can get a tow truck for your car and stuff.” He studied me for a moment. "I made up the spare bedroom for you. I just want to make sure you eat something first. Even if it's just a little bit. Your color's back though, so that's good. Let me help you up. It's just easier to help patch you up when I'm looking at you at eye-level. In case you haven't noticed, you're a little shorter than I am."

  I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to give you a quote from a famous children's television show. Even though I'm bitty, I can do big things."

  Then Ransom Cox did something I'd never seen before. He laughed. And all I could do was stand there and stare at him, mouth open. He had to know the effect he had on a woman. Seriously. He had to. How could someone that looked like that not know?

  But the gorgeous, brooding, forbidding face was nothing compared to the man when he was smiling, or in this case, laughing. Still chuckling, he picked me up easily and placed me on the edge of the counter. On contact, I let out a little squeak. Something flickered over his gaze; I wasn't quite sure what it was, but all I knew was it made me infinitely more aware of him. As if that were possible.

  He took out the antiseptic and gauze, and set up to work. He put something on my forehead and covered it with a bandage. For most everything else, the small cuts and scrapes on my arms and jaw, he used something clear and sticky to seal the cut. Then he checked my arms. When I winced, he nodded. "I'll get you an ice pack in a second."

  And then he checked my legs. Nothing could have prepared me for that. His big hands running down my thighs and calves, gently pressing, testing for bruising, or cuts. When he ran his thumbs over my knee, I winced again, and he frowned. "Sorry. Sorry." He gently lifted the yoga pants away from my knee, and set about putting more antiseptic on, and then bandaging that one up. When he was done, he cleaned everything up, and went to the freezer and pulled out an ice pack. He gently bent and molded it, so that it became more pliable. He opened one of his kitchen drawers and pulled out some kind of sleeve, into which he tucked the pack, before heading over to me.

  "Here, use this. I'll give you ibuprofen once you eat something."

  "Well, Ransom Cox, you make a very fine doctor."

  He laughed. "Hardly. I've just been bruised and banged up enough to know how to take care of minor stuff. How's your head?"

  I shrugged. "I have a mild headache. Like I'm hungover. But other than that, no double vision, no dizziness. I feel fine. Not too stiff."

  "Had enough hangovers to know?"

  "Don't even get me started. You know how when you're in college, and you have a hangover so bad you swear you will never drink again? I had one like that a few weeks ago. So, I'm legit off the booze."

  "So yeah, your answer is, you’ve had a hangover before."

  I laughed. "Yes. I'll have you know that the nerdy girl from high school has had a drink or two in her lifetime."

  He shook his head. "I never thought you were nerdy."

  I couldn't help but laugh again. "That's because you didn't see me at all. I was nowhere near the varsity hockey team's radar."

  There it was again, that something flickering in his eyes. Like awareness? But that couldn't be right. My body warmed and tingled, my heartbeat ticking up, my breathing going shallow. No. He is not the right kind of guy. You don't want this kind of mess. But that was my brain talking. My body…my body wanted all kinds of things from Ransom Cox. All kinds of way inappropriate things. The man just saved my life. He did not need to have me fantasizing about him, too.

  "I knew who you were, Lexa." His words were soft, his voice washing over me like warm chocolate.

  "You were nicer than most. At least you always smiled and said hi, and didn't pretend you didn't know me."

  "Why would anyone do that?"

  I laughed again. "Ransom, you have to know that you lived in a completely different orbit, right? You were a hockey god. All the varsity girls could do nothing else but talk about how cute you were. Every time you scored a goal, they talked about it in the morning announcements for nearly twenty minutes. You were in a very different orbit than I was."

  A wrinkle marred his beautiful brow. "Perspective, I guess. A funny thing, though. In those moments, all I could think about was my own shit. All the stuff that was going on with me internally. My mom, dad, survival. It didn't even occur to me how it looked to the outside world."

  I looked at my hands. "It's not an indictment. We were in high school. Our worlds were supposed to be a little self-centered. Look at me. I could have sworn you had no idea who I was. But you say you did. See, self-centered. I can only think about what was going on in my little world. My perception."

  He shrugged. "I guess."

  The smell of pasta sauce and garlic, herbs and spices filled the air. I should've hopped down. Said thank you again, put physical distance between us, but I liked this. Too much. Liked having Ransom Cox standing right in front of me, like he might put his arms around me at any moment. Kiss me, hold me, do other things. His gaze pinned on my lips, and this time I was sure what I saw in his eyes. That was awareness. That was desire. His pupils dilated, and he licked his lips, and all I could do was sit and stare at him. Ransom Cox wanted me? Even if that's true, you still can’t have him. He's all wrong.

  For once, I just wanted to shut up my inner-doubt demon and simply live in the moment. Haven't you done enough living in the moment?

