Chapter Eleven #2
But every other part of me so badly wants a taste of whatever is brewing that I might soon overrule my brain and do something rash.
Impulse control has never been a problem in the past, but I can feel the rattle on the rails—like staring down the headlight of a train, knowing you’re going to get hit, and completely unable to move off the tracks.
The chemistry between us might flatten me, and I don’t know if I have the will to step away.
I definitely don’t right now as we stare at each other, my hands spanning her waist, my thoughts dangerously close to slipping into the gutter.
There isn’t a woman alive who’s as gorgeous as Sawyer Tucker. She’s absolute perfection.
There’s no way she doesn’t feel the air crackling around us, alive with possibilities.
“Bishop!” Chayton calls. “You coming? Or you got a better offer?” There’s a teasing tinge to his voice. He knows about Sawyer, but he doesn’t know about Sawyer.
“Come meet my trainer,” I call back, unable and unwilling to break eye contact with Sawyer. “She’s pretty fucking glorious.”
“Logan,” she says, her voice hushed.
Yeah, she feels it. Whatever this is. She knows exactly how I meant that.
“At her job,” I add on, extra loud.
That gets a smile and a blush. “You can’t say stuff like that here. People will assume something that isn’t true.”
“I don’t mind,” I say.
“I do,” she says. “For a guy, it looks like you’re ‘getting it,’ but I look like I’m getting played.”
I want to ask her why she’d look like she was getting played.
Anyone who knows me could tell her that I don’t play with women, not the way most guys do.
For a long time, I was too focused on bettering my circumstances, then I became too focused on hockey, and now I’m too focused on winning.
Chayton’s close enough that I can’t tell her any of that.
He’s like a brother to me, which means he’s going to harass me all night about the way I’m looking at Sawyer.
I know it, and I’m still not taking my eyes off her to give him the time of day.
“You’re Sawyer?” Chayton asks when he’s almost at my shoulder.
She steps outside my easy reach, and I contemplate how mad Chayton would be if I told him to fuck off. I needed five more minutes where she didn’t have gym equipment or a spreadsheet to hide behind.
“I’m Sawyer Tucker,” she says holding out her hand for Chayton to shake. “The physiotherapist who’s learning to be the kind of trainer Logan needs.”
“As you can see from tonight,” I say, “she’s already got me in peak shape.”
“Bit early to peak,” Chayton says, and his gaze shifts between Sawyer and me. “Let’s hope there’s more hill to climb.”
“It’s a long season,” Sawyer says. “I had no idea you all played so many matches.”
“Not much of a hockey fan, huh?” Chayton says, his tone amused.
“Never watched a game before I met Logan,” Sawyer admits.
“And now she can’t get enough,” I add.
“Of watching hockey,” she adds with a self-conscious laugh. “I can’t get enough of the sport.”
“Right,” Chayton says. “I mean, clearly.”
“I should go,” Sawyer says. “You two had plans.”
“Come out with us,” I say.
Chayton coughs.
“I can’t,” she says. “Dad and Alex called a meeting for management and all the behind the scenes people to debrief how tonight went. Tamiko’s my ride.” She gestures down the hallway, but Tamiko’s already gone.
“Tomorrow’s a rest day, but I’ll see you on the team plane the day after,” I say as she starts to walk backward.
“Oh, I don’t—I’m not—I stay here.”
“What?” I don’t look at Chayton, but I can feel how hard he’s following my interaction with Sawyer. “No. No. My trainer comes with me.”
“That’s not the deal I made. I have a whole physio clinic here. People depend on me. I have clients who are not you.”
“Get rid of them then,” I say. “You don’t need the money. You said so yourself.”
“You did not just suggest that I quit my job to service your needs.”
There’s so much warning in her tone that, somehow, it registers that I’m on thin ice. “You don’t need the money.”
“You have to be kidding.”
I set my jaw.
