Crosscheck Page 4

  Mara’s cheeks colored quickly. “Right. Her coat the other day. Totally looking my best after four classes, all sweaty and frizzy and gross. Not exactly the greatest first impression.”

  “I didn’t notice,” he assured her, smiling further still. And truthfully, he hadn’t. Of course he’d noticed she was in leggings and a baggy tank over a tighter one, and he’d certainly noticed the quality of the legs she walked on, and he’d noticed the perfection in her above-average height, and he’d noticed a strong jaw, incredible cheekbones, and the slightest dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. But had he noticed anything resembling sweaty, frizzy, or gross?

  Not at all.

  He’d also noticed the affection she’d had for his daughter, which was more important than anything else he had seen.

  Except for the legs, possibly.

  They really were amazing.

  Zane eyed her tray and could have laughed when he saw a burger and fries from the other burger place in the food court. “Good choice,” he said with a head tilt towards her tray. “I’d have gone there myself if this one had let me.”

  “What?” Mara looked down at her tray, then snorted to herself. “Oh. Right, yeah, um . . . rough day at work called for comfort food. I’d have gotten a milkshake, too, only their machine was broken.” She pouted and looked at Hope sadly. “I love milkshakes.”

  “Me too!” Hope grabbed hers and held it up. “They gave me one for free! You can have it.”

  Zane smiled as Mara’s eyes widened. “What? No, sweetie, that’s yours. You deserve it.”

  “We can share it!” Hope pointed at the third chair at their table. “Come sit down with us. We can all eat together and then we can share the milkshake!”

  “I couldn’t,” Mara protested. “It’s a daddy-daughter date, I’m not . . .”

  “We can let someone else in our date,” Zane interrupted again. He pressed his foot against the leg of the open chair and scooted it out. “Come on, join us.”

  She looked at him, a wrinkle in her brow, her lips thinning into a line.

  “Please, Miss Mara?” Hope asked. “Please?”

  Mara looked at Hope, her expression instantly softening. “That is completely unfair. You have the world’s best puppy dog eyes. How does anybody ever say no to you?”

  “They don’t,” Zane and Hope said together, she with brightness, he with resignation.

  Exhaling a sound he couldn’t interpret, Mara moved around the table, setting her tray down and sitting in the chair. “Right. Here’s to a burger night at the mall.”

  “Here, Miss Mara.” Hope slid her milkshake over to her. “You’ve got to try this.”

  “No, really, sweetie, it’s fine.” Mara smiled at her fondly. “I’ll get a milkshake another time.”

  Hope frowned at her, her eyes narrowing. “Drink the milkshake.”

  Mara coughed in surprise and looked at Zane. “Where in the world does that stubborn streak come from? Right out of the blue.”

  “That would be me, I’m afraid,” he admitted, making a face. “Although there are other genes we could blame for it too.” He leaned closer to whisper, “You’d better do what she says. It’s safer if you go along with it.”

  “Sounds like it.” She reached for the milkshake and took a small sip, turning back to Hope. “Oh wow, that is so good!”

  Hope grinned. “Told ya!”

  “Hey, little miss,” Zane said, tapping a finger on the table near her food. “Dinner. Much as we like Miss Mara, you need to eat.”

  She obediently picked up her burger and took a bite out of it, her attention drawn to the bag her meal came in and the puzzles on it.

  Zane turned to Mara again. “Sorry about that. When she gets an idea, there’s no stopping her.”

  Mara waved that off. “Don’t worry about it. She’s a sweet girl, and I’ll never complain about getting a milkshake out of the deal.” She shrugged and took a bite out of her burger, moaning softly as she chewed. The moan cut off almost at once, and she covered her mouth with one hand. “I am so sorry. That’s embarrassing.”

  “Not really,” he replied with a chuckle, though he would admit to his spine tingling at the sound. “A good burger deserves to be appreciated. What do you have going on there?”

