Delay of Game Read online

  Chapter Two

  Eleven months later

  “I’ll have another.”

  Hope Nacin sighed as she heard the familiar voice beckon her to the other side of the bar. He was on his sixth pint of the night – a new record for him. Usually, he stopped around four.

  The man had once told her his name was Jason, but Hope had never verified that it was his real name. She’d thought about carding him on his third or fourth visit, even though there had never been a question about whether or not he was old enough to buy alcohol. It seemed silly to ask after already serving him without batting an eyelash.

  Hope saw hundreds of people a night at The Blue Corral, the dingy country bar she worked nights in, but she’d never met someone as miserable as Jason. She’d made attempts to ask what was wrong. All of them were followed by a claim that there was nothing wrong. She had one time joked that his reply was exactly what someone who had something wrong going on in their life would say. That had gotten the harshness around his eyes to lighten a little, but no secrets were revealed.

  It wasn’t right for a man as gorgeous as Hope’s frequent customer to be so sad. The beer he inhaled the two or three nights a week that he showed up didn’t seem to help. His chocolate-colored eyes never lost the hint that he felt like the only man in a world full of people who didn’t understand him.

  Hope finished delivering a martini to another customer and slowly made her way over to Jason. There was no reason for Hope to feel protective of the man, but something about his wounded nature called to her.

  At least three times a night, a tipsy woman would get the courage to see if Jason would buy her a drink. Hope had already witnessed two tries that night. Both of which ended like every other attempt, with the woman getting the cold shoulder. Jason wouldn’t even look at the woman before making up his decision to not give her the time of day.

  The lights in the bar left a lot to be desired, so Hope wasn’t sure if his hair was a dark shade of brown that matched his eyes or black. She could see that he apparently stopped believing in haircuts shortly after his first visit, which had to have been close to a year prior. Over the months, what was only mildly shaggy hair had turned a mane that flowed down to his shoulders.

  Other than the need for a trim, the man was flawless. He had a straight nose that fit his square face. Much like his hair color, it was hard to tell the exact tone of his skin, but based on her experience with the lighting, she wagered it was sort of an olive shade.

  Hope put her hands on the rough wood planks of the bar and looked the man in his eyes. She didn’t do it often, because the pain she saw reflecting in them was uncomfortable. Hope didn’t want to admit that she could sometimes see the same thing when she looked in the mirror.

  It wasn’t like she had anything to be miserable about, yet somehow there were days she just wasn’t happy about the way her life was going. The interactions she had at work were really her only social contacts other than family, and that had always been enough for her. There were some days she wanted something more, but she didn’t have the time to put forth any effort.

  “There something special about today that has you drinking faster than normal?”

  His eyes looked harder than usual. Hope had noticed the way his right cheek looked slightly swollen when he’d taken his regular stool at the far end of the bar. As the hour had passed, his normally flawless skin had taken on a dark bruise.

  “Before you answer that, do you want a bag of ice?”

  Jason’s brow furrowed as he tilted his head to the side. Pushing his glass forward, the foam in the bottom of the glass sloshed.

  “All I need is another glass.”

  Hope wrapped her fingers around the glass and went about her job refilling it. Steel guitars echoed through the speakers in the ceiling as couples danced thirty feet from the bar. Hope had lived in Nashville all her life, so she was used to country music twenty-four seven. There were times all the singing about trucks and lost love drove her nuts, but she’d learned to tune it out.

  The pop-laden abomination that was currently playing was harder to ignore. The customers still danced to it, but Hope blamed that on them being drunk. No self-respecting country fan found the screeching going on to be traditional, no matter how many banjos they added to it.

  “Can I ask why you come here? I know you’re not in here every night, but I don’t get the feeling you’re cheating on me with other bartenders.”

  Jason didn’t appear to have a set schedule. Some days he came in around five, some after midnight. There had even been weeks when he didn’t show up at all. Hope didn’t generally keep tabs on the regulars, but she always noticed the nights Jason wasn’t there.

  Taking the glass back, Jason chugged half of it down before he answered. Hope assumed he wasn’t going to say anything, but still, she stared at him expectantly.

  “You can ask that question, if you tell me your story. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  Jason held up the hand not clutching the glass and waved it in the air. The man sitting two stools down from him had been chain smoking, so the action cut through the smoke around them.

  “What on earth do you mean?” Hope jokingly batted her eyelashes and fluffed up her curly chestnut-colored hair. “Just what kind of girl do take me to be?”

  She cautiously moved her head back when Jason reached forward. She was able to see how large his hands were as the left one closed in on her face. If he held it out in front of her, it would probably eclipse her face.

  “Don’t worry,” he said as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  When the unruly hair was in place, he put his hand back on his side of the bar. Hope was a little stunned by the contact, so she remained motionless as she waited for him to continue.

  “That was going to distract me, so I thought I should take care of it.”

  There were plenty of customers who slurred their words six beers into their evening, but Jason’s voice was clear and deep. It somehow cut through the noisy atmosphere without a problem.

  “Can I get a margarita and gin and tonic.”

