Delayed Call, Page 2

  “Who talked me into this?”

  “No one. You did that to yourself.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. You’re lonely?”

  “Oh. I am, aren’t I? Shit.”

  “Yup, so may the force be with you, my friend.”

  “But I don’t want to do this.”

  “Then leave?”

  “Can’t you come with me? There’s still time. It doesn’t start for another fifteen.”

  “I’m just sure my fiancé would love that.”

  Brie Soledad rolled her eyes as she leaned on the pillar of the ballroom, her eyes burning a hole in the sign that read: Speed Dating for Nashville Locals. It was embarrassing that this was what her life had resulted in, but as her best friend had said, she was lonely. Mekena Preston, though, was not lonely. Nope, she was all happy and in love with her fiancé, while having a great job and a wonderful life, blah, blah, blah. And if Brie was honest, she was jealous as hell and so desperately wanted to get laid, maybe even fall in love. Get the blah, blah, blah.

  God, she wanted the blah, blah, blah. So damn bad.

  Being a hockey reporter for one of the hottest teams in the NHL, the Nashville Assassins, one would think she would be rolling in the men, but she wasn’t. Everyone treated her like a little sister or they ignored her or they treated her like shit. Well, only one did that, but that was beside the point. The point was, Brie needed more. She was happy in her career. It was awesome, she was amazing, and people loved her. She had even won an Emmy the year before; she was kicking ass. The only problem was she didn’t have anyone to share her success with.

  Yeah, she had her little brother, Rodney, but he really didn’t understand. Also, he needed to focus on his health and not on her. She was supposed to worry for him, not the other way around. Or at least, that was what she had promised her mom before she’d passed away from cancer a few years back. Sometimes, it was hard to remember, but Brie blamed that on the fact that she had no one to lean on. It was just her, with the weight of her job and her brother’s issues on her shoulders.

  And plus, she really wanted to get laid.

  It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t an ugly girl. She was short, and maybe she could have skipped a few desserts, but then, what was life without ice cream and donuts? She had a pretty face, big blue eyes, and lips that screamed to be kissed, yet no one was kissing them. It was annoying, and pray God, this damn speed dating worked.

  “I’m gonna stay,” she said, coming off the pillar and fixing the skirt of her little blue dress that stopped right at the middle of her thighs. “I need to get laid.”

  Mekena stuttered. “Not tonight, though, right?”

  “Jesus, Mekena, I’m not a whore.”

  “Oh, you’re not?”

  And this was the problem with being best friends with a girl she met only a month ago. “I’m not. Asshole.”

  She giggled. “Fine, but please text me and let me know you weren’t killed.”

  “I’ve got my pepper spray.”

  “And your Taser?”

  “And my Taser,” she said, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t sure why Mekena was even asking; she was the one who had stuffed it into her purse the day before. If nothing else, Mekena Preston was practical and smart, very smart.

  “Good, text me when you leave.”

  “Will do.”

  “Have fun. Find your forever!”

  Brie’s face scrunched up. “That is dumb, don’t ever say that again.”

  “Hey, everyone says that when they fall in love.”

  “God, I hope I don’t.”

  “You will.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Stop stalling. Go find your forever.”

  “That’s disgusting. Bye,” Brie complained before hanging up and then tucking her phone into her pocket and taking in a deep breath. Looking around the room, she noticed there was a decent men-to-women ratio, which was good. She didn’t want to be the only chick in the middle of a sausage fest. While she wanted some sausage, she only needed one. A large one, thick, some girth, mmm… Great, now she was hungry. Pressing her hand to her belly, she rolled her eyes. She needed help.

  Or, again, to get laid.

  Maybe she should just go home with the first able-bodied man.

  When a large, round man stopped in front of her, her eyes widened. He was easily twenty years older than her thirty-one years and he was losing his hair, but he was trying to cover it with a toupee. People still wore those? Pointing at her, he smiled with bright yellow teeth. “Hey, sugar, make sure to stop at my table.”

