Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
CHLOE
“Honey, I’m home!” Brantley yells from the other side of the house.
Excitement rolls through me as I smile. Not because he called me honey or anything but because he’s finally home, which means I’m not alone.
I really, really hate being alone.
“You’re late. Were you having dinner with your mistress?” I quip back as I pause the TV.
Brantley’s chuckles send goose bumps across my skin.
“Haven’t you figured it out? You are the mistress,” he says as he walks into the living room.
“I know, it’s the burden I bear.”
He rolls his eyes as he comes to a stop behind the couch. He rests his hands on it and leans forward.
“What are you watching?” he asks, glaring at the TV.
I gasp in fake outrage, hand covering my heart. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen reality TV.”
He raises a brow. “What makes you think this is something I would watch?”
“Because most of the people are just like you. Way too wealthy for their own good. Come, sit. I’ll show you,” I say as I pat the couch next to me.
Shockingly, Brantley does as I ask. When he sits down, he kicks his feet up on the coffee table.
“Are you okay?”
He looks over at me with a crease between his eyebrows. “Yeah, why?”
“Because you look like shit.”
“I’m just trying to match the new aesthetic of the place. Your purple bra on the lamp is a nice touch, by the way,” he quips, making me cringe.
“Sorry, I thought I got them all.”
I scan the room and see that all my clothes were grabbed off the floor and put into the laundry basket, with the exception of the bra. How he saw it immediately, I’ll never know. I should have known, though, that he would find the one thing out of place. He’s just observant like that.
He waves his hand through the air. “It’s fine. I’m used to finding random shit throughout the house at this point.”
I could point out that I know that he cleans up behind me as I go. Not just in the kitchen but everywhere in the house.
“Seriously though, you look like shit. Is everything okay?”
“It was just a long trip.”
I bite my tongue, fighting the urge to push. I watched the game. To say it was a shitshow would be an understatement, and by the looks of the coaching bench, they didn’t give a single fuck.
“What, the hotel not up to your standards?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
“Not at all. The sheet quality was atrocious.” He plays along, making me laugh.
“Seriously though, what the hell are you watching? That woman’s face is…”
I look up at the TV and laugh. Sure enough, I paused the show at the worst moment, and the lady’s face is distorted.
“Oh god, that’s priceless. I didn’t even know that was possible with how much Botox they all have in their faces.”
“It’s horrible,” he says with humor in his voice.
“Here. Find something to watch,” I say as I hold out the remote.
Brantley shakes his head. “No, you had the TV first, which means we watch what you want.”
“Wait, really?”
“Really. Now get comfortable.”
Turning, I slide down the couch and partially lie down, my feet barely touching his hip.
“Sorry,” I say as I pull my feet back, tucking them closer to my body.
Brantley surprises me though when he grabs my legs and places them over his lap. Out of the corner of my eye, I stare at him. Did he really just do that? Did he willingly grab onto my legs and place them on himself?
“Come on, Chloe, you’re wasting daylight. Show me why you like this show.”
“I never said I liked it,” I mumble as I hit play.
The show starts back up, and instantly one of the women is bitching that she lent out her Birkin bag to one of the other girls and they trashed it. By trashed it, she means used it.
“Jesus, talk about first-world problems,” Brantley mutters.
“Tell me about it, I could never afford one, and even if I could, I don’t think I could pay for it.”
“Why not?”
“That thing is probably more than your mortgage on this place.” I gasp.
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, those bags have a five-digit price tag,” I inform him.
He frowns. “For a fucking purse?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus…” he mutters.
The scene turns to the girls fighting over said bag while other girls sit by and watch.
“That would never happen,” he says.
“What wouldn’t?”
He nods toward the screen. “You wouldn’t be sitting on your ass watching your friend get her hair pulled. You’d be all up in that shit.”
I want to tell him that’s not true, but we both know that would be a lie. Especially if it was Liv. If someone touched her, it would be game over.
“These women aren’t really friends, though. Hell, they’ve probably never experienced real friendship.”
“That’s sad.”
“Hey, money and influence matter. For them, it’s all about status.”
“It’s not like that for the guys and me,” he says confidently.
I roll my eyes. “Because you’re men. You don’t give a shit about things like that. As long as you can all bro out, you’re good. For women, though, it’s different. Even on my level. It’s all a giant competition.”
He turns toward me. “You feel like you have to compete with Liv and Adrianna?”
“No, but all the random women I meet? Yes. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding crazy.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I found out a long time ago that you’re crazy. No need to hide it.”
I pull my foot back slightly before kicking forward, hitting his thigh. “Not nice.”
“Hey, you can’t get mad at me for saying it when you even say it yourself. If you stop, the rest of us will follow suit.”
Someone cries out on the show, and we both turn to watch. It’s like a train wreck right in front of us as one girl gets her extensions literally ripped from her head.
Son of a bitch, that has to hurt.
“Are you sure you don’t want to find something else to watch?”
Brantley shushes me. “It’s just getting good.”
brANTLEY
I don’t know how long I’ve sat here, completely absorbed in this shit show of, well, a show. It’s done the trick, though, and made me forget all about the last forty-eight hours.
