Chapter 3 #2
With a shrug, he said, “Why not? Most guys do.” He ran his finger along the edge of his laptop, resting on the table. “I’ve met plenty of men who’ve told me they were straight…” He fixated on me. “Only to be putty in my hands.”
Jesus, how did we get on this? It wasn’t professional. “I’m not one of them, and you’re out of line.” As my dick stirred, I squirmed in my chair. Don’t get a fucking boner now. But imagining him on his knees—
“Yes, you’ve told me.” With a sharp sigh, he said, “I don’t get my signals crossed very often. Or ever.” His gaze trailed across my body. “It’s a shame, really. With all these out players, I had to pick the one guy who’s in the closet.”
How the hell would he know that? “I’m not in the closet.” I narrowed my eyes. “What are you trying to do? Throw me off with this bullshit?” It might be working. We had yet to speak about hockey.
“Maybe.” He shifted his chair closer to mine. “Maybe getting under your skin is a turn on for me.” He bit the side of his lower lip. “Or, maybe I just think you’re an asshole.”
My brows shot up. “An asshole? What the hell have I ever done to you?” He had some fucking nerve.
His lips flattened, and he shifted even closer, his breath puffing across my face as he said, “You treat me like I’m a fucking child.
I’m not. I’m a twenty-four-year-old Harvard graduate with an MBA.
I know my shit. I didn’t require a full year of watching jocks chase a puck to understand this simplistic game and to understand who the players are that matter. ”
“Simplistic game?” I blinked and then gave him a full-on smirk as heat ran rampant through my body.
“That statement tells me all I need to know about your character. You think you know everything after watching some footage and memorizing the roster, but you don’t.
” I clenched my hands into fists. How was I supposed to mentor this guy?
Pursing his lips, he combed his fingers through his bangs. “Are we done here, or can you give me some tidbit of information I can use?”
I leaned back in my chair, thinking. This guy would make my season a living hell. “What do you want to know?”
“How do the straight guys on the team view the queer players?” He opened his laptop and typed.
He was taking notes now? Good, it was a start. “They view them like any other players. This organization has done a tremendous job with inclusivity training, and there’s no homophobia, at least not what I’ve seen.” My nerves settled.
“There’s no talking behind anyone’s back? No lewd comments?” He typed.
I glanced at his laptop screen, but there was a filter on it so I couldn’t see it clearly. “Not that I’ve heard. We pride ourselves on being respectful to each other.” Which was something he could learn. I bit my lip before I said it out loud.
“There’s one less thing for me to worry about.” He took a deep breath. “How about Mason and Jett? Has their relationship ever caused problems during a game?” He cut his gaze to mine and hooked a brow. “And be truthful with me. Don’t sugarcoat it.”
Fuck, would he cause problems for them? “No, it hasn’t. In fact, I think their relationship has only helped. They’re in sync and it shows on the ice.” I relaxed my shoulders.
“What if they get into an argument? Does it show?” He peered at me.
“They’re professionals. If they’ve fought, it’s never shown on the ice.
” What the hell was he driving at? “You know, hockey is a family, right? Teams have brothers playing together, coaches with sons playing on their teams, and in the women’s league, there are teammates who are married or in a relationship.
” I didn’t think I’d be defending Mason and Jett today.
Hell, they were two of our best players.
Tapping my finger on the table, I said, “You don’t need to question Hopkins and Jarvis. They’re solid.”
“Okay.” He closed his laptop and turned to face me. “Those were my questions for you.”
Would he look for problems with Mason and Jett? “Why are you picking on Hopkins and Jarvis?”
He shrugged. “I’m not. I just want to be sure they keep their personal lives out of the rink.”
“They will.” Fucking hell, I might have to warn them about this conversation.
But Hopkins could be volatile, and I didn’t want to give him any reason to start shit with Julian.
“Listen, we have a talented group of guys here. We care about each other, personally and professionally. I think you’ll see that as the season starts.