  “Ugh, sure,” she blurted out before hightailing it to the left.

  She would not be going home with that guy. No matter how desperate she was.

  Standing in the back, she looked over the sea of people as the announcer explained what they were to do. The sad thing was, this wasn’t her first time, so she knew what to do. Last time, she hated it and met no one, but maybe this time would be different. Letting out a long groan, she shook her head. If she could be normal and meet someone in a coffee shop or at her job, that would be awesome. But she hadn’t had luck with guys her whole life.

  She wasn’t one of those serial daters or even a casual one. She dated for a reason, and because of that, she had only been in two serious relationships. Both were ended by the guy, which did nothing for her confidence. Both times she didn’t see it coming, and that alone was depressing as hell. Especially Martin. She’d loved Martin—a lot. But when her mom died, he said it was too much and left her high and dry. Not only did she have to pick up the pieces of her heart and Rod’s from her mother’s death, but then she had to pick up the extra pieces of her heart from Martin’s departure. It was horrible, and because of that experience, she was a little scarred by relationships.

  Okay, a whole lot scarred. But she was coming up on a new year, and it was time to turn over a new leaf. She wanted the romantic happiness that being with a guy could provide. It had taken her a long time to love herself again. After the grief was no longer overwhelming, after the pain of Martin was gone, she was ready to love once more. It was time, time for her to venture out and find that guy. The… There was no way she was saying the forever guy, but something along those lines.

  “So let’s get started!” the announcer said, and then she rang a really annoying cowbell. Taking the cue, Brie went to the first table and sat down as a guy with hair longer than hers did. He was decent-looking, but no spark whatsoever. Maybe it would come?

  “Hey, I’m Brian.”

  Brie smiled. “Hi, I’m Brie.”

  “Ha, like the cheese.”

  She blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “The cheese. I love Brie, it’s my favorite. I wonder if you taste like Brie? Wanna get out of here?”

  She blinked once more and then let out a hard laugh. “So let me get this straight,” she said, leaning on the table. “First, you compare me to cheese, and not even the most exclusive cheese, kind of midrange. And then you want me to go home with you?”

  He shrugged like that was a normal exchange. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, no. And fuck-you-very-much,” she said, standing up just as the bell rang. Thankfully. Moving down the chair, she skipped the guy from earlier, the balding dude, and sat down as a very attractive, clean-cut guy sat down. And wowza, was he gorgeous. Big blue eyes, wonderful angles to his face, and thick, yummy shoulders. He reminded her of someone…but… Whoa, not now, Soledad.

  With a bright smile, she said, “Hey, I’m Brie.”

  “Tim, nice to meet you,” he said, matching her grin as he looked her up and down. “Let me guess, a doctor?”

  She laughed. “Reporter for the Nashville Assassins.”

  His eyes lit up. “Go Assassins!”

  She smiled as she nodded. “Greatest team in the league.”

  “Agreed, but I’m sad. I could have sworn you were a doctor. That would have worked for me since I’m a lawyer, and I need someone to deal with my c
razy hours.”

  “Well, I need that too because I leave a lot.”

  “Oh, well then, hi,” he said, leaning on the table, and she did the same.

  “Hi.”

  “Family?”

  She nodded. “A little brother.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Rodney.”

  “Is he in town?”

  “Yup, over at Riverdale.”

  His brows pulled together. “Riverdale? Isn’t that the old folks’ home?”

  “They also have a facility for people with Down syndrome.”

  “I didn’t know they kept retards too. That place stinks, I had an aunt die there.”

  Oh, look, there went all the attraction she even thought she had for this piece of junk. Swallowing hard, she stood slowly and then tucked her chair in. “Actually, not all people with Down syndrome have mental challenges. My brother is highly intelligent. You wouldn’t even know he had Down syndrome if he didn’t have the physical characteristics.”

  He shrugged, waving her off. “Same thing.”

