Down and Dirty Page 5

  I eye the thick stack of thank-you notes on my desk, wondering if I should resort to snail mail to get in touch with him. What would I write? Thank you so much for your donation of this enormous diamond ring. Now, can we freaking talk about this?

  My mini freak-out is delayed by a familiar cheerful voice coming from just outside my office door.

  “Welcome back, Aubree.”

  David Stone, the director of the organization, is standing in my doorway, shooting me a big warm smile. If he weren’t my boss and also the single most likable guy on the planet, I’d probably shoo him away in an effort to skip the small talk and get some work done. But he’s both of those things, so I push my stack of thank-you cards aside.

  “How was Vegas?” he asks, staying put until I wave him inside. The guy is almost too polite.

  “It was . . . Vegas. Nothing big to report,” I lie. If possible, I’d like to keep the whole drunken-marriage-to-a-player info as far away from the office as I can. News like that has a way of getting out, but the longer I can put it off, the better.

  “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” David eyes the plush blue chair across from my desk. “Mind if I take a seat?”

  I nod, sitting up a little straighter as he settles in across from me. “What’s up?”

  Instead of an answer, I get another question. “Have you ever been to Vancouver?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve never even left the country. Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve been in talks with a youth hockey organization there,” he says. “Great program. Or at least, it was. Their executive director recently passed away, and things have been pretty scattered for them ever since. It’s been a year now, and they still haven’t been able to get it sorted. Anyway, they reached out to us about absorbing their programs, along with their donors. They do incredibly similar work to us, with one major difference.” He pauses for dramatic effect, then adds, “It’s entirely for girls.”

  My eyes widen in interest. “Really? That’s incredible.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” David says, a confident grin stretching across his face. “Which is why I think you’re the perfect person to lead the expansion.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “Lead? What do you mean?”

  “Be in charge, take the reins, steer the ship!” His smile is huge.

  I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to ask David if he recently bought a thesaurus. “Why me?”

  His tone becomes more serious. “I know how passionate you are about underprivileged kids, and sports, and you’ve been with us for coming up on a decade now. You know this organization backward and forward. This could be your perfect next step.”

  I fumble for the right words, but my brain is a mess of questions. The only sentence I can formulate is an incomplete one, and it comes out slow and uncertain. “But . . . Vancouver?”

  David nods firmly. “You’d have to relocate. But it’s only a three-and-a-half-hour drive away. And we’d cover your cost of moving.”

  My gaze flickers from David to the walls of my office, trying to soak in all the memories I’ve made here over the past eight years.

  “It sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime,” I say honestly, “but I’ll have to think about it.” It’s a non-answer, but it’s all I can manage right now.

  “I need you for this, Aubree,” he says, his expressive eyes imploring mine.

  David Stone is a difficult man to say no to, and he knows it. He’s like a golden retriever in khakis. Everyone loves the guy—me included. After all, he taught me everything I know. Plus, he’s kind and trustworthy, and a great boss.

  “There’s no one else I trust,” he adds.

  “It sounds amazing,” I hear myself saying as blood thunders in my ears.

  But what about Landon?

  But nothing, the sassy part of my brain snaps.

  It was a drunken Vegas mistake.

  Wasn’t it?

  It doesn’t matter that the night we spent together was fun. It does matter that he’s so damn attractive it makes my stomach hurt. Marrying Landon in some quickie ceremony was the stupidest thing I could have done.

  So, why does his presence in my life feel like the only thing I have to look forward to right now? I mean, the idea of spending more time in his intoxicatingly masculine presence is much more enticing than, well . . . anything else.

  But I don’t dare tell my boss. I can’t.

  I respect David, I really do, but leaving a city I love and all the friendships I’ve built to move to a foreign country? The idea of it leaves me reeling.

  It’s only Canada, I tell the part of my brain that’s spinning. It’s only a few hours away.

  When I realize David’s still talking, I drag my attention back to him.

