She met his gaze. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s unnecessary.”
He held her stare, unblinking, like he could see through everything. She wouldn’t allow herself to believe that. Some rich-as-sin hockey player didn’t have any insight into her life, no matter how much he knew, or would know. No matter how much she pretended or didn’t pretend. He did not have the life capable of understanding hers.
“Consider it an open invitation.”
Maybe if things were different—if he wasn’t handsome and charming and everything she knew better than to trust—maybe that would be comforting. But much like that night at Shaw, Dan’s kindness was more threat than invitation. Kindness never stuck, and beauty and charm were an illusion.
“You know, if you’re set on keeping your motorcycle, you could consider getting a Gator instead of a truck.”
He was quiet for a few humming seconds—nothing but the murmur of fancy-businesspeople conversations and the faint notes of some string instrument and his green eyes zoned in on her face, assessing, unlocking.
Well, she just had to make it two months, three and a half weeks without being unlocked. She could do that. She would do that.
Let Dan buy her this too-expensive lunch, let him think he’d gotten to her. Meanwhile, she’d erase this morning from her memory. She’d start over—God knew she was good at that. She’d underestimated Dan, and how close she was to her breaking point.
She wouldn’t again.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess when you say Gator, you mean some kind of vehicle, not an actual alligator.”
“Astute, Sharpe.”
“Thought we’d moved to Dan.”
“You’re whatever I want you to be whenever I want you to be.”
“That so?”
“I’m the boss, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” He leaned forward and opened his mouth, but before he could say some undoubtedly smart-ass comment, his phone rang. He frowned and pulled it out of his pocket. His frown deepened to a scowl. “My agent,” he muttered, already getting out of his seat. “Be right back.”
He disappeared out of the front, leaving Mel alone, in this place she did not belong, with a very expensive meal being put before her.
A rather meaningful symbol, all in all.
*
Dan glared at the red brick of the building across the street, the faded sign that stuck out from what appeared to be a shoe store. Beyond the buildings were more fucking mountains. He didn’t know why they pissed him off—they just did.
“Can’t we do an independent investigation?” he interrupted as his agent yammered on about possibly interested teams that sounded completely one hundred percent not interested.
“Listen, Dan, you could…”
He could all but see Scott pinching the bridge of his nose and rolling his eyes. And the use of “you” instead of “we” was…well, purposeful.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, because of course I do. I’m your number one supporter here, but is a private investigation worth the media circus? What about the possibility—”
“The possibility of what?” Dan demanded, fingers clutched around the phone so tight it began to hurt.
“Look, you don’t know what they’ll find. Not that you’re guilty. Just, you can’t trust anyone. You know, man? If someone in an investigative role even hints at you even talking to someone shady—shit, Dan, your career is over. I’ve got Phoenix this close to giving you a tryout.”
“A tryout? A tryout? I…” He stopped himself before he said I am Dan Sharpe, damn it. Because that sounded a little too dickish even to his ears. But he was Dan Sharpe, damn it. He’d outgrown the need for a tryout fifteen years ago.
“We gotta play the game, Dan.”
“If we had an investigation—”
“Look, I’m not going to stop you if that’s what you want to do. I’m advising against it, but I can’t stop you. I just think working your way back up the hard way is ultimately going to be a better way to end your career on a high note.”
End your career.
“Let me work my magic. You just lay low in Idaho—”
“Montana,” Dan said through gritted teeth.
“Right, yeah, hang out there. Keep in shape. See if you can find somewhere to skate. But, you know, take a break. Chill. I’m working things out. You know I want you to play next year as much as you want to.”
Of course he did. That’s how he got paid, but that didn’t make Dan any happier with sitting around waiting. He wanted to act. He wanted something to be in his control.
He took a step down the sidewalk, to where he could make out Mel at the table. Their food had been served, and she was attacking the steak like it had mortally offended her.