Chapter 12
Two days later, I couldn’t believe I was voluntarily attending a hockey practice. Not just any hockey practice, a TU hockey practice with my dad at the helm and the guy I was trying really hard not to think about naked stretching his groin on the ice.
I hadn’t seen Cole in days. We’d texted and made plans to meet today after practice for his second session. Despite his best efforts, I’d avoided answering Cole’s many, many questions. He didn’t give up. The constant effort of holding myself back was wearing thin.
Marco nudged me with his shoulder and nodded toward the bench. “Should we go talk to your dad first?”
I wrenched my eyes away from Cole and all the lovely little flutters in my stomach turned to lead. Dad stood with his arms crossed, clipboard under one side, watching a couple of guys I vaguely recognized skate in a circle.
When my gaze landed on Cole again, I forced myself to focus on the slight frown my dad wore instead. Marco was right. We should start with the coach. It wouldn’t be too hard to write a bio on him. List his hockey accomplishments, talk about his retirement, and highlight his efforts to build the program at TU. As a backup, I planned to talk to Cole tonight about a second article.
Marco nudged me again, giving me a wide-eyed look as Reece Tanner approached. I knew him. One of Cole’s roommates, resident playboy, first line center, beautiful stick work. Okay, so I’d checked up on the team a little after moving here. I’d wanted to see the team my dad devoted his entire life to.
I also recognized him from the locker room.
Reece stepped off the ice at the same time we arrived behind the bench. His gaze flicked to me, and a smile spread across his face. “Well hello Coach’s daughter. Finally come to see what all the fuss was about?”
Dad didn’t turn around or acknowledge us at all. He grunted at Reece, who reached for the tape tucked behind the boards. The loud crack of a puck hitting the wall reminded me we shouldn’t be standing around in the open gawking. I dragged Marco into the relative safety behind the glass before answering Reece.
“I came to talk to my dad, but I’m always happy to watch you get flattened by defensemen too,” I snapped back.
Reece’s green eyes glinted with amusement behind his cage. “They’d have to catch me first.” He winked at Marco, who I thought might pass out judging by the high-pitched wheezing coming out of his mouth. Unlike Cole, Reece did nothing for me. Marco didn’t seem similarly discerning.
The exchange lasted less than a minute, but I already felt drained by the time Reece showed off by hopping the wall to skate away. Dad’s shoulders raised toward his ears slightly, but he waited until we were alone to finally turn and join us.
“Do you need something?” he asked gruffly, keeping his gaze on the guys.
I tucked my hands into my back pockets and followed his lead, watching the players pretend not to watch us. “Remember how I’m working at the TU Post?”
He sniffed. “Unpaid doesn’t seem like work, but yes.”
My hackles rose at the unsolicited criticism, but I kept my voice calm. “I was assigned to cover sports, especially the hockey team. I thought I’d do a series of bios on you and the first line players. This is Marco Lawson, also a staff writer at the paper. He’s helping me with research.”
I wasn’t exactly lying. Marco was helping me with research, a duty he enthusiastically volunteered for when I explained my plan to interview the TU hockey team in lieu of reporting on games. Dad finally tore his gaze away from the ice to shake Marco’s hand. To my surprise, he offered what looked like a genuine smile at my new bestie.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Marco’s expression was as solemn as I’d ever seen him.
“Call me Dan.”
I almost didn’t recognize Dad’s warm tone, but apparently, he only saved it for people who weren’t me. “The bios are a good idea. We’re going to the playoffs this year, and it would be good for morale to have the school recognize the talent in these young men. You shouldn’t include me though.”
At the last part, he glanced my way again, and it felt like a direct attack. Well too bad for him if he didn’t like my idea. The student body deserved to know their coach as much as their players, and I had some questions I wanted answered.
Namely, how had he let Cole get this far without getting him better help? He had to have known about the lit class before. Wasn’t he supposed to be looking out for his players? Was winning all he cared about?
“We’re starting with you,” I countered. “Do you want to do the interview now or should we schedule an appointment with the media liaison?”
His brow furrowed. “Can’t we just do this at home?”
“I’d rather not.”
“The media liaison doesn’t need to get involved.” He scowled. “But I don’t have time now.”
Marco looked back and forth between us, no doubt picking up on the antagonistic undercurrent, at least from my end. “I can do the interview with Dan later if you want, Avery. You can start with one of the players.”
