Chapter 6
COLE
I’m alerted the second Freya arrives at my apartment the next morning by my cell lighting up with a notification.
I’ve been on the exercise bike in my home gym for almost an hour.
I’m not going fast, or really pushing myself, but I had to do something.
I tossed and turned all night. It was as if today was the first day of a new school year, and I was anxious as fuck.
Only, I’m a fully grown fucking adult. Right now, my life is stable.
My position with the Vipers is as secure as it can be; my stats speak for themselves.
I’ve had more shutout games this season than I’ve ever had.
I know where I stand; I know the challenges that lie ahead.
The only new thing in my life that I don’t have entirely figured out is her.
Freya Price.
Tapping on the notification, I wait for the camera to open as my legs slow to a snail’s pace. A smile twitches at my lips as I watch her fumbling with her key fob, some grocery bags, and her purse.
I should probably go and help her, but my ass stays firmly planted on the seat.
She’s pulled her hair back into a high ponytail, but unlike yesterday, she’s dressed casually. I take in her pale-yellow T-shirt, skinny jeans, and sneakers. I barely know this woman, but even through the screen, I can tell she’s feeling more relaxed today.
I watch until she disappears, leaving me with the fading sound of her making her way to the kitchen.
My stomach growls in anticipation, and before I know it, I’m climbing off my bike and marching across the room.
I’m sweaty and should probably shower before heading out there, but my need to greet her on her first morning is too much to ignore.
Lifting my shirt, I wipe my face and head out.
She doesn’t react as I approach. She’s too focused on unpacking her bags and loading items into the refrigerator. I thought I’d filled that baby to the max with everything she could possibly need, but clearly not.
“Good morning, Chef,” I greet, a little too excited about her being here. “Would you like a coffee?” I ask, because that’s the one machine in this kitchen that I know exactly how to use.
She doesn’t respond, and as I round the island, I spot the white AirPod in her ear. Unfortunately, it’s the exact same time she registers my movement as well.
She shrieks, jumps a mile, and the carton of eggs in her hands plummets to the floor.
On instinct, I dart forward and actually manage to catch three. Sadly, the others land on the floor. The shells explode, and raw egg splatters everywhere.
“Oh my god,” Freya cries, throwing her AirPods onto the counter, grabbing the roll of paper towel, and dropping to her knees.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea you had earphones in,” I say, also sinking to the floor to help.
“It’s my fault. I should have taken them out when I got here. I didn’t think you’d be up yet. I was just going to get everything prepped and—”
“Freya,” I say, sitting back on my heels.
She pauses her gloop-scooping and looks up at me with glassy, fearful eyes.
“Everything is okay. It’s just some eggs. Did you need all of these? I can run to the store if you do.” I give her a soft smile in the hope it helps calm her down.
“N-no, I don’t. I picked up extras. I was going to do poached eggs, but sometimes I struggle, and I wanted spares in case I screwed them up.”
“What’s easier than poached eggs?” I ask.
“Umm…pretty much every other kind of eggs.”
“Then do any of those this morning.”
“But—”
“Don’t make life harder for yourself. Up until now, my breakfasts have consisted of a protein shake and an apple. Anything you give me will be a major improvement.”
Her shoulders relax, and she releases a heavy sigh.
“I promise you, my expectations are very low.”
Something twinkles in her eyes. “I thought you hired me because I can cook.”
I smirk. “Which is why I know that any type of eggs you do will be outstanding.” With a handful of egg-covered kitchen paper towel, I stand. “Would you like a coffee?” I ask again as I dump it in the trash.
“No, no, sit down. I’ll make it.”
“It’s really okay. What’s your poison?”
She leans around me and looks at my machine. It pretty much does everything, so the world is her oyster.
“Just coffee with a little creamer is great.” She ducks her head to continue cleaning long before she’s finished speaking.
“Latte? Cappuccino? Flat white? Hazelnut, caramel, lavender?”
“Lavender?” she blurts. “Who the hell has lavender in coffee? Oh, crumbs. I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s lovely.”
I smirk as she rambles.
“Cappuccino would be fantastic, if you don’t mind,” she finally says.
“It would be my pleasure.”
Leaving her to continue cleaning up, I set about grinding some beans.
Every minute or so, her attention on my back makes my skin tingle, but I don’t acknowledge her as we work almost side by side in my kitchen.
“I picked up a fresh loaf from down the street this morning, but going forward, I’ll make my own bread,” she tells me as the mug fills with coffee.
“I’m not going to argue, but not everything needs to be from scratch. I don’t mind if you take a few shortcuts.”
“You say that now. Wait until you taste my bread.” Her statement makes me pause for a beat. Confidence sounds good on her.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Switching the mugs, I set about steaming the milk for her cappuccino.
Happy with my creation, I walk over and place it beside where she’s mashing an avocado. Her sweet scent floods my nose as I step just a little too close, and I cringe. If I can smell her, she can no doubt smell me.
I move away quickly, grab my mug, and take a seat at the island like I did last night.
