Chapter 10

Ten

EMORY

Does Scottie really think she can hurt someone with her keys in her fist like that? Part of me wanted to stay back in the shadows a little longer to see her take a swing, but my body reacted without my brain's approval.

The whites of her eyes grow large when I continue to erase the distance between us. Her soft lips part with confusion, and I hope she has some sort of intelligence behind that pretty face, because if she doesn't play along, then I may just find myself in the same position I was in before moving out to Chicago.

The fuck you will.

I grip the thought like a lifeline because I owe this deceiving little cheat nothing, even if she does hand out coats to the homeless after dark. One good deed does not forego the rest.

My arm slides around her waist, and although she's as tense as the pole with the broken light three feet behind us, she doesn't push me away or try to key me instead of the stranger. "Is there a problem here?" I ask, staring at the man across from Scottie.

"You her bodyguard or something?" he jokes, slipping his hands into his pockets.

My heart pounds, and if Kane doesn't come out of those front doors soon, I'm going to beat the living shit out of him —new teammate or not. Honestly, Coach would probably thank me after because Kane has been a real shit lately. He plays good hockey, but he's a little fucked up in the head—hence why I had to crawl out of my bed right after falling asleep to come get his drunk ass. He called me because he knew I'd come, being the newbie and all.

To have the energy to go to a strip club and drink copious amounts of alcohol after a close game like the one we just had is almost unheard of. But then again, the fans have labeled Kane as an animal, and he's all about proving them right.

"Bodyguard?" I repeat, pulling Scottie in a little closer. My large hand covers her shaking fist, and I slowly push it down. Even through the shadows, I see the fire burning bright in her blue eyes, but I was right: she does have a brain, because she lets me take full control of the situation. I turn back to the man and watch him assess my stature before looking me in the face again.

I raise an eyebrow, and I know he's thinking very carefully on what to say to me next.

Scottie clears her throat which pulls his gaze back to her. "Tomorrow," she says.

What's tomorrow? Is she meeting up with him tomorrow? Who is this scumbag? Her boyfriend?

My jaw clicks. I came over here because I apparently didn't learn my lesson the first time I stepped into an argument or altercation that had nothing to do with me, but now that I'm over here, I'm reminded very quickly why I should drop Scottie's weaponed hand and walk away.

When I begin to loosen my grip, the man begins to back away. "Tomorrow," he repeats, looking from Scottie to me. My chest loosens as soon as he disappears into the thick night, and I finally drop her hand. She turns just as quickly, and her sparkly, makeup-coated eyes narrow on me, as if I'm the problem.

"What are you doing here?" she snaps.

A sarcastic chuckle tumbles out of my mouth. "Apparently, protecting you."

Her irritated glare does nothing but cause my lip to twitch.

"Excuse me?" Scottie's arms cross, hiding some of her tattered Chicago Blue Devils sweatshirt. The team's old logo is worn and faded, and if I were a better man, I'd take my jacket off and give it to her because I watched her give her jacket away to a homeless woman the other night, but that feels like some sort of truce, and I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea.

If I give her an inch, she'll probably try to take a mile, and I'm not really in the giving mood.

Not with her.

"I didn't need your help!" She flips her sandy locks behind her shoulder with attitude.

I click my tongue. "Mmm, yeah you did." I tip my chin at the set of keys still in her hand. "Were you going to…key him?"

Her cheeks ripen with heat. "That's none of your business."

Suddenly, I'm met with her backside as she starts to head for the back lot. Her hips sway for a few steps before she rethinks walking in the same direction as the mystery guy. She turns, and our eyes meet. "Why are you here?"

"That's none of your business," I repeat.

Her shoulders slowly drop, like her guard is falling. I should turn and head inside for Kane and leave her to her own weapons for whatever lurks in the dark, but my mouth opens instead, and it tells her right away that I'm curious.

"Was that your boyfriend?"

Scottie seems shocked.

I raise an eyebrow. "And don't say none of your business."

