He closes my car door for me and I push a button on my car’s menu to find the nearest Starbucks. I feel light and happy as I drive there to get a drink before heading home.
Carter is exactly the kind of man I should want in my life. I’m twenty-nine-years old. It’s time to want a partner close to my age to start a family with. I’m not sure I want that, though.
My mom could teach a course on how not to parent, and Blair has broken that mold and is an incredible mom. But I think maybe I’m meant to be a doting aunt and second mom to my nephews.
There’s not a single player on the Crush that I’m attracted to. Not even the handsome team captain who’s a good husband, dad and pig parent. The only one who makes my heart race is Noel.
I guess that’s best, because he’ll never give me the time of day, and I won’t have to worry about a personal entanglement at work. I can just secretly fantasize about him closing the blinds to his office, locking the door, and bending me over his desk.
I should probably get an iced drink instead of a hot chai latte, because I’m getting warm just thinking about it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Noel
I’ve been...handlingmy attraction to Jules in the shower every morning. And sometimes again before bed. I thought it would clear her from my system. But as I watch her talking to Silas in the locker room before our opening home game of the regular season, I want her more than ever.
That goddamn hair. It’s thick and looks soft, and she wears it up in loose styles. Small pieces brush her cheeks and sometimes her long, perfect neck. It makes me think about how she’d look in my kitchen on a lazy Saturday morning. Wearing nothing but one of my shirts and still smiling from a late night in bed.
It’s not much better when she wears it down. Because then I imagine her naked. Her lips parting as I wrap my hand around her hair, pulling it. Slowly raising her chin so I can kiss her neck.
It’s a problem. I’m permanently steering clear of women and relationships, because both end up causing me headaches and a hell of a lot of money. And now I’m perennially worked up over a front office staffer, right at the start of a big season.
I had the hard conversations. Cut and kept the right players. I’d put our current roster up against any other team’s. We had a couple years of building, but now we’re in a great position to win it all.
It’s not a given. We’re going to have to work our asses off for it every day. But I’ve got strong players in every position, and I feel better about our chances than I ever have.
I won two championships as a player, and I want more as a coach. This career is a privilege, but it also requires sacrifice. I missed my kids’ birthdays and some of their sporting events for hockey. My body has taken many beatings. It takes relentless ambition to make it to a championship, and I’ve got it.
I’ve never had to split my fiery hunger between hockey and anything. I didn’t cheat in relationships, but I also didn’t go out of my way to show love and affection. Despite missing some things when my kids were growing up, I know I’ve always been a good dad. My free time has always gone to my family.
The burn of desire I feel for Jules grows stronger every time I see her. It’s like a fucking barometer. She’ll be talking to someone and I’ll hear that sexy, throaty laugh, or I’ll see her letting her hair down and running a hand through it, and the mercury—or in this case, my dick -- rises in response.
“Do you have a sec?”
I’m pulled from my fantasy about Jules by the woman herself. And even though it’s irrational and not her fault in any way, I’m aggravated by how much she distracts me.
“Yeah, if it’s quick,” I say, not looking at her.
“Why don’t more people talk about how amazing farting feels?” Isaac says from nearby.
I glare at him. He just grins back. He’s lucky he has so much natural talent, because that guy doesn’t take anything seriously.
“In your office?” Jules asks.
“No,” I bite back.
I can’t be alone in my office with her without getting hard and fantasizing. The damn woman is a siren.
“Tunnel?” she asks, unfazed. “So we don’t have Isaac monologuing about farts in the background?”
“Yeah.”
I follow her toward the locker room door, my chest tight as I use every ounce of my strength to avoid looking at her ass. One of my players, Anson, openly ogles her as she passes.
“Hey,” I snap, dropping my brows in disapproval.
He turns away from her but doesn’t look sorry. I’ve told the guys a thousand times that we treat women with the same respect as men, but some of them still need one-on-one ass chewings from time to time.