  “Expanding the mission, impacting the lives of female athletes in the making . . . we can’t afford not take this shot.”

  I nod.

  “And I need my best employee on this expansion. I won’t be there for daily supervision or oversight. You’d be in charge of getting the whole operation off the ground—managing the thing top to bottom.”

  “It’s a tremendous opportunity.”

  He smiles warmly. “I’m glad you think so. It will also come with a nice promotion too. A change in title and a pay increase commensurate with your new responsibilities. It’s always been my dream to push further to do more and impact more lives. And now we have a chance to do that.”

  “That’s great,” I hear myself saying.

  He nods. “I need someone I can trust at the helm of our first international operation.” He grins like he’s pleased with the sound of that.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I squeeze my knees under my desk where he sits in front of me with a scrutinizing gaze. David has been a widower for nearly two decades. He lives and breathes this job because of it. He’s a great boss, and very hard to say no to.

  David smiles at me expectantly. “Say yes.”

  “Um, yes,” I say slowly, still in shock.

  “Perfect. We’ll talk details soon.” He stands up and strolls away with a satisfied expression, while my stomach is in knots.

  This opportunity is all I’ve been working toward—better pay, more responsibility, and, of course, the idea of impacting more people as we take the charity international. It’s just—wow. Of course I’m excited, but everything feels so unsettled, which is something I’ve been feeling a lot lately. My life feels like one giant knot I need to untangle.

  But for now, it will have to wait. There are thank-you notes to write.

  I pop in my earbuds and get in a full half hour of work before the next interruption. This time, it’s a welcome one, a text from my friend Ana.

  Do you have any lunch plans?

  Nope.

  Perfect. Meet me in 30 at that new ramen place?

  Damn her—tempting me with spicy noodles.

  You just want all the dirty details from Vegas.

  I click SEND on my message and barely have to wait ten seconds for her reply.

  Girl, you know I do, and you’d better not hold out on me.

  Ana has been one of my closest friends and most consistent yoga buddies for the last year. We met right after she moved here from her hometown of Las Vegas to live with her Hawks defenseman boyfriend, Jason Kress. He’s kind of an outcast and doesn’t hang out much with the team.

  But even though Jason and Ana weren’t part of the Vegas festivities, I have little doubt that conversation about the rookie’s brand-new marriage has dominated the locker-room chatter. Even if it is the off-season, and a lot of the guys are off taking much-needed vacations, plenty of them are still around—hitting the weight room with gusto, working with team personal trainers on plans to improve weaknesses before training camp begins. There’s little doubt in my mind that both Landon and Jason are among them. And if Jason knows, then Ana knows. I have a sinking feeling that this lunch offer on Monday is coming from the kin
dness in her heart.

  I’m not sure if I should just go and get this over with or avoid it altogether. But then again, Justin and Elise have jetted off to hike Machu Picchu while Sara and TK are in the Virgin Islands for the next ten days. Which means I do need some girlfriend time, so I should probably take Ana up on her offer for ramen, even if she is going to pump me for information. Plus, some outside advice might not be the worst thing in the world. And, really, my love of spicy noodles can’t be underestimated. I love me some carbs.

  So I text her back.

  Fine. I’ll be there. But be nice.

  I’m always nice, Ana replies.

  Ugh. She really is, so I can’t even argue the point.

  • • •

  “Is it true?” Ana’s shiny brown ponytail swings as she tilts her head, waiting for an answer to the question she’s asked me three times now.

  The restaurant is packed to capacity with the lunchtime crowd, but we were able to snag a tiny table for two in the back, barely large enough to hold our two big plastic bowls of ramen. But while all my focus is on my green curry shrimp and delicious noodles, Ana is much more interested in the train wreck that was my weekend in Vegas.

  If there were any doubts as to whether she’s caught wind of my marital status shift, they were cleared up the instant we sat down and she pointed out that, while there’s no ring on my finger, there is an indent where one used to be. Sometimes I think she’d make a better detective than a massage therapist.