She crosses her arms again, and if it wasn't obvious before—when she was prepared to punch a man—that she's feisty, the stance she's giving me now makes it clear. Her hip pops with sass, and the confidence in her tone is so enticing that I crave to knock her down a few levels.

"But it really isn't your business," she says.

I grip the back of my neck and give it a squeeze. "Yeah, but you tried to blackmail me, so I think you kind of owe me…" Her eyes narrow. "Don't you agree?"

Silence is shared between us, and the more we stare at one another, the more I feel like we have each other in a chokehold. I have to force myself not to look away and allow my eyes to travel over her soft features and perfect body, because that'd give her the wrong idea, and I can't let that happen.

Scottie is the first to break. Her arms drop by her sides in defeat. "No," she whispers. "He's not my boyfriend."

Just then, there's a commotion behind me, and out comes Kane—flying like a fucking bird in the dead of night. He lands with a thud on top of the gravel. I pinch the bridge of my nose and curse under my breath.

Graduating from college and entering the pros, you'd think this behavior would stop. I was a partygoer and often found a new girl every weekend while attending Bexley U, but I grew up.

Unfortunately, Kane hasn't.

I bark at the bouncer. "Watch it!" If he injures Kane, we're going to have an even harder time with our schedule.

"Tell him to keep his hands to himself, and I will."

Irritation skims the surface, and with Scottie's light footsteps behind me as I walk over to Kane, I can't help the next thing pushing past my scowl. "Don't act all protective over the girls now when you can't even walk some of them to their car in the dead of night." I inch my chin to Scottie, knowing she's behind me, and busy myself with helping Kane to his feet.

He's groaning and moaning, complaining of sore muscles, which is likely from the game and not from the WWE wannabe who just threw him to the hard ground.

"Let's go, you fucking idiot," I mutter, putting an arm around his torso.

I ignore Scottie and the wannabe bouncer having a hushed conversation. I'm sure she's telling him that she's fine and she doesn't need someone to walk her to her car at night after her shift, but I disagree.

I'm breathing heavily by the time I get Kane into the passenger seat of my car, and when I turn around, there she is, standing with her arms crossed over her chest and a knowing look on her pretty little face.

"So that's why you're here."

I grip the top of the door and allow my anger with Kane to fuel my tone. "Did you think I was here for you or something?"

Scottie's eyes narrow for a split second. "Of course not."

I sarcastically laugh under my breath. "Was that a look of disappointment on your face I just saw?"

She gasps, and I have to force myself not to grin. "What? No!"

I shrug. "It's a good thing I came. Otherwise, you'd probably be arrested for keying a man or…"

The rest of my sentence disappears with the gust of wind because, whoever that man was, she felt the need to protect herself. There's an urgent need to press her further, but I refuse to act interested because I'm not.

Scottie and I both give our attention to Kane because he pokes his head out of the car, and his drunken gaze lands on her. "Emory. Is this your…girlfriend? Introduce me. She's hot."

"For fuck's sake , " I mumble.

It's like Ford and I never went to opposite sides of the United States. I'm somehow still dealing with an idiot.

"Just…shut up," I stress, pushing on his chest to make him sit back in his seat.

His hand lands on my wrist, and I flex it beneath his half grip. "Wait. Is she your wife ? You're married, aren't you? I wish I had a wife. Wait, why are there so many rumors about you and other women, then? That doesn't make sense. Are you cheating on her?"

A rush of something hot flies through my body. Irritation? Embarrassment? Anger? Over my shoulder, I glance at Scottie, and when our gazes crash, I quickly shut the door on Kane and round the front of my car.

Right before I escape to the driver's seat, I hear her soft voice, free of any anger or attitude. "Thank you."

The change in my center console rattles when I slam my door. I grind my teeth together.

Kane slurs under his breath. "She seems sweet. I like her. Don't cheat on her."

It takes everything in me not to punch him square in the jaw.

It takes everything in me not to punch myself square in the jaw too, because instead of peeling out of the parking lot and leaving Scottie be, I squint through the darkness and watch her walk all the way to her shitty car to make sure she gets there safe.