Crossing Lines (Desert Ice Hockey #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

JONAH

I ’d barely gotten my team T-shirt and joggers on after practice when Coach Patterson walked into the locker room. All the cackling voices hushed. What the hell was going on now? Sure, we sucked a little right after going home for the Christmas holiday, but that happened every year. My gaze swung to the man standing next to him and my breath caught. Holy fuck, who the hell was that?

The guy was wearing a goddamned gray tailored suit like he owned the place, his plentiful arm and shoulder muscles stretching the fabric. His curly brown hair framed the cut of his high cheekbones and angled jawline, long enough to grab onto if he were to be— Get your mind out of the fucking gutter, Jonah. I swallowed hard, then swept my tongue over my lips.

His gaze flicked to mine, the light blue of his eyes holding me captive.

My jaw dropped open and I stared, just ogled the guy like he was dancing in a G-string on a pole at the gay bar, and then my dick took notice. Fuck me.

“Gentlemen, I want you all to meet our new defensive line coach.” Coach patted the new guy’s back. “Meet Ryan Gibson. He’ll be assisting Coach Hammett while he’s out scouting. ”

Coach Gibson clapped his hands together and sent a smile around the room. “Hello, team. I’m sure you all have some questions,” he said, a Canadian accent tinging his words.

He was young for a coach. At least he looked young, like twenty-five tops? Shit, only two years older than me? I shifted my stance, willing my eyeballs to calm the fuck down and quit noticing every little thing about him, like the way his wide shoulders contrasted with the narrowness of his hips. Oh, and the thigh muscles tightening his slacks.

Mason, our best center, raised his hand, smirking. “You a Canuck, eh?” He swiped a wave of long brown hair off his brow.

With a husky chuckle, Coach Gibson dipped his head. “Yeah, from Toronto,” he said, the city sounding more like Traantow . He scanned the room. “I was working in a juniors league there when your coach hired me on.”

“Why are you starting in the middle of the season?” Ace, our number one goalie, shifted his large body next to Mason and narrowed his eyes at Coach Gibson.

“I had some family business to take care of before I could move and Coach Patterson here…” He turned his gaze on Coach, his smile fading. “He was nice enough to let me start after the holidays were over.”

The whole room erupted in a long round of ah…

I let a smirk play over my lips. So, the rumors were true. Coach had found an assistant to help Coach Hammett. He must have been waiting to be sure it was a done deal before he let us know, and with the NCAA approving additional coaches over the summer, I couldn’t say I was surprised.

Mason did a double-take of me and a wide smirk spread across his lips.

I mouthed, what , planting my hands on my hips.

Elbowing Ace in the ribs, he snickered and pointed at me, then whispered into Ace’s ear.

With his hand covering his mouth, Ace’s brown eyes twinkled and he chuckled softly .

What the fuck were they going on about now? I huffed a sigh. Juvenile, the two of them.

“Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, so we won’t be seeing you for a few days. In the meantime, try not to overdo it and come back well-rested. I know Coach Gibson has some new drills planned that will whip you boys into top shape.” Coach squeezed Coach Gibson’s shoulder, then released him. “Any other questions before we turn you all loose?”

Around the room, my teammates shook their heads.

“Okay, see you all in the new year.” With a wave, both coaches turned and walked out.

The low rumbling of voices filled the space as everyone packed up their duffel bags and filtered out.

“What?” I tossed a glare at Mason and Ace, both smirking at me. Too bad Archer wasn’t here to see his new coach. But then, Archer had just come back from the revelation of a lifetime, finding out one of the best coaches in hockey, Richard Dupont, was his biological father. Coach had let him leave early to go talk to him.

Mason tagged Ace in the shoulder and they stepped toward me, Mason’s blue gaze fixated on me. “Way to eye-fuck the new coach.” He snickered.

With a scowl and a shake of my head, I said, “I was not?—”

“You sure as hell were. Even I saw it.” Ace arched a brow. “Your face has no filter. Never has.”

“Stop it.” As I tsked, I shrugged a shoulder. “You can’t deny the guy is hot. And how old do you think he is?” I peered at them both. What was the guy’s story, anyway? Had he always wanted to be a coach, or had he somehow fallen into it?

