“You’re a twenty-one-year-old star player who’s probably pretty used to getting what he wants. I just—I made a promise to myself that I’d set clear boundaries around how I let people treat me. You’ve said a few things since we met that were—”
“I didn’t intend—”
“Intention and impact aren’t the same thing.”
It’s not the first time I’ve been told that, but it might be the first time it’s actually hit home.
“How old are you?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Thirty-one. Old enough to know what I will and won’t take from someone.”
But the way her voice wavers makes me wonder if that’s totally true. I don’t know how old I thought she was, but ten years older than me wasn’t it.
“I’ll tuck my inner asshole away. Bury him under my little-kid-coaching persona.”
“Youhave a little-kid-coaching persona?”
“I do. It’s a real winner, you’ll see.” I push off the mantel at her skeptical expression and head toward the primary bedroom suite. “I’ll get dressed, and we’ll watch a game.”
She sinks into the couch instead of the armchair, and I realize I have no idea how the next few hours are going to go. We might get along great, or she might never want to talk to me again. Because the truth is, my little-kid-coaching persona isn’tthatfar removed from who I am all the time.
Chapter Five
Sawyer
“Iwill admit,” I say as he gets the TV set up, “that I don’t know anything. Not how many players are on the ice at a time, not anyone’s role or job, not what a single position is called. Not one.”
“Not even the goalie?” He gives me a glance that would probably be teasing on someone else, but I’m not sure if that’s what it is. Dry humor, I think. But I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me, or just generally a little amused. And by a little, I meanverylittle.
“Okay, so I probably could have figuredthatone out.”
“None of the rules shit is as important as I might have implied earlier.”
“Implied?”
“Stated,” he admits with the tiniest hint at a smile.
“You called meuseless.”
“Notyou.Your skill set.”
“I would argue it was also my knowledge base.”
He tilts his head from side to side, clearly contemplating my statement. “Yeah, okay. That might be true. I also admitted it was a harsh thing to say.”
“But you didn’t admit it was untrue.”
“I guess we’ll see,” he says as he clicks the remote to start the game. “Can the world famous Sawyer Tucker nail her hockey analysis?”
“World famous?” I scoff.
“That’s what your dad told me. Seemed very proud.”
“Only because that title benefits him,” I say. “You should have asked him what made me so special.”
“Already clear he doesn’t know,” Logan says, sitting at the other end of the couch. “ButI’mexcited to find out.” His tone doesn’t seem excited, but then he glances at me, and our gazes lock for a beat. The air hums, and I’m startled by the shot of electricity between us.
Is heflirtingwith me?
