Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
RHETT
Paxton disappears the moment his gear is packed away and organized for the game, not bothering to chat with anyone at all today.
Kane raises an eyebrow in question, but I just shrug.
God knows he’s probably looking at more houses with Billie before the game tonight.
Their rental expires just before Christmas, and it’s been hell trying to find enough time for them to actually settle on something a bit more permanent.
Not to mention, he’s been spending every second he can trying to make this move less of a clusterfuck for her.
So, realistically, I’m not even surprised chatting with the team has taken a backseat right now.
With a careless pass of the towel, I wipe away the last few drops of water from my hasty post-skate shower before they can drip onto my shoulders.
Then I throw on the clean long sleeve t-shirt and jeans I always keep in my game bag just in case, moving the sweats and undershirt I’d worn into the arena into the open space.
The faintest bit of orchid wafts over me as I do, and I have to swallow back a groan.
“We’re going out tonight,” Kane says, crossing his arms.
“I’ll pass.” I drop my chest pads onto the bottom of my locker before pulling my phone from the upper shelf. I can’t help but smile like a fool when I see the text from Carys.
At the shop. Have an elopement tomorrow and need to get the bouquet done.
Can I keep you company before I have to report tonight?
There’s a long pause where the dots appear and then disappear.
Nerves tighten my stomach like I’m a damn teenager.
Is it too soon to want to do something more informal?
Fuck, I don’t know the rules for any of this.
Are there even standard expectations for when you find your scent-matched Omega?
I carefully breathe through my nose, talking myself off the ledge, desperate to not have a scent slip that’ll let all the other guys know just how out of my head I am right now.
Carys is my scent match. We’re built to need each other, crave and desire the other.
We’ve even gone on a date—and it was fucking fantastic.
Am I supposed to wait a certain amount of days before wanting to see her again?
I don’t think I care either way. I’ve spent the better part of three hours watching how her lips form around a wine glass and her chest flushes any time she laughs.
I woke up to her splayed across my chest like the best damn blanket in existence.
Not to mention I also now have the intimate, satisfying knowledge of what it’s like to have my face between her thighs, feeling her fingers scratch my neck and shoulders while she whimpers out an orgasm.
Asking to hang out before my report time tonight shouldn’t be any big deal at all, especially given that my future sister-in-law and her have become fast friends.
Maybe I should make it clearer I’m not expecting anything? Or make it more casual? Fuck, I don’t know. I send another text.
I’ll bring you a surprise.
The dots appear again.
“Wasn’t a question, man,” Kane says, coming up beside me just as Carys texts back.
Ok. But Billie is here for another hour so no wild ideas.
Fucking hell. Just one date, and she already knows me so damn well. Even with the warning, the fantasy of kneeling behind her while she tries to arrange flowers settles heavier in my mind. My dick gives an impatient twitch. My scent pulses out from me.
I guess I’ll survive. Be there soon.
Kane’s eyes widen as he reads my screen. I shove the phone away and grab my car keys. I level a glare, and whatever chirp was on his lips dies.
“Wasn’t a question,” he repeats. “We’re going out. You need to blow off some steam especially with the way Utah gets under your skin, man.”
“Marilyn won’t like—”
“I won’t like what?”
I flinch, and Kane curses. Marilyn strides through the locker room like she does it every day of the week, her hair pulled back and her eyes lined in a dark brown that makes her look even more dominating.
She doesn’t even hesitate as the last couple guys come back from the showers, nothing but towels around their hips.
Kane doesn’t back down.
“You won’t like that we’re going out after the game tonight.”
Marilyn purses her lips before shaking her head. “As long as the team’s lawyer doesn’t have to get involved, I’ll keep my mouth shut this time. Rhett, I need to speak with you.”
My stomach sinks to the damn floor. All at once, fear coils through me like I’m a teenager getting caught sneaking out.
Did someone see me taking Carys out and I’m about to get reamed for it?
I hadn’t thought any of the people near her apartment paid us any attention.
Fuck, is there a media shitstorm happening right now about it all that’s making Carys panic?
