Chapter Nine Hangover Food #2
I chuckle. “You got that right.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Listen, I gotta leave for the rink. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Have a good day at work, dear!”
“Thanks, honey!” I laugh as I hang up the phone and head out the door.
When I get to the rink, the guys are still practicing, so I take the opportunity to pull out my camera and get a few shots of them out on the ice.
The way they move with such ease and skill is impressive and I catch a slap shot, Carson diving to block the puck, a couple of guys slamming each other into the boards, and Jensen charging down the middle of the rink.
I can’t help myself as I scan the team for Zander and spot him almost immediately. I still can’t fucking believe he was chosen by the team as the “bachelor of the year” and the one I have to work with one-on-one.
I recognize his massive build, even if I can’t see his face.
On my way over here, I realized how badly I need to confront him to get some closure about that night, as much as I really, really, really don’t want to.
I think it’s the only way I’ll be able to put the fantasy of him, and the disappointment in the reality of him, behind me.
Seeing him now, though, my trepidation melts away as I grow mesmerized by him.
The way he moves… his big hands clutching his stick…
damn it, why can’t I stop looking at him?
And why am I getting all hot and flustered?
It’s just… the memory of his head between my thighs creeps into my brain and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I watch him…
At the sound of someone clearing their throat right next to me, I jump and let out a surprised yelp. I look up to find Coach Sullivan gazing down at me with a brow arched in curiosity.
“Hey there, Rylee,” he greets me.
“Hey, Coach.” My voice squeaks and I wince. Fuck.
“I got your email with the schedule you put together,” he tells me, ignoring my awkwardness, thank God. “I’ll make sure the guys follow it. There’s a conference room down by the PT offices that you can use for the interviews and individual photos.”
“Great, thank you.” I grin up at him, then look back out over the ice. “I’ve been thinking and the team shot will be better in the rink with everyone in full gear.”
He nods. “Totally agree. We’ll make that happen too. Now, if you’ll excuse me, practice is about to wrap up. I’ll show you the conference room later.”
“Sounds good.”
Coach turns and blows his whistle, calling the guys in, and I move to the side to take a few more pictures. Again, my gaze zeroes in on Zander. He pulls off his helmet, shaking out his hair and I gulp, feeling hot in the icy space. Shaking my head, I pull myself out of my daze.
Ugh! This is driving me crazy!
When the Coach finishes talking, the guys start to head into the tunnel leading to the locker room. I follow after them and linger in the hallway, feeling very much like a creep, but I need to talk to Zander. Now.
I wait, and wait, and wait - Christ, how long does it take a dude to shower and change - and finally, the team starts to trickle out of the locker room. The moment Zander appears, I storm over to him.
“Hey,” I snap, catching his attention.
He frowns down at me. “What?”
“We need to talk.” Without thinking, I grab his wrist and pull him down the hall and into a small alcove, out of the way of everyone else. The heat from his skin washes through me, stealing my breath.
Once we’re tucked away in the alcove, I jerk my hand away from him and latch onto my anger.
“You really think you’re some kind of playboy, don’t you?” I hiss. “If you think breakfast will make up for what you did, you’ve got another thing coming!”
Zander jerks back in shock. “The fuck? What I did? What the hell are you talking about, Wildcard?”
I point a finger into his broad chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! The wedding!”
“Did you even have any idea who I was that night?” he demands to know.
I blink, caught off guard by his response.
I get flustered, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.
Okay, no, I didn’t really know who he was.
He was just another hot guy, and once I lost track of Tyler, Zander seemed like an acceptable replacement to my drunken ass.
Thinking about that now makes me feel like a huge piece of shit, but I shake my head and shove the feeling away, latching back onto my anger.
“That… that’s besides the point,” I stammer. “Aren’t you supposed to be moving out of Grace’s place? You don’t seem to be making a lot of progress on that front.”
He clenches his jaw, his nostrils flaring. “It’s Carson’s place, and no, I haven’t found anywhere else to stay yet so you may be stuck with me for a while.”
I huff in frustration and stomp my foot. “Ugh! You are so insufferable. I hope you enjoy couch life.”
“Oh, it’s a blast.”
Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms and try to keep my growing fury under control.
“Also, I need you to give me a schedule of your day,” I growl. “I need to spend a good amount of time with you to get content of you for the Lifestyle article. If I don’t have your schedule, I’ll just be following you around from morning to night.”
To my surprise, instead of appearing pissed by my not so veiled threat, he actually throws his head back and laughs.
“You know what? Fine.” He gives me a crooked grin. “There’s no practice this Saturday and it’s supposed to be a nice day, so I’m going to run outside instead of on a treadmill. Do you like running, Wildcard? You could join me.”
My lips part. I actually… love running.
“Uh… yeah,” I murmur. “I’ll go with you and I can start interviewing you when we take a break or something. Okay?”
He nods. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Holding my chin up, I turn and march from him without a backward glance and make sure it doesn’t look like I’m trying to get away from him as quickly as possible… even though I absolutely am.