Astrid #2
Hansley? Oh right. That was probably his last name. Which I might’ve known if we’d exchanged names. He’d spent our night together calling me schatje, whatever that meant. I could barely pronounce it, let alone spell it to try to figure it out. And I’d spent the night in mindless bliss.
Then I’d moved on, assuming I’d never see him again. That was what we’d agreed after all.
“Yes, Coach?” he asked, that deep voice resonating through me like a tuning fork. It had a hint of an accent—German, perhaps? And I’d noticed that he sometimes switched up the order of the words in his sentences, putting the object before the verb.
“After practice,” Dad said to Hansley, “I want you to check in with the trainers. See if they can give you some stretches to help your hip and quad.”
Hansley furrowed his brow then nodded. “Yes, Coach.” He turned to me, his expression guarded.
Hansley just stood there at the boards, watching me. Was I supposed to stand? Sit? Pretend we’d never met?
I told myself to act natural. To treat him like any other player. Because that’s all he was to me. All he could ever be. I wasn’t interested in a relationship, period. Let alone one with a celebrity.
Damn. How disappointing.
He extended his hand, and I couldn’t get a read on his expression. Despite his initial smirk, he was closed off. Withdrawn. “Holden.”
I couldn’t help myself; I placed my hand in his. But when he wrapped his larger hand around my smaller one, it sent a jolt of awareness and a wave of arousal through me. Fuck. I dropped his hand as if I’d been scalded.
He seemed…surprised. Almost pissed.
“Holden.” I swallowed hard. “A pleasure.” A lie.
It had been a pleasure. My shortsighted, alcohol-fueled one-night stand had definitely resulted in some serious pleasure. This meeting…not so much.
“I’m Astrid.”
He frowned. Yeah, okay. So, Astrid was an unusual name, but he didn’t have to be such a jerk about it. My dads had chosen it because it meant “divinely beautiful” or “beloved of the gods,” depending on the source. It was unique, and I loved it.
I gritted my teeth, but before I could respond, Dad turned his attention back to us. “I see you’ve met my daughter.”
Holden’s expression darkened further. I met his eyes, silently begging him to keep his mouth shut about that night. If my dad found out I’d slept with one of his players, he’d be pissed. And my reputation as a future orthopedic surgeon would be tarnished.
Holden wasn’t my patient, but it wouldn’t be a good look. Sleeping with a pro hockey player? It would give potential employers and patients the wrong idea about me. I shook my head, wishing I’d asked for more details before I’d jumped into bed with him.
Dad placed his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Feel free to hang out in my office, or I’ll meet you outside.”
“Outside is perfect,” I said, wanting to get away from there as fast as possible. Away from Holden as fast as possible.
I stood and grabbed my things, turning and heading for the door. I couldn’t stay here.
But I didn’t make it far down the hall before a large hand was wrapping around my arm.
“Hey. Wait.” That voice.
I stilled, telling myself that he’d given me no other choice. But his hold was light enough, I could break free at any moment. He was like that—commanding but respectful.
No, Astrid. You don’t know that. Don’t know him. Not really.
I turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “What do you want?” The words came out harsher than I’d intended, but I was paranoid someone might see us together. Why did he have to be…well, him? A famous NHL player.
“Answers.”
I gnashed my teeth. What kinds of answers? We’d both gone into this knowing full well what it was, even if that night had felt life-changing.
Dramatic, sure. But he’d helped me let go, relax, in a way that I hadn’t been able to in years. He’d taken control. He’d consumed me. Was it really so wrong to want that again?
“You should’ve told me you were married.”
I furrowed my brow. What the hell was he talking about?
“I didn’t hear a question in there,” I said. More like an accusation. And a false one at that.
“Okay, then. Where’s your wedding ring?” he asked. “Large red diamond. Ring any bells?”
And then it dawned on me. He’d confused me with Emerson. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You think this is funny?” he all but growled. Damn, that was sexy.
“No. I mean, yeah, kinda.”
He glowered. Glowered.
Oof. That was intense. And it reminded me of that night. He’d been so controlling yet tender. My core heated at the reminder.
“I’m sorry,” I said, rolling my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing.
Holden stalked closer. My heart rate ratcheted up. I took a step back then another, until my back was to the wall of the tunnel. His hands were bracketing my face. My body arched toward him as if aching for his touch.
“Is that why you came here? Looking for your fuckboy? Is that all this is—a big joke to you?”
I sobered at his expression, anger zinging through my veins. “I didn’t come here looking for you.” God, the nerve. “I had no idea you’d even be here.”
“Really?” His tone was full of skepticism.
“Yes, really. I had no idea who you were or that you played for the Hawks. And for the record, I’m not married. But my twin sister is.”
“Your…” He swallowed hard as understanding dawned. “Twin?”
“Yes.” I nodded. Some of his earlier ire seemed to deflate at that. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I ducked under his arm, ready to make my escape.
“Wait.” He grabbed my wrist, gaze colliding with mine in a way that made me feel pinned to the spot. “Why do you keep running away from me?”
“Because there’s no reason to stay.”
“No reason…” He looked wounded, and part of me genuinely felt bad. But hey, he was a hockey god. I was pretty sure he’d recover. “I’ve been looking for you. Or at least, I was until…”
“Until…”
He’d been looking for me? The idea made me feel giddy, but I quickly shut it down.
“Until I attended a gala last week and met your twin. Your twin who’s married. But now that I know… Well, this changes everything.”
I scoffed, eager to get out of there, even as I fought the pull I felt to be near him. “It changes nothing. We agreed—that was a one-time-only thing.” I had to stand firm on this. “You should forget about that night because it will never happen again.”
He gripped my chin. “But you want it to.”
I glanced away, unable to meet his eyes. “No.”
“Liar,” he said in a low voice, the sound threading through me. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“I’m focused on one thing—finishing my residency.”
“Residency, huh? That’s hot.”
“Why?” I could feel myself getting riled up. “Because you want to imagine role-playing doctor/patient with me?”
“I wasn’t before, but I am now.” He eyed me up and down, likely imagining me in a slutty nurse costume. Him as the doctor. Screw that. “But no,” he said. “Because you’re fucking smart, which I already knew. And I find that incredibly sexy.”
Huh. Okay. That was…unexpected.
I often felt like I had to work twice as hard and prove myself more than my male colleagues. Men I’d dated in the past had either been intimidated or underestimated me, assuming that my famous-plastic-surgeon of a dad had gotten me where I was.
Which reminded me…
“My dad is your coach. You have a ton of eyes on you. We shouldn’t even be standing here together. You shouldn’t be touching me.”