“The team takes care of their own, Jordan.”
A strange energy lingers between us. We’re holding each other’s eyes, and my stomach does that annoying dipping thing that always happens in moments like these.
“Okay, goodnight.” I press a hand to his back to urge him out the door. “And thanks for the panties.”
I close the door and make a face of horror at myself.Thanks for the panties?I’m always so cool and clear-headed when talkingto men. Not scattered and flustered like this. What is wrong with me?
Oh.
Oh no.
I stare at the panties on the counter, my heart pounding, a growing, horrible realization spreading through me.
I have a crush on Tate Ward.
CHAPTER 34
TATE
The next evening,the hunch I had proves to be correct: Jordan is right about Yang-Hanson.
Volkov likes him. Miller likes him. He’s personable, easygoing, and a spectacular hockey player. He’ll be a great fit for the Storm.
Across the table in the restaurant’s private dining room, Jordan listens to the conversation as dinner wraps up, not saying much but looking proud of herself.
When she excuses herself to use the ladies’ room, I watch her walk away in that deep indigo blue dress that brings out the color of her eyes and makes her hair look a richer brown.
Christ, she’s lovely.
I wonder if she’s wearing those blue panties I set on her counter. I wonder if she’s thinking about the moment I ate the cookie from her fingers, when our eye contact zinged down my spine.
Her fingertips brushed my lips, and I can’t stop replaying it.
“Question for you, Coach.” The prospect leans in, lowering his voice.
Thanks for the panties,she said, and I stared at my ceiling half the night, laughing about it.
“Is Jordan single?”
A sharp, tense feeling tightens through me. He glances between me and the doorway Jordan disappeared through moments ago.
“No.” What? “She’s not.”
Liar,my brain shouts.Fucking selfish liar.
I never lie. It makes me feel sick. My father hurt my mom and brother with his lies. Right now, though, I don’t like the idea of this guy making plans to ask Jordan out.
His mouth tilts in a disappointed smile. “Too bad. Is it serious?”
“Yes.” The word comes out short and sharp. “Very.”
Holy fuck. It’s like I can’t stop. A bad feeling fills my stomach. I hate this. I hate being out of control. Memories of the recycling overflowing with too many empties fill my mind. Losing blocks of time because I was blackout drunk.
“I figured.” He shrugs. “Just thought I’d check.”
“Good thing you did.” Again, my tone is sharp and firm. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for someone in management to date a player, anyway.”
We can’t bring this guy on the Storm. He’s going to find out Jordan is single and?—