  She turned it towards him so he could see. “Cheese, tomato, bacon, lettuce, mayonnaise, barbecue, crispy onions. They’ve got this amazing sauce over there that is so good. Like I-would-drink-it-from-the-bottle good.” She screwed up her face and looked away. “Sorry, sorry. I’m an idiot, and I say things, and . . .”

  “Please,” he told her with a laugh. “I like people who are real. Real food, real reactions, real opinions. I’ll flat out tell you my burger is just meh, but the fries are good. A little saltier than I like, but that’s what I expect. And you enjoying that burger the way you are is making me really jealous.”

  “Sorry not sorry.” Mara shrugged and looked at her burger with a smile. “I’ve earned this, even if the calories are crazy.”

  Zane laughed once. “Calories are a bad word. Just eat the food.”

  Mara gave him a look. “I teach fitness classes. Calories are the staple.”

  “You teach more than the kids’ classes?” He raised a brow, sensing he might have her cornered here. “I don’t think five-year-olds know what calories are.”

  Sure enough, Mara made a face. “No . . . no, and I’m not a fitness nut. I mean, working out is great and all, but I like carbs too much to worry about them. Not my fault, though. I was raised in a bakery.”

  Zane sat back in his chair, plucking a few fries and popping them in his mouth. “Really? Locally, or . . .?”

  “Yep, born and bred in Nashville, couldn’t you tell?” She gestured to her mouth, then tossed her hand in a helpless gesture.

  The motion made him focus on her mouth, more particularly her lips, which were full enough to tempt him without being so full they were distracting. Perfect lips.

  And the corner of one had a touch of barbecue sauce on it.

  Just perfect.

  He swallowed, cleared his throat, and grabbed more fries. “Do I know it?”

  “Not sure. You know A Dash of Goodness?”

  Zane sat forward at once. “You kidding? I love that place! I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but I am hooked on the scones.”

  Mara smiled knowingly. “You ever try the cinnamon rolls?”

  “Uh, yeah. Killer.” He exhaled in a rush, eyes widening for effect. “Seriously, though.”

  “So I hear.” She smiled and picked up some fries of her own. “What brings you guys to the mall tonight?”

  Zane sipped his drink and pointed towards Hope. “Little miss here has been begging to come out here for weeks now, and I had a free night between games. Her birthday is in a few weeks, and we have a tradition. We shop, and she points out what she wants. Makes it much easier for me.”

  “Genius,” Mara told him with an approving nod. “You said between games. You coach?”

  “Daddy plays hockey,” Hope broke in, ketchup and mustard gathering at the corners of her mouth. “I watch him on TV sometimes.”

  Zane smiled at that, but slid his eyes to Mara warily. There was no knowing how anyone would react to that sort of revelation, especially when she clearly had no idea who he was.

  Mara blinked, then looked at Zane, her expression not quite thunderstruck but almost. “Hockey? Professionally?”

  He shrugged. “And now entering the ice, number twenty-one, right defender, Zane Winchester.”

  Mara shook her head slowly. “Well, that puts things into perspective.”

  “How so?”

  “I tend to rank things,” she admitted. “Levels, tiers, that sort of thing. Pro athlete puts you up here.” She illustrated the point with her hand.

  “Okay . . . so where are you on this scale?”

  She lowered her hand dramatically. “Nurse. Right here.”

  Zane frowned at her, took her ha
nd, and brought it up higher. “Here, at least. You have skills, experience, and education. I didn’t go to college at all. Right out of high school, I went pro. I’m a grunt, and that’s about it.”

  “Uh-huh, nice try.” She turned her attention to her food and seemed to be in more of a hurry to eat. “I should go,” she said after four bites. “I need to find a present for my mom and get home. It’s been a long day, and . . .”

  “Shop with us!” Hope suggested brightly. “Daddy needs to know what I want for my birthday, and we can help you find what your mom wants.”

  Mara tried for a smile, but it was clear she was uncomfortable with the idea. “No, I can’t, sweetie. This is a time for you and your dad, and you’ll need to get home too.”