  With my expert chopstick-handling skills, I pick up a shrimp and several noodles and pop them into my mouth. It’s more than I can comfortably chew, but that will keep me from being able to answer questions, right?

  Ana’s caramel-colored eyes bore into me, squinty and suspicious. “Just because you have a mouth full of ramen doesn’t mean you don’t have to spill the deets.”

  I blink up at her, one noodle hanging out of my mouth, and grumble some nonsense from behind closed lips. She laughs, which was my goal, but it’s not enough for her to ditch her one-woman crusade for information. Unfortunately.

  “Eventually, you’re going to get to the bottom of that.” She nods toward my red plastic bowl of noodles. “And then you’ll be out of excuses. So you might as well just tell me now.”

  I gulp down both my noodles and my pride. “Fine. It’s true. Landon and I got married.”

  Ana lets out an excited squeal, which is the opposite of the reaction I was hoping for.

  “It’s not legit,” I hiss, trying to quiet her down. I don’t need the whole restaurant staring. “Well, I mean, it is legit in that it’s legally binding. But he was drunk, and I was, well, drunker. It’s not like I actively made the decision.”

  “But your subconscious thought it was a good idea to marry him!” Ana says, a little louder than I’d prefer.

  “When I’m drunk, my subconscious also thinks it’s a good idea to eat half a pizza at two in the morning,” I say stubbornly. “And I think you, me, and the cellulite on my ass all know there’s nothing smart about that.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty much always pro-pizza.”

  I frown, pointing an accusatory chopstick at her. “If our yoga instructor knew what a bad influence you are, she’d never let you back in class again.”

  Okay, yeah, she would. Ana’s a freaking size two and gorgeous. She’s such a brat.

  “Don’t change the subject. You were about to tell me all about your wedding night.”

  I lean my chopsticks on the side of my bowl, sighing in defeat. There’s no way I’m going to get around telling her. And maybe it’ll feel good to get some of it off my chest.

  I take a deep breath. “So, like I said, we’d both been drinking.”

  Ana props her elbows on the table and leans in, eager to hear more. “That’s how all good stories start.”

  I give her the full recap of the evening, or at least what I can remember of it, and the unfortunate morning after where I nearly hyperventilated in front of him.

  She swoons at the details of him helping me calm down, despite me trying to downplay anything even remotely cute about this story. I need her on my side, Team Common Sense. She should be rooting for me to get this annulment and go back to the way things were, before I knew details like how good of a kisser Landon is, and how fooling around with him, even with all of our clothes still on, was steamier than pretty much all the sex I’ve had in my life put together.

  “The point is,” I say in conclusion, folding my hands on the table, “with our age difference and our insanely different lives, it’s ridiculous to think that things could actually work out between us, right?”

  Ana twirls a noodle around her chopsticks, mulling it over, then shrugs. “I kinda think it’s romantic that he’s not willing to let this go.”

  Exasperated, I sigh. “He’s not romantic. He’s a child, Ana. He’s only twenty-three.”

  She disagrees with a shake of her head. “Twenty-three is old enough to vote, serve your country, drink, play a professional sport, get hitched in Vegas, and it’s most definitely old enough to fall in love.”

  Grabbing my ice water, I take a long sip, hoping it will extinguish some of the turmoil inside me.

  “Make whatever excuses you want,” she says, “and if you don’t feel anything for him, fine. But don’t blame any of this on his age.”

  I purse my lips. “You might be right. I sound like a jaded old bitch.”

  She chuckles. “You don’t, Aubree. I just think you could at the very least date the poor guy. He is your husband, after all.”

  “I really wish everyone would stop saying that!” I shout just as our server appears to check on us. I fake smile up at him and pretend to not be crazy, because what’s the alternative?

  Ana grins at me when he leaves. “Besides, surely there are perks to dating a younger man. I mean, his stamina and recovery time alone must be particularly impressive.” She gives me a conspiratorial wink, her grin crooked.