“Yeah, he was hot, all right. Hot stuff.” Mason freed a sharp laugh.

“More like Coach Hot Stuff.” With a cackle, Ace slapped my shoulder. “You want some of that hot stuff there, Boehm?”

“Jesus.” I pivoted to grab my duffel, then stepped toward the hallway. I had better things to do than listen to these two idiots. But fuck, the guy was gorgeous. As I walked down the hallway, I snuck a glance into the stark light of the head coaching office.

Patterson and Gibson talked over the white board, no doubt strategizing our next game against Northern Michigan on Friday.

My gaze raked over Coach Gibson, his round ass peeking out from the bottom of his suit jacket as he raised his arm. Goddamn, he was nice to look at.

His gaze crept to mine, and he turned, then the hint of a grin teased his lips.

I blinked and snapped my gaze toward the hallway. It was like he knew every time I looked at him. I quickened my pace down the hallway painted in our school colors of maroon and gold. What were the chances the guy was queer? Probably slim to none. I could look, but I couldn’t touch. Even if he were queer, he was a coach . Not exactly my coach, but still. Why the hell was my brain even going there?

I stopped at the glass doors leading outside, roaming my gaze over my reflection and the straight black hair framing my blue eyes. Coach Gibson’s eyes were even lighter than mine. Damn, the color almost made him look surreal. I shoved the doors open to the chilly desert air and breathed in, scanning the orange and turquoise hues of the setting sun over the high-rise buildings of Tempe and the jagged mountains farther out. Quit thinking about the guy and go home. We’d have a nice squad dinner tonight, and maybe we’d play some video games to wind down. And I would not obsess over Coach Gibson. I would not.

After sitting down to dinner with all the guys at our dinner table, except for Archer, I dug into my plate of spaghetti, twirling my fork in the noodles. “Looks good, Ace.” I flicked my gaze to him, sitting at the head with Mason seated next to him and across from me .

“Thanks, Jonah.” With a quick smile, he stuffed a forkful of noodles into his mouth.

“How do you like your new coach, Tyler?” Mason glanced at me, then focused on Tyler, one of our best D-men.

Tyler, sitting next to me, straightened in his chair and cleared his throat, winding pasta onto his fork. “Seems cool.” He shrugged. “Kind of young, though.”

I chewed my food, forcing myself to stare at my plate. I was not going to look interested in this conversation. Mason and Ace didn’t need more ammunition to tease me with.

“How old do you think he is?” Myles, the heathen, cut his pasta into pieces before stuffing it in his mouth, then shook his wavy blond hair off his face and did a double-take of me with his brown-eyed gaze. “What?”

“You’re supposed to twirl your fork in the noodles, not cut it.” I stabbed my pasta with my fork and spun it around. “Like this, see?” I raised my brows. At least I’d gotten the conversation off Coach Hot—Fuck, Gibson.

“Dude, how long have we been having this conversation with him? Give up already.” Huffing a laugh, Ace shook his head.

“What do you think Coach Gibson’s deal is?” Mason sipped his Gatorade. “I mean, what sort of family business would keep you from showing up at your new coaching job at the start of the season?” He twisted his lips.

“Don’t know, but it had to have been something big for Coach to have agreed to it.” Tyler ate some food.

I focused on my spaghetti again, getting the perfect wrap around my fork. I’d listen and stay out of this.

“What do you think, Jonah?” Mason poked my forearm that was laying across the table.

“Huh?” I perused the table, everyone’s attention on me. Mason, the fucker. “I don’t know.” I slid a bite of food into my mouth. There, maybe he’d leave me out of it.

With a tilt of his head, Mason asked, “Did the rest of you see the look on Jonah’s face when he saw the new coach? Damn, thought his tongue was going to hit the floor.” He snickered, then bumped his elbow into Ace’s. “Right, Ace?”

Leaning into me, Ace said, “Yeah, and Coach Hot Stuff noticed you too. Did you see how he looked at you?”

I dropped my fork on my plate with a clink, then wiped my lips with my napkin, drawing a deep inhale. Oh, here we go. I was not going to live this down. As I pointed at each of them, I said, “You both need to stop.”