  “Mara,” Zane tried softly, not sure what had changed and why she was suddenly desperate to be away from them.

  “I’m really good at picking out presents,” Hope said. “And I never get to pick out presents for a mom. Just Dad. Please can I? Please?”

  “Hope.”

  She looked at Zane, and he shook his head at her, though he felt his heart crack at the pain he heard in her voice, what he saw in her expression. It wasn’t often she said anything about Michelle, but when she did . . .

  “Okay, sweetie,” Mara said softly, sitting back against her chair. “I’d love your help.”

  Zane exhaled slowly in relief and turned to thank Mara, only she wouldn’t look at him. His brow furrowed at that.

  What in the world was going on here?

  “Don’t watch it, don’t watch it, don’t watch it . . .”

  The TV seemed to be staring back at her. Daring her. Tempting her.

  Taunting her.

  “No,” she told the screen, drying off her hair with a towel. “Not happening. Not okay for me to want to watch, considering . . .”

  She trailed off, her lips pursing.

  Could she watch a hockey game just to check out the dad of one of her students? When he was clearly in a relationship?

  She couldn’t find much out on the internet, which was one of the greatest letdowns she’d known in recent years. What good was the wealth of information if she couldn’t properly cyber-stalk an exceptionally attractive professional athlete?

  There were plenty of pictures and details about Zane Winchester, that was true, and some very attractive photo shoot pics involving several good-looking athletes, but he seemed to be the best built out of the bunch.

  Figures.

  But she didn’t want the pictures. Not initially, anyway, though she might have saved one or two into a folder on her computer. All she wanted to know was his relationship status. That was all.

  Was that really too much to ask?

  There was some speculation on the internet, but he was never pictured with anyone as a date. The only thing she could find was some old pictures from when he was first called up and from a few years ago with a short woman with fake-brown hair and a carefully constructed makeup routine of a face. She had been labeled as his wife then, but that wasn’t the perfect woman from the gym.

  Hope had said she never got to buy presents for a mom; was Perfection her dad’s girlfriend? She seemed pretty close with Hope, but it was looking more and more like she hadn’t given birth to Hope. So had the past wife been Hope’s mom? Where was she? What had happened? Was she still Zane’s wife?

  This was where the internet had failed her.

  Nothing about Zane’s social life. Nothing. He wasn’t a partier, and he wasn’t such a huge name in hockey that female hockey fans started conversations or blogs speculating on his personal life. He wasn’t on social media, and the only recent photos of him off of the ice she had found had been at some hockey club gala in Chicago.

  He’d been gorgeous in a tux, and she hadn’t known until her internet searching that he had a manbun. Normally that wasn’t a look she went for, but on him . . .

  It worked.

  Absolutely worked.

  The fade on the sides of his head helped to not make him look like a surfer or a bum and instead made him look like a model of a hockey player instead of an actual one.

  Either way, she really wanted to see his hair unobstructed by a helmet or a baseball cap.

  She’d never have the opportunity to do so, but she could wish.

  Interestingly, there were no pictures of Hope on the internet. There wasn’t a single mention of her at all. No indication that Zane was a dad. As far as the internet was concerned, Hope didn’t even exist.

  Zane Winchester might have been a showboat on the ice, according to reports and stories and such, but it seemed like he was a complete mystery off of it.

  Why was that even more attractive?

  Mara could have died five times over during that awkward evening at the mall. What was supposed to be a quick dinner and shopping trip after work had turned into a display of all of her quirks and insecurities in front of the single most attractive man she’d ever met. And his adorable, precocious daughter.

  The moment he’d told her who he was, she’d felt like a moron. Not only was he a married man, or at least a taken one, but he was a professional athlete. Her comment about perspective hadn’t been about occupation at all when it tumbled out of her mouth, but she had recovered well enough, she thought. That had been entirely about the dating league and where they stood in comparison. Had he been available at all.

  And had been interested in Mara in the first place.