I knew Marco was trying to help, but I hated the frustration clouding my dad’s face. The same green eyes I’d inherited stared back at me as if he’d never seen me before, as if he didn’t understand why I was making things so complicated. I had the immediate and dangerous urge to lash out, find something—anything—that would hurt him as much as he’d hurt me.
Damn Seb and his assignments, and damn the eight-year-old girl still living inside me who’d thought she might get a snippet of the same man all these players saw every day.
Before I could call the whole thing off, or worse, word vomit my chaotic emotions all over anyone within listening distance, Cole skidded to a stop on the other side of the glass. Dad’s glare disappeared as he faced Cole.
“What is it, Mathis?”
“Reece wants you to make an announcement to the team confirming his temporary captainship while Gavin is gone.”
Dad raised a brow. “He’s not the temporary captain.”
Cole grinned. “Yeah, and I’m hoping you’ll make an announcement about that instead. His ego is getting unwieldy. I’m not sure we’ll fit him in the car for the ride home.”
His gaze flicked to me for a split second, and I got the feeling he’d known exactly where I was since I’d arrived. Dad rubbed his brow, and my heart twisted. Unlike when he dealt with me, he didn’t seem annoyed or frustrated by one of his hockey players being ridiculous. Instead, he looked amused, offering Cole a sharp smile.
“Please remind Tanner he isn’t the captain in any capacity. I need to talk to Boucher about his slow ass line changes. Can you wrap up practice for me?”
“Sure thing, Coach.”
“Fantastic,” he grimaced, then faced me and Marco. “Let me know when you want to do the interview. We can meet in my office. Outside of practice times. Avery, I’ll see you at home.”
Dismissed again. I watched my dad march onto the ice and bellow at one of the skaters on the far side of the rink. Cole let out a shrill whistle and the other players milling around on the ice started moving toward the doors.
A small stampede of large, sweaty athletes jostled to be the first one off the rink. Cole hopped the wall and ushered us out of the way—somehow managing to crowd me against the glass while maintaining the innocent expression on his face.
He jerked his chin at Marco, blocking my view of the rest of the team with his big body. “Hey man, nice to see you again.”
After Marco stammered out a hello, Cole turned his grin on me. “What’re you doing here, city girl?”
I refused to rise to the bait of his teasing. “Interviews, for the paper. My editor—” Marco snorted quietly next to me, but I ignored him. “My editor wants me to cover the hockey team, since I have a personal connection.”
He glanced at Dad, who’d taken the unlucky Boucher to the opponents’ bench. “That should be interesting. So you’ll be coming to the games?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Yes.” Marco insisted at the same time. He rolled his eyes at me. “Of course we’re going to the games. How else are you supposed to write about them? We even get comped seats.”
“Lucky me,” I murmured, though Cole heard me and heat flashed in his eyes. He’d said the same thing right before I offered to trade tutoring for orgasms.
“Lucky you,” he repeated.
Warmth flooded my chest as memories flashed in my mind—kissing him in the library, his tongue between my fingers, his breath hot against my ear. I should have been paying attention to the other players, their rivalries and hang-ups, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from Cole.
My back pressed to the cool glass while the rest of me overheated. An inner voice shouted for me to get a grip, move away, anyone could be watching. I ignored it and fanned the flames.
“You going to beg me to come, farm boy?”
“I won’t be the one begging.”
Marco mumbled something about finding a bathroom and hurried away. I barely noticed. Silence descended as his steps faded. The rest of the arena had emptied out except for us, even my dad and his detention player, leaving Cole and I alone again for the first time since I’d barely resisted kissing him.
Time apart hadn’t reduced his appeal. The same pull I felt every time I let my guard down urged me forward, urged me to take a chance on a guy who intrigued me and turned me on and made me laugh all at once, hockey player or not.
Cole tucked a finger under my chin and lifted my face up to him, reading my expression. I wanted to kiss him, but the aftermath terrified me. Hockey players weren’t reliable. Men weren’t reliable.
With his skates on, he was significantly taller than me, but I had no trouble meeting his gaze—and he had no trouble seeing my trepidation. Instead of pushing things, Cole stroked the edge of my jaw.
“You going to wear my jersey, city girl?”
I laughed past the tingles his touch caused, both relieved and disappointed he hadn’t pushed. “I’m not wearing anyone’s jersey. I’ll be there to work.”