  She could only blink. “You know what isn’t the same? A dick-fuck and a cuntasaurus.”

  “Um—”

  “But you know what? You’re both of those,” she yelled. “And we are done.”

  “Your loss, sweetheart.”

  “No, you piece of dog shit, it’s your loss because I am fucking amazing,” she announced before turning on her heel and walking straight out of the speed-dating event.

  Fuck guys.

  They sucked.

  One would think, two weeks after the horrid speed-dating event, Brie’s life would have started to look up.

  Alas, it hadn’t.

  Standing with her eyes looking into the lens of the camera, she squeezed the mic with her fingers as she slowly breathed in and out. Things were supposed to be going great for her. They were coming up on the new year, and Brie’s goal of dating someone before New Year’s Eve was slowly but surely diminishing. Like a bug going straight into a fucking bug zapper. That was her life. In a way, that was okay. Things were crazy anyway. She was moving in to her new apartment the following day. The stress of having to cancel on the moving company since they cost so much more than she thought they would weighed heavy on her, and she also had the stress of issues with Rod. They had an appointment with Rod’s cardiologist the following morning, and that was taking up all the available space in her head.

  Rod hadn’t been doing well. His heart was being a jerk, and she was worried. She couldn’t lose him. He was all she had left, and it scared her. Especially since he really didn’t understand the severity of his heart issues. He just wanted to be a regular twenty-two-year-old guy, and it killed her that he couldn’t. That he needed to be taken care of with kid gloves, and sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t what he needed.

  That made her feel like a failure when it came to Rod, and she hated that feeling.

  And as if that wasn’t enough, the Assassins had lost in a nasty three-zero contest. Tate Odder had the worst night of his career, being pulled and the new backup, Jensen Monroe, taking his place. Adding insult to injury, Jensen hadn’t let in anything. Great for Jensen, but bad for Tate since they were fighting for the top goalie position. Brie loved Tate, along with his wife, Audrey, but even she couldn’t hate Jensen. He was a nice enough guy, and while an interview with him wasn’t that big of a deal, it was the other person who was on the schedule that had Brie shaking in her knee-high boots and sweating down the back of her neck.

  Looking up at a very handsome Jensen Monroe, she met his green eyes and nodded slowly. “The Canadiens were relentless tonight, forty-seven shots on goal, and you stopped twenty-seven in an amazing effort. Do you feel you’ve found your footing with the Assassins?”

  Jensen nodded. “I do. I felt great tonight. I wish the offense had gotten something in, but Price was the picture of perfection,” he said, his voice so deep and rough, it was borderline sinful.

  “He was, and some say you were too.”

  He gave a bashful grin that brought out the sexy dimples in his cheeks. “I was brought to this team to provide backup to Odder. I feel I did that tonight on a night where he wasn’t there. We all have our bad games, and I’m lucky to be able to back up someone so talented. Plus, half those goals that went in were lucky goals.”

  “Exactly. Two were redirected in off our players, and then one was hit off Odder’s back. How do those goals affect one’s mind-set?”

  Jensen shrugged. “Each goalie handles games like these in different ways. I can’t speak for Odder, but I know that I have to leave it on the ice. And I hope he’s doing the same.”

  “Me too. Thank you so much for taking the time to talk with me.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Thank you, Jensen.”

  “Thank you,” he said, turning and walking down the hall. Before she shifted to face the camera, though, she saw him. Leaning against the wall, his face completely blank as he looked her up and down. He always did that. Looked at her like a piece of meat, which confused the hell out of her since he was so awful to her when they spoke. Chills went down her spine, and her hands started to sweat as she looked back at the camera.

  “Don’t go anywhere, for when we come back, Vaughn Johansson will be with us. Stay tuned.”

  Saying his name made her face twist in disgust.

  “And we’re off,” Travis, the camera guy, informed her as she dropped her hand with the mic, taking the water that was outstretched to her. “Four minutes.”