  She didn’t mind sitting at a table with Hope and Zane, not when Hope was such a fun part of her class, but there was something strange about getting to know the parent of a student when she didn’t know the other parent. And when she found the parent she did know so intriguing.

  Escaping from the situation had been the only thing she could think of, and rambling about buying a present for her mom was supposed to have been her ticket out of there. How could she have known Hope would latch onto the idea and want to come with? Or that Zane would agree?

  Or that she’d wind up having a great time and eventually relax into easy conversation with him?

  She’d forgotten that her hair was dirty and still in work mode and that she was walking around in the most unflattering scrubs she owned. She’d forgotten he was a pro athlete that shouldn’t be able to remember her name. It hadn’t felt like a date, or anything like that, especially with Hope there between them and asking all sorts of questions, but it had felt like they were friends who had happened to meet at the mall.

  There had still been some awkward moments on Mara’s part, of course, as she was incapable of functioning normally when she needed to, but those had been limited to saying more than she should and intentionally pretending she only needed to pay attention to Hope. It was so much easier to engage with her than with her dad, as was usually the case with kids. That was one of the reasons she taught classes for kids instead of adults; kids were so much easier to work with.

  And talk to.

  And wander a mall with.

  But Zane had been okay, once she forgot he was Zane. If she didn’t look at him, it was really easy to talk with him.

  He was insanely tall, but she was six feet flat herself, so it wasn’t often that guys were much taller than her.

  She liked that Zane was that much taller than her.

  She liked it a lot.

  But no. No, no, no, she was not going to watch his game tonight despite the fact that she was now almost an expert in everything the internet had to say about him. She wasn’t much of a hockey fan, so she didn’t exactly understand a lot of what was said about him, but she got the gist of it.

  Zane Winchester was an animal. The penalty king. The warmer of the penalty box. The world record holder in penalty attempts. The government’s secret weapon of defense. The pro wrestler who got lost and found himself on the ice.

  On and on it went, doing nothing for Mara’s curiosity and confusing her more than anything else. The man she had met had been nothing but funny and kind. He doted on his daug
hter and went out of his way to make people comfortable. He was imposing to the nth degree, but once you talked with him, that decreased.

  And he was supposed to be the scariest player on the ice?

  That didn’t match up.

  Maybe she should watch his game, if for no other reason than to understand how he could possibly have such a split personality. And to support the family of her student. It was a show of respect, wasn’t it? Something she was really almost duty bound to do, if she cared about her classes at all.

  Which, of course, she did.

  So.

  Biting her lip, Mara picked up the remote and switched on the TV, immediately finding the guide and scrolling for the right channel. Soon enough, the game was on her screen, and Mara was sitting cross-legged on her couch, leaning forward to watch.

  Her first thought was that Zane wasn’t on the ice.

  Her second was that this game was fast.

  Thankfully, her younger brother Conor had gone through a hockey phase when he was a kid, so she knew a little about the rules and positions. But that brief window of exposure was minimal at best, and the pace of the game couldn’t even begin to be compared.

  It took some getting used to, but eventually Mara could follow along, and right about the time that happened was when she noticed Zane on the ice.

  When had that happened?

  She shook her head at herself and focused. It didn’t matter when he’d come into the game, he was there now. She could pay attention to one player, surely. That should be simple enough.

  Just follow number twenty-one.

  Five minutes of doing just that, and Mara suddenly knew what the internet had been talking about.

  Zane Winchester was crazy.

  He slammed players into the boards of the rink left and right, his hockey stick furiously moving along the ice between the skates of other players. He could be at mid-ice helping the offense and within a blink be back in their zone protecting their goal. He was fast on the ice, almost inhumanly so, but it was his aggression that took Mara by surprise.

  The announcers kept referring to him as Zamboni, and she wasn’t sure why, but it seemed to give him more of an edge than he already had. He knocked several players off their feet without any trouble and never seemed to lose footing himself. Every hit he made sent the crowd into a frenzy, and he seemed to relish in that. More than once she saw him trying to pump them up more, and that didn’t seem to fit.