Another male voice I didn’t recognize broke into the bubble we’d created. “Too bad. You’d look good in mine… and nothing else.”
Both of us shifted apart, but while I tried to put distance between me and Cole, he shoved himself between me and the interloper. I peered around Cole’s posturing to get a look at the asshole with the big mouth. A tall, muscular guy with dark blond hair and a blue Easton hoodie stood at the other end of the bench, carrying a pair of hockey skates.
Cole’s arm twitched, but he didn’t block my view again. “What do you want, Kane?”
Ah, no wonder Cole seemed tense. Of course he’d know Tobias Kane. Asshole center who played for Easton University, my new rival school in Dallas. First line. Fast. Accurate. Not quite as good as Reece though.
“I’m here to practice, same as you.”
Cole crossed his arms, his face dark. “You have your own ice.”
Tobias let out a sharp laugh. “Not right now we don’t. Easton had a little problem with the maintenance and our rink is fucked. TU graciously offered to share theirs, provided their hockey team wasn’t using it. Then again, if you’re busy, I’m happy to keep your puck bunny entertained in the meantime.”
In a flash, Cole lunged toward Tobias. I grabbed Cole’s arm, not expecting to have any leverage. To my surprise, he stopped immediately, and I slammed into his side. Cole’s eyes never left Tobias, but he wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me upright.
“Watch your mouth, Kane.”
The other guy laughed. “Or what, Mathis? You going to defend your turf? I have as much right to be here as you, and as much right to your lady if she chooses me.” He eyed me up and down, ending with a smarmy grin at my breasts.
Cole tried to shove me behind him again, but I wasn’t the damsel type. I chewed up brutes like Tobias Kane in my sleep.
I took a step toward Tobias, as far as Cole would let me go before his arm tightened, and offered him a sweet smile. “I’ve heard of you. It’s funny, though. Your stats this year aren’t quite as strong as last year. Not as many goals and way less ice time. Strangely enough, that drop coincides with Elliot graduating and Kasinski transferring to Minnesota. What’s the matter? Are you having trouble looking like a hotshot when you’re not surrounded by talent?”
Tobias’ smile melted into a scowl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?” I asked with wide innocent eyes. “Maybe we should call up your sweet little girlfriend and ask her. While we’re at it, we can discuss your nasty habit of hitting on women who clearly have someone better.”
Cole chuckled and hauled me back against his chest. “You heard the lady. She’s not interested. Enjoy your ice time.”
He led me away, graceful despite the blades strapped to his feet, and leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“You knew an awful lot about him for someone who doesn’t like hockey.”
“I never said I didn’t like hockey. I said I didn’t like hockey players.”
I didn’t mention I had personal knowledge from my last school. Scott had been an armchair quarterback for a whole slew of sports, and naturally, he rooted for the home team. Go Easton.
Mom taught drama classes at their downtown Dallas campus, so naturally, I’d pursued my journalism degree there. I assume she found a petty satisfaction in knowing Dad worked for the rival school. Up until I moved out and transferred there. She was probably less happy about the circumstances now, but I didn’t regret a thing. My Easton hoodie was shoved somewhere in the back of my closet, a physical representation of what I’d like to do with the last two years.
Tobias Kane, and his girlfriend, were frequent topics of conversation with Scott. Despite Cole actually playing the sport, we’d barely touched on hockey in all our exchanges. I frowned as we strode through the tunnel to the locker rooms. Cole’s whole life centered around his sport, and he’d only asked questions about me. Questions I’d mostly refused to answer. Suddenly, the discrepancy didn’t seem so nice.
I wasn’t about to admit I’d come directly from the enemy, but I could take an interest instead of being closed off and selfish. Especially since he’d gone out of his way to defend me.
Cole didn’t relax his hold on my waist until we reached the entrance to the locker room. His fingers slid off my hip with a caress, but he didn’t go through the door. Instead, he leaned on the wall and raised a brow.
“Go ahead,” he nudged. “I know you have something to say.”
“You don’t always have to be the hero, you know,” I said quietly.
Cole’s gaze warmed as it lazily traveled over me, eliciting an entirely different response from when Tobias had done it. “Maybe I like being the hero for you.”
I couldn’t handle that look while standing in the hockey arena an arm’s reach from my dad, and I certainly couldn’t handle it alone in a back hallway with only my bitterness to keep me from making a very reckless decision. Cole Mathis hit me just right, and I was desperate to protect myself from a lifetime of hurt.
