Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jules
“Just text him,” Blair grumbles from the other side of the kitchen table. “Stalker daddy’s been around the block, and I’m sure he likes women who know what they want and aren’t afraid to ask for it.”
Sometimes I wish she didn’t know me so well. I set my phone back down on the table, face down. “Good one. I’ll just send him a nude even though he said something happening between us is a bad idea. What could go wrong?”
She sighs dramatically. “He said you’re a ten. He thinks you’re beautiful. But he’s in a position of power and he doesn’t want to initiate anything. So initiate, you badass bitch.”
Coop gasps from the doorway. “Mom, you called Aunt Jules a bad word.”
I give her a pointed look.
“I didn’t mean it like you think I did,” Blair says to her son. “Are you watching for your ride?”
He turns and leaves. I return to my phone, checking socials and commenting.
It’s been eight days since Lucien and Kyle’s fight, and the attention is dying down. I spent the first few days staying on top of every post on every social media site I could find. Though it hasn’t been officially confirmed, it’s out that Audra and Kyle are living apart now.
I’m back to posting my usual content, so I’m heading out on a road trip with the team in an hour. Other than working on home game days, I’ve taken time off over the past week. I took Eli and Coop shopping, to a pumpkin patch and a corn maze, and to the movies twice.
I want to get back to my work, but I don’t know how I’ll feel when I see Noel.
Nothing is going to happen between us, but I just can’t seem to let go of my attraction to him. That day in the conference room, I wanted to pick up the phone from the table and throw it at him, and that’s not me. I was just so jealous of Caroline telling him she’d be waiting upstairs.
Does he just enjoy the game? Is that why he made me feel like he wants me?
The answers to those questions don’t really matter, but it doesn’t stop me from asking them.
My suitcase is ready and I’m rolling it toward the door that leads from the kitchen to the garage when my phone rings. It’s an unknown number. I usually don’t answer those on my personal phone, but I slide my finger across my screen to answer this one.
“Hello?”
“Julie, it’s Mom.”
I stop walking, end the call and block the number, my heart racing nervously. It’s been almost four years since she’s tried to contact us. I thought I’d convinced her that she’s never getting another dime out of me or Blair.
Though I should tell my sister our mom just called, I don’t. It would stress her out, and she has a big test coming up. Instead, I take my bag out to the car and leave for the arena, pretending it didn’t happen.
I’ve never seen the players so excited. Leo pours an entire bottle of champagne over Isaac’s head, Isaac shaking his head like a wet dog and sending the liquid flying everywhere.
They just pulled out a 4–0 win in LA. Magnus Lundgren scored two of the goals, and he hasn’t stopped smiling since the game ended. Our fans are going to love the video footage I’m getting in the locker room.
“This isn’t our house, boys,” Noel calls out. “We have to leave this locker room like we found it and we’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”
He has a mop in hand, and he brings it over to Leo. Leo gives him a puzzled look.
“You want me to clean it up? Right now?”
“You think your mom’s around the corner waiting to do it? It’s your mess.”
“His mom’s waiting in my bed at the hotel,” Anson says with a grin. “Probably gonna drain my balls dry again.”
I’ll have to edit that out of the video. Jokes about teammates’ moms are as prolific around here as hockey sticks.
Stifling a yawn, I stop recording. It’s been a long day. We were delayed getting out of Cleveland, and since we were running late, we didn’t check in at the hotel. It was straight to the arena for pregame meetings and warm-ups.
It’s also three hours earlier here than it is back home, so even though it’s eleven p.m., for us it feels like two a.m. I can’t wait to wash my face, get in bed and sleep for six straight hours.
Everyone else seems to feel the same way. None of the guys wants to go out. The team chef has a postgame meal of chicken and pasta packaged into containers for us to eat on the bus to the hotel.
It’s a quiet ride, everyone either eating or resting. I want to sleep, but if I get fifteen minutes in now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to fall asleep at the hotel. Instead, I make a post to the team socials about the win, using the video of Leo pouring champagne on Isaac.
One of the equipment people, Jason, always handles hotel check-ins. We all wait in the lobby with our bags until he comes over to distribute room keys. I’m in room 326, and with all the guys crowded at the elevator doors, I decide to take the stairs.
My feet ache after a twenty-hour day in heels, and I step out of them as soon as I reach the third floor, groaning with relief and picking them up. I don’t even want to take the time to wash my face before bed. I just want to fall face-first onto the mattress.
I open my door, step into the room, and toss my shoes to the floor. I can’t find a light switch, so I walk in farther, seeing the dark outline of a desk, and feel around for a lamp.
“I have a gun, and I will shoot you,” a deep male voice says.
I scream, my heart jumping to my throat. Who the fuck is in my room, and why does he want to kill me?
My hand is still wrapped around the handle of my rolling suitcase, so it comes with me as I race for the door, flinging it open. I race back toward the elevator, looking over my shoulder.
A man steps out of the room. He’s only wearing dingy white underwear and his belly hangs over the front waistband. “What the hell were you doing in my room?”
