Page 116 of Pipe Dreams
“Well,” Becca hedged. “Not soon, anyway. I’m waiting until science solves the problem of morning sickness, and then I’ll give it a whirl.” She gave Nate a potent smile.
Lauren closed her eyes, realizing that she might be the third wheel tonight. Maybe if she hadn’t hitched a ride to Dallas, they’d be joining the mile high club right now.
“Should we finish the briefing then?” Nate asked eventually, his long fingers fiddling with a silver pen.
“Sure,” Lauren agreed. She passed him the folder they’d put aside before dinner.
He took it, but then hesitated. “I guess the California job is probably not going to be the right fit for you, is it?”
She winced. “It’s not the best idea, no.”
His smile was warm. Warm for Nate, anyway. “Forget it. I’ll find you something in New York. We’ll talk about it when the play-offs are over. Can you still go to China at the end of the month?”
“Of course. And I’ll try not to puke at every meal.”
“Hmm. So I guess the exotic cuisine tour I’d been scoping out is off the table? Maybe now isn’t the best time to try dog, or pickled eel?”
“Nate!” Her stomach quivered.
“Sorry.” He gave her an evil grin over the file folder, and she rolled her eyes.
•••
Lauren arrived in Dallas without tossing her cookies again. A hired car took them directly to the athletes’ entrance to the stadium, where Becca’s chirpy intern greeted them with passes to a corporate box. “Y’all didn’ttellme Lauren was coming, but luckily I read the flight manifest to double-check the times and I found her name! I was able to print a pass in time,” the girl rambled.
“Thank you,” Lauren said. “I’m crashing everyone’s party today.” Becca gave her an odd look, and Lauren cackled inwardly.
“Shall we go up?” Nate asked, pointing toward a set of escalators.
“Sure,” Lauren agreed, hefting her overnight bag onto her shoulder.
Nate removed it immediately, settling it onto his own shoulder.
“Hey!” Lauren squawked. “I can carry that.”
“Nope.” He put his free arm around her. “Not this time.”
“I’m not fragile.”
“Didn’t say you were.” They walked a few paces together. “I’m happy for you, Lauren. Congratulations on your graduation, too.”
“Thank you!”
“Exciting stuff, lady. All of it.” As they stepped onto the escalator, he pulled her a little closer, so they’d both fit. And then he startled her by giving her a peck on the cheek before releasing her. But not before the sound of a rapid-fire camera shutter sounded on the mezzanine above her.
“You just got your picture taken kissing me,” Lauren pointed out. “That will probably show up in a gossip column tomorrow.”
“Great. Now Mike Beacon is going to break my jaw.”
“Bones heal, and chicks dig scars,” Lauren said, quoting Evel Knievel.
“Good to know.”
THIRTY-TWO
Beacon was in the zone tonight.
Nothing existed but the game. He squinted against the ice’s white glare, clocking the puck, calculating play probabilities like a boss. Outside the crease, the world kept on spinning. Time marched forward. People loved him, or didn’t. None of it mattered, but for eleven other players and a six ounce rubber disk.