  “I, um, wouldn’t know,” I grumble, feeling even worse.

  Her face falls. “Oh. I just assumed you guys had, ya know?” Her eyebrows wiggle. “Hooked up.”

  I’m sure everyone assumes that, and I haven’t corrected them. It’s really not my place to out Landon’s choice to remain celibate. If he hasn’t broadcasted it to our circle of friends, I assume he doesn’t want it shared. And it’s a secret I’m happy to protect for him, husband or not. It’s the decent thing to do.

  “We didn’t, actually. We were both wasted, stumbling over ourselves,” I say. It’s true enough, so I don’t feel bad lying.

  Ana nods. “Makes sense. Maybe you need to, you know, take him for a spin then.” She can’t even keep a straight face while suggesting it, but when I roll my eyes, her tone turns serious. “I mean it. There’s no harm in seeing if you have a physical connection. What do you have to lose?”

  “Nothing,” I admit reluctantly. Little does she know that Landon is the one with everything to lose. I’m sure he doesn’t want to give it all up for me when this has almost no chance of lasting, and I honestly wouldn’t want him to.

  After we settle the bill and slurp down what’s left of our ramen, Ana and I hug good-bye and head in our separate directions.

  But for the rest of the day, her words ring through my head. I know she thinks I should give Landon a shot, but it’s not that simple. Yes, he’s gorgeous and easy to talk to when he isn’t being a total pain in the ass about this whole marriage fiasco, but there are a million reasons why we’d be a bad idea. Especially now that I’ve said yes to moving out of the country.

  It would never work in the long run, and one of us would end up hurt. Maybe me. Or maybe him, when he realizes he gave up everything for me.

  6

  * * *

  Restless

  Landon

  I spent all day Monday getting my ass kicked by my trainer, and then endured an excruciating sports massage by the team’s masseur, aptly nicknamed Th
or. All in all, it was a good day.

  There’s nothing that centers me more than some good old-fashioned hard work, yet still I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. I’ll give you one guess about what that thing might be. A certain five-foot-nothing feisty brunette named Aubree Derrick. And now the idea of going home alone to an empty apartment, well, let’s just say it’s the last thing I want to do. A root canal would rank higher, quite frankly.

  I haven’t seen her since Saturday, when we spent the night together in the honeymoon suite.

  She messaged me late Sunday, asking if I’d gotten home okay, but I haven’t replied yet. Mostly because I had no clue what to say.

  We had a good time that night, but when things got heated between us and I told her I’ve been waiting for the right girl, she extracted herself from my lap so quickly, I was surprised she didn’t pull a muscle. And then she all but sprinted from the hotel room, calling out for me to have a good night. It wasn’t exactly my dream scenario.

  Checking the time, I’m guessing she’ll be off work soon. With a restless sigh, I pull out my phone and type out a text to Aubree.

  Hey. I don’t know your schedule, but I’m wondering if you have time to meet for a drink or dinner tonight, or maybe coffee tomorrow. I would like to see you.

  After a shower, I see she’s replied, and as I fumble to unlock my phone screen, my mouth quirks up in a smile.

  Hey, I could meet for a quick drink after work if you like?

  Absolutely. You work in Belltown, right?

  Yes . . .

  I’m guessing she’s wondering how I knew that fact. But I’ve paid closer attention to Aubree than she probably realizes.

  There’s a place I like called Fancy Jacks over there. You want to try it?

  Her reply comes quickly. Sounds good. See you there at 6.

  The idea of seeing Aubree tonight has me all kinds of excited. But I’m probably not supposed to admit that.

  For half a second, I stand in front of my closet in nothing but black boxer briefs, considering what to wear. But fuck it. I’m being ridiculous. Settling on a pair of dark jeans and a worn gray T-shirt, I dress quickly and then slip my feet into a pair of sneakers before heading out.