“I like my job. The fact that I like my job is the only reason I’m even working with you right now. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
“No one told me you weren’t traveling with the team.”
“Consider yourself told now,” she says.
“That’s not good enough. My contract—”
“Good luck. I’ll see you when you get back.” She turns on her heel and heads down the hallway at a brisk pace. If Chayton wasn’t standing behind me, I’d be fucking chasing her.
“Jesus.” Chayton’s tone is shocked. “Never thought I’d see the day where a woman got under your skin. But she’s right in there, isn’t she? Already nestled pretty deep. I wonder if it’s warm in there, right next to your heart. I always figured it’d be a bit chilly—like the ice.”
“They didn’t tell me they hired a part-time trainer.”
“You’re not doing extra training when you’re on the road. Who the fuck are you kidding?”
“She’s my physiotherapist.”
“You need her to rub you down, do you? Tuck you in?”
“Fuck off.” I finally look at him because Sawyer’s disappeared out of my sight. Then I rub my face and take stock of how over the top I’m acting. He’s right. I don’t let people get under my skin like this. “She’s the only person I really know on this island.”
“Except for all your teammates and everyone in the organization. Kind of like when you were in California… And I don’t remember you acting like this over Joe, and Ken travels with the team to look after the whole team. You have someone if you need someone.”
“She’s a Tucker billionaire. Her family literally has billions. She doesn’t need the money from her practice.”
“Just because her motivation isn’t your motivation doesn’t mean it’s not valid. Whatever’s going on between you two, if you don’t respect her boundaries, she’s going to drop something, and I doubt it’ll be the practice she’s built in Bellerive.”
“There’s just…” I struggle to find the words. “There’s something…”
“Bish, you ever hear the expression you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”
“I’m not trying to catch her.” Might be untrue, but I can’t admit that shit out loud yet.
Saying it makes it true, and the only thing I have room to pursue is my career until I can’t chase those goals anymore.
At that point, I’ll think about chasing some woman, having some kids, a life beyond hockey.
Right now, I don’t have time for any of that.
I don’t want to make time for any of that.
“You keep telling yourself that,” Chayton says.
Instead of taking our conversation in circles where I admit nothing and he knows everything anyway, I remember something I wanted to ask him in person.
“Someone in the Bullet’s organization here said they’d been having conversations with Michigan about making a trade for me.”
“What?” Chayton laughs, and then he thinks about it for a beat.
“I mean, I doubt it. That’s a backroom deal for sure, so I’m not telling you there haven’t been any conversations, but your contract is huge.
Michigan would have to make a lot of room for you, and despite how we played tonight, we’ve got a shot at playoffs for sure this year. ”
“I thought the guy was blowing smoke,” I say, dragging my hand through my damp hair.
What I can’t decide is whether Dalton was totally bullshitting me or if the internal politics of the team is already in disarray.
Is Dalton and whoever is aligned with him working against King Alexander and Jonathan Tucker?
And if that’s true, how fucked is the team? Better yet, how fucked am I?
“Let’s go get a drink,” Chayton says, slapping my shoulder. “We going to a bar or to your apartment?”
“My apartment,” I say, relieved that he’s not forcing me to interact with anyone from the wild crowd tonight. After my argument with Sawyer, all my adrenaline is gone.
“Sounds good,” Chayton says. “We can get in a real catchup without having to behave for the masses. That crowd was rowdy tonight.”
“Right?” I say, leading him toward the exit. “There’s no way they can sustain that energy all season.”
“But if they do,” Chayton says, “you might have landed in the best place for you. You feed off that kind of hyped-up atmosphere. Always played like shit in a quiet arena.”
“Who knows?” I say as I text my driver to swing around to pick us up. “None of us can predict the future.”
In this moment, I’m not even sure how I feel about anything—the island, the team, my hot-ass trainer who’s completely fucking with my head. At some point all of it’ll come together or fall apart, but I don’t have a clue which direction we’re headed in.