Page 84 of Risking the Pucking Defense

I didn’t make it to the friends and family suite after the game, which is where I suspect Hayden ended up spending some time with his parents.

Okay, yeah, that’s bullshit. I avoided it like the plague.

I have no doubt that he’d have seen me the second I walked in, and I’d have ended up being introduced to his parents.

I’ve met them before, but I highly doubt they know who I am or would even remember me. It’s never really bothered me, meeting the players’ families; I’m just happy that they have people who care enough about them to travel to attend games and support them.

The front office is quiet, and while I’m sure many would describe it as eerie, I quite like the calmness of a place that’s usually so full of life.

I’ve spent a lot of hours up here in the last few years working long past everyone else, with only the sound of a vacuum down the hallway as the cleaning staff does their thing.

As I walk past my assistant's tidy desk, my head is once again full of images from that cleaning closet earlier.

I’ve managed to push it aside while the excitement of the game was happening around me, but now that it’s all over, and everyone is heading home, I can’t stop myself from drifting back there.

I also haven’t forgotten that I promised him we’d talk about what happened.

We need to. That goes without saying, but…how exactly does that look?

Is he going to expect an invite to my place tonight? Or will he be too busy celebrating with the guys and put me off until tomorrow?

I figure the latter is probably the most likely. It’s what he should do. He was on fire tonight with two incredible assists.

There’s a part of me that wants to believe I helped with his performance tonight. Hell knows he went out there fired up. But also, I really do not want to become a part of any hockey player's pregame ritual. That’s a responsibility that no one needs.

I push my office door open and step inside, wondering if I’ll find a message on my cell from him. He sure made it clear that he wanted to talk to me at the press conference after the game when he kept catching my eye across the room.

I was so fucking proud of him as he sat up there with Coach and Fletch and graciously accepted praise about his performance tonight. I’m sure that beneath it all, he was a mess. But no one but me and the guys had any clue.

My media training last year after he first signed helped, but honestly, I’m pretty sure it was all him. He’s such a good guy, and all he wants is to make everyone happy, whether that be his teammates or the fans.

Clutching my iPad against my chest, I take a step toward my desk, not noticing anything adrift until my office chair begins moving.

“Holy shit,” I squeal in shock. “Hayden. Fuck,” I breathe as my heart tries to beat straight out of my chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says softly as he pushes to his feet and walks toward me.

His hands grip my upper arms, and he ducks low so he can look into my eyes.

“Are you okay?”

I nod. “I don’t think I quite had a heart attack,” I mutter.

“I guess I didn’t consider your age when I snuck up here.”

I gasp in horror before playfully swatting his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “You know I didn’t mean that. You’re beautiful, and the hottest woman I’ve ever met and⁠—”

“Okay, stop,” I say, placing my iPad on the desk and bending down to pull my purse from the cupboard beneath it. “What are you doing up here? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”

I freeze when he brushes his fingers down my spine.

“I was hoping to celebrate, sure,” he rasps as he steps closer behind me.

“Hayden.” It’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out sounding anything but.

His hand wraps around my hip, anchoring us together and reminding me just how electric it was between us in that closet. It’s also a reminder of just how much he wanted me. I can still feel the evidence against my ass.