  Hope wanted to ignore the nasally request from the woman in a red dress tight enough that her boobs looked like they were trying to escape out the top of it. Hope had seen the woman a couple of times, but she wasn’t a regular. Her frequency didn’t change Hope’s willingness to quickly serve her.

  The fact that she was interrupting the first real conversation Hope and Jason had delved into made Hope want her to disappear. Instead of telling her to get lost, Hope smiled one of those smiles that looked sincere, but wasn’t. She’d become a master of them since working at the bar.

  “Coming right up.”

  The request wasn’t as easy as pulling a handle and filling a glass, but Hope got the job in part because she was good at mixing things up fast. That and the fact that the owner thought she had a nice pair of boobs that would keep men occupied and begging for drinks. Ricky had actually told her that the day he’d interviewed her for the job. If she didn’t like the money involved coming in, she would’ve walked out of the bar and never looked back.

  “Here you go.”

  The customer had worked up enough courage that she was primed to talk to Jason. If the woman had been looking in Hope’s direction, she would’ve seen the warning in her eyes that the move wouldn’t go well.

  “So, are you from around here or just passing through? You look kind of familiar.”

  Hope was usually generous with her opinions of the customers. If she thought badly about any of them, she was afraid it would show in her service, so she tended to keep an open mind. For some reason, she hated the dolled up, wannabe plastic toy doll standing in front of her.

  While they waited to see whether Jason would respond, Hope envisioned taking a pair of sheers to the long golden hair that ran down the woman’s back. The second she started thinking about also taking those scissors to her face, cutting up those perfect cheekbones and potent
ially popping out one of the pale blue eyes staring at Jason, Hope decided it was time to intervene.

  “He doesn’t talk, so why don’t you take your drinks and head back to your friends.”

  Hope had noticed said friends all on the edge of their seats across the room. She didn’t know if the conversation the woman was trying to spark was a dare or just something she told her friends she was going to do, but it was clear it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone at the table.

  “That’s a bunch of crap. I heard you two talking just before I got up to the bar. What’s your problem, dude? Do you only like talking to homely bartenders?”

  Over the time Jason had frequented The Blue Corral, Hope had always been protective of him because of the kindred spirit she felt running through them. Half of the time, she had the vultures run off before they had a chance to open their mouths, but every once in a while, she’d run into someone like the aspiring movie star across from her.

  “I suggest you take your drinks and go. Maybe you haven’t heard, but homely bartenders tend to know how to kick scrawny sluts to the curb. If he’s not talking, he’s not interested, so move on.”

  Hope cracked her knuckles as she spoke and leaned forward on the bar. She schooled her face to take on one of her meaner looks, with her lips pursed and her eyes squinted. She didn’t practice the look in the mirror or anything, but it usually elicited the desired response.

  Miss Perfect, shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair angrily. Hope halfway wished she’d run into a knot or something somewhere in the long bird’s nest, but sadly she got her fingers all the way through and grabbed her drinks.

  “You’re missing out, buddy. I’m going to be a big country star one of these days and you could’ve been right there by my side.”

  It was Hope’s turn to shake her head as the woman stomped off in her black high heels. Everyone seemed to think they were destined to be somebody. Hope ran into at least six people a night who had stories about coming to Nashville to get a record deal. In the years that she’d worked as a bartender, Hope figured one person actually got a deal, but even it probably fell through at some point.

  Looking back to Jason, Hope pasted a mock smile on her face. It was hard to read what he was thinking when his face looked to be etched in porcelain with no emotion.

  “I think you’re really missing out with that one. She’s going to be a big-time country singer, don’t ya know.”

  Hope didn’t usually let a drawl work into her voice, but it was hard to say “don’t ya know” without being a little theatrical. Her words seemed to break through Jason’s layer of protection as the corners of his lips turned up a fraction of a millimeter.

  “You really think so? Maybe I should chase after her and fall to my knees, begging her to give me another chance.”

  The fact that Jason didn’t even turn around to look at the woman in question led Hope to believe he was joking. She didn’t know him well enough to get a good sense of his humor levels. It was nice to hear that apparently he could joke around.

  “I would pay good money to see you do that.”

  There was no joke in Hope’s words. She didn’t have a ton of spare money, but she would throw a couple hundreds his way if he did a groveling routine. Jason wore expensive-looking suits half of the times he showed up, so he probably didn’t equate hundred dollar bills to good money.

  It wasn’t one of the nights for a suit, but still his t-shirt didn’t look like he’d picked it up at a discount store and the jeans that seemed glued to his legs were definitely not something you got for under a hundred bucks. Hope could buy a whole new wardrobe for that kind of money on the clearance racks she shopped, so she didn’t need to see the designer labels to know they were on two very different levels of the economy spectrum.

  “I wouldn’t take your money, but I also won’t be wasting my time giving that woman the time of day. I hate people who think they are better than someone else when they know nothing about the other person.”