“Wh-what is this?” She asks, the fork in her hand clattering into the bowl.
“A cappuccino. Did you change your mind? I can make you another if—”
“It has art on the top. A flower.”
I can’t help but laugh at the look of pure shock on her face.
“Technically, it’s a tulip, but I admit it’s not my best work.”
Her mouth opens and closes as she tries and fails to find words.
“But…you don’t know how to cook.”
“Making coffee is totally different to cooking.”
“But I can’t do that,” she mutters with a pout.
My smile grows. “I can teach you,” I offer.
“Can you do other designs?”
“Yeah.”
She bites down on her bottom lip and shakes her head.
“What?” I ask, desperate to know her thoughts.
“Nothing. I’m just surprised.”
“Had me pegged for totally useless, huh?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“It’s okay. I’ve met my fair share of people who think that just because I stop a puck for a living, I can’t possibly have any brain cells in my head.”
“I don’t think that,” she assures me quickly.
“You wouldn’t be here if I thought for a second you did.
So, what about you? Other than cooking, what else is there to know about Freya Price?
” I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s only going to result in her turning the questions around on me, and I’d rather pull my own tooth out than dive into my backstory.
“Honestly, there isn’t anything else worthy of knowing.”
“I don’t believe that. You went to college, right? What did you study?”
“English. I know, boring, right?”
“Not at all. What did you do after?” I do know what she did after college—Casey briefly brushed on it—but I’d prefer to hear it from the woman herself.
A laugh bursts from her. “I decided it would be fun to move to Las Vegas.”
I can’t lie; when Casey told me, I was surprised. I’d only met Freya a handful of times, but she didn’t seem like a Las Vegas girl to me. And now, hearing her say it, I’m even more confused.
“I wanted to break free, live, you know? I’d never really left LA, and I wanted to experience something different before I embarked on a nine-to-five career like what was expected of me.
“My parents are fantastic. I couldn’t ask for better. But they’re very traditional in their views. They expected me to get a job, find a man, get married, and have babies.”
“You don’t want that?” I ask.
She blows out a long breath.
“Yeah, no. Maybe. Honestly, right now, I don’t know what I want. Vegas opened my eyes to what else is out there, you know? It isn’t just about working and raising a family. There’s so much more to experience.”
“Yeah, there is,” I agree, sipping my coffee.
“And what about you? Or is that a silly question?”
I frown. “Why would that be a silly question?”
Heat rises to her cheeks, and she averts her gaze. “Because from what I’ve read, you’ve never had a relationship.”
“Ah, been back on Google?”
“Honestly, Cole. Type your name in, and the only thing that comes up is you with an array of beautiful women on your arm.”
“That’s not true. What about the endorsement campaigns?”
“I saw them as well.”
“Not as memorable though, huh?” I laugh.
“So, do you want it? The picture-perfect life with a house, wife, and two point five kids?”
“No,” I state flatly.
Freya pauses for a moment, obviously not expecting such a firm answer. “Fair enough.”
As she spins away from me and places a frying pan on the stove, I question whether I should have been so blunt. But I’ve already let her into my home. She’s going to get closer to me than almost every other person I know. I need to draw the line somewhere.
She continues working, filling my apartment with the mouthwatering scents of her cooking, before a plate heaped with avocado toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon appears before me, a bowl of fresh fruit sliding next to it.
Unable to wait a second longer, I pick up the slice of toast and take a huge bite.
“Oh my god,” I mumble as the mixture of flavors explodes in my mouth.
“Good?” Freya asks as she takes her seat beside me with her own, smaller portion of breakfast before her.
“So good,” I tell her once I’ve swallowed. “Try it and find out.”
Happy that she agreed to my request about eating with me, I turn back to my breakfast.
I devour it in minutes, and when I look over, Freya’s barely halfway through hers.
It seems I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
“Did I make enough?” she asks. “If you need more, I can—”’
“It was perfect,” I interrupt. “Thank you.”
A hesitant smile spreads across her lips.
“Stop worrying that everything you do isn’t good enough. I can assure you, it is. And if it ever isn’t, I promise I’ll be up front about it.”
She nods her head, but I don’t think for a second she really hears what I’m saying.
“I’m sorry.”
I raise a brow. “That can stop as well. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I’m sorry, I—” She cuts herself off with a laugh this time. “I’ll do better.”
“All you need to do is be you.”
The heavy sigh she lets out tells me exactly what she thinks about that comment.
Questions burn through me, but I stuff them down.
I need to get ready for my day.
Slipping from the stool, I take my dirty dishes to the sink before turning back to Freya. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home later so you can be prepared.”
She nods, but before I can escape to my bedroom, her voice stops me. “Do you want my number?”
We’ve only communicated via email thus far. The thought of giving her my number makes my stomach twist. I don’t ever give girls my number. But Freya isn’t just a girl. She’s Freya.
I pull my cell from my pocket and pull up my contact for her. As I pass it over for her to fill in, I can’t help but smirk. “I bet you say that to all the players.”