Page 9 of Pipe Dreams
And then fate laughed at the both of them. Hell. Fate laughed so hard she must have peed herself a little.
Lauren 2.0 checked her phone. “It will be just another minute for your car.” She didn’t meet his gaze.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, wondering what he could say to make the moment easier.
Two years ago when he’d abruptly ended things between them, he’d hoped that she would move on. Someone so beautiful and smart—Lauren was the whole package—would have men lined up six deep.
So where were they?
These past two weeks he’d gotten more glimpses of Lauren than in the previous two years. And what he saw made him uneasy. She looked fantastic, and she’d clearly done well for herself. Nate Kattenberg trusted her, and obviously paid her well to run various parts of his organization. And apparently Lauren was just about to finish the college degree that her father had denied her years earlier.
Everything ought to be going great for the most fantastic woman he’d ever known. But there was a hard look in her eye that nagged him. He hated wondering if he’d put it there.
Lauren shoved the rink door open now. “Here’s your car,” she said without meeting his eyes.
He hesitated. “What about you? I think I’m the last one.”
“I’ll get the next one.”
“Kinda silly for a seven minute trip. Shouldn’t we just share?”
That’s when she finally looked him in the eye, and her expression was tense. “Why would we do that?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” he returned. “Seems like a waste of resources to call another one.”
Her perfect jaw hardened, and he felt a slap of guilt for implying that she wasn’t managing things properly. But was it really so hard to sit in a car with him for a few minutes?Jesus. “You take it, Lo. I’ll Uber.”
Maybe it was the use of his old nickname for her, but her expression fell. Her eyes closed, and the truckload of hurt in her expression gutted him.
“Go ahead,” he whispered. “It’s fine.”
As he watched, she seemed to pull herself together. Her shoulders squared, she lifted her chin. “Fine, we’ll share.” She said it the way another person would say, “Let’s have a root canal.” Then she pushed the door open wide, pointing at the car the way an army general might order one of his men into the breach.
Okay then.
He followed her outside, then hustled past her to open the rear door of an Escalade waiting at the curb. He always used to hold the door. He enjoyed taking care of her because she was just so freaking competent—managing details for the team all day long. It was fun to turn the tables on her after hours.
And she used to let him.
Beacon got into the car on the other side and shut the door. “We are all set,” he told the driver.
The big car glided away from the curb and headed into the D.C. traffic. This city managed to be stacked with cars even at midnight. Amazing. But it was silent inside the new-smelling car. Too silent. After the snarl she’d given him on the sidewalk two weeks ago after the game, he wasn’t expecting a warm welcome.
“Did Nate hit the Scotch during the third period?” he asked to make conversation. The owner was known to drink only when he thought they’d lose the game.
“No, he kept the faith.”
“Bet he’s drinkin’ now.”
“Maybe. But Nate doesn’t panic. He’s enjoying himself this week.”
Unlike you, he thought. She sat practically pressed against the opposite door, her body language stiff. “So are you, like, doing two jobs while Becca is out?”
She shrugged. “There haven’t been many fires to put out in Midtown. So far,” she amended.
“Knock wood.” During their good times he would have offered his head to knock on, and she would have accepted. They wouldn’t be sitting like adversaries on this car seat, either.
His memory got the best of him. He thought of other car rides in other cities. Whether the team had won or lost, he and Lauren would cuddle up together, laughing about the long day they’d both had. That would usually end with Beacon nibbling the smooth skin of her neck. And if the ride was long enough they’d end up steaming up the backseat as a warm-up for another hot night in his hotel bed.
