I have to get out of here, or Marilyn is gonna kick my ass for taking so long.
Marilyn is my hockey team’s PR manager. The Scented Scorpions were close to being disbanded earlier this season. None of us players could get our heads out of our asses enough to get any wins, and the bottom line was getting hit harder than anyone could excuse.
I almost lost my dream to play hockey. All the players did, then Marilyn stepped in.
Despite being an alpha herself, Marilyn understood exactly what this team needed and did it without question. Each of us had to work with her closely at some point, her demand, not ours, and now it was my turn.
She’s been sending me on errands everywhere. It’s really annoying, but she saved our careers, and so I can’t tell the woman no.
I stand by the door of the blanket shop, willing myself to leave, but I can’t. I watch as Noa clasps herhands and rests them over the counter where the cash register is.
She doesn’t say goodbye either. Her round lips smile at me, and my damn heart flutters. It’s like neither of us can end this moment. It’s then that my mind metaphorically dumps cold water on me, as the dangerous thoughts I don’t have control over filter into my brain.
Maybe she’s just being polite. What if she’s not as interested? What if I’m reading this all wrong? My eyes meet her soft brown ones again. She opens her mouth to say something, but she stops herself. She did ask for my name. So she must be interested, right?
Damn, this is hard.
I don’t know what she’s thinking.
I want to ask for her number or a way to contact her, but my nerves won’t let me. I’d probably vomit before the sentence could come out.
How can I play in an arena filled with thousands of people but can’t ask the most beautiful, incredible-smelling woman I’ve ever met for her number? Someone on the opposite side of the door pulls, and I’m falling back. The cool air from outside blasts me, and the noise of people fills my ears.
I catch myself, thank fucking God, but I hear her giggle as I step out the door and dash the fuck out of there. Fuck.
How fucking cool of you, Thorne.
There isn’t much I can do now on the other side ofthe door. I can’t go back there and embarrass myself even further, plus, now she has a customer there. She’s busy. She doesn’t need an awkward ass-hockey player lurking around.
Heading back to the arena, I dart to Marilyn’s office, needing to get this to her and home so I can wallow in my embarrassment.
Swinging open the door, I drop the box right by the door. I see her at her desk and turn just as fast to leave.
“Ah, ah, wait.” Her voice snaps me to stop. Dammit.
“Aren’t you busy?” I say, trying my best to get out of this damn office. I hardly turn to look at her. Worried she’ll give me something else to do.
“Tell me how it went.” She gestures to the leather chair in front of her desk, and I walk further into her office and sit, knowing there is no way I’m getting out of this one.
“Fine.” I shrug. I’m not sure what she’s looking for or why I feel so protective of the moment I had with her, with Noa.
“Fine? Just fine?” She asks. I nod my head and try to leave again. My hands lifted me from the chair. She points a finger down back towards the chair, and I sit down like I’m attached by a pole to the tip of her finger.
“Tell me, Thorne, do you think we should work with her? Does she seem like good people?”
My heart races again, as if it ever calmed down sinceI left that little shop. I know Marilyn catches the way my face turns beet red, but I shrug like I don’t care.
I try to keep it cool regardless, as if the woman left my mind as soon as I left her shop, and that is anything but true.
“Yeah.”
“Is she pretty?” she asks, and that’s when I break.
“Why are you asking me that?” I say way too fucking fast, and that fact alone has her smirking at me.
“Marilyn,” I groan, trying to get away before the teasing starts.
“Go, go hockey boy, I’ll see you later.” She dismisses me, and I get the hell out of dodge before she can interrogate me anymore.
