Page 62 of Her Player

“You know,” he said as he dug his thumbs into the knot at the base of my left shoulder blade, the one he’d learned was always the worst. I bent over my desk a bit, pressing my hands into the wood as he worked my aching muscles, “that was fucking badass watching you cross that ice in your heels. Never seen anything like it.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. “Wanna know how I learned?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

His words slithered down my spine, shivering me like hot water pouring over the top of one’s head after a snowball fight. “Ryan used to try and get out onto the ice to get away from arguments. So I learned how to walk onto the ice after him.”

Rhett’s hands paused. “You’re kidding.”

I giggled and shook my head. “I’m really not.”

He let out a bark of a laugh, and the sound pulled a smile across my face. “Why does that not shock me one damn bit, Miss C?”

“Because no one can get away from me when I’m pissed, that’s why.”

“Trust me, you more than proved that tonight. I’ve never seen someone go in on a team like that.”

I groaned as his thumbs sank into the divots of my lower back. “Hey, they were the ones fucking up on the ice. It would’ve been a very different story had it been you guys pulling that shit on the ice.”

“Trust me, we’d never pull that kind of shit on the ice.”

“You better not. I’ll have your fucking careers if you do.”

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Ahem.”

I gasped as I whipped up from the desk. Rhett promptly yanked his hands off my lower back. I turned quickly toward the doorway, my back pin straight and my cheeks flushed as I saw Coach Mercer standing in the opened doorway of my office.

“You didn’t shut the door, Rhett?” I hissed.

Coach grinned. “Rhett.”

I saw his shadow nod from behind me. “Coach.”

I leveled Coach with a look. “What?”

Coach’s grin grew to a smirk before he cleared his throat. “Just wanted to let you know that Brynn and I are headed home. You two coming?”

I sighed heavily before I peered over my shoulder at Rhett. Then my gaze slid back to Coach Mercer. I saw him staring at the television screen mounted on the wall, still softly playing through some pointless media reel that held no importance to us.

Coach’s attention came back to me. “I already have a press conference scheduled for the middle of the week. If anything about Brynn and⁠—”

I held my hand up, stopping his words in their tracks. “There isn’t.”

He blinked. “What?”

I thumbed over my shoulder at the television. “You and Brynn aren’t on television right now.”

Coach eyed the remote before he charged into my office. He scooped it up, pointing it at the flatscreen on the wall, and quickly flipped through the channels like I had.

“Reports say the Pirates⁠—”

“The bridge collapse on the southeast side of⁠—”

“Breaking news, everyone! The royal family is preg⁠—”

“—and apparently, if you put the fish in⁠—”