“What? What’s going on?” The hint of a smirk played across Tyler’s lips.

Dragging his gaze from mine, Mason said, “When Jonah laid eyes on Coach Hot Stuff, he about popped a boner right there.”

“I did not.” I forced a glare at him. It was sort of true, but fuck if I’d admit it.

“Did too.” Ace cackled. “I saw your dick chub up in your joggers.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Myles swept an open-mouthed grin over his face and shifted forward in his seat, his gaze snapping to mine. “Damn, I was across the room, so I didn’t see.”

With a stuttered chuckle, I hung my head. “You guys are such assholes sometimes. I didn’t get a boner or chub up.” Okay, I kind of did the last thing. “The guy’s probably straight anyway.” Fuck me. I slapped my hand over my mouth. Damn it, I was a goner.

“Oh, so you’ve been wondering about him, huh?” Tenting his fingers over his plate, Mason peered at me.

“I think he might be queer.” Myles cut into his pasta. “At least he was giving me those vibes.”

“No fucking way.” Mason scoffed a laugh, then pushed on my shoulder. “Dude, there’s hope for you yet.”

Shit, Myles was never wrong about that. He could smell a queer man from a mile away. I picked up my Gatorade. “Doesn’t matter even if he was. He’s a coach. Can’t date a coach, it’s against school?— ”

“You been looking that up already?” Ace eyed me. “He’s a coach, but technically, he’s not your coach. He’s Archer’s and Tyler’s coach.”

With a long exhale, I plunked my drink on the table, fixating on Ace. “I don’t have to look it up to know something like that is probably against the school policy.” Besides, the chances of me dating him were zero to none. Even if he were queer. And hot. And probably really smart and driven to have this job at his age. I was in so much trouble. “Can we just eat now and leave it be?” This was exactly why I should have kept my mouth shut. Now they’d put all this crap in my head.

“Aw, you’re no fun, Jonah.” With a scowl, Mason plunged his fork into his pasta.

After dinner and a few rounds of video games, I lay on my bed with my phone in my hand, chilling. It had been a long day and practice had been grueling, so I was exhausted. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve, and I’d stay up late partying with the guys then. But tonight, I wanted answers.

I held my phone to my face and opened the screen, then tapped on my Instagram app. What guy my age didn’t have an Instagram account? With a smirk, I ran a search on his name. A string of profiles came up. Damn, there were a lot of Ryan Gibsons on Insta.

Scrolling through the accounts, I scrutinized each one, looking for a man who resembled the one in our locker room today. The image of him was etched in my memory.

As my finger landed on a face that resembled his, my heart about stopped. Fuck, it had to be him.

I opened his profile. Thank fuck, he hadn’t made it private. Oh no, there was tile after tile of images of him with all sorts of people. My lips curled into a grin. Now to figure out more about him. But damn, the guy was photogenic as hell. Okay, or just attractive.

I scrolled to the very bottom, perusing images of him in hockey gear, on the ice, some of the photos professionally taken. Okay, so he played hockey at one point. I scanned the date. These were from ten years ago. He played hockey ten years ago?

Twisting my lips, I scrolled up the page. Image after image of him in bars and partying came up. Many of the images were of him with men, no shirts, flashing lights in dark spaces, in places that said gay bar all over them. Was he gay? Holy fuck. My dick woke. Calm the hell down, Jonah. He’s our team’s coach.

As I scrolled to more recent times, the party boy images faded and were replaced by more domestic images of him with a man about his age, their arms wrapped around each other, the new man kissing his cheek. The new guy had dark hair and eyes and was fucking hot in his own right. I read a caption under a photo of them both at a nice restaurant with white tablecloths: Happy anniversary, baby .

My chest twinged and I swallowed hard. So, he had a boyfriend. Were they still together? Had he brought him down here from Toronto? If he had, then this would be easy. He was taken. Jonah, you ass . No matter if he’s taken, he’s your team coach .

With a scoff, I shifted on the bed and rubbed my forehead. What was it about this guy that had me so fucking obsessed? He was all I’d thought about since I’d seen him, even though I’d tried not to. My brain was stuck in Coach Gibson mode.