“It’s my room,” I call over my shoulder.
“The hell it is!”
Did I have the wrong room? My key card worked. I stop and look at the cardboard key holder in my hand. “Room 326.”
“I’m in three-twenty-six.” He snarls at me. “You woke me up, bitch.”
I’m not fighting with a guy who already threatened to shoot me. I pick up my suitcase and hurry into the stairwell, one of my stocking-covered feet landing on a small rock.
“Ow! Shit.”
I burst out of the stairwell, breathless as I race to the front desk.
“How may I help you?” a uniformed woman asks.
I look at her nametag. “Gwen, I just went into my room and a strange man threatened to shoot me. What kind of help is there for that?”
She frowns. “Why was there a man in your room?”
“Fantastic question. My room key is for three-twenty-six.” I hold it up to show her. “And he said that’s his room. We both have keys for the same room.”
“Hmm. Let me check that.”
I’m sweating and not remotely tired anymore. It’s going to take more than the hotel comping my room to make up for this. That guy could have shot me. I still can’t believe it happened.
“There must have been a mistake,” Gwen says.
“A big one.”
“I’m looking for another room, but ...” She furrows her brow. “We’re completely booked.”
I gape at her. “Try again. I’m with the Cleveland Crush.”
“Oh, the hockey team?”
“Yes. We have a block of rooms here.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I wish there was something I could do, but we’re completely full. Can you bunk with someone from your group?”
I just stare at her for a few seconds. “You want me to sleep on the floor in someone else’s room because you guys screwed up and double-booked my room?”
“I know it’s an inconvenience, but we’re full.”
Now she’s aggravated, and I think my head might blow off my neck, because I passed aggravated back on the stairwell.
I nod and get out my phone, calling Noel.
“Jules,” he says softly.
“Hi. I’m having a situation at the front desk and I need you here.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry about this,” Gwen says.
I put up a hand. “It’s been a really long day, and it’ll be best if someone other than me takes over from here.”
It only takes about two minutes for Noel to emerge from the stairwell, dressed in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, black slide sandals on his bare feet.
“You okay?” he asks, his gaze locked onto me.
God, he looks good. His wide shoulders and toned biceps stretch the T-shirt taut across his chest and arms. A girl could sink her hands into those shoulders while she’s getting railed into oblivion.
“I used the key card to get into my room, and it worked. But when I got inside, there was a man in bed who threatened to shoot me.”
Noel’s brows jump up. He stops right in front of me, putting a hand on my waist. “What the hell? Do we need the police?”
“No,” Gwen says emphatically. “We seem to have made a mistake and double-booked the room. And unfortunately, we don’t have any other rooms available. We’ll take that room off the bill, of course.”
Noel draws his brows together, scowling at her. “A mistake? That’s all you have to say? Where is this guy? Get him down here right now.”
“I can’t do that, sir.”
“Get your boss on the phone.”
Gwen’s lips part with surprise. “Sir, it’s the middle of the night.”
“I don’t care. Our team has been staying here for a long time, and if you don’t—”
I interject. “Noel. I’m so tired. Can I just have Caroline’s room?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
I give him a look. “I won’t say a word about her being in your room, but if she has one and it’s empty, like Talia and Lucien—”
He drops his brows, confused. “Why would Caroline be in my room? She’s back in Cleveland.” He looks at my feet. “Where are your shoes?”
“On the floor in room 326. I was too scared to get them.”
He glares at Gwen. “Go get her shoes and have a cot sent to my room. This isn’t over.”
“Sir, I can’t—”
He folds his arms. “Get her shoes and a cot within the next ten minutes, or I’ll check the entire team out of this shithole right now.”
Gwen looks like she might be sick. “Yes, sir. Right away.”
He reaches for the bag slung over my shoulder, and I pull away. “I’ve got it.”
Unfazed, he takes the strap and puts it over his own shoulder, then reaches for the handle of my rolling suitcase.
My shoulders sink with an exhausted sigh. “I can roll my suitcase. Just take me to the room.”
His steely eyes stay locked on mine for another second before he relents. He leads the way to the elevator, my pink travel bag looking out of place resting against his hip.
Silence hangs in the elevator, my heart racing. I’m staying in his room. With him. And his shoulders. It’s what I’ve wanted for a while now, but not like this.
“Sorry if I woke you up,” I say, just to fill the quiet space.
“You didn’t. And it wouldn’t matter if you had.” I feel him looking at me. “Why did you think Caroline was in my room?”
I stare at the panel of number buttons, my heart racing. “I thought you guys were a thing.”
“We’re not. Why did you think that?”
I’m thrilled and embarrassed simultaneously. The elevator doors slide open, saving me from responding.
“I’ll take the cot,” I say as I step into the hallway.
“No, you won’t,” he grumbles.
He seems to think I’m like his players, and I’ll follow his orders without question. And even though I’m exhausted, I’m not too tired to remind him he’s not my boss.
Irony—not sleeping in his bed is my way of showing him I belong in his bed. I do what I want, whether he likes it or not.