I’m thirty-six years old,and I’ve never kissed a forehead in my life. But I had to kiss … something. I just had to. Holy hell, that was intense. The lust I felt wasn’t solely from me. It permeated the air, enveloping us. I’m not sure if Audrey knew she moaned out loud, but I’m sure glad she did. It was incredibly hot.
And even I know that meant she was turned on. Which means she is attracted to me.
I pull up Maddox’s contact information as I climb into my car. I don’t even give him the time to speak before I shout, “She’s into me! She’s fucking into me!”
“Christ almighty, QB,” he rasps, his voice thick and gravelly. “It’s eight in the morning. How the fuck do you know she’s into you at this godforsaken hour of the day?”
“I was at her clinic. I did the hair over the ear thing. Then I asked if I could take her hair down from her bun, and she said yes. As soon as my fingers hit her scalp, she moaned. Loudly, I might add. It was hot.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t just a response to physical touch?” he asks.
“I’m sure.” I pause. “At least I think I’m sure. Her pupils were blown out. I swear I read somewhere that it means a person is turned on when that happens.”
“Or they have a brain tumor,” Maddox mutters.
“Let’s just stay on the optimistic side and assume it’s because she’s attracted to me.”
“I’m sure that’s the reason, man. Who wouldn’t be attracted to you? I’m confident enough in myself to say that you’re a damn good looking guy. And with that bank account, it would be more concerning if she weren’t into you.”
“That’s the thing, though,” I say, turning out of the clinic parking lot as I head toward the Coyotes facilities. “She’s not into me for those reasons. I’d even venture to say me being a rich, professional athlete is a negative to her.”
“Alright. Well, now what happens? You’ve still got a few months until the charity event. You gonna put the moves on her, and risk making things awkward for a bit? Or wait it out?”
“Shit,” I mumble. “I was so in the moment, I forgot about that. I hate how complicated this is. What should I do?”
“Don’t know what to tell you,” Maddox says through a yawn. “But I am going to implement a new rule for our friendship, QB.”
“What?”
“No relationship breakthroughs before lunchtime. I’m going back to bed.” He ends the call with no fanfare, and I chuckle as I head to get an unplanned workout in.
“No.”
“I hate that I have to ask you, but my daughter invited me to her graduation party. I’ve never been truly close with her, so this means a lot that she extended the invitation. But I was already scheduled to attend that gala this weekend. You’d be doing me a huge favor if you went in my place,” Coach says, his eyes pleading with me.
I’m regretting coming in for a workout. The high that I felt after leaving Audrey’s has dwindled to a flat feeling of nothingness. If I hadn’t been here, Coach wouldn’t have seen me, and I could have avoided all of this. Because he wants me to escort his niece to the gala.
“I don’t feel comfortable with this at all, Coach.”
“I know. If I hadn’t promised her, I’d send the tickets back.”
I sigh, letting my head fall back in frustration. This is only my second season with him. Is he the kind of coach that holds grudges? Would he take it out on me, or the entire team? How can I get out of this without repercussions?
“Can you ask anyone else?” I finally say. “I’m not the best in social situations where I don’t have time to prepare. And you’re asking me to go with someone I’ve never met, which means I’ll be even more uncomfortable than I already am.”
Coach nods. “I know. If it helps, I didn’t want to go either. But when Mr. Sanderson hand delivers tickets, I don’t think we get a choice.”
Martin Sanderson and his family own the Colorado Coyotes, as well as the Albuquerque Scorpions NHL team, and two baseball teams in California. Mr. Sanderson only visits a few times a year, choosing to reside in San Diego, near the San Diego Surge baseball team. His granddaughter, Jordan, manages the day-to-day operations here in Denver.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I really don’t have a choice, do I?”
Coach exhales loudly, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “I’m choosing to view it as an opportunity for you to grow as aleader, Wahlberg. I’ll text you the details, and where you’ll need to pick up my niece.”
“How old is she?” I ask, visualizing a teenager with braces and acne.
“She’s twenty-seven.” Great. I can already see how this is going to go, and I want to lay down the law right now.
“You need to make it abundantly clear to her that absolutely nothing will happen between us. We will be cordial and respectful, but there will be no touching, kissing, or anything else.”