“She knows her husband is cheating on her, right?”
When Chloe doesn’t respond, I look over and see that she’s asleep. Her hands are tucked up under her cheek, and her hair is fanned out on the pillow.
God, she looks beautiful. She’s so real. Unlike the women currently playing on TV. Reaching back, I grab the blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over the both of us. Chloe stirs for a second but falls back to sleep.
I lean my head back and rest it on the back of the couch and sigh. This last set of away games didn’t go according to plan. Not only did we lose by a bigger margin than we had been, but it ended with me in the market for a new coach and a new goalie.
When I went to talk to the team and Coach after the game like I always do, shit hit the proverbial fan.
Hayes and James spoke up and admitted that they weren’t getting any guidance from Coach.
Sure, they were getting some from the assistant, but every time the assistant spoke up, Coach dismissed it.
They were essentially flying blind. Something I had already put together just from watching from the stands.
When one of them mentioned Holken and how he wasn’t even trying in the net, the other members spoke out. Holken got violent and had to be forcibly removed. Due to the nature of his outburst, he was forced to do a rapid drug test, which he failed. He gave us no option but to let him go.
Coach was the only one who tried to talk us into keeping him, but when my mind is made up, there is no going back. We can’t have that kind of reputation following us around. Coach then accused me of being too hands-on and told me I needed to take a step back.
Am I hands-on? Yes, but it’s my team, and I can run it how I see fit. Compared to some, I’m overly involved. I’ve made it my personal mission to know my players and their families. To have a pulse on what’s happening on and off the ice, but compared to some, I’m not that bad.
The entire flight home I was making calls, trying to find a new goalie and quietly inquiring about a new coach.
If only the goalie Hayes and James vouched for wasn’t being held up by the NCAA rules, I would grab him up right now.
If his college team didn’t have a winning record, I would probably jump through the hoops to make it happen sooner, but I won’t do that to the kid.
Not when he’s on the verge of bringing home another trophy when we don’t stand a chance for one this year.
Next year.
There is always next year.
“Could you be any louder?” Chloe rasps.
“Huh?”
“You’re thinking so loud that it woke me up.”
“My apologies,” I deadpan.
She stretches out, and I can’t help but notice the way her T-shirt pulls tight against her breasts, showing off her perky nipples.
I would do some shady shit to see those up close and personal. I came close when I walked in on her in her little bra and panties, but it wasn’t close enough.
Are her nipples a dusty pink color or red?
Chloe snaps her fingers, getting my attention. “Five bucks.”
“Five for what?” I ask, shaking my head.
“For a five, you can take a picture. It lasts longer.”
“You aren’t selling pictures of your body for money,” I tell her firmly.
She pouts. “You’re no fun.”
“That’s not what your mom said last night.”
“Points on originality,” she deadpans.
“Thank you.”
“Are you really still watching that?” she asks, pointing at the TV.
“It’s just background noise at this point, honestly.”
“I’ll give you credit, you watched longer than I thought you would.”
“Thank you?”
She pushes herself up and swings her legs off my lap, making me instantly miss her closeness.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to bed.”
I look at the clock and see that it’s nine thirty at night.
“Come on now, you can’t be going to bed. It’s still early.”
“I like my beauty sleep.” She shrugs.
“You don’t need it. Besides, you can get it in the morning. It’s not like you have to wake up early to be anywhere.”
“Thanks, ass.” she mutters, making me cringe.
“That’s not how I meant it, and you know it.”
Her eyes soften. “I know.”
“Have you thought any more about the job offer?”
“Way to ruin the moment. You know the answer is no.”
“Stubborn pain in my ass,” I mutter.
“Aw, I knew you liked anal play.”
“Actually, I’ve never tried it, but with you I’d be game. After you, of course.” I wink at her.
“Of course. Turnabout is fair play.” She smiles.
“Exactly.”
My heart races at the thought of having her. I’ve been itching to get my hands on her since the first night I met her. Hopefully it happens eventually. If not, I might be one of those assholes who always wonders what if.
Chloe yawns, bringing me into the present.
“I’m surprised you’re still tired after that nap.”
She shrugs, her T-shirt slipping down her shoulder, showing off her collarbone.
I wonder…
“I didn’t sleep very well while you were gone.”
“Miss me?”
She rolls her eyes. “Missed you like the plague. No, I don’t know why, I just didn’t.”
She might be denying it, but I think she really did miss me. I know I missed her.
“I get that,” I admit.
I do get it. I didn’t sleep well either, and she was part of the reason. I will never admit it, but I checked the cameras periodically just to feel close to her.
I’m a fucking stalker, but I can’t help it.
She takes a step back and studies me for a moment.
“What is it?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing, I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.”
“Good night.”
“Night.”
I watch as she walks away and heads up the stairs. Right before she slips out of view, she gives me a little wave, making my heart race.
What I would do to follow her up to her room and slip beneath the covers with her.
My infatuation with her is getting out of control.
At this point, it’s only a matter of time before one of us snaps. I just hope she’s the one to make the first move and not me.