Chapter 7 Sam
SAM
Chase and I really hit it off at dinner. Instead of me wasting money on another Uber, he offered to bring me back to my house. I was glad to keep the conversation going. I’m surprised to find out he’s almost in his forties. The man is freaking gorgeous.
“What did the coach want?” Chase asks when he comes out of the bathroom.
I was hoping that we could continue our evening even longer, but he only asked to use the facilities since his apartment is on the other side of the city.
I felt bad for bringing him out of the way, but not enough to pass up the opportunity.
I want to hoard all the time with him as I can get.
“The replacement for Clarke is coming up from Baltimore tomorrow morning and Coach wanted to know if I am willing to offer up one of my rooms,” I say while secretly ogling him.
“There’s no decent hotels with availability and any rental offices worth dealing with are all closed until Monday because of the holiday. ”
He laughs at my pout when he puts his coat back on. I haven’t been even attempting to be subtle in showing my appreciation for this man.
“Next time,” he says, slipping his feet back into his shoes. “I haven’t done the dating thing for over a decade, and I would hate to screw things up by moving too fast.”
I let out a sigh when Chase Kinsey pulls out of my driveway.
I’ve never wanted to go fast before, but there is just something about this man that makes me want to lock him down before someone else snatches him away.
I noticed the tattoo under his watch. I also noticed that he constantly checks to make sure the watch covers it at all times.
The curtain falls back into place when I step away from the window.
I have to go upstairs and put sheets on the bed in the old master bedroom.
When Gran passed, Pops moved into the guest room across the hall, and I never moved out of my childhood bedroom.
I can’t put the kid in Pop’s room. It’s too soon since he passed for me to consider having someone else in his space.
The task of dusting, vacuuming, and overall tidying up the room helps keep my mind off the fact that I can barely smell Gran’s perfume in here anymore.
Hell, I don’t even know if I’m truly smelling it or if it’s a figment of my imagination.
I’ve tried for years to find the perfume she used.
I only vaguely remember the bottle it came in – the same one I broke and hid the pieces under the bed after she died because I thought Pops wouldn’t want me anymore.
The room reeked of that perfume for years, but we never had the heart to air it out.
Glancing at the bedside clock, I realize that the room is good enough – or at least it will have to be.
We have a game in fourteen hours, and I have to be at the arena to inspect and prepare the equipment about eight hours from now.
Plus, there’s no knowing when the kid is going to show up at my doorstep, so I should try to get at least a bit of shut eye.
After a quickie shower, I finally lay down. Replaying my conversation with Chase from last night, I let the excitement of seeing him again carry me off into dreamland.
Unfortunately for me, seeing Chase in my dreams is about the best I can get for the time being.
After a restless four hours of sleep, the call from Coach has me coming into work three hours early to be able to meet my temporary roommate and show him around the arena.
Our arena is one hell of a step up from the barn they play at in Baltimore.
At capacity, we hold about two thousand more spectators than the kid is used to playing in front of.
Although, there is a good chance he’s been seeing larger crowds down there than we have here.
People don’t like to come out to watch a losing team.
“Alright, Charming,” I point him to the cubby that I cleared Clarke’s gear from earlier today.
“This will be you for the foreseeable future. Unless Tobes or Shusey has a major injury or incident this season, I don’t see you getting called up.
Wally has the two-way contract, so he doesn’t need to clear waivers to go up and spot them for a few games here or there.
When they call you up, it’s likely gonna be for good. ”
The kid looks shell shocked. I went over his profile with Coach earlier to get an idea of what kind of player I’m going to be dealing with, but there were a lot of blanks with him being so new.
On the ice, he’s a freaking mage. He primarily uses butterfly style due to his acrobatic tendencies, but he has a technicality to his play that most veteran players in the NAPH don’t master in their entire careers.
The only issue I can see is that the guys from Baltimore said he plays the personal stuff really close to the vest. According to Swifty – the equipment manager for the Bruisers – the kid was only really close to Eric Jones.
While he seems nice enough, I don’t understand how Isaiah Charming made it this far without showing his personality one way or another.
“Um… Okay,” Isaiah mumbles before opening up his duffel bag with his gear.
I let him set up his cubby however he wants it and then I’ll review with him what he needs from me.
I don’t baby the boys here, but I also don’t let them walk all over me.
The kid will learn how we do things here with the Axes, but I want him to get some control over his situation before the other guys come in and try to railroad him into their bad habits.
While the kid is busy, I head over to my little desk in the equipment storage room to jot down some notes.
One thing I wish Swifty would have told me directly was the fact that Charming had a growth spurt last month and needed to go up a size on his pants.
The sweater I can fix myself. It’s just a matter of swapping some patches for that.
But I need to rush order the right size of pants for him.
I’m lucky it’s only one size off, but I really don’t like the idea of my players going out on the ice with ill-fitting uniforms and equipment.
They might play that way down in the HLENA, but I don’t accept that for my team.
“Mr. Talbot, Sir?”
My hands freeze on the keyboard while I’m in the middle of placing the uniform order. Since when does my dick take notice of being called Sir? Think about the time you saw Gran sunbathing, Sammy…
“What’s up, Charming?”
Thank God I’m sitting behind the desk because I don’t know what the fuck is going on with my body the last forty-eight hours.
I go from barely experiencing arousal unless I initiate an emotional connection to my libido going ninety in a sixty for two men I just met – one of whom is practically a child in my eyes.
“Um, I was wondering where I should put my suitcases during the game. I don’t want them to get in the way for anyone or get moved somewhere without my knowledge.”
Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pull out the keys to the rental car and toss them to him.
“It’s a rental, but the plate number is on the tag. Go ahead and toss your stuff in the trunk before everyone else gets here and the lot gets crowded.”
I force my attention back to the screen, but it doesn’t stop me from watching the kid over top of the computer.
As soon as he’s in the hallway, I see him pull out his phone and point it at the keys.
A robotic voice starts reading off the information from the tag while he heads back to the locker room.
Is our new goalie illiterate?