7. Monroe
SEVEN
MONROE
THE TOUCHES AND TENSION HAVE ME SCREAMING AND KICKING MY FEET.
Dumb list was burning a hole in my back pocket. Same way Graciella’s glare had been drilling into my skull since we’d walked into the Stars’ admin offices.
I’d only been in this wing of the practice facilities once or twice since joining. My office was closer to the locker rooms. Closer to my players.
I glued my eyes to the glass walls etched with our logo, my neck cranked so far to the left that a damn cramp was forming from avoiding looking across the way at her.
Damn chairs.
I sprawled my legs out trying to get comfortable, but the things weren’t built for guys my size.
Ironic given that the chairs lined the waiting area for an NHL team.
Actually, the space kind of mimicked the rink, lined with all the glass, leaving me feeling like someone might be watching from the offices.
Normally, I didn’t like being around strangers, but I’d have given anything for there to be someone else there with us right now. Someone to break the simmering tension. But it was a ghost town, the lull between our win and the start of offseason plans.
A ring sounded from the receptionist’s desk around the corner, shifting to a muffled conversation.
I picked at a stray thread on the inner stitching of my jeans, anything to keep from dissecting why her ribbing nearly had me smiling.
Or how she seemed to suck me into her orbit—whether I wanted it or not. I didn’t.
A chirp came from my wrist, interrupting the low hum from the fluorescent lights and the groaning from a watercooler kicking on somewhere down the maze of halls.
Elevated heart rate detected. Would you like to track a workout?
I smashed “no” on the screen, which only spiked the number higher.
“Thumper, quit it.”
I looked up to see Graciella frowning at me.
A ghost of her reflection doubled off the glass wall she leaned against. My eyes focused on her slightly chipped yellow nail, pointed accusingly at my leg, irresistibly drawn to it landing on her hips.
The vibrant green fabric of her dress cinched at her waist, and the hemline crept up slightly.
Fuck, her bare thighs.
I tipped my head back, forcing myself to count the sprinklers popping out of the drop ceiling panels instead of the little gold specks I swore shimmered on her legs.
God, help me.
Why wasn’t she wearing more fabric? Summer in San Jose felt like a cool winter’s day compared to Dallas. She should be in a coat. No, a damn parka.
“Are you listening?” She snapped her fingers in my face, seeming to have appeared out of thin air in front of me. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
“You know I can listen without facing you, right?” I growled. “I’d prefer that, actually.”
Easier to remind myself I needed to keep my guard up and my distance.
She dug her fingers into my jaw, tipping my face toward her. Citrus and something warm tempted me to lean forward and run my nose along her skin.
“Then what did I say?” Her glaring down at me had the unsettling effect of making my dick twitch. Fuck.
“You admitted you’re a pain in the ass,” I deadpanned.
My jeans rubbed against the upholstered cushion as I shifted, the scratching sound like a damn announcement of my attempt to hide my growing bulge.
She clucked her tongue, eyes rolling, but she let go of me. “Now he’s got jokes.” Graciella’s smile dimmed, the corners melting into a tight line.
Dread rooted in my chest as her eyes pulled away, studding the carpet. She wet her bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth, and my thumb itched to dislodge it.
“Try to keep it together when we present our proposal to Tommy.”
The bubble popped, and a scoff slipped out of my mouth, tasting as bitter as it sounded in the quiet waiting area. “Our proposal? As if I had a damned say in it. I don’t even know what you’re about to tell him, Graciella.”
Those pouty, glossy lips of hers opened and closed, not a damn peep coming out for a moment. “Look, Monroe.” The plea was empty. “Tommy thinks you wanted to work with me—”
“Yeah, and why does he think that? Huh?” I locked eyes with her wide ones. “Could it be because you played me to get this gig? Forced yourself into my business with not as much as a second thought about what I wanted?”
For a split second, something like hurt flashed across her face, and my stomach knotted, torn between telling her the truth and the guilt that maybe I’d been too harsh.
“Okay, you’re right.”
I blinked. Well, I’ll be damned.
“Never thought I’d hear you admit you’re wrong.”
“Doesn’t happen often, so don’t get used to it.” She smirked, but the harsh overhead lights shone a practical spotlight on her thumbnail digging at the nail bed of her ring finger.
I opened my mouth, but Tommy’s receptionist poked her head around the corner.
“Mr. Monroe and Ms. Barerra, Mr. Schwartz will see you now.” Her eyes flicked between us from behind her red-rimmed glasses, and she flashed a smile, then disappeared back to her desk near the entrance.
