Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Social conduct for hate-free inter-colleague teamwork
Short: SCHIT
Sexual favors may only be exchanged outside work hours and may not affect the job of either party in any way.
Dad? Why is Uncle Gareth lying on our floor?”
“Because he’s too heavy to lift onto the couch.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you wake him up?”
“He needs the sleep.”
“Why? Is he sick?”
“No. Just confused.”
“Why is he confused?”
“Hmm, maybe confused isn’t the right word. He wouldn’t like that. Yesterday, he was more pissed off.”
“Why was he pissed off?”
“Because you’re shouting,” Gareth cried out, groaning as he hoisted himself into a sitting position, only to find himself staring straight into his goddaughter’s grinning face.
“Sorry, Gare. But it’s Tuesday, it's nine o’clock, your suit is all wrinkled, and you’re lying on the floor. I was worried.”
He yawned. “I’m fine. I…” He opened his eyes wide. “Fuck. Did you say nine o’clock?”
“Watch your language, Gare!”
Ada rolled her eyes. “I’m thirteen, Dad. I know the word fuck!” Then, turning to Gareth, she added, “It’s actually nine twelve.”
Oh, shit. He was on his feet in seconds.
He was late for work. The damn meeting about Blake Ford started in fifteen minutes at the arena, and he couldn’t show up in yesterday’s wrinkled suit!
Good thing he had a spare in his office.
He jerked his phone out of his pocket. Sixteen missed calls, eight from his assistant Freddie and eight from his sister.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why didn’t you wake me, Cian?
” he yelled toward the kitchen, where he heard his friend busy with pans.
“You looked so frazzled. I felt sorry for you.”
Great. “Fuck!”
“Uncle Gareth, I don’t mean to offend you,” Ada drawled, “but you really do swear a lot. Shouldn’t lawyers have better vocabulary?”
He snorted, but smiled. “Sorry: shit. I have to go.”
She grinned broadly. “Thanks. And being late for work once is no big deal! Maybe no one will even notice.”
“Oh my God!” Penny cried in shock an hour later as he rushed into the lobby of the ice arena. “I was about to start calling hospitals. What the hell happened? Are you okay?”
She frantically examined him as if expecting a fracture or at least a laceration on his head.
“Everything’s fine. My alarm didn’t go off.”
She opened her mouth in disbelief. “What? Your… What? That’s your excuse? The last time you were late was twenty years ago, Gare. I thought you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere!”
That wasn’t true. It had been twenty-three years ago — and he’d feared he would have to explain his uncharacteristic behavior to Penny in more detail.
“I broke up with Lacey,” he mumbled. It seemed to be the best excuse for why he was a bit off today.
He took advantage of Penny’s surprised silence to straighten his tie.
If his sister noticed that it was askew, she’d still call a doctor.
“Oh, no. Gareth, I’m so sorry.” She looked at him sympathetically and then hugged him. “What happened?”
He snorted, but patted her back. He could use the hug, albeit for entirely different reasons. He’d decided yesterday to surrender to the chaos, just to get some clarity. “You’ve all been telling me for ages that she’s not the right one, and now you’re shocked?”
“You’re incredibly stubborn, Gareth, and you wanted to marry her. A lot would have to happen to dissuade you from your plan.”
She was right. “It just didn’t feel right,” he deflected, letting go of her and hurrying toward the tunnel to the ice rink, from which music and shouting were emanating. This was where the training camp for the rookies, the newcomers to the NHL and the Hawks, was taking place.
“Why, what exactly…”
He was rather certain Penny was still talking, but he didn’t hear her because not only were Coach Gray, General Manager Lyle, and Freddie Cravitz standing at the rink’s boards, but Hazel was leaning against the barrier, her hip jutting out, speaking to the coach.
Seeing her felt like someone had jabbed a sparkler into his chest and not gently. More like with the force of a wrecking ball. But the sparks overshadowed the pain.
Cian was right. He wasn’t used to having so many emotions, and he didn’t particularly like it.
He also didn’t like the fact that Hazel didn’t look disheveled or even tired.
No. She was wearing her usual outfit: a pencil skirt, killer high heels, and today, a light blue blouse.
She had bound her long black hair into a braid.
She was…beautiful. As always. For the past few years, he hadn’t allowed himself to think that, but now it seemed far less harmful than what they’d done yesterday.
God, how could it be that nine hours ago, he’d been inside her, aching for more…while now all she gave him was a cursory, slightly too stern smile? It was as if nothing improper had ever happened between them.
