Chapter 6
six
ASHER
Holy fuck. Was this guy insane?
A glance down at my phone screen told me I’d been leaning against the cold concrete walls of the Hammerhead practice arena for more than ten minutes. And still, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything that would interrupt him.
I’d been rendered speechless, initially by shock. This lunatic was doing bag skates. By choice.
Caden Kelly was fast. It was a rare sight to see a player with so much speed and grace. Shit, he might as well have been born with skates attached to his feet. They appeared to be an extension of his limbs from the way he handled himself.
The level of power he pumped into every movement was mesmerizing.
All I could make out from my vantage point was his sweat-soaked, wavy—or maybe curly—auburn hair. With him being dressed in only a gray T-shirt, now drenched from his efforts, and some worn black sweatpants, I could see he had a hard, lean build.
The wet fabric had his shirt clinging to every curve of muscle, revealing a tight torso and defined arms.
It was hard to tell from so far away but based on where his body stood against the sideboards, he was somewhere around my height—six-foot-one.
I scanned the bench area, looking for his phone. The only reasonable explanation for this level of self-inflicted punishment was some social media stunt.
My brow furrowed when his phone was nowhere in sight.
If this wasn’t for social media clout, then what the hell was he doing?
Trying to give himself pneumonia? Given how drenched his gorgeous body was with sweat, that wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
Shit. I couldn’t be looking at him like that.
Despite my internal warnings, I pushed off the wall to get a closer look, swiping the skates from my new office where Zane left them as a welcome-to-the-team gift.
He was moving so quickly, I had to squint through the protective glass to make out his expression.
I was now doubly invested in figuring out just what the hell he was doing to himself and wanting to get a good look at his face.
Not like you’re seeing if the face matches the appeal of his gorgeous hair and body, eh, Landry?
Positioning myself near the players’ door, I made quick work of changing into my skates from the running shoes I’d slipped on as I’d left my apartment.
I slid open the bolt on the heavy door, the noise not drawing his attention, and stepped onto the ice.
I didn’t want to scare the shit out of him by raising my voice, so I let the door swing closed, hard, hoping it would bring him out of whatever zone he was locked in.
No such luck.
Goddamn Wilder for sending me to be the bad guy before anyone even knew I was here, for fuck’s sake.
I drew in a deep breath, preparing to project my voice across the massive distance between us. Kelly had skated to a stop at the opposite end of the rink, preparing to book it hard back across the ice again.
“Hey! Rookie!” I bellowed, hoping I didn’t startle him enough that he’d lose his balance and hurt himself.
That would be just what I needed to start off this new job.
His head snapped up, gaze meeting mine across the ice before he engaged all those hard-earned muscles to make his way back to me.
Once he made it to my side of the rink, his facial features became clear.
God-fucking-damn, he was mesmerizing for more than his hard-earned skills.
Caden Kelly was hands down the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. His sweaty red hair shone, the harsh arena lights not lessening the stunning riot of different shades curling over his forehead and ears.
His face could have been in an art textbook thanks to his perfect features. His skin had a light dusting of freckles over a straight nose and chiseled cheekbones.
The rookie looked like he could stand to gain a couple pounds, his cheeks and jaw lacking any kind of fullness.
The only things that marred his overall perfection were the bruise-colored dark circles under his eyes and a healing gash over one of his eyebrows.
The look in his eyes made it seem as if he were in a trance. It took him a minute to shake off whatever thoughts had held him in a kind of daze.
When was the last time this guy slept? What’s he out here killing himself to prove?
I realized I’d been stunned stupid by his looks and had let an awkward silence fall between us by not introducing myself.
He stood still, breathing hard, minutely shifting from one skate to the other, waiting for me to say something.
I inwardly shook some sense back into my brain before squaring my shoulders and offering my hand.
“Good to meet you, Rookie. I’m. . .” I began, as I held my hand aloft in the air, waiting for him to take it.
“Asher Landry. Shit! I’m sorry!” He choked out the words, a look of shock on his face.
