Last night, her dark-brown hair fell in loose waves just above her shoulders, and her blue eyes were a surprisingly dark shade that had contrasted with her electric-blue dress. I’d been thrown off to realize thatSawyerwas a woman, and the fact she was hot as fuck had only caused more confusion in my brain. Hockey was becoming less of a male-dominated sport, but the majority of people I’d worked with in my career were men. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Bellerive getting me a physiotherapist—not a trainer—and for that role to be fulfilled by a woman.
A woman whose mere presence had hit me in the gut like a sucker punch. I hadn’t taken her hand just in case whatever flared to life inside me at seeing her actually caught fire. That reaction to anyone had never happened before, and it definitely added to my irritation while I was talking to her. Anything—anyone—who pulls my focus away from hockey is bad news.
The doorbell rings again, and I wonder if she knows I’ve been standing here contemplating opening the door. Could I just demand a new trainer? Probably. Her qualification isn’t the one in my contract, even if King Alexander and Jonathan Tucker are trying to make a square peg fit in a round hole.
I throw open the door, and the force startles Sawyer, causing her to step back. Immediately, I regret my abruptness. She’d been so calm and collected last night that part of me wanted to throw her off. I’m not normally one to purposefully provoke a reaction, but I’ve been called an asshole often enough to know how I can come across.
We stare at each other for a beat, and I can’t help scanning her hot-pink leggings and lime-green T-shirt. Even in thatcombination—one that should not stir up any sort of positive feeling—a little tug of desire is sharp in my gut. I can’t help narrowing my gaze because this prominent reaction to her makes zero sense. A caveman instinct of see-want-take is trying to slither into my consciousness. But I’m not that kind of guy, and she’d be the wrong type of woman, even if I was.
“Sorry,” she says with a breathless laugh. “You startled me.”
I don’t say anything. I just keep examining her, trying to figure outwhysomething inside me really likes something about her. Lots of women have been hot or sexy or a thousand other things, but no one has stirred whateverthisis before. I can’t even name it with certainty. Feels like a riddle I was meant to solve, but I’m not generally attracted to opaque feelings. I’ve had enough uncertainty in my life to cure me of any urge to play games off the ice.
Not that she’s playing games with me.
But I’m not sure I’d mind if she did. Andthatis definitely concerning.
“Did you want to go put on some clothes?” She gestures to my bare chest.
I step back and tip my head, indicating that she can enter the apartment. “You’re not on my calendar.”
“I know,” she says as she steps through, stops short, and then does a full circle. “It’s so weird being here when it’s not Nathaniel’s.”
“Nathaniel?”
“My older brother. This was his apartment until he moved into his house with Hollyn and her younger sister, Kinsley.”
I go to the mantel above the fireplace, which had seemed comical to me yesterday. Why would anyone need a fireplace here? My driver told me the old buildings can get a chill during the rainy season—whenever that is.
I’d sit on one of the couches, but I’m already dripping water everywhere, and I don’t want to wreck any of the furniture that came with the apartment. Fully furnished had felt like a bonus—no need to clear out my place in California—but now I’m wondering if I’ll always be conscious of every piece in the apartment belonging to someone else.
She sinks into one of the armchairs not far from where I’m standing and runs her hands along her thighs. There’s a weird energy coming off her—less sure than she appeared last night.
“And you’re here because…” I prompt.
Her gaze skitters over me, and I consider getting a shirt and then discard the notion. I didn’t know she was coming, and it’s a bare chest. It’s not like I answered the door with no pants on.
“I thought maybe we got off on the wrong foot last night.”
“So youarea sports trainer?”
“No, and I’m sorry that my father and Alex misled you. I didn’t know they’d done that.”
“Alex,” I say, unable to hide my surprise. “The king?”
“He’s just Alex to me, mostly.” She lets out a little laugh. “I should probably be more careful, but I’ve known him forever. Once a pompous ass and now somewhat tolerable. He’s not going to behead me or anything for calling him Alex.”
“Good to know—no beheadings,” I say, running a hand through my damp hair. “My manager’s on it.”
“On what?”
“Telling management they need to fulfill the contract.”
She sinks a little deeper into the armchair, and I try to push down my annoyance that she appears to be gettingmorecomfortable here, not less. Her suggestion that I get dressed seems more like a warning around the length of this conversation than a suggestion.
“I’m not who you asked for—what you’re entitled to—but I know I can do whatever you need, if you’re willing to give me a chance. It’s not nepotism. I’m good at my job.”
When our gazes connect, something in her blue depths causes a pang across my chest that’s too similar to how I feel when I’ve been off the ice too long. Restlessness. Like I’m missing out on something great. Which is fucking weird. I shake my head and raise my eyebrows, wondering how I can keep whatever’s happening inside me from getting its hooks too deep. I’ve got one passion, one love, and that’s hockey. Never even been tempted to seriously pursue anything else.
