Chapter Twenty-Six
Damon
I’m in a terrific mood for a Monday morning, despite how Friday night ended.
It was hard to let her have her space this weekend, when all I wanted to do was spend more time with her.
Still, I’m in such a good mood that I got up early, went for a run, and had time to make a good breakfast. Coffee in hand, I hit the arena doors by seven.
I’m ready for work…well, if I can stop thinking about the other night.
That shit was on a whole other level, and that’s a first for me.
I had to spend extra time in the shower this morning because I woke up so damn hard it was almost painful.
Just thinking about Friday night had me shooting off in minutes.
Joslyn just does it for me. Everything about her gets me going.
I need to stop thinking about her, though, because now I’m sporting a semi, and all I can think about is how it felt when she came on my cock.
Those damn sexy noises she made were heaven.
I want to hear them again and again as I bury my face in that sweet pussy.
Yeah, that is not helping the dick situation at all.
I need to think about something else for a while. I adjust myself and keep on walking.
I wish I knew what she wanted from us, but I don’t think she knows yet. I’m giving her space, but it’s hard because I already know what I want.
I want her in my bed, in my home, and in my life.
I want to wake up holding her and then have coffee together.
I want to have dinner and talk about our day.
I want to strip her naked and fuck her until she screams my name.
I want it all with her. And I want to tell her that, but it’s obvious that she’s nowhere near ready to hear it.
So, I resign myself to patience until she’s had time to process all of this. I can be patient. Right?
I’m passing the coffee cart, thinking of getting her one, when I remember to check on the camera feeds from the gym the other night.
Yeah, that’s going to be awkward, but it’s better than someone seeing a video of us having sex.
Suddenly, the thought of anyone else seeing her bare makes me irrationally angry.
That’s for me; no one else gets to see her like that.
I’m not into sharing. I’ve always been an easygoing guy, but not with Jos.
With her, I feel protective and possessive.
Yeah, that’s new for me, but it somehow makes sense with her.
I’ve never felt anything like this for anyone else.
She’s just different, in the best way possible.
I see Roger from security coming down the hall, so I pull him aside and ask him about the gym cameras.
I sigh with relief when he reminds me that they haven’t been installed yet.
We’ve done so much remodeling in that area that the camera wiring had to be completely redone.
Thank goodness. I hope he buys my excuse that I didn’t want anyone to see me trip and fall on the treadmill.
I don’t want Joslyn to worry. He probably thinks I’m a total diva, better that than the truth.
I arrive at my office and begin my day. I don’t have any meetings until later, so I settle in to watch some prospect highlights that Jonesy has marked as urgent.
An hour later, I can’t remember what I watched.
All I can think about is seeing her again.
I may not be able to kiss her like I want to, but I’ll still be in her orbit.
I’m going to ask her over for dinner again.
We need to discuss where this is going and how that will affect our work relationship.
Checking the HR handbook about fraternization would be an excellent idea at this point.
I mentally add that to my to-do list for today.
Four hours later, I realize that today is not turning out as great as I’d hoped.
I’ve seen Joslyn twice in passing, and we’ve been in three of the same meetings.
Not only has she not spoken to me, but she won’t look me in the eye.
This morning, I sent her a message about coming over for dinner, and she has yet to reply.
I saw her duck into the ladies’ restroom when I was walking down the hall toward her office. Ouch!
She’s avoiding me. Damn it! The whole situation feels awkward now, and that’s the last thing I wanted to happen.
I was so fucking happy this morning, and now I’m just confused and a little hurt.
I’m over here planning a relationship with her.
What if I read the whole situation wrong?
Why is she ignoring me? Does she regret Friday night?
I thought we had great chemistry together, but maybe it wasn’t the same for her.
I need her to tell me what’s going on in that gorgeous head of hers.
There’s definitely a problem. When I stopped by her office, it was obvious that she had already left.
I didn’t see her leave, and I was paying attention.
She has to pass my office to get to the elevator unless she takes the back exit.
Abby always stops by my office for a treat before she leaves, so Joslyn ducking out is unexpected.
It stings more than I’d like to admit. I’m getting that she needs some space, but I don’t like this.
What bothers me the most is that she’s avoiding me instead of talking to me.
As I head to my car, I decide that today, there’s only one way to handle all this pent-up frustration.
The faded Lakewood Ice Rinks sign is a little crooked, but it still stubbornly hangs on to the side of the old warehouse.
Much like its owner, it’s aged and worn but still solid.
All these pent-up emotions need an outlet, and for me, that’s always been the ice or the bag.
Today, I need the ice. It’s still public skate time for another two hours, so I’ll get plenty of ice time.
I grab my gear out of the backseat and head in.
Jeremiah Helmut is at the counter, his regular spot. He looks me over and stamps my hand after I tap my card to pay for the skate time.
He shakes his head at me, bald head shining under the rink lights.
Jeremiah’s a large, barrel-chested man with broad shoulders and more muscles than any man his age should have.
The gray of his closely cropped beard is the only sign of his age.
When we first met during my rookie days, his attitude and those tatted-up biceps intimidated the hell out of me, but now I consider him a friend.
He and his wife, Jewel, own the rink, and back when I’d volunteered to coach one of the U14 teams, they generously gave the team a break on the ice time.
They’re good people, the kind you don’t see much anymore, which is so unfortunate.
Jewel is another redhead, drop-dead gorgeous, but back then, I only had eyes for Joslyn, and that hasn’t changed at all, it would seem.
“That kind of day, yeah? Work or her?” he grunts. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was grumpy. He’s not. That’s just the way he is. He has that ‘cranky old man’ face going on, but I know there’s a soft heart underneath it all.
“Her,” I grunt because I’m the cranky one today.
He doesn’t answer; he gives me another grunt.
I’m unsure if it’s in solidarity or because he thinks I’m an idiot.
Probably a bit of both. Jewel is his high school sweetheart, and they’ve been married for thirty-five years, so he’s doing something right.
She’s always smiling, so whenever he’s inclined to give me some advice, I make it a point to listen.
I mean, he must be doing something right.
Last week, after I’d made her dinner, I was so stressed out about my feelings for Joslyn that I poured my heart out to him for half an hour, dumping all my emotional baggage right in his lap.
Afterward, when I was dying of embarrassment, he looked at me and said, “Look, quit lying to yourself and look it in the face. Is she the one, or isn’t she?
If she is, then get your shit together and go after her.
If she’s not, then don’t waste her time or yours. It’s that simple.”
I realized he was right about five minutes into last week’s skate, so I went for it. And now we aren’t talking. On the other hand, we did have incredible sex. So, there’s that. I open my mouth to ask about my new situation, but he raises a hand.
“Go skate. Talk later. Rink B is the hockey rink tonight,” he rumbles before walking off to berate some kids messing around near the concessions area. I can’t stop the grin spreading across my face as I head to the locker room to dress. He’s right. I need to take a break from thinking for a while.
Two hours and one pickup game later, I’m feeling more like myself.
The rink is full of teenage hockey players, so finding a game is easy.
They all give me a hard time about being old, except for one kid with dark hair who is skating by himself over near the bench.
He’s tall and wiry, but I have a feeling his sweater is hiding a significant amount of muscle.
I’m betting speed is his weapon of choice.
He looks at me closely after I’m relegated to his team, then smiles to himself but doesn’t say a word.
Oh yeah, he knows who I am. I grin his way, then tell the kids to take it easy on the old guy.
The oldest one, the leader by default, smirks and nods.
I take my place as right wing, holding in my laughter. This is going to be fun.