  Jason reached across the bar and wrapped his hand around Hope’s left hand. Much like the hair tuck, Hope was unsure what to do about the contact. He’d been so standoffish over the course of their acquaintance that she didn’t know what to make of the new developments. No matter what they meant, her heart still fluttered oddly when she felt the warmth of his hand.

  Hope saw an arm go up on the other side of the bar, beckoning her. She didn’t want to look away from the intense eyes in front of her that had zeroed in, but she was at work and keeping the customers happy and full of alcohol was part of her job.

  “I’ll be right there,” she hollered, not sure her voice traveled the length of the bar.

  “I won’t keep you, but I do feel it’s necessary to say that I don’t think you’re homely. I’m usually pretty good about letting things slide, but her jealousy apparently isn’t one of them.”

  Warmness in her cheeks made Hope worry about Jason seeing her blush. She hoped the dimly light bar would hide her reaction to his words. Whether they were meant as a compliment or just something to make her feel better, they were unexpected coming from him.

  “Thanks,” Hope said with a warm smile on her face. “Let me go take care of this, and then maybe we can get back to the questions we were supposed to answer earlier.”

  Hope still wanted to know why he picked The Blue Corral to drown his sorrows. She didn’t think the answer would have anything to do with her, but he seemed willing to open up. After trying for months to get more than beer orders out of him, she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.

  “I should probably call it a night. I’ve got to catch an early flight tomorrow and I’ll be on the road for the next week. Here,” he said as he grabbed a napkin from in front of him and one of the pens littered on the bar for signing receipts. “Road trips usually entail me spending a lot of time alone in a hotel room, so why don’t you call or text me and we can work on answers to those questions.”

  Hope was speechless as she watched Jason jot down a number and pull out his wallet. She didn’t want him to call it a night, but a yell from across the bar for service meant she couldn’t spend a lot of time trying to talk him out of it.

  “I’ll be right there,” she called back.

  The frustration in her voice was apparently funny because Jason laughed under his breath. She’d never even seen him smile before that night, so she hadn’t expected a full laugh. It was weird to see a hint that he was more than a statue who ordered beer.

  “Go on, and try not to get into any trouble. The way the night’s been going, I figure that will help out some for bail money if you end up assaulting one of your patrons.”

  Hope shook her head, scooping up what he’d left on the bar without even looking at it and heading towards the man yelling at her for a whiskey. She didn’t want to walk away from Jason, which led her to not even turning around to look at him as she grabbed a bottle from behind the bar and headed towards the obnoxious man who wanted a refill. She figured if she looked at Jason, she’d somehow beg him not to leave just yet and ruin whatever game they seemed to be playing.

  It wasn’t until three o’clock when they were shutting down that she pulled out the napkin and cash he’d left to settle his tab that she realized what he’d left. Along with fifty bucks to cover his beers, there were five hundred dollar bills folded in with the napkin. Normally, Hope would’ve taken care of a tab and already know what her tip was long before close, but she thought keeping his tab open may have brought him back. It was silly, but for once in her life Hope felt a little silly.

  “Whoa, big night,” one of the waitresses said as she got a look at the cash in Hope’s hand.

  “It’s bail money,” Hope responded with a laugh and finished squaring things away.

  Chapter Three

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Jason’s blood was boiling and the ice under his skates did nothing to cool it down. The referee who’d just called him for a slash w
as skating in the opposite direction, and clearly didn’t feel the need to discuss how far his head was shoved up his tookus. It had to be jammed up there pretty tight for the ref not to see the cross-check Jason had taken to the neck seconds before he got a little payback. It wasn’t even good payback, since all it had done was break a stick in half.

  Skating over to the penalty box, Jason unhooked his helmet and threw it down on the bench he’d be calling home for the rest of the game. He could hear his coach yelling at the ref about the missed cross-check call from across the ice, but Jason knew it would do little to help his team out. They were down by a goal with a minute and a half left in the game.

  The fans behind the penalty box were beating on the glass separating them from him. The noise annoyed him almost as much as the taunts that were being dished out. Jason had to laugh at the notion of any of them trying to make good on their promises to rough him up. It was amazing to hear some of the things people had the courage to say when there was a thin sheet of plexiglass between them. The story would be completely different if they met him out on the street somewhere.

  Shaking his head, Jason took his spot next to his helmet and settled in to watch the rest of the game. The road trip had been horrible by his standards, even though it looked like they were going to win two out of the three games. It wasn’t just the fact that the refs seemed out to get him, which was a phenomenon he’d gotten used to over the years.

  He wasn’t sure if he was pissed off or just hurt that Hope hadn’t called him. He’d finally signed his divorce papers the morning he’d decided to live a little and talk to the cute brunette bartender. He wasn’t winning any karma points by making Kate and Erik wait to proceed with their happily ever after as a married couple, but it felt good to bicker back and forth to make things difficult for them.

  Unlike the women who tried to get his attention on a daily basis, Hope seemed fine taking his order and leaving him be. Every once in a while she’d ask a question, but Jason saw that more as her just being nice than wanting to hear his whole life story. That fact became clearer as he waited six days for her to contact him and never even got a hang up because she chickened out at the last second.