I sip on my wine to hide my smile. It’s clear he loves his teammates, even if they are going to give him shit.
It has me blurting out the words that come next without thought.
“Do you want help?”
“From you?” he scoffs.
I nod. “From me, yes. Maybe we could help each other.”
Nick’s eyes land on me in a curious way. The deep-blue eyes darken as they focus on me and only me. His gaze doesn’t stray from me.
“Help each other? Why do you need help?”
“Like I said,”—I shrug a shoulder, sipping on my drink—“my date stood me up.”
“And you need my help to get them to show up? Why? You’re gorgeous.”
I can’t hide my smile at his words. I don’t think he even knows he said it as he stares back at me. I shift in my chair. It’s been a long time since I’ve been under the gaze of a man.
Does he know the power he commands with that look? If he did, maybe his date wouldn’t have been so quick to leave. The way his eyes are assessing me without making me feel cheap? It has goose bumps breaking out over my entire body.
Men like Nick? A sweet guy who actually listens? They don’t exist for me. My job has always gotten in the way and they never understand.
When I took over the team, it became my entire life. My dad needed me to step up when the old GM retired.
I eat, sleep, and breathe hockey.
Is it the healthiest relationship with it? Probably not. But in order to prove myself to the other men in this world, I do what I have to.
Including putting my dating life to the side.
It’s what vibrators are for, right?
“You would help me?”
“If you want me to, yes.”
“Fuck,” Nick groans, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t want to say yes.”
“Why not? It’s not like you have feelings for me to make things messy.” I’m blunt. Straight to the point. I don’t have timeto beat around the bush. “You can help me figure out why I keep scaring off the men I try to date.”
“N-n-no,” he stammers. “But…it’s weird, right? You run the team.”
“And it’s my job to help my players.”
“With dating advice?”
I waggle my head back and forth. “More like tips. To make things easier on you. So maybe you can get?—”
“Fifteen minutes out of a date?” Nick interrupts.
I snort out a very unladylike laugh. “You said it, not me.”
Nick laughs with me. “We were both thinking it.”
“I was not.”
“Were too,” Nick fires back. “I’m a walking disaster.”