I try to tamp down the possessive growl that climbs my throat.
Marilyn turns, gesturing for Ares’s office.
It’s then I notice the unmarked folder tucked under her other arm.
Oh fuck. How had I forgotten in the whirlwind of the last week that she’s trying to set me up with some Omega to make my image better for the media?
I force a swallow to wet my suddenly dry mouth.
“Of course,” I offer, trying for polite. It comes across as downright timid. Kane cackles, and I shove him as I pass. “Fuck off.”
Marilyn cocks an eyebrow as she glances over her shoulder, opening the door to Ares’s office without missing a single step.
She locks both doors before dropping into the chair behind the desk, just as comfortable there as anywhere else I’ve seen her the last seven years I’ve played for the Scorpions.
I’ve not been in Ares’s office in over a year.
Having already signed an extension after my rookie contract and not being in the hot seat for performance this last season means I don’t really get chewed out by the assistant coach.
I swallow as I take in the rest of the space, my eyes catching on all of the photos of Carys on the main wall across from the desk.
“Sit, James. I don’t want to be here all afternoon if I can help it.”
Marilyn’s voice pulls me from the slow perusal of my scent match’s milestones.
I carefully drop into one of the leather chairs, keeping my body deceptively relaxed.
It won’t help if my scent is triggered, but it’ll keep this whole disaster from escalating quite as fast. Marilyn opens the envelope, laying out multiple pieces of paper on the desk, turning them so they’re facing me.
“I’ve pulled together a few options for you,” she says, downright clinical. “None of them are expecting more than a date or two, though they wouldn’t be opposed to something more serious developing.”
I lean forward, pretending to look at the profiles without actually seeing any of the printed information. There’s no denying all three women are gorgeous. I vaguely recognize one of them from hanging out with Jackson over the summer. Was she a backup dancer for him? Or the opening act, maybe.
In a detached sort of way, I can understand why Marilyn selected these women. On paper, they’re exactly what I’ve been attracted to in the past. But just the idea of going out with someone has bile rising in my throat.
“You don’t like any of them.” Marilyn’s comment is said without accusation, but I still flinch away from the profiles. “That’s fine. I can curate a couple more options.”
She pulls yet another piece of paper from the folder and grabs a pen carefully stashed beside the keyboard to her left. She holds the cap against her mouth, tapping it in a steady beat—exactly the way Carys does. My stomach flips over itself again.
I clasp my hands together between my knees to keep from fidgeting. “I really have to do this? You’re sure there’s no other way to bring about good PR?”
Her eyes flash up to me, the cap freezing mid-tap.
“It’s not just for the PR,” she admits after a long stretch of silence.
I arch an eyebrow. She taps the end of the pen against the desk, her lips pursing as she considers her answer. With careful movements, she replaces the cap on the pen and sets it on the papers, leaning forward onto her palm.
“It’s also about getting all of you Alphas level-headed for the rest of the season,” she says.
“You’re all talented, don’t get me wrong.
But look at the way Chase and Axel have improved.
If we manage to get the rest of you locked in like that, especially before the all-star break, we’re not only going to prove to the league we deserve to remain a team.
We have a good chance of making the playoffs, too. ”
Like we all don’t already know that. We have so much firepower on our team this year, it’s wild.
We’ve had brief moments when two or three of us really lock in, and every single one has gotten us all pretty damn excited.
Paxton’s been pivotal in shaking up the lines and blending all of us just a bit better, too.
If we can figure out how to get all of us to click on the ice?
We’re going to be practically unstoppable.
We might not break any big point or goal records, but winning by a single goal is still winning.
Ds get degrees or whatever that saying is.
I focus on the profiles again. One date.
I can do one date, right? Carys and I can talk about it, why it’s happening.
Hell, she probably knows about this whole push by the management team already.
One date for optics won’t mess up what’s happening between us…
right? Nerves tighten my chest, like I’ve taken a nasty hit against the boards and can’t catch my breath just when I need it most.