  Ransom leaned forward, his hips gently pushing my legs apart. His heat enveloped me, and he was so close. All I had to do was tip my lips up, and he might brush them with his. He could kiss me. And I wanted him to. My sister hadn't been kidding. I'd always had a thing for him. But this, this right here, was living a fantasy. And I'd already promised myself that I wasn't going to do that anymore. But just as he angled his head, the oven timer beeped.

  He immediately pulled back and blinked rapidly, a frown once again marring that beautiful face. He looked confused, disoriented. Yeah, welcome to my world. What had just happened? Had we almost kissed? Or are you seeing something that isn't there, once again?

  Right. I had promised myself I wouldn't do this to myself anymore. And as gorgeous as Ransom was, as approachable as he was right now, I really should know better. I promised myself that I deserved better. I deserved to have what I wanted, and Ransom Cox was not going to give it to me.

  "Looks like dinner is ready," I said with a bright, sunny smile and hopped down off the counter, trying hard not to wince as my bones jarred. The more quickly I could put us on even footing, the better off I'd be.

  6

  Ransom

  For the first time in a long time, when I woke up, I didn't automatically reach over to the other side of the bed. It was a stupid habit. But when I'd first married Callie, the deep, dark, hidden part of me was always worried she'd run. And she had, eventually.

  But I always checked. Just to make sure she was still there. And then one day, she wasn't. Just like your father. But this morning, I rolled over towards the sound of pelting rain against the windows, and my first thought was of Lexa.

  I'd built the house with a second master, so I knew she had to be comfortable. And last night after I'd managed to get her to eat a bite or two, she probably crashed pretty hard. And that was exactly what she needed. Not you forgetting you weren’t dealing with a groupie and nearly mounting her.

  Yeah, that had been nearly a mistake of epic proportions. I liked Lexa. There was no way I was going down that road with her. Or maybe she'd heard the legend, and wanted to confirm for herself. I shoved that thought aside. Lexa wasn't like that. She was a genuinely good person.

  When I finally dragged my sorry ass out of the shower and tugged on sweatpants and a T-shirt, I was surprised to find Lexa in the kitchen, making eggs and bacon.

  "What are you doing?"

  She looked up with a bright, sunny smile, and my heart stopped. Damn.

  "Well, if it isn't the consummate host. You took care of me last night, so I can take care of you now, but this is just about the only thing I can do well. I'm real good with eggs and bacon. And I make a mean pancake. But that's about all I can do to pull my weight."

  "You don't have to pull your weight."

  "Okay, fine. But I at least want to say thank you. Properly. Normally, I would just take you to dinner or something. But it occurred to me that considering your big win, that's probably not the most relaxing environment for you. Having random people approach you every two minutes. So—breakfast."

  I studied her. The fact that she even considered what it was like for me to go out and about right now was a surprise. I didn't know that many women who would even give that any thought. Most of the women I dated wanted to see and be seen, wanted to be seen with one of the Ragin' Cajuns. Wanted to be seen with Handsome Cox, but not Lexa. Maybe she's different. Yeah, she was different all right. But I'd find a way to fuck that up, too, so it was just better for everyone if I stayed the fuck away.

  "Did you sleep okay?"

  "Yeah, you could say that. I slept like the dead. Took me a full couple of minutes to realize where I was this morning. The rain coming down hard woke me."

  "Yeah, I was listening to the radio in the shower. The rain's not likely going to let up until tomorrow. There's flooding in multiple areas, so it looks like we're probably stuck here for the day. At least. If I'd brought my truck that I leave at my mom's, I'd probably be able to take you down to your place, but no, I'm the idiot who thought it would be cool to bring a sports car. I barely even fit in the damn thing."

  Lexa groaned with amusement. "I did wonder about that. It's a Maserati, right?"

  "You know cars?"

  "Only a little. I covered the Monaco Grand Prix last year when I was doing the travel beat. So that was pretty cool. I got to learn about some of the cars. Some of the drivers drove Maseratis."

  "That's cool. Did you meet anyone really douchey, or really cool?"

  Lexa laughed. "Well, I will protect the douches. But yes, Hamilton was really nice. I thought he'd be a total asshole. But he was super nice, actually."

  I shrugged. "Who knew?" I went over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, then turned on the coffee maker.

  Lexa nodded in what looked like relief. "Oh, thank God. I couldn't figure out how to turn on that thing for the life of me. It's so fancy, I didn't want to get coffee spilled everywhere."

  "Yeah, one of my teammates is Swedish, and he swears by this thing. It's this crazy European brand, took me a while to figure it out, too. Makes a mean cup of coffee, though."

  As she cooked, Lexa asked me questions. "Are you guys all taking time to enjoy the championship?"