I scrolled some more and images of him in a suit standing behind a bench at a hockey game came up, then some photos appeared of him in team-colored sweats standing on the ice in skates, obviously coaching a team at practice. Okay, so those must be photos of him doing his juniors coaching.

A few photos popped up of him with a thin woman wearing a scarf on her head, her skin pale and cheeks gaunt. Who was that? I tapped it open and read the caption. The photo was taken on Mother’s Day last year. His mother? Was she sick or something? He’d said he had family business… The worry on his stunning face was clear to see. Jesus, this guy had quite a story. My heart filled with warmth. Shit, it made me want him even more.

With a ragged exhale, I dropped my phone to my side and stared at my bedroom ceiling. I shouldn’t have looked. I should have left it alone. But I couldn’t help myself. I was an idiot. And in any case, I was sure he still had a boyfriend. I mean, what guy would let a man like Ryan Gibson go?

With a sigh, I sat up on the edge of my bed, throwing my legs over the side. Time to get ready for bed.

The next afternoon, I sat on the couch in the main room while everyone got ready for our New Year’s Eve in-home festivities. My hand twitched over my phone. I’d been wanting to look up Coach Gibson’s Instagram account again, but so far, I’d been successful in denying myself.

My gaze swept the room. Myles and Tyler turned on the gaming console at one end of the couch while Ace waited patiently with his controller in one hand and a beer in the other. Archer was getting his shit together for his big night out with Leo, his new boyfriend.

“Hey, ready for a beer?” Mason called out from the kitchen, his head inside the refrigerator door.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” I hadn’t wanted to start too early. Without thinking, I lifted my phone to my face and tapped the screen, then opened my Instagram app. One little peek couldn’t hurt. I’d only look once. I bit my thumbnail, swiping over Coach Gibson’s account.

“Dude, seriously?” Mason snatched my phone from my hand and cackled, looking at the screen as he stood behind me.

As my heart kicked, I sprang from the couch, jumping over the back of it, and yanked my phone from him. “Stop it, Mason.” The fucker had to see that.

“You’re so crushing on that guy!” A wide smile broke out over Mason’s face.

“Fuck off. Am not.” I slapped at Mason’s shoulder, but Mason ducked out of the way. “He’s a goddamned coach.” And my greedy little brain should remember that.

“A young and very hot coach.” Mason jogged to the other side of the dinette from me.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Archer, his blond curls framing his brown eyes with thick lashes, scanned the room, planting a hand on his hip.

Myles, Ace, and Tyler looked over at us from their video game, laughing.

I glared at Mason. The fucker needed to drop this. “Shut up.” I pointed at Mason.

Archer’s gaze cut to him. “Spill, Mason.”

“You didn’t get to meet the new coach.” Mason snuck a glance at me. “He’s fucking hot .” He stepped toward Archer. “You should have seen Jonah’s tongue drop to the floor when the guy walked into our locker room.”

“When was this? Yesterday?” Archer tilted his head.

“Yeah, Coach introduced us to him. We’ve started calling him Coach Hot Stuff.” Tyler snorted, then died in his video game. “Fuck.”

Oh, Jesus. Dipping my head, I rubbed my temple, heat flaring in my cheeks. Archer didn’t need to hear all this shit.

Archer peered at me. “You do like him, don’t you?” He strutted to me, then wound an arm around my neck to scruff my head.

I wriggled out of his hold. “I don’t need you messing with me too.” With a huff, I strode into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. I had no idea at this point if Mason had grabbed one for me or not, and I wasn’t going to search for it. “ Don’t you have some special night out with Leo to go to?” There, change the subject.

Knocking sounded on the door.

“Yeah, that must be him.” With a start, Archer snatched up his duffel and jogged to the door. Flinging the door open, he gave Leo a broad smile. “Babe.”

Leo flung his arms around Archer’s shoulders and kissed the side of his head. “Archer.” He breathed him in. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

I sipped my beer, watching them. God, my best friend was the happiest I’d ever seen him. Would I ever have something like that? With a glance at Mason’s smirking face, I rounded the couch and dropped into my spot. “Hand me a controller.” It was time to enjoy our stay-at-home New Year’s Eve.