Despite my mind screaming at me to back away, rebuild my walls, take the out he’d offered me when he let go, I stepped up until my toes nearly touched his skates. “I don’t need a hero, farm boy. I need an interview. If you can’t provide that, I’ll have to find another hockey player who will.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked, and his voice went low and rough. “I’ll give you your interview. For a price.”
“Oh?” I asked innocently, in almost the same tone I’d used with Tobias.
He leaned into my space, backing me up until I hit a cinderblock wall. His palms flattened on either side of me, caging me in, and for the second time, I got a glimpse of Cole when he let his dark side come out to play. A band tightened across my chest, stealing my breath and making me feel like I ran all the way across the arena and back.
Cole noticed. He always noticed.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured.
“I know.” I wasn’t scared. I was fucking turned on. “What’s your price?”
“One kiss.”
I knew I was playing with fire, knew if I wanted to maintain the distance I’d insisted on, I needed to extricate myself from his pull. Laugh at his price, brush him off, convince him I only wanted him for the tutoring orgasms, basically, lie. Maybe invest in a chastity belt for good measure.
Unfortunately, knowing what I should do offered little motivation when Cole was inches away, his biceps flexing with the effort to keep himself controlled.
My mouth took point, and I let it run. “I think you’re undervaluing yourself.”
He dropped his head, closing the distance between us. “Is that a yes?”
I lifted a trembling hand and laid my fingers against the rough stubble on his cheek, trying one last time to claw my way back to a rational decision. “This is a huge mistake.”
Cole ran his lips across my palm, and heat shot through my blood. “Only one way to find out,” he whispered against my skin.
A door crashed open down the hall from us, and I jerked my hand back. Anyone could have strolled down the hall and caught us. Hell, we’d let Tobias Kane believe we were together. Touching him had been stupid. Touching him made me stupid.
I needed to remember I was only here for the hockey drama and the orgasms. Nothing more.
Luckily, Marco was the one who rounded the corner. He didn’t blink at our close proximity, and I was embarrassed to admit I’d forgotten he’d left to find the bathroom. Cole blew out a breath and backed toward the locker room.
He pushed through the door, then stopped to throw a final gauntlet. “I’ll see you tonight, Avery.”
I’d have to be dead to miss the promise in his words. Tonight, we were going to finish what we’d started. One way or another.
“You are not only friends,” Marco insisted, sidling up next to me.
“How did you even find us?”
He flashed me his phone screen. “I’m tracking your phone. In case you forgot you came with your work bestie and left with your hockey hottie instead.”
“Please don’t call him that,” I pleaded. “And stop acting like a stalker. I would never forget you.” Again. He didn’t need to know that part.
Marco snorted, and I led him out of the facility. He walked next to me in silence until we emerged into the late afternoon sun. “You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but you’d be a horrible work wife if you brought me to that show and didn’t spill the tea afterward.”
I tilted my face up to the meager warmth, trying to make sense of the chaos in my mind. “I think I might hate you.”
Marco tripped on his feet and nearly face-planted on the sidewalk. When he straightened, he was grinning. “I get it. If Cole Mathis had me backed against the wall, I’d have murdered you for interrupting.”
If not for Marco, I would have given in. I would have let Cole kiss me, touch me, hell, maybe even fuck me against that wall where anyone could walk by. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost control.
Unacceptable. I’d thrown out the idea of another hockey player hoping Cole would edge into the dark again, and I hadn’t been prepared for the fallout. Self-preservation dictated I should shift my focus to literally anyone else on the team.
I could let Marco handle both my dad and Cole. Throw some shade with the rest of the first line and shake something out. Write my articles and solidify my chance at the editor position.
Except stepping back felt like running away. I’d started this mess—I could handle it myself. All I needed was a chance to prepare. One kiss wouldn’t change our situation. Hell, I probably should have gotten it out of the way when I had a guaranteed chaperone to interrupt. Of course, I didn’t think I was ready for Marco to see my naked ass getting railed in the hallway.
Anticipation coiled in my belly. I’d better be at my best tonight because I wouldn’t have Marco to save me from a supremely dangerous decision. One kiss didn’t have to mean anything. I could still enjoy Cole’s promised orgasms without getting my emotions involved.
Even if I had secretly enjoyed the way Cole staked a claim on me.