Free FORCE: A Bad Boy Sports Romance by Vivian Lux Page B

she thrust the phone into my hand, “but you should listen to these.”
    I press the playback button on the first message, completely mystified.
    “Hey Candace, it’s Ian,” that baritone said. “Can we please talk?”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Twelve
    Ian
     
    When I pulled up front of Candace’s building, she was already standing on the stoop. She wore a practical, puffy black jacket, and skeptical expression.
    "Hey," I said, opening my door.
    "Hi." She peered out at me from under her hood. "You're not going to yell at me again, right?"
    I clenched and then unclenched my fist. "It was an accident."
    "Do you always answer the phone that way?"
    I felt heat rise into my cheeks. "No, and as I told you, that wasn't meant for you."
    She pressed her lips together, saying nothing, but I could see the skepticism. I hated myself for losing my temper and I hated Lisette even more for driving me to lose it.
    Candace moved towards the passenger side door, just as I was rounding to the front of my car to get it for her. “Stop!” I called out to her as her hand closed around the handle.
    She froze.
    I shook my head and wagged my finger. “I open the door for you,” I told her. “That’s just how it’s got to be.”
    She smiled and tossed her head, her hair falling over her shoulders, even though most of it was trapped up underneath her knitted wool cap. “It’s freezing out here, Sir. Would you kindly hurry up and open my door?”
    I laughed. “You sure are a feisty one,” I chuckled appreciatively.
    She laughed tightly. "I could say the same to you."
    "Candace, I'm sorry. That wasn't meant for you." I nudged her a little. "I seem to recall you answering the phone similarly when I first called you."
    Her lips spread into a reluctant smile. "What did I say to you again?"
    "I believe your exact words were, 'Jesus Christ, shut up!"
    She laughed. "I guess so. I just sort of feel bad for the person you thought was calling."
    "Don't," I ordered her. "That person doesn't deserve your sympathy. Trust me."
    She looked up at me and blinked slowly. "Okay," she sighed. I opened the door and she slid in into the heated interior of my Escalade, teeth chattering.
    “Have you been waiting long?” I wondered.
    She shook her head. “Only about three minutes,” she said, blowing on her hands dramatically. “I just hate the cold.”
    I raised my eyebrows as I pulled out into traffic. “Then I’d say you’re probably living in the wrong city.”
    “You can say that again,” she puffed. “But summers here are so much fun, with all the festivals, and riding bikes along Lakefront Trail, that I always forget. You’d think, after twenty-five winters, that it would finally sink in.”
    “Winter is the best season,” I argued. “Dark beers, dark nights, winter sports in general—”
    “Oh yes, I should warn you,” Candace broke in. “My dad is a huge Blackhawks fan. You might find yourself getting involuntarily interviewed. When I told him who I was bringing to dinner, I was kind of afraid I’d given him a heart attack.”
    I smiled. The idea of spending an evening chatting up one of the fans was distinctly unappealing, but I very much liked the idea of making Candace’s dad happy.
    Her dad. God, when was the last time I met a girl’s parents?
    Well, that would have probably been at the engagement dinner Lisette dragged me to after my halfhearted proposal. I had liked her parents, got along well with her father, in spite of him being a Leafs fan, and shared a few beers with her younger brother, who seemed to regard me as some sort of movie star. All in all, I think I liked Lisette’s family more than I liked Lisette.
    I had no idea how this could be the case with Candace. I don’t think I could conceive of liking anyone more than I liked her.
    We pulled up in front of a modest Tudor, the kind of house that would recede into the background of any neighborhood, were it not for the