“Where the hell have you been, Clark?” Lyle asked, perplexed. “We’ve been placing bets about whether you were under a car or a woman.”
“I was hoping for the car,” Hazel said, smiling.
He narrowed his eyes. Aha. So that was how it was going to be.
They would maintain their facade in public.
However, Hazel was violating the clause that forbade her from being mean to him in front of Penny.
Shit, he was glad he’d insisted on spontaneous penalties, because he was already coming up with a few things…
Gareth raised a cool eyebrow, which didn’t bother Lyle, Hazel, or the coach. Freddie’s head, on the other hand, sank between his shoulders. “I didn’t bet!” he replied hastily. “I think it was my fault. I didn’t update your diary, Mr. Clark, so…”
“Don’t be silly, Freddie. It’s not your fault,” he interrupted. “And it wasn’t a car or a woman. More like a coffee table.”
“What?” Hazel blinked at him, confused. The others didn’t even get a chance to ask. That was lucky, because Gareth wasn’t about to explain.
“What are you doing here, Hazel?” Penny asked, puzzled, stepping out of the tunnel behind him.
Hazel gave Gareth one last curious glance before turning to his sister, “I’m here about Blake.”
Thomas Lyle sighed heavily. “Ms. Barrow, it’s not your job to tell us which players to include in this year’s roster, and which ones we shouldn’t.”
“No, of course not. But it is my job to tell you that not including Blake would be a colossal mistake.”
The coach snorted and glanced at the goal that Blake Ford was currently guarding as effectively as Ada guarded a cookie jar. “Yeah, the competition would be happy if we put him on the team,” he replied dryly.
Hazel sighed heavily. “Fine. Can I talk to you for a minute, Gareth? It’s about the paperwork we talked about yesterday.”
Ah, yes, the sex clauses. He should win a prize for not flinching at the thought.
“Oh, have you finally agreed on Devreaux?” Penny asked enthusiastically.
“No. But that’s next,” Hazel promised. “Is there somewhere we can talk…privately?”
“I have an office up there,” Gray replied crisply, nodding up a flight of stairs. “I’ll only give it to you if Devreaux is on the ice for us in two weeks, when the season starts.”
“We’ll figure that out,” Gareth replied. “Right, Hazel?”
Hazel’s gaze slid briefly to Penny, who looked at the two of them in surprise, but then nodded. Apparently, she remembered that in Penny’s presence, she was only allowed to speak to him politely and professionally. “Sure. It’s as good as settled.”
Everyone present seemed skeptical and he didn’t blame them. But maybe they could talk about sex and Devreaux, since they were talking about contracts.
“You were under a coffee table?” Hazel asked, puzzled, as they hurried up the stairs. “I mean, I wouldn't be surprised about the coffin in your basement that protects you from the sun, but a coffee table?”
Gareth smiled. He couldn’t help it. Why should he get upset about the woman who made him feel so relaxed?
“What’s so funny?”
“You.”
“Um…thanks?” she replied, confused.
His smile widened.
He’d expected the atmosphere between them to be even more strained than it usually was, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, he felt strangely relaxed; he was no longer maintaining a facade. She knew he wanted her. He knew she wanted him. And they both knew they could barely stand each other.
Everything important had been said, so what was there left to lose? His mind wasn’t his own anymore, anyway. Maybe Cian was right and he should just enjoy the mess he’d gotten himself into.
Even though that still sounded wrong to him.
“You know,” he said, holding open the door to the small room.
The huge pane of glass facing the rink was mirrored on the outside, as if the players weren’t supposed to know the coach was constantly watching them.
“Over the past few years, I’ve forgotten that you don’t talk bullshit to annoy people, but simply because you’re so damn good at it that it would be a waste not to. ”
Hazel laughed. “You’ve captured my essence. So…no explanation about the coffee table?”
“Oh, speaking of coffee tables,” he said roughly, leaning against the door. “It’s better to talk about yours, the one you put your feet up on and spread your legs while you…”
She quickly pressed a finger to his mouth, her pupils slightly dilated. “You could have been professional and politely asked if I slept well,” she whispered seriously, though he saw her swallow before her gaze flicked for a second to her finger on his lips.
“Ah,” he remarked, nodding and slowly pulling it down. “Okay. How did you sleep?”
Hazel took a step back. “I hardly slept at all. I was busy with this, so you’re only allowed to make sexual innuendos outside of work hours.” She pulled a folder from her briefcase and handed it to him.
He laughed softly. “God, you’re the only person in the world who enjoys writing contracts more than I do.”
“And, I do it better.”