“I guess—”
We both start speaking at the same time and then chuckle.
“I should probably—” he starts again, just as I say, “Well, I’d better—”
“Go.” We say the final word at the same time, and an uncomfortable laugh sneaks out of my throat.
“Right.” I nod. “I’ll see you at practice, then.”
A tight smile pulls on Beckett’s face. “See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 12
Beckett
I’vebeeninthePT room for almost fifteen minutes, too nervous to focus on hockey. I wasn’t this nervous before my first pro game.
It’s not the dancing; I can handle performing in high-pressure situations. I’ve already had to do this dance in front of people once. What’s another time?
Plus, we’ve practiced. We’ve practiced the shit out of this dance.
In my apartment when we’re in town, and once each in Arizona and Texas. Turns out, hotel staff are almost scarily willing to open up an empty ballroom when two grown adults tell them they have to practice a dance for their charity competition. Dallas might’ve been because the woman knew Finley, based on the double take she did when we asked. Though she did call herBlane, so maybe not a huge fan.
We’ve got this from a dance perspective.
So, the nerves I’m feeling? That’s all Coach Finley Blake. The woman I can’t seem to stop fucking thinking about. The one whose eyes have to be the same damn color as Yeti blue, so I swear I see them everywhere I look. I’m afraid I’m losing control, and this final dance might be too much. Or maybe not enough. And it’s the fact that I can’t tell that has me questioning everything.
“I can’t believe we have to do this,” Finley says as she walks into the room, her long dark hair bouncing in her ponytail with each step. She’s wearing a pink Yeti shirt with black yoga pants, showing every single muscle in her legs. They weave up her body and around her hips. The hips I’m going to have my hands on very soon.
We’ve watchedDirty Dancingabout five hundred times now, and the pink shirt from the team store was as close as she was willing to get to the dress in the movie. The amount of thought that woman puts into her attire to make sure she’s both feminine enough but not too feminine to be a head coach is… disgusting, frankly. Society should really get its shit together.
I continue stretching, making sure my body is warm and ready for this. I can’t be off my game, and damn it, if Coach Blake doesn’t knock me off-balance more than any woman I’ve ever met.
“I can’t believe it’s been two days since we’ve been able to practice together,” I gripe. Sure, I would’ve liked to practice together a few more times, but really, I just miss spending time with her… as a friend.
“Turns out, having highly demanding jobs doesn’t mix well with participating in silly competitions.”
I nod. “Li and Larsen resorted to practicing in Li’s room when we were in Dallas. I tried to get Larsen to spill what they’re doing, but they’re being secretive shits about the whole thing.”
Finley bounces on her toes a few times. “I’m ready for this whole thing to be over with.”
“Same,” I agree, though it’s not entirely true. I may not want to be doing these events all the time, but I’m not ready for our time together to be over.
“Hey!” a petite woman I don’t think I’ve ever seen before calls as she walks into the PT room. “Sabrina asked me to get you both. It’s time.”
“Oh my gosh, Charlotte, how do you always know to turn up for these things?” Finley asks.
“Besides the fact that knowing what’s going on in Denver is literally my job?” Charlotte replies as we all walk down the hall together. “I also got a text from Lefevre.”
“Sit with us?” Finley asks as we walk in, and I realize this petite woman, who looks like her entire outfit was designed specifically for her, must actually mean something to Finley. She’s never mentioned her before, but she must be a friend.
We’re last to perform, as requested, so we settle into a row in the back, as far as possible from the hoard of PR team members holding cameras.
Sabrina doesn’t take long getting everything going, and she quickly hands the microphone to the owner to say a few words. I appreciate this man’s dedication, when the majority of owners would just let their team run everything and only show up for the most important moments.
Once Ken is done with his remarks, Li and Larsen start us off, running onto the stage like they’ve just won a championship. They start dancing a mashup, according to Charlotte, of the most popular dances on social media. The speakers are blaring, and Larsen has hip-thrusted more times than I ever needed to see.
“Ouch.” Finley curls toward me to cover her face as the two collide mid-jump.
