I shook my head and typed, I don’t.
Zaila: Sure you do! And if you really don’t, it’ll be a surprise. A good one. Now, I’m signing off. Goodnight, Mr. Playoffs.
It’s Lukas, I typed.
Zaila: What?
Gunnar: My middle name. One day you’ll tell me yours, Ms. Fancy Spa.
As I set my phone down, I realized my cheeks hurt from smiling.
A pleasant surprise flickered through me when I received a text midway through the following morning.
Zaila: Good morning! Hope your day is as relaxing as mine was yesterday.
Relaxing? Not really how I operated. To prove the point, I snapped a picture of my desk, where the laptop was open with game footage and a coffee mug sat next to a stack of notes, even though it was Sunday.
Gunnar: This is what relaxation looks like in my world.
Zaila: Wow. Living the dream, huh?
Gunnar: Absolutely. Who needs beaches when you’ve got defensive zone breakdowns to analyze?
Zaila: You have an incredible group of coaches who are paid to do that for you, but you’re such a nerd about hockey, I know you can’t help yourself. It’s rather adorable how into the stats you get.
Adorable?
Gunnar: Careful. Call me adorable again and I might start thinking you like me.
Her response made me laugh out loud.
Zaila: Don’t get cocky, wannabe coach.
That interaction kept me peppy all day, and I even took an hour off to enjoy the latest thriller novel by my favorite author. For the first time in ages, I went to bed before I was dragging, and I slept well—better than I had in a long time.
The sight of Zalia walking into the office on Monday morning was enough to freeze my thoughts in place. Yes, I’d been waiting for her, but no, I would never admit it. She had this way of commanding attention without even trying—confident strides and a warm smile that could light up the room.
“Zaila,” I greeted her as she approached my office door. “You look lovely.” As always.
“Thanks. I had a great weekend, thanks to a very generous donation.”
“Really? How lucky for you.”
We’d moved closer to each other. Zaila must have realized that because she lurched back. Ah. She wanted to keep our time at work professional. I supposed we hadn’t really discussed that anything was different. So I could do that for her. For now.
“I’d like you to have lunch in my office,” I told her.
She licked her lips. “All right.”
Her voice was a bit breathy, and her chest rose and fell, telling me I affected her, probably as much as she affected me—which was good to know.
“I need your help to splice some video for our socials over the next couple of weeks. Gotta get the fans ready for the season.” No, I didn’t. She did an excellent job of creating engagement with no input from me. “I’d like you to make time for this hockey nerd,” I said anyway.
Her lips parted, and her pupils dilated. “Lead the way, coach.”
I itched to touch her, but I managed to resist. “Twelve thirty? I’ll have lunch waiting.” With that I scooted past her and moved toward the elevator, fleeing so I didn’t tug her into my arms and kiss her…
Now that I wasn’t trying to avoid my attraction, I wanted to jump in with both feet. But I wasn’t sure Zaila felt the same, and she deserved to weigh her options with me.