I nodded down at my hand, keen to have him shake it before the lactic acid gave me pins and needles.
Thankfully, he took the hint and put his hand in mine after haphazardly wiping it on his sweatpants.
I absolutely did not feel anything like an electric jolt when his rough palm pressed against mine before I released it.
Liar. Why’d you just drop his hand like it was on fire if you didn’t feel anything?
“It’s fine,” I chuckled.
His nerves were simultaneously amusing and endearing.
He seemed skittish, like the wrong word would send him flying across the ice to the opposite door.
“And you’re Caden Kelly,” I stated, putting it right out there that I knew who he was.
“Oh my god, am I in trouble? Captain Hawkins said it was fine to blow off some steam. He gave me the keys and everything, I swear.” The words spilled from Caden’s mouth before he bit his full bottom lip to physically stop himself from speaking further.
“Whoa, Rookie. Relax,” I softened my tone purposefully. “One of the maintenance staff clocked your entrance and gave Coach Wilder a heads up. He’s kind of intense about his players’ well-being, you know? So he asked me to come and check on you.”
My lowered volume had the unintended effect of having us both slide closer to each other, bringing a more intimate feeling to our interaction.
Even though I knew I should back off, I couldn’t force myself to give up those precious inches of proximity to this guy.
“Okay. Wow, I didn’t think anyone would notice,” he admitted, as his cheeks and neck pinkened slightly. “I, uh, just needed to clear my head a bit, you know? I just moved here from up north, and it all seemed a bit. . .” He trailed off, his shoulders inching toward his ears, looking uncertain.
His green eyes should’ve come with a warning label. The kaleidoscope of shades contained by his irises should’ve been impossible. I found myself wanted to sink into their depths.
But when those same eyes widened innocently with worry, my protective instincts lit up, overriding my desire.
Goddamn, this guy could mean serious trouble for me if I didn’t keep my distance.
I never wanted to put anyone on the offensive unless it was an opponent on the opposite side of the face-off circle.
“Overwhelming?” I offered, taking a deep breath and consciously relaxing my own muscles, hoping he would mirror the movement. “I get it, man. Coach Wilder roped me into this assistant coach gig.” I laughed, the sound making Caden jolt in surprise.
I’d been right about him being skittish. This guy was wound tighter than a spring. One false move and he’d bolt.
Some part of me was pained seeing him this uncomfortable. I had to shove my hands in the kangaroo pocket of my hoodie to stop myself from putting a reassuring arm on his shoulder.
Or fuck, worse, opening my arms and offering him a hug. I had to keep my impulses in check.
“Yeah.” His shoulders sagged before a shiver racked his body. He rooted around in his sweatpants pockets, pulling out a phone with a cracked screen. “Shit, I mean, crap. I didn’t think it was this late.”
Caden’s quick attempt to clean up his language broke the taut wire of tension that had been building up inside me the longer I stared at him.
“Cade, let me tell you,” I said, giving him a genuine smile.
It untwisted something tight in my gut to have an easy reassurance to offer him.
“Profanity is the absolute last thing you need to worry about around me, or Coach Wilder, for that matter. In fact, he has the most thorough collection of curse words of anyone I know, in English and French.”
Cade? Where did that come from?
He nodded, offering me a small smile to show that he’d heard me.
I started skating slowly backward, hoping to get him out of here before he collapsed with exhaustion.
“Let’s get out of here. You’ve gotta be back here for practice in less than eighteen hours. Time to get some rest, eh, Cade?” I jerked my thumb in the direction of the main exit behind us.
“Yeah, okay, Mr. Landry. Um, Coach Landry?” He nodded quickly in agreement.
Oof. We’d have to deal with the titles another time. Hearing him call me “Mr.” should have felt right—after all, the most respectful fans I encountered often addressed me formally— but coming from Cade’s lips, it didn’t sit right.
I ignored the idiotic part of my brain that wanted him to call me Ash.