Chapter 3
Vanessa
three
. . .
It’s always nice when the team comes back home. They’ve been on an extended road trip to start the season, and even though I like having the training facility virtually to myself, it does get lonely when there are only a few people in the building instead of the usual hundred and fifty players and support staff.
Jacky comes back into the office talking on her phone. From the sickly saccharine tone of her voice, I know already it’s a vendor. And from the look on her face, they’re about two words away from being eviscerated.
I hope I’m here to watch it. Jacky is the sweetest person except when she’s hangry.
A few minutes later, she pops into my cubicle eating a lobster roll.
“I need a favor,” she says.
“Sure. What do you need?”
“Can you run down to the equipment room and get this signed by the new guy?” She hands me a packet of papers. “I’m on hold with the Austin hotel. They’re saying there’s an issue and?—”
“I’ll take care of it,” I tell her easily. “Standard paperwork?”
She nods. “Yeah, he came over from Seattle. Seemed nice enough.” Jacky shrugs. “Cute, too.”
I roll my eyes. She thinks all of the male staff is cute.
“You going to ask him out?”
Her loud laugh echoes in the office. “Yes. Definitely,” she deadpans.
Even if it weren’t against protocols for staff members to have interpersonal relations, the guy is still a guy, and she’s married to another woman.
I mean, I get it. After being surrounded by testosterone and surging egos of the players and coaching staff all day at work and on the road, the last thing I want is to go home to another guy swinging his dick at me.
Taking the long way down to the equipment cave, I peek into the weight room and the locker room, making a note to refresh the drink cooler.
As I reach the equipment room, I glance down at the name on the front of the folder. Robert Andrews.
I stop.
My stomach sinks.
“Nessie!” A voice calls.
A chill runs up my spine.
Because that right there—that’s Robby Andrews.
As in, my ex-boyfriend.
The guy who dumped me on my twenty-first birthday.
My ex.
What the hell is he doing here?
He looks—I blow out a breath because he has absolutely no right to look that fucking good. He’s about six feet, and he has that broad goalie chest, and he?—
He’s wearing a brace on his knee. I can see it beneath the hem of his athletic shorts. He’s wearing a team t-shirt, but it doesn’t look like one of the standard players’ t-shirts.
I look down at the paperwork again. He’s not a player. He’s an assistant equipment manager.
Exhaling slowly, I try to calibrate.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I’m joining the team,” he says with a half-smile. It falls quickly. “I mean, the equipment staff. Not the—not the team.”
“I thought you were still playing.”
Robby shakes his head. “Not for a few seasons. I—well, I was in the minors more than up in the league, and I busted my knee, so…”
“So now you’re here.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m the Logistics Coordinator,” I tell him shortly. “I need you to sign some new hire paperwork.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” He gives me his broad smile again. It doesn’t make my stomach flutter. In fact, it makes my blood boil. “Isn’t it great, you and me here? It’ll be like college again!”
Does he mean the part where he virtually ignored me all day until he decided it was time to get laid? Does he mean the part where he insisted his hockey was more important than my lacrosse, outright refusing to attend my matches? Does he mean?—
Does he mean the part where we were talking about forever, and then three weeks later he dumped me on my birthday?
“No, it won’t.” My voice is cold. I’m glad it doesn’t shake.
Robby’s smile drops. He looks at the ground. “No, I suppose it won’t,” he says quietly.
“If you could just sign this paperwork…”
He takes the folder from me and moves to a nearby table. In a few quick minutes, he fills out the information I need to have on file for all employees.
Aidan MacGregor, one of the nicer guys on the team, gives me a nod as he moves past us. “Hey, V,” he says, holding out his fist for a bump.
Brushing my knuckles against his, I give him a smile. “Nice win the other night.”
He got a goal in the final seconds of the game, lifting the team to four points above Calgary.
It was made sweeter by the fact he was drafted by Calgary and then traded a few seasons later, before he ever got to lace up his skates for them.
He smirks. “It was, wasn’t it?”
Since he was traded here to Boston, and he’s been a stalwart on the second line ever since, I guess it didn’t work out too badly… for us.
With a roll of my eyes, I shake my head. “Get on the ice and get me another win, then.”
“Yes, ma’am.” MacGregor gives me a salute.
A few more guys make their way past us. I nod to Easton and McKittrick, smile at Jonas, and fist bump Reynolds, the new guy who came in a few weeks ago.
“So you know everyone pretty well, huh?” Robby says, scrawling his signature on the last page.
“I’ve worked here for a while,” I say tightly.
Schwartz and Cole shuffle past us. Cole looks hungover, which—well, that wouldn’t surprise me, to be honest. Lewis and Henry, the two goalies, edge through the room.
Then another guy makes his way toward the ice, and my heart stops.
Sven Larsson.
A million years ago, way before I even met Robby, I went to my friend Katie’s wedding. Sven was there. He was a rookie back then, playing on the same line as the groom, and we were seated at the same table with a bunch of other single, underage people.
We…
Well, we hooked up.
It was just that once. It’s never happened since.
When I joined the staff, he’d already been on the team for two seasons. I’m fairly sure he remembers me, because he goes red and stammers anytime we’re in the same vicinity, but neither of us have tried to talk about it.
It was a one-night stand. It happened nine years ago. It won’t happen again. That’s all there is to it.
Since Robby, I’ve made it a personal rule not to go out with hockey players. And once I joined the staff here, fraternization with the players was severely frowned upon, the employee handbook stating multiple hoops to jump through, added to that, the explicit knowledge without them saying it – the players are worth far more than administrative staff. My employment contract has an entire section with stipulations and protocols for interoffice relationships.
Besides, it’s in the past.
“Listen, Nessie,” Robby says, forcing my attention back to him. “Can we talk?”
My spine goes ramrod straight. “We’re talking now.”
He shakes his head. “You know what I mean. Can we grab a drink sometime? Two old friends?”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Come on, Nessie,” he wheedles. “Just think about it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It’s just a drink.”
“No, Robby.”
“Babe—”
“She said no.” Sven rounds the corner, glaring at us. “Continuing to pester her after she’s already rejected you doesn’t seem like the best idea, now does it?”
“I can handle this,” I tell him sternly.
To my surprise, stiff, stoic Sven actually grins. “I know you can.”
Robby looks uncomfortable. “Nessie, it’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, it has.” My brain starts to move at hyper speed. “I’ve moved on. I’m seeing someone now.”
I see Sven’s eyes widen with panic. He doesn’t want to be here. He avoids all personal conversations—he avoids everyone, at all times.
Sven is…
My eyes trail over him. He’s tall and wide, with a broad chest and strong shoulders that I sunk my teeth into almost a decade ago. He’s only grown up since then, putting on a lot of muscle. I’ve seen him shirtless, working out in the weight room. All the guys go topless as much as they can, and he?—
Well, there’s a reason I slept with him.
His blonde hair is loose, falling nearly to his shoulders. His green eyes are intent on mine, and his mouth curves into a half-smirk almost naturally.
“Vanessa…” Robby sighs. “Please. I just want to talk.”
I swallow.
Sven raises his eyebrows.
“I need a moment.” I look over at my one-time hookup. “Can I talk to you?”