“What’s going on, Rhett?” Marilyn’s voice has gained a concerned edge. “You’re one of the league’s biggest bachelors. You’ve never worried about being seen with whatever budding celebrity was interested in you for two weeks. Why is this one different?”
“I don’t date,” I say, sticking to the line I’ve maintained since everyone and their dog started asking why I wasn’t packed up about two years ago.
You hit twenty-five, and suddenly all anyone seems to care about is if you’re building a family.
Paxton proposing to Billie over the summer has just made it worse.
It’s even more excessive for the few Omegas who play in the league.
I can’t even imagine the pressure they’re under every year they continue to be single and unbonded.
“Well, you’re going to now,” she says. “It doesn’t need to be anything serious. Just enough to get those instincts of yours settled and locked in to the season. All of these Omegas are well aware you’re a playboy. Unless you bring up something more substantial, they know the score.”
She’s really expecting me to have a one night stand with one of these Omegas? And they’re all… just fine with it? Bile burns my throat.
Jesus, scent matching is something fucking else. Just a month ago, I would have been willing to have a wild night with a woman to get Marilyn off my back. Now the idea of just being photographed at a restaurant bar with someone other than Carys has me wanting to sprint for the damn hills.
Completely oblivious to my spiral, Marilyn goes back to her list. She stars a couple names on it before turning it toward me.
“Now, pick one of these women so I can arrange everything for when we have our seven game home stand over Thanksgiving.” Her eyes harden. “Otherwise I’ll have Miles put you as a healthy scratch.”
This time, the threat isn’t enough to deter me. I shake my head, leaning back in the chair and staring at the ceiling. I guess if I get benched, I get benched. There’s no way I can subject Carys to seeing me with someone else even just for optics.
“I can’t,” I croak.
Not won’t. Can’t.
I run my hands over my face as I blow out a sigh. I’m about to admit to yet another person I’ve met a scent match and now literally no one else catches even a whisper of my attention.
“Why, Rhett?” Marilyn’s voice is pure irritation now.
I brace myself, trying to feel the words in my mouth again. They feel heavier this time, more substantial. Because I know what Carys tastes like? Because I want to have her orchid scent all over my house, proving she’s mine and that I make her come undone with just my tongue?
“Rhett James, you will explain why in the last four weeks weeks you’ve decided to be entirely noncompliant with this plan before I get coaching involved.”
Fuck. Ares cannot walk in here while I’m thinking about the way his daughter’s legs felt locked around my ears. My dick twitches, and I shift uncomfortably in the chair. When I drop my head and focus on Marilyn, her entire body vibrates with menace, her scent spiking with her frustration.
Just like with Ashton, the words fall out without any kind of decorum or plan.
“I met a scent match.”
If I could take a picture of Marilyn’s face without getting in trouble, I would. Her eyes are so wide, I can see the whites all the way around and her mouth falls into a perfect ‘O’ as she stares at me in silence. She drops the pen, her hands opening and closing.
“Seriously?” she asks.
I give a single nod, not willing to say anything that will break up the sudden oppressive silence.
Just those five words are enough to have my entire body locking down, my scent turning bitter with my worry.
Will she figure out it’s Carys? Fuck, what if I just blew our entire cover when I’ve only gotten to take her on a single date?
“Well, that would certainly change your willingness,” Marilyn finally says.
She quietly gathers the papers spread over the desk and tucks them into the folder.
“I’ll let management know that you’ve fulfilled my expectations and that no further requests will be made.
” She focuses on me again, her gaze steely once more, the shock of a moment ago gone.
“You will continue to keep whatever antics you’re indulging in this season out of the camera lenses of the media.
I better not get word of a single foot out of line, James. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, my voice still hoarse from my thought spiral. I wet my lips. “You won’t have to worry about me. Promise.”
She gives a decisive nod and stands from the desk. Before she opens the door to the hallway, she pauses, looking over her shoulder.
“Congratulations, Rhett. Your Omega is incredibly lucky.”
Before I can explain that it’s me who is lucky, she’s gone, the door left ajar. I ease to my feet and send a text to Carys, ignoring the way my hands shake.
Got caught in a meeting. On my way now, baby girl.