We both laughed at that, which drew a suspicious look from Rhett from across the room.
“All joking aside, if Rhett or anyone else on the team starts bothering you, let me know.”
June snorted. “This is nothing. My old job at Georgia was much worse. The guys on their football team never let me walk by without a comment. And don’t get me started on the lacrosse team.”
“Still though,” I insisted, “we won’t tolerate that shit. Nobody should be harassed while trying to do their job.”
“I will. But honestly, most of the guys on the team have been great. Everyone seems focused on winning.” She retrieved a dumbbell from a nearby rack. “Besides, a little banter is fun. It builds camaraderie. I don’t want to change the way your team acts.”
“Well, you’re part of the team, now,” I said.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“You’re on the bench every game, right next to the coaches,” I said. “It’s good to see you there when I skate back to the bench. You’re a comforting presence.”
She cocked her head and smiled at me. I hadn’t meant to say that much to her, but it just came out. I felt comfortable around June, like I could tell her what I was feeling and not be judged for it.
“A comforting presence because I know you’re there to take care of us if something happens,” I quickly added.
“I knew what you meant. Come on, last set. Then we’ll move on to front squats.”
As we resumed the workout, I hoped that June hadn’t read too much into my comment. Because the more I thought about it, and the more I spent time with June, the more I wondered if there wassomethingto read into.
6
June
It’s good to see you there when I skate back to the bench. You’re a comforting presence.
Cole’s comment stuck with me for the rest of the day, even after I went home. As a woman, I received compliments all the time. At the coffee shop, or the gym, or at work. Over time, like most women, I developed a callus. I learned to let them roll off my back without affecting me.
But his comment instantly brightened my mood. Maybe it was because it felt so genuine coming from him, rather than someone like Rhett who seemed like he was a natural flirt. Cole was the kind of man who didn’t offer compliments flippantly. If he said something, he meant it.
He was quickly becoming my favorite player on the team. I liked everyone on the Reapers—except for the backup goalie with the torn quad who complained throughout rehab—but Cole was definitely at the top of the list. I liked how calm and confident he was. Many of the players, like Rhett, acted like boys. They were boys on the ice, in the locker room, and at the bar after a game.
Cole, however, was aman.
I still really liked Rhett, though. He was charming and easy to be around, like a golden retriever puppy. His flirting was the friendly, harmless kind, rather than the kind that would eventually become a problem.
It made me laugh thinking about him calling Andy his muscle daddy. But, strangely enough, it kind of made me feel jealous. Or, more accurately, it made me feel less special to know he acted that way around everyone. Which made no sense since I didn’t want to date him, and only wanted to do my job.
I guess, deep down, everyone liked a little attention sometimes. Romantic or otherwise.
As I laid in bed that night, I thought about my love life. I’d had one serious boyfriend since graduating college, and a handful of flings that never went anywhere. I’d had plenty of opportunities while working as the trainer at Georgia, but obviously I didn’t want to get a reputation. Besides, I was in my mid-twenties when I worked there, and college boys all seemed way too immature for me at the time.
It was probably time for me to reinstall one of the many dating apps I’d used over the years. But this new job for the Reapers meant I had an inconsistent schedule. That wasn’t conducive to dating, and honestly, I didn’t want the distraction in my life. I really did feel like I was one of the team, and I was invested in their success.
I’ll date in the off-season, I told myself as I pulled my vibrator out of the bedside table drawer.
We had a home game against the Calgary Flames the next night, but I drove to the arena early to supervise the players who were rehabbing while on the injured reserve list.
One of whom was Rhett Lawson.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” he said when I walked into the conditioning room.
“I could not, considering this is my place of employment,” I replied. “How far into the routine are you?”
“Second superset,” he replied. “These cable pulls areboring, though.”
