Page 21 of Roughing
“You called me, didn’t you? To be rescued?” he pointed out, and I wasn’t sure where he was going with this line of logic.
“Not rescued.”
“Then what?”
I shrugged, not having a good answer.
“Do you always call random people in the middle of the night to drive several miles to give you a ride home?”
“Of course not,” I scoffed.
“Right, you call your friends.”
He had a point. “I still don’t think we can be friends.”
“We haven’t tried.”
I was tired, and I was discombobulated. I didn’t have the strength to withstand this man when he let down his guard. His persistence wore me down, and I caved. “We can try, but the first slip we’re through for good, understand?”
“Gotcha.” I’d never seen him grin so broadly and so happily. The few smiles I’d seen over the past several months had never reached his eyes. This one did. I felt sorry for this big, strong man who was so alone in the world. I didn’t have the heart to desert him as well. Not right now. I’d needed him tonight, but the script had flipped. Now he needed me more.
“Whoareyou, Briggs?” I leaned forward and grabbed his hands, giving them a squeeze. I hoped he took the gesture as coming from a concerned friend rather than a lover.
“You’re the PI. Don’t you know?” His smile disappeared, and that familiar frown returned. He stiffened and closed down.
“Your question implies I bothered to cyberstalk you or run a background check, which I haven’t. Besides, what I want to know isn’t online. It’s in that stubborn pig head of yours.”
“Pig head? Well, thanks for the compliment.” He almost smiled, and I was relieved to see him relax slightly.
I snorted, dropped his hands, and scooted my chair back a few inches. His overwhelming male presence drew me in like a magnet. If I didn’t keep my guard up, I’d be naked and underneath him in no time. I wasn’t succumbing to his rough male grumpiness. Not this time. Not any time. I was done with him and our one-night stand turned multiple hookups.
Briggs and I had no future as a couple. I’d rededicated myself to being the best person I could be. Part of that rededication involved only dating men who were good for me and leaving behind the bad boys I was instinctually attracted to, such as Briggs and Gordon Clarmont of the Portland elite. I’d fallen fast and hard for that man until a few black eyes and meaningless apologies later, I dumped him. Gordon hadn’t been so easily gotten rid of, however, and had continued to stalk me for the next several months. He’d gone underground recently and given me a false sense of security until the appearance of the mysterious prowler at Gone Missing, though I had no proof that it was him.
Briggs, on the other hand, might be a caveman, but he’d never raised a hand to me or emotionally abused me unless a person considers his complete withdrawal and refusal to communicate a form of emotional abuse, along with his smothering overprotectiveness. The baggage Briggs carried on those broad shoulders might be more than I was prepared to handle.
Neither of these men was good for me, and I would no longer settle for anything less than what I deserved.
But as a friend? Would I be able to maintain a friendship with Briggs without jumping into bed with him? I doubted it, but if he was willing to try, then what the hell? So was I.
I stood and reached for my purse. “Let’s go, friend.”
He nodded, and that brilliant smile came back full force.
Keeping my hands off him might be the hardest thing I’d ever done; having him for a friend might be the most absurd thing I’d ever done.
ChapterSeven
NOTHING MORE THAN A FRIEND
~~Briggs~~
That long road trip was followed by the All-Star break. I had a few days on my hands and wasn’t looking forward to all that downtime.
The team strongly encouraged its players to volunteer in the community, as if we didn’t have enough to do. PR contacted me with my choices, leaving me with no option but to pick my poison. I resisted, but no amount of resistance did any good. The Icehawks’ marketing department comprised young, aggressive twentysomethings who’d probably been instructed to get me involved in community work to repair my soiled rep. While they didn’t come out and say it, they didn’t have to. This was an expectation I’d have to fulfill.
I didn’t care for most of the promo ops where I’d have to hang out with fans and look as though I was having a great time. That wasn’t me. I chose the Rainbow Unicorn Studio because Michella often volunteered there, as did several of the players and the WAGs. I probably should’ve picked something else for that very reason, but the Uni needed guys who were skilled in construction. I wouldn’t have to socialize with rabid fans or pander to wealthy sponsors.
I’d helped my grandfather with several of his construction projects growing up. He’d added on to his old house so many times it was a hodgepodge maze of rooms. My grandfather had been the only family member I’d been able to count on. He was the reason I’d gotten involved in hockey, and he’d taken me to all my games as a kid, paid for my gear, and been my biggest cheerleader. Damn, but I missed him. He died within a few weeks of my sister of a broken heart, or so I believed. My sister’s situation had destroyed him.