  "Probably some of us more than others. We celebrated as a team for about a week after we won. But then, you know, in the off-season everyone disperses to wherever it is that they really live, and then we all get a chance to have a date with the cup. Sort of a homecoming, I guess."

  "I always find it fascinating when a player joins a new team, and they sometimes move to that city for the season, and his family stays somewhere else."

  I shrugged. "I think it depends on where your team is. For example, if my job was in Cleveland, I would move permanently. Obviously, if that's your job, you go live there. But for any of us to move a family from, say, Miami to Cleveland for only part of a year, that's not gonna work out so well if there is a choice. So it makes sense to just keep both residences and go home in the off-season. The Cajuns are based in New Orleans. I came home for a few weeks to spend Mom's birthday with her. I love this place, and I split my time between the two. And if I’m being honest, I think Mom is probably getting sick of me by now."

  She shook her head. "You know, I've never been to New Orleans." I stared at her.

  "What? Oh, we have to remedy that. The food alone should have drawn you to New Orleans before now. Then there's the music, the people. You've never done Mardi Gras?"

  She laughed. "Nope. I always wanted to, but somehow never got down there. Maybe one day, hopefully when you're still playing there, so I'll have someone to show me around."

  "It's a date."

  She plated our food and brought a heaping pile of fluffy, scrambled eggs and bacon to set in front of me. I generally wasn't one for being served, but there was something about the simple intimacy of it that made me smile. Easy now. You're not keeping her. This isn't real. "You sure I can eat this much?"

  "Look at you. You're six foot five, and what, 220? Honestly, I should be feeding you more." She went over to the fridge, and pulled out a large bowl of fruit salad. "I made this earlier." She set it in front of me. "Now eat."

  "You realize I can't eat all of this. You have to help me."

  "Fine, I'll pull up a chair. But I'll just leave it in front of you, because I know you need to eat."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Also, I feel like feeding you will lessen the blow of what I have to tell you."

  I lifted a brow, a sudden knot forming in my stomach. Uh-oh. "Oh boy."

  "It's not too bad. But, uh, I think you need to know. So, I'm the one who came up with the name Handsome Cox."

  I stared at her for several seconds. This wasn't even remotely what I was expecting her to say. "Come again?"

  "It was just a silly nickname I had for you in high school, because you were cute. I wrote a freelance article and called you Handsome Cox. Next thing I knew, everyone was using it."

  I'd have thought I’d be upset. Irritated even. But somehow, knowing Lexa came up with the nickname made me want to do the unexpected…laugh.

  "Seriously, you think it's funny?"

  I threw my head back. "Yeah, actually, I do. I have hated that nickname for two years. Mostly because I thought it was some sports guy fucking with me. But somehow, knowing it was you, makes me feel good."

  She gave me a bright, happy smile, and all I wanted to do was kiss her. What? No. I'd come too close to that yesterday.

  As we ate, she asked me more questions about my team, what New Orleans was like. The conversation flowed easily with her. She didn't let me get too broody or into myself. It was easy to be open with her. Though, every time I asked her a question about her job, or how she liked living in Manhattan, she deflected.

  She had some questions about the final championship game. And it was clear that she'd watched it. "Oh, can you explain what that penalty was for in the second period? Because I didn't get it."

  Oh wow, she really had paid close attention to the game. That was the penalty for the Spartans, which had allowed us a penalty shot. Thank fuck we hadn’t missed. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be home right now, sharing breakfast with Lexa.

  As I explained it to her, she asked more questions. “You know, I’ve never played hockey before.”

  “What?” How was that even possible?

  “Yeah, not even field hockey or street hockey. Given how hockey-crazy this town has always been, I guess it’s odd that I’ve never even played it.”

  “Well, hell, we have to fix that.”

  She laughed. “How do you propose we do that? We’re locked in your cabin for the foreseeable future.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith. After breakfast, I’ll show you around.”

  I wasn’t kidding. I took her down the back hall, past a bathroom, and into my massive game room. Taking center stage in the cavernous space was an enormous air-hockey table. “What is this thing?” she asked.

  “This thing will let you learn to play hockey.”

  “This isn’t exactly what I meant.”

  I laughed. “Yes, true, but, I don’t have a skating rink in my house. A couple of the guys on the team are seriously talking about it, believe it or not. For me, that’s just too much space, and too much work. But, like I was saying, since I don’t have one, this is the next best thing. You can imagine that you’re doing all these moves on skates.” I pointed out one of the little players. “This one over here, that’s me. I’m on offense. These guys back here—" I pointed out the back line “—this is our defensive team, their whole goal for the most part is to make sure no one gets anywhere near our goalie.”

  For the next thirty minutes, as we played and I explained each team member’s role, and what they did, Lexa tried to follow along. I pointed out another piece. “So this guy, he’s our right winger. He’s the best in the league. When in doubt, give it to him. He’ll always find a way in.”