12. Dalton
TWELVE
DALTON
I FEEL LIKE A SHOWER HANDY WOULD MAKE FOR EASY CLEAN-UP…
The second we were in the locker room, Jimenez pounced. Fucker didn’t even leave me alone when I got into the shower, loitering outside the curtain like a freak.
“Clearly she’s here because she’s the new coach, Christian,” I said, answering what felt like the hundredth question in the span of fifteen minutes.
“No shit, Dalton. You know I mean did you know she was coming today? That she was going to be on staff?” There was a rustling outside the stall like he was contemplating opening the white liner so he could see my facial expressions.
“Don’t you open that curtain,” I called out, the final word cut off a bit by the stream of water turning on, giving me a few minutes to collect myself.
“Fine. But I want some fucking details here, Cap.”
No, I didn’t know the beautiful woman who’d given me one of the best nights of my life in years was going to show up Monday as my new fucking coach.
I wracked my brain for a single clue I’d missed, but she’d been so insistent on not sharing personal information that there’d been nothing about her work, other than her mentioning she’d been worried about her new job in a male-dominated field.
I smiled, dipping my head under the water to wet my hair. She’d killed it today. Hell, she’d practically killed us, but those assholes had deserved it.
“Did you drown, or what? I’m still waiting here.”
Persistent asshole, I thought with a smile.
“Couldn’t you tell by my reaction I didn’t know shit?” I shook my head remembering my shock when I’d walked in and seen her, reaching for the bar of soap. “We didn’t talk about that kind of stuff the other night. We just…” The words dropped off as I soaped over my chest, trying to think of how to verbalize what that night felt like.
“You just enjoyed being together,” he said, voice suspiciously sincere. Not even an ounce of his normally suggestive humor laced in his tone.
“Yeah,” I breathed out, not sure he could even hear me over the noise of the locker room.
“So, what are you going to do now? Are you two even allowed to date?”
I let out a heavy sigh, dropping my head to the cold tiles. “I don’t know man. She’s a coach, and there’s probably some rule against it.” I didn’t voice the fact that she may not want to do anything—or be anything— with me.
That idea stung more than it should have about a woman I’d just met, but damn did I want to be something with her.
Jimenez’s voice cut through the internal wallowing. “ Look, I’m sure it’ll work out fine. I mean, your dad owns the team. That’s got to get you some special privileges.”
I tried to ignore the absence of his usual confidence.
“Yeah, I’m sure it will all work out,” I said, letting all the unspoken words hang in the air as I returned to the task of washing off the hockey sweat from my body.
“Exactly.” I heard him move away, going along with my bullshit response. Neither of us could be sure it would work out.
My mind wandered now that I was alone.
This morning, I’d been convinced that I needed to move on, not turn into some stalker freak and start showing up at the restaurant she’d taken me to every day until I saw her. Which I’d considered doing.
Fuck, and now…
Now, I would see her everyday. And hear that damn laugh. And stare at that smile that lit up a room…and see her in those damn small spandex shorts that hugged her ass, highlighting her muscled legs.
My cock stirred at the mental image seared into my mind.
Then there was that little issue of how fucking attracted I was to her. Without thought, my hand wrapped around my cock, giving it a slow pull. My mind drifted to the sensation of my lips on hers...
Was I really about to fuck my hand in the team locker room while thinking about my new coach sprawled out naked on a weight bench?
Yeah. I was.
This has to be a fucking HR violation.