“All right, showtime,” Graciella said, walking toward Tommy’s office door. Something about her retreat made my stomach knot. I followed, matching her step for step.
“What are you not telling me?” I spun her around so her back was against the door.
“What are you talking about?” She raised her chin, but the bob of her throat as she swallowed gave away her nervousness.
My hand landed near her head with a hollow thud. “What’s the plan you’re about to tell Tommy, Graciella?” I clamped my other hand around hers on the handle.
Anyone could walk by and see me caging her between the smooth surface and my body. Only a few inches separated our faces. Didn’t matter that she glared up—this was anything but professional. But it was as if my boots were cemented to the floor. Refusing to move away.
My thumb grazed the warm skin on her hand.
The movement was brief, but enough to make her suck in a breath. Her wide eyes traced down my chest and back up. It was fucking distracting, and a swirl of heat looped low.
“I’ve got a full plan all worked out, and you’ll hear about it in like two seconds.”
My grip on her hand tightened. “Why don’t you want to tell it to me now?”
She hesitated, eyes fluttering closed before popping back open. “Will you just trust me? Please?” she whispered, her deep brown eyes with caramel flecks pleading with me.
I froze.
Not, “Do you trust me?” because she knew I didn’t.
She asked if I would trust her.
A few tense moments passed before I stepped back. “All right, Graciella. I’ll trust you.”
Her face broke out in a blinding smile that left me feeling a mess of emotions I didn’t want to unpack.
No one would have guessed Graciella was pacing the hall minutes before with the way she strutted into Tommy’s office. Sunlight from the wall of windows bathed her in a warm glow.
The tops of the palm trees swayed slightly behind where Tommy sat in an overstuffed office chair that looked like it could belong to his dad, with the dark cherry arms and dark shiny leather.
The whole office looked like it was out of the nineties. The nostalgia did nothing to help settle my nerves about going into this blind. My shoulder stayed tight, every instinct in my body said to shut this down before it started.
But I ignored it.
“Graciella, so lovely to see you again,” Tommy said, pushing his glasses up his nose a little too fast. He motioned toward the two chairs covered in a weird, geometric-patterned fabric in front of his desk. “Please, sit. Let’s hear all about how we’re fixing this.”
She offered a sweet smile as she sat, and I followed her lead. Though the smile I offered was more of a grimace.
“Thank you so much for seeing us, Mr. Schwartz. I love that knit polo.” Graciella pulled out two manila folders from her bag, setting them on the sprawling wood. The GM’s cheeks turned pink, and my knuckles whitened on the arms of the chair as I took the seat next to Graciella.
“Oh, please, call me Tommy. And thank you, I have them specially ordered to match the team’s colors.” He beamed, and I nearly gave myself an aneurysm fighting off an eye roll.
Graciella’s smile was sickly sweet. “Well, okay then, Tommy, your attention to detail is fantastic. The team is so lucky to have you on board. Right, Monroe?” She elbowed my forearm and shot me a glare when his eyes dipped.
Sure, he gets a smile, and I get daggers. Is she seriously making me kiss ass as hard as her?
A second elbow gave me my answer. It took everything in me to keep the sarcasm out of my voice when I said, “So lucky.”
“Well, thank you, Josh.” Tommy fidgeted with the papers on his desk, some stained with coffee rings.
“I really was worried you’d think poorly of me after all this PR business.
I think you’re an excellent coach and would love to see you have a long career here, so I’m glad you’ve decided to do everything you can to stay. ”
The slight emphasis on “everything” had my stomach dropping to my feet, and the blood pounding in my ears eclipsed the air conditioner’s hum.
“Anything for my players,” I bit out. Apparently, that includes going along with whatever this is.
Graciella leaned in like she was sharing a secret with Tommy.
Guess she was, since she was the only one who knew what this plan was.
“Now, before I start, keep an open mind. This is going to sound a little…unconventional.” Her gaze slid to me for a moment, worry shining in their depths.
“But I think it’s necessary given the short timeline.
Monroe’s problem isn’t his coaching, it’s the public’s perception of him. ”
My stomach looped and I dug my fingers into fabric, grounding myself.
Tommy twirled a fountain pen between his fingers. “Well, now you’ve got me curious what you’ve come up with.”
“Monroe’s barely been on camera during his coaching career. We—”
“And we’re changing that, right? The board won’t approve of letting him stand in the background,” Tommy said, worry thick in his tone.