Chapter 7 #2
“You can give me the rundown,” I say as I take my seat, thankful that the coffee made it onto my shirt, not covering the entirety of my desk. Thankful that whatever moment just happened was broken before I did something fucking stupid.
Because apparently, I don’t think when it comes to this girl.
Leaning back, I lace my fingers over my stomach and keep my gaze fixated on Maisie as she scrambles with the papers she’s snatched up from my desk. Some are stained with spots of my spilled black coffee, but not enough that she can’t read whatever she’s scribbled on the pages.
“Okay. Sure. Uh, so I was thinking that we could have an ‘afternoon with the players’ kind of thing?” The way she says it, it’s a question and not a statement.
“Are you asking… or telling me?”
For the briefest moment, so quick I almost miss it if I weren’t paying such close attention, annoyance flits across her face, her sensual mouth pulling into a scowl before she rolls her lips together, squares her shoulders, and lifts her chin.
“I’m asking for your feedback. That’s why you’re here, is it not?” Frustration laces each syllable, and I bite back a smirk at the fire.
Instead, I lift a brow and lean forward, placing my elbows onto the edge of my desk, noticing how her gaze flicks to the tattoos on my arms before darting back to my eyes.
“I’m here because I’m required to be, Miss Delacroix. The same as you. So please, continue.”
Her eyes narrow, and a cute-as-fuck little huff tumbles past her lips. Despite her annoyance at me, she focuses back on her paper.
“The purpose of it being an afternoon with the guys is so that the kids can feel comfortable around meeting new people, to give them a soft introduction. I thought maybe that a few of the players could read a book to them? Even a sports-related one, something engaging for the kids. Although I’m not sure if they’d be interested in doing something like that,” she says, chewing her lip in thought.
“Doesn’t matter. If I tell them to do it, they’ll do it.”
Maisie nods. “Okay.” She glances back down at the notes on her paper, and I let my gaze roam over her face, her long lashes coated with black, the shimmery gloss on her lips, the thin golden chain around her neck with a pink heart-shaped ring around it, down to the pale swell of her tits that peeks out from the top of her dress.
My mouth fucking waters. I clench my fingers into a fist as I listen to her speak, forcing my gaze back to her face.
I can’t be staring at her tits.
I can’t be looking at her at fucking all.
“I have plans for a fundraiser, possibly some type of formal dinner or gala to raise funds for the literacy program. A lot of the boosters would probably be interested in attending if the players and coaching staff were there? Or maybe even some type of auction during the event could attract even more attendance.”
I nod.
It’s ironic that when shit like this came up while I played for Boston, I made every excuse I could to avoid it. Sometimes I just didn’t show up. Even though it didn’t look good to no-show to team events, and I was expected to attend… I’ve never been a suit-and-tie kind of guy.
I hate fuck-ass guys like that. The ones who walk into a room and think they’re immediately better than anyone standing in it. The ones who need everyone to know what they’ve got, how much money they make, that they’re the top dog.
But now that I’m here, my hand is going to be forced into playing a part right alongside them.
And maybe… Maybe if I had just shown my face back then, played the part of a good little hockey player and attended the bullshit functions, then maybe I wouldn’t have as shit of a reputation as I do when it comes to my career.
I still would’ve beat the fuck out of him. Without question.
But maybe the coaching staff and owners wouldn’t have been so quick to cut me loose.
“Obviously, we don’t have to go over all of those details now, but we should soon so we can figure out the logistics. Date, time, venue, et cetera.” She adds, “But I can email you about that?”
“Sure.”
She tilts her head. “And this time, you’ll actually respond?”
I clench my jaw to fight a smirk. Yeah, my dick likes her attitude far too much. “Yeah, Maisie, I’ll respond. Anything else?”
“Okay… good. Wouldn’t want to have to show up here again unannounced.” Her lips curve slightly.
“Right.”
Wrong.
She nods. “Okay, well then, I’ll email you more information when I check with the program’s schedule, and we can compare them to see what day would work best for the guys?”
“First game of the season is Friday. It’ll be harder to find a date that works with the schedule, but email me the details, and we’ll go from there.”
Maisie rises from the chair and closes her folder, nodding again. “Sounds good. Thanks for your time, and… sorry, again about your shirt.”
“All good.”
I restrain myself from watching her hips sway as she turns toward the door, not at all cataloging how the fabric hugs every inch of her curves.
My focus can’t be on anything outside of what I’m here to do.
Coach. Do whatever I need to for this program shit. Get back to the NHL.
The rest is noise, so I force all of it away.
“Bye, Coach,” she murmurs, lifting a brow at her mouthy tone.
“Bye, Miss Delacroix.”
Except when she turns away, I see the bratty little smirk on her lips, and fuck if I don’t want to kiss it off her before I bend her over my desk and turn her ass the only shade of pink I like.
Fuck me.