05 My Bet with Cade

Harper

No mockery, no condescending pity. His tone was flat, as if stating something too obvious to bother pointing out.

Suddenly I remembered the scar on his right shoulder. Maybe he wasn't talking about me at all.

"Didn't you leave the team because you wanted to hide an injury?" I asked.

Cade's expression turned cold in an instant. "The exam is over."

He stood and pushed the stool back under the table.

Clearly I'd asked something I shouldn't have. But I had no intention of leaving just yet.

Checking my wrist had never been my only reason for coming here today.

"Cade. Yesterday you said I lacked control, that I was reckless."

"And the evidence proved me right."

"So how do you plan to treat that?"

"It falls outside the scope of sports medicine."

"Maybe we could start with a date."

My suggestion made him freeze—just for a fraction of a second, but it didn't escape me.

I took a step forward. "It may fall outside sports medicine, but observing your patient up close over an extended period should be quite necessary, wouldn't you say?"

I took another step, pressing my body against his. "Tomorrow, seven o'clock. I know a good restaurant nearby."

"No."

"You didn't even think about it."

"I don't need to."

"Afraid you'll fall for me?"

"Afraid of wasting an evening."

I stepped closer again. Cade didn't retreat. We were near enough now that I only had to tilt my head up to kiss him again.

I couldn't help thinking of that hot, wet kiss. I was certain Cade had kissed me back that day. Yet here he was, staring at me with a stone-cold face.

"All of Blackridge knows I kissed you," I said. "If you turn me down now, everyone will assume you're a terrible kisser."

"I can live with that."

"But I don't like leaving people with the wrong impression."

"That's your problem."

Cade looked down at me, calm on the surface—though his throat bobbed in a faint swallow.

He was affected. That was enough.

I smiled up at him.

"It's fine. The first rejection doesn't count."

"How many times do you plan to ask?"

"Until you say yes."

"And if I never do?"

"Then I'll chase you until you change your mind."

Cade was silent for a few seconds.

Those blue eyes fixed on me, as if trying to read from my face just how serious this pursuit really was.

"Why me?" he asked.

The real answer, of course, was Hunter.

Because I was convinced he'd been the one to injure my brother—and because I wanted this arrogant bastard to pay a far steeper price for it than three broken ribs.

But I couldn't tell him that. So I moved close again, tilting my head up to meet his eyes.

"Because I want you."

Cade's breath caught for a moment.

The next second, he stepped back half a pace, restoring the distance between us.

"No strength training until your wrist results come back."

"You're changing the subject."

"Follow-up exam tomorrow at six p.m."

"Does that count as a second date?"

"It's a medical appointment."

"I'll be there on time."

Cade closed his eyes briefly. He seemed to be regretting ever becoming the intern for the women's hockey team.

In a fine mood, I headed for the door. My hand had just touched the handle when Cade spoke up behind me.

"Harper."

I turned around.

"You said you'd keep chasing until I changed my mind."

"That's right."

He leaned against the table, his expression settled back into calm.

"Then you'd better have enough patience."

I grinned.

"And you'd better have a strong enough will."

I pulled the door open and walked out.

That was the first time I'd formally asked Cade on a date.

He'd said no—but that was fine. Making a stranger fall in love with me was never going to happen that fast.

Besides, when I told him I wanted him just now, his heartbeat had been racing faster than mine.

The first step was done.

Cade Blackwood was starting to get nervous.

---

Before practice the next day, Coach Miller pulled me from the starting lineup.

"Just temporarily," she said.

"Temporary as in how long?"

"Until the test results come in."

"There's nothing wrong with my wrist."

Coach glanced down at the report.

"Cade doesn't think so."

I turned my head. Cade was standing beside the player tunnel, checking the first-aid kit. He seemed to sense my gaze and looked up at me for a moment.

Then he went right back to work, unbothered.

The traitor.