Being on a hockey team differs from working in a corporate setting. ”
“Yeah.” He nodded and crossed his arms. “We’ll see.” He twisted his lips. “Hey, I’m setting up a charity event with the United Way and would like the top-tier players to attend. My, uh, my friend works there, and it was his idea. It’d be something with kids.”
I peered at him. He had a friend at United Way? “Sure, we’d be happy to do it.”
“Good. We’re looking at this weekend and it’ll be in Mesa, a sort of preseason meet and greet with lower-income kids.” He grabbed his laptop from the table and slid it into a briefcase, leaning on the table leg at his feet.
“We’ll be there.” I rose. We were done, right? “Anything else?”
“No.” After standing, he threw the briefcase strap over his shoulder. “If I want to be scolded like a child, I’ll come find you.” A smirk teased his lips.
“Yeah, you do that.” Scoffing a laugh and shaking my head, I strolled out of the room. This guy was something else.
After ruminating over that bizarre discussion with Julian, I let Mason and Jett know we needed to talk, and they suggested dinner at their place. After parking my SUV in their driveway, I hopped out and strolled toward their door, a massive thing tucked inside an open, square portico.
I rang the bell, and Mason opened the door. “Come on in. Jett’s about to plate the chicken.” He gave me a quick hug.
“Good timing.” The aroma of garlic and tomatoes hung in the air.
I’d had Jett’s cooking in the past and it was always delicious.
As I followed Mason through the main room, I ran my gaze across their stylish furniture, a mix of rustic and modern in black leather and rich woods.
I’d always liked how they’d set their place up, though I had a feeling it was mostly Jett.
“Hey, Alex.” Jett stepped up to me and gave me a side hug. “Have a seat at the table, and I’ll bring the food.”
I swung toward the table and sat in a tall-backed chair where napkins, silverware, and glasses of water were already set, along with wine glasses. Jett always had the best wine.
“Are you drinking tonight?” Mason poured wine into a glass across the table from me.
“I’m drinking. I’ll stop once the season gets underway.” And one glass of wine wouldn’t hurt. I watched Mason pour wine into my glass.
“Here we go. Chicken with artichokes and sun-dried tomatoes on brown rice.” Jett set plates in front of me and Mason.
“Damn, you’ve outdone yourself, babe.” Mason rubbed his hands together and then picked up his fork.
“Yeah?” Jett set his plate at the head of the table and dropped into a chair. “Well, it’s not chicken cordon bleu.” He chuckled.
“Oh yeah, that was the first meal you made for him after that bet, right?” I cut into my chicken breast, smothered in a wine sauce.
Their early days had been interesting. They’d hated each other because Mason had figured out Jett was the one who’d dumped him on a hookup app.
They’d turned their hate into love. It was doubtful I’d be able to stop hating Julian, though, not if things stayed the way they were.
“So, what did you want to discuss?” Jett ate a bite of chicken.
He was no-nonsense as usual. “I had an interesting meeting with Julian Mercer today.” I sipped my wine, the butter and oak flavors mixing with a hint of apple across my tongue. “Amazing wine, Jett.”
“Thanks, it’s from a vineyard we visited over the summer with my father.” With a warm grin, he swirled the wine in his glass before drinking it.
“What happened with douchebag Mercer?” Mason scooped rice onto his fork.
“Don’t call him that.” Jett scoffed and shook his head. “His father pays our bills.”
I had to be delicate here. Mason already expected problems with him. “He doesn’t understand much about the team dynamic, the family aspect of it.” I ate a bite of chicken.
“What do you mean? Family, as in queer family or team family?” Jett’s brows drew together.
“Team family. It’s clear he knows little about hockey. But his primary interest was in you two being married and playing together.” There, I’d said it. I gauged Mason’s reaction.
Mason’s lips tensed, and then he said, “He doesn’t have a problem with it, does he? For fuck's sakes, we scored