No. I will absolutely not get hard just because he looks so sexy yet adorable that I want to wrap him up and hold him on the couch. Or in my bed.
I was a fucking professional, and I was going to act like it.
eleven
CADEN
Halting my steps just outside Ash’s office, I tried to mentally prepare myself to knock on his door, even though it stood wide open. It was too weird to simply walk into his space without an invitation.
Time passed both too fast and too slow for the nervous energy that had been shifting under my skin since our conversation at the end of practice. I wasn’t good with uncertainty, and I had no idea how this was going to go.
Was this going to be a supportive coaching moment where Ash tried to reassure me that my place on the team wasn’t in jeopardy? Or had Coach Wilder given Ash the job of putting me on notice that I needed to improve, or else I was out?
Chancing a glance around the doorframe, I was granted a quick view of Ash casually sitting back against the worn black leather sofa along the far wall of the room. His focus was wholly on his phone as he typed something out on the screen.
It’s now or never. Just knock already! It’s better than hovering outside his door like a stalker.
I drew in a deep breath and raised my hand to the metal doorframe.
The rap of my knuckles barely made a sound against the hard surface. Either my knock was loud enough to get Ash’s attention, or he could hear my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest, because he called out a soft “Cade?”
Pushing myself into the opening to his office, I offered the lamest wave in the history of the gesture.
What was it about Ash that had me constantly acting like I’d never been out in public before?
It’s probably a sign that you belong in front of your computer working on your next app instead of humiliating yourself over and over in front of the only hockey player you’ve ever admired.
And got hard every time you laid in bed thinking about his face or his body.
I let my eyes stay closed for a fraction of a second longer than usual as I blinked. My inner voice was spectacularly unhelpful.
Ash set his phone down on the small coffee table in front of him. With its peeling paper veneer and numerous coffee rings, it had seen better days.
What did Ash think about his assigned space after a decade of playing for wealthy NHL teams, where everything was the best money could buy?
A quick glance around the room with its painted cinderblock walls suggested everything here was a little worn.
Everything except the man it belonged to.
Even after a full day at the arena, Ash looked more awake than I felt, and I’d spent an hour “resting” this afternoon, staring at the ceiling of my small room in Hawkins and Kovac’s apartment.
“Hey, Cade, come in. Have a seat.”
Reaching over the short distance to his desk, Ash swiped the closed laptop that sat near the edge.
Computer in hand, he flopped back down on the loveseat, flicking his wrist at the empty space beside him.
My nerves wanted to lock me in place. I had to force my limbs to close the space between us.
Judging by the crease that appeared between his brows, Ash was busy logging into the team’s portal. The VPN could be unpredictablyglitchyin the arena, which the whole team had to contend with every time there was a new communication from head office.
Still, it was nothing compared to the wireless dead zone that was Hawkins and Kovac’s apartment. So, even if I could figure out a way to set up my desktop in my walk-in-closet-sized bedroom, the lack of reliable internet would hamper any progress on my next idea.
After quietly slipping into the seat beside Ash, the cracks in the leather caught on my sweatpants, causing them to bunch around my groin uncomfortably.
I shifted as unobtrusively as possible, trying to pull the fabric out from between my legs without jostling the whole couch.
“You all right there, Cade?”The teasing words came from my left, rendering my body still.
