“I’ll think about it. Thanks for the invite,” I say with a smile, not entirely convinced I want to hang out at a kids’ Santa party, but who knows.
“So,” Carson begins. “I’m excited to get moving forward on this project. And I’m so glad I could introduce you two the other night at the fundraiser. I have a really good feeling about this. I think we’re going to be able to do some great things.”
We jump right into the nuts and bolts of the meeting, discussing everything from how the helmets themselves will need to be cared for to the different ways the data needs to be managed. We’re joined partway through the meeting by the team doctor and their PT and training staff. I’ve got answers for almost all the questions that come up, and Aleks is a big help when more specific questions are asked, and by the time we’re done going through all the minutiae, the day has flown by.
After we finish up, I deliberately take my time as everyone begins to clear the room, until it’s only Aleks and myself left. He turns to me once the door shuts behind the last person, his gaze impersonal, causing my stomach to clench uncomfortably.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to meet his eyes. “So, Aleks, I just wanted a quick word with you, if that’s okay?”
“Of course. What can I help you with, Dr. Jacobs?” he asks. His voice is cool, the warmth he seemed to be feeling when we talked about my dad earlier apparently long gone.
“I, ah. Look, Aleks, I want to apologize for last week. Obviously, I had no idea that we would end up working together. If I’d known, I would have never—”
Aleks cuts me off by holding up his hand.
“Please don’t say anything. We’re grown-ups here. I think we both enjoyed ourselves, and as adults, I’m sure we can move on without it being a big deal, right?” he asks, his mouth pinched into a thin line. His icy tone cuts me, but I suppose I deserve it.
“Um, yes, right, Okay. Well, good, then. I just wanted to make sure things were, ah, okay between us. This project is incredibly important to me personally, as well as to the body of research on head injury.”
“I understand,” Aleks says. “It’s important to me also. I want this project to be a success for many reasons, Dr. Jacobs, so you can rest easy knowing I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it goes flawlessly.”
His words are devoid of emotion, but the ice in his eyes has melted again, and I can even see what I think is a spark of heat in them as he stares at me. God, all I can think about is jumping over the table and ripping his clothes off so I can fuck him senseless again, right here in the conference room.
But I fight back those totally unprofessional thoughts. Thishas toremain professional. The success of my project depends on us working together, and I refuse to jeopardize years’ worth of work by my incredible team because I can’t keep my dick in my pants. But Jesus Christ, there is something about Aleks Warren I can’t resist. He’s like a drug I could very easily get addicted to.
A few people in today’s meeting asked Aleks how his father was doing, and he mentioned seeing him recently. I got the impression that he’s close to his dad. Kent Warren is still very much part of the NHL, doing some kind of consulting with the league’s president and team owners. I know he remains a CTE denier, so I’d been hoping this entire project could fly under his radar so he doesn’t try to cause any problems for us. Of course, having his son in charge of the project means that’s not going to happen.
I’m not even sure Kent Warren would know who I am, since my last name is different than Bob’s, even though I’m pretty sure I met him as a young teen a few times. But as far as I know, once the hubbub died down after my dad retired, Kent never spoke publicly about it again. And I know he never contacted my dad to talk about it, so maybe it’s possible he just forgot the whole thing, just let that big hit fade away into his memory with the hundreds of others he handed out over the course of his long career.
“Right, if that’s all, then I’ll see you tomorrow sometime,” Aleks says, gathering his tablet and phone off the conference table.
“Yes, thanks. See you tomorrow,” I say awkwardly, fighting the feeling of loss that settles into my chest.You can’t lose something you’ve never had.
He gives me a tight smile before heading out the door, leaving me alone in the empty conference room.
After getting back to my place, I sit on the couch, trying to watch TV, but I can’t even concentrate on mindless reality shows. I should be thrilled this project is finally happening. It’s been tons of blood, sweat, and tears by a lot of amazing people to get it to this point. It’s a big accomplishment, and it could mean huge things for research into brain injury, which is the whole reason I went into this field in the first place.
But instead of celebrating, I feel like a pathetic loser. In a desperate move, I call Declan to see if he wants to meet for a drink, but unsurprisingly, he’s out with Chloe, the girl from the bar on the night I met Aleks. So, I’m left to stew in my own juices.
What kind of fucking spell has Aleks cast on me that makes me think about him constantly? I’ve never been this obsessed with someone.What the hell is happening to me?
Chapter 13
ALEKS
Thenextweekanda half is strange. I’m working with Ben for several hours almost every day, but we’re almost never alone. We’re always together with equipment techs or folks from Ben’s research team, so it’s made for an odd working relationship. Everything we say out loud and all of our interactions are completely aboveboard and professional, but there’s this undercurrent running between us. It’s obvious that we’re incredibly attracted to each other, and every time we venture into each other’s personal space, the electricity crackles between us. I’m fucking dying to touch him, Actually, if I’m totally honest, I’m fucking dying to rip his clothes off and suck his dick, but sadly, neither of those things is happening. The odd thing is that along with his attraction, I feel a weird hostility coming from him. It makes no sense since it was he who ghosted me that first night.I’mthe one who should be acting cold and pissed at him. But unfortunately, that’s not in my nature. I’ve never been good at holding grudges, and the overwhelming sexual attraction I have for Ben seems to override every other emotion I have when I’m around him. Maybe it’s a good thing he sometimes acts like he can’t stand me because if he ever gave me an opening, I’d probably climb him like a tree. It’s only when he thinks I’m not paying attention that he looks at me with open heat in his expression, and it's probably better if I don’t think too much about that.
We’re scheduled to attend tonight’s game together. Everyone’s been working hard to make sure everything is set up perfectly, so I’m feeling good about it. After tonight’s game, the team will get together over the next few days to iron out any last-minute kinks in our processes for equipment care and data collection. We should be able to put the helmets into an actual live game really soon, which is exciting.
Even at the farm-team level, game days are wildly busy, and the pressure is even more intense at the NHL level. Today, I relish the million and one little things that come up in the hours leading up to game time because they work wonders at distracting me from thinking about the sexy doctor in all kinds of very unprofessional situations.
I was cold as fuck to him that first day he was in the office, and maybe that’s the reason for the hostility I feel from him sometimes, but as we’ve spent time together over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been able to see what an incredible person he is. The man cares about people. Like, he really cares. He’s unfailingly kind to every single person we come into contact with, from the Zamboni drivers and ice technicians at the rink, right up to Head Coach Barry Silver and Carson Wells. He brings up his stepdad in the care home fairly regularly now, and it’s easy to see how much he loves his family. It makes me sad though. His dad is so young to be in a care home. I can easily understand why he chose this field of medicine to get into.
Right before the national anthem, Ben and I take our seats in the folding chairs beside the players’ bench that are held aside for VIPs. I figure it’s a good place to start out, and we’ll move around to various locations as the game goes on. After the puck drops, I snag the two bottles of water I stashed out here for us and hand one to Ben.
“Thanks,” he says gratefully, taking a long swig. I can’t tear my eyes away from his Adam’s apple as he swallows, and I’m mesmerized until a few seconds later when a hit takes place directly in front of us. The safety glass flexing and thethunkof massive bodies colliding with the wall a couple of feet from us jolt me back to reality.
“Oh, yeah, you’re welcome,” I stammer. “You don’t notice how much running around you do on game days, but it means I don’t have to bother with a workout.”