When I'd left the treatment room yesterday, he'd only mentioned cutting back on strength training and high-intensity shooting. He'd said nothing about banning me from contact drills.

"He's just an intern," I reminded Coach.

"His report was confirmed by the head athletic trainer." Coach shut the folder. "No physical contact today, and no high-intensity shooting. You'll stay on the sidelines and work on puck handling and skating."

"We have a game in three days."

"Which is exactly why I don't want you unable to grip a stick when that day comes."

She blew her whistle and called the other players over. I stayed where I was, staring at Cade.

Inside me, Nova pricked up her ears, just as displeased.

Bite him.

"Not now."

Then kiss him.

"Can you think about anything besides kissing?"

For the next forty minutes, I was stuck running basic drills alone on half the rink.

While everyone else ran offense-and-defense scrimmages, I wove around cones practicing turns. While they took shots, I could only handle the puck with the lightest possible touch.

For a power forward, this was roughly like chaining a hound to a tree and then parading rabbits past its nose.

The third time I skated in front of Cade, I deliberately fired the puck at him.

It grazed his skate and slammed into the boards. I skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Why did you have Coach pull me from the contact drills?"

"Because your wrist needs examining."

"It's been hurting for two years."

"That doesn't exactly reassure me."

"Werewolves heal fast."

"Healing fast doesn't mean you can't get hurt."

I lowered my voice.

"Is it because of your own shoulder that you're this jumpy about everyone else's injuries?"

Cade's expression went flat.

I knew at once I'd touched another subject he'd rather not discuss. But he didn't cut the conversation short the way he had yesterday.

"It's precisely because I know the consequences that I won't let you make the same mistake."

With that, he bent down, picked up the puck, and passed it back over the boards to me.

I reached out to take it, but he didn't let go right away.

"Do the drills properly, Harper."

We both held the puck. His fingers brushed across my palm, and Nova flipped from sulking to thrilled in an instant.

He's touching us.

"I know."

Cade frowned slightly.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Not you."

He let go. I skated back toward the training area—but this time I didn't send the puck wide on purpose.

I hated to admit it, but the puck-handling drills weren't as easy as I'd expected.

In the past I'd always relied on speed and strength to break through. Against a row of cones, that approach worked fine. But when Coach suddenly sent one of the backup defensemen over to intercept me, she stripped the puck off my stick twice in a row.

The third time, I just shoved her aside with my shoulder.

The whistle went off immediately.

"Reed!" Coach shouted from the sideline. "I said no physical contact!"

"She blocked me first!"

"That's exactly a defender's job!"

I stopped on the ice. The backup defenseman had already backed off, her face none too pleased.

She wasn't hurt. But the way she looked at me reminded me of all those rumors around school about the Beast.

As if all I'd ever do was bulldoze anyone standing in my way.

"Sorry," I told her.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard, then gave a nod.

After practice, my teammates filed off the ice one by one. I stayed behind. Cade was on the sideline organizing his records, and I skated over to him.

"Give me ten minutes."

"For what?"

"To prove your assessment is wrong."

He closed his clipboard.

"Which part?"

"All of it. I can still keep training."

"Ten minutes might not be enough for that."

I ignored the jab and tossed the puck down at his feet.

"One-on-one with me."

Cade glanced at the puck.

"You're not allowed physical contact right now."

"No contact. Just puck handling and shooting."

"I've already left the team."

"So you're afraid of losing to me?"

That question finally made him look up.

Cade had once been the best center at Blackridge. Even a year after his injury, the whole school still talked about his games.

A man like that could turn down a date—but he could hardly turn down a challenge.

"What are the stakes?" he asked.

I smiled.

"If I win, you go on a date with me tomorrow night."

"And if you lose?"

"I'll cooperate with every exam and every recovery drill, no complaints." I paused, then added, "For one week."

"What?"

"For one week, no complaining—and no more asking you out."

I'd expected him to haggle further. Instead, after a few seconds' thought, he agreed.

"Deal."