Read Online Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) by Catherine Gayle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Catherine Gayle
Tags: Contemporary Romance
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over news.”
I nodded. “It was. So was mine. Well, the local news, at least.” I’d been playing for the University of Minnesota at the time. There was enough coverage that the local hockey community had pulled together to help me out. Some of the women’s college programs had put on fund raisers to help pay for my medical expenses, and there’d been an anonymous donation from someone connected to the Wild. They’d never filled me in on who was behind it, but that money had paid for my car modifications—the hand controls, the electric control over the passenger seat so I could easily slide it forward and backward for getting my wheelchair in the back.
“I know,” he said.
“You do?” I blinked a couple of times. I didn’t know why, but it surprised me that he had any knowledge at all about my accident. When I’d crashed into the boards in that game, it hadn’t received anywhere near the kind of attention that it would have if I’d been a man, or especially if I’d been a pro, like he and Sergei had been. This was four years ago, when I’d been a twenty-year-old junior with my whole life ahead of me. For a time, I’d thought that my life might as well have ended, but I hadn’t let myself stay in the doldrums for too long. How could I when there were so many people who wanted to help me?
“Was playing for Minnesota then.”
The weight of his words hit me like a ton of bricks. For a moment, all I could do was stare at him, open-mouthed, while I tried to take it all in. “Did you send me money?” I demanded.
He stared back, silent and unwavering. Then he got up and headed for the stairs. “Need to change sheets.”
Damn it all if he wasn’t running away from me, and doing it in a way that I couldn’t chase him.
HOW THE HELL was I going to get through the next few days with this woman in my house? When I picked her up and she started playing with my beard, all I wanted to do was make her stop, even if it took kissing her senseless. Not a good direction for my thoughts to take since, due to the construction of the house, I was going to have to pick her up and carry her multiple times a day until the weather finally cleared and I could send her on her way.
The sooner that happened, the better, too, because then I’d started thinking about kissing her, and now I couldn’t stop—even though she drove me mad with all her probing questions. Goddamned, insufferable, prying woman.
I ripped the sheets off my bed and cursed myself for never having gotten around to furnishing any of the other bedrooms in this house. There’d been no need to. When Sergei came to visit, he always preferred to get a hotel room close by. He was the only person I ever had visit me, so I hadn’t been in any big rush. I often thought about offering up one of the rooms to a younger teammate or to someone who got traded mid-season, but I hadn’t ever done that. The rooms were still empty, so now I would be sleeping downstairs on my couch for a few nights.
If my instincts were right, London sensed my attraction and was using it against me. Why else would she have played with my hair like that? There wasn’t any other good explanation for it. She was trying to torture me.
That theory lined up well with all her other behavior since I’d first met her. She seemed to get off on poking and prodding my every wound. If she found a sore spot, she dug in until I couldn’t do anything but run away for some peace.
I finished putting clean bedding in place and carried the dirty sheets downstairs.
London raised a brow when she saw me. “Done running away yet?”
“Need to wash them.”
No way was I ready to face her again. I never knew what to expect from her, and that terrified the shit out of me. I headed down to the lower level and started the washer, taking my time to compose myself before returning to the living room to join her.
When I crossed in front of her, she tugged on the sleeve of my shirt, pulling
I nodded. “It was. So was mine. Well, the local news, at least.” I’d been playing for the University of Minnesota at the time. There was enough coverage that the local hockey community had pulled together to help me out. Some of the women’s college programs had put on fund raisers to help pay for my medical expenses, and there’d been an anonymous donation from someone connected to the Wild. They’d never filled me in on who was behind it, but that money had paid for my car modifications—the hand controls, the electric control over the passenger seat so I could easily slide it forward and backward for getting my wheelchair in the back.
“I know,” he said.
“You do?” I blinked a couple of times. I didn’t know why, but it surprised me that he had any knowledge at all about my accident. When I’d crashed into the boards in that game, it hadn’t received anywhere near the kind of attention that it would have if I’d been a man, or especially if I’d been a pro, like he and Sergei had been. This was four years ago, when I’d been a twenty-year-old junior with my whole life ahead of me. For a time, I’d thought that my life might as well have ended, but I hadn’t let myself stay in the doldrums for too long. How could I when there were so many people who wanted to help me?
“Was playing for Minnesota then.”
The weight of his words hit me like a ton of bricks. For a moment, all I could do was stare at him, open-mouthed, while I tried to take it all in. “Did you send me money?” I demanded.
He stared back, silent and unwavering. Then he got up and headed for the stairs. “Need to change sheets.”
Damn it all if he wasn’t running away from me, and doing it in a way that I couldn’t chase him.
HOW THE HELL was I going to get through the next few days with this woman in my house? When I picked her up and she started playing with my beard, all I wanted to do was make her stop, even if it took kissing her senseless. Not a good direction for my thoughts to take since, due to the construction of the house, I was going to have to pick her up and carry her multiple times a day until the weather finally cleared and I could send her on her way.
The sooner that happened, the better, too, because then I’d started thinking about kissing her, and now I couldn’t stop—even though she drove me mad with all her probing questions. Goddamned, insufferable, prying woman.
I ripped the sheets off my bed and cursed myself for never having gotten around to furnishing any of the other bedrooms in this house. There’d been no need to. When Sergei came to visit, he always preferred to get a hotel room close by. He was the only person I ever had visit me, so I hadn’t been in any big rush. I often thought about offering up one of the rooms to a younger teammate or to someone who got traded mid-season, but I hadn’t ever done that. The rooms were still empty, so now I would be sleeping downstairs on my couch for a few nights.
If my instincts were right, London sensed my attraction and was using it against me. Why else would she have played with my hair like that? There wasn’t any other good explanation for it. She was trying to torture me.
That theory lined up well with all her other behavior since I’d first met her. She seemed to get off on poking and prodding my every wound. If she found a sore spot, she dug in until I couldn’t do anything but run away for some peace.
I finished putting clean bedding in place and carried the dirty sheets downstairs.
London raised a brow when she saw me. “Done running away yet?”
“Need to wash them.”
No way was I ready to face her again. I never knew what to expect from her, and that terrified the shit out of me. I headed down to the lower level and started the washer, taking my time to compose myself before returning to the living room to join her.
When I crossed in front of her, she tugged on the sleeve of my shirt, pulling
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