  She nodded as she swigged the water. Usually, she would talk to the player she was about to interview, but all she wanted to do was ask the egotistical prick who was coming toward her the three questions that were written out for her and then get out of there. The farther away from him she could be, the better. He was the downright biggest asshole she had ever met, and she did not like him.

  At all.

  Not even kind of.

  Attracted, yes. Like, no.

  And, yes, those were two totally different things.

  Or, at least, that’s what she was telling herself.

  Swallowing hard, she felt him moving before she looked over to see him coming toward her. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes on her. His face was red, his light brown hair wet with sweat, along with his shirt. He hadn’t showered; he never did. It was like he wanted to drive her crazy by being disgusting when she interviewed him. For some reason, everyone loved putting them together for these things. He always came up for interviews, and no matter how much she begged for anyone else, they kept giving her him. Why? It would always be a mystery because all he did was act like a complete douche.

  “Two minutes.”

  She swallowed hard before handing her water to another outstretched hand as her makeup girl came over and touched up her powder, then her hair. She had been covering the whole game, like she always did, but that didn’t take much effort. Still, they wanted her to look perfect. Which she guessed she did, especially when they made her stand on a box to make sure she was in the shot with the players.

  The cons of being short.

  There were more cons than pros, she felt.

  “You dyed your hair.”

  She didn’t even look at him. “I’m naturally a blonde.”

  He scoffed. “No wonder.”

  He was baiting her and she wanted to snap, but she looked at the camera as she rolled her eyes before gripping her mic tightly. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t trust him to keep his composure. She was pretty sure he didn’t have any composure, nor did he even know what it meant. He was just a stupid hockey player who took too many pucks to the head. Yes, he may score a lot and he may be talented, but he was dumb. She didn’t like him. At all. Had she mentioned that?

  “Try to control yourself,” she spat at him, and he chuckled.

  “Maybe you should get a bigger box, you don’t even reach my chest.”

  She glared because she did reach his che
st. Asshole! “Don’t worry about my box.”

  “Don’t worry about me controlling myself.”

  At an impasse, she glared back at the camera as the director counted down. She tried to fix her face, but damn it, he drove her crazy. Insane. Ah, she didn’t like him!

  “Welcome back. I’m Brie Soledad, here with Vaughn Johansson,” she said before turning to looking at him. “Johansson, tonight was a tough one. We had over forty shots on goal, but no one could score. What do you think went wrong?”

  With his face expressionless and his eyes on her naughty damn blue eyes, he barked, “We didn’t do anything wrong. We went out and played our hearts out. Sometimes you can’t score, it happens. Not our fault the goalie was basically taking up the whole goal and we couldn’t get past him.”

  That wasn’t so bad. Sweat dripped down the side of her face—thankfully, not the camera side. “You, yourself, had twenty-one chances to score. Why do you think it didn’t hit the back of the net?”

  Annoyance filled his eyes, and she knew these questions were inane, but she didn’t get to choose them. They were essentially written out for her, and she was supposed to expand on them. But there was no expanding with Vaughn Johansson. She was in and out with this prick. “Price was there. Nothing I can do. I tried, we all tried, and tonight wasn’t our night.”

  For some reason, she asked, “How do you put this game behind you?”

  “Like I do any game we don’t win. I leave that shit on the ice, and I move on.”

  Her eyes widened at the word choice he made before she cut her eyes to the director, but Russell just motioned her on.

  Shit.

  Clearing her throat, she read the question and moaned inwardly. This wasn’t going to go over well. “That’s all you can do. How are you preparing for the next game against the Hawks to ensure a win?”

  Something flashed in his eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was annoyance or what, but he glared as he answered. “Like I do fucking everything thing else. I go home, I rest, I come and practice, and I get ready. I’m not a fucking robot. We aren’t made to win everything. Thankfully, our boss is working her ass off to make us a Cup-contending team, but we aren’t going to win them all. We aren’t perfect, and to assume so is asinine.”