“So,” he said. “About last night…”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I quickly said. “We don’t need to talk about it. Okay?”
“Well, that’s going to be a problem,” Rhett said. “Because I reported you to Human Resources.”
I gasped. “No!”
A huge smile spread on his handsome face. “Just kidding. I wouldn’t do that.”
I sighed with relief, then laughed. “Oh, thankGod.”
He stared straight ahead. “You did kind of sexually harass me, though. You’re the trainer. I can’t really say no.”
Rhett glanced at me, then sputtered another laugh. “You’re way too easy to tease, you know that? I’m fucking with you.”
I groaned and shook my head.
“Hey, relax.” He put a light hand on my back. “Everything’s fine. I promise to forget about last night, if you promise not to act all weird around me now, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
“Because you still have to, like, touch my body and stuff,” he added. “Because it’s your job.”
“I’m super aware of that,” I said dryly.
“Just because I have the body of a Greek god doesn’t mean you get to kiss me whenever you want. Show some restraint, June!”
Now I laughed. “I thought you were going to forget about it.”
“Starting… now,” he said. “I promise. Scout’s honor.”
“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about what led to it in the first place,” I said. “You waited until you thought I was gone, then went down to practice on the ice. Against my orders.”
He gave me a wary smile. “Can we forget about that, too? If you tell Coach…”
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “Check back with me in a few days.”
Now it was my turn to laugh at the way he cringed.
We flew to Los Angeles first to play the Kings, a nail-biting game that ended with us winning in a shootout. The Anaheim Ducks were next, but we had a day of rest in between. The Ducks let us use their training facility on our day off, and I was pleasantly surprised with the quality of their facility.
When I returned to the team hotel that night, I had to pass by the bar on the way to the elevators. “June!” called Coach Jay. “Come have a drink with us.”
I wanted to go up to my room and close my eyes, but Jay and the other coaching staff were all waving me over. Iwaspart of the team, so I joined them at their barstools. A bunch of players were sitting in booths deeper in the bar, but I didn’t see Rhett.
“I draw the line at six shots,” I warned the coaches. “Five is my sweet spot.”
They roared with laughter, and Coach Jay gestured to get the bartender’s attention. “What do you drink? Red wine, or white?” Jay asked. “The team is picking up the tab tonight.”
Glancing at the taps, I said, “I’ll take the hazy IPA.”
Coach Jay blinked, then held his palm to his chest. “I owe you an apology. Shouldn’t have assumed.”
“I’m used to it. My dad turned me on to good beer before I went to college. He said I needed to appreciate a good hoppy beer before I started drinking Bud Lite at frat parties, and I never looked back.”
While the bartender pulled my beer, I glanced around the bar again. Rhettwasin one of the booths, but I missed him because he was behind another player. He was turned away from me, thankfully.
And in the far corner, sitting by himself, was the goalie. Elias. He had a dark expression on his face that said:I don’t want to be bothered. He glanced up, meeting my gaze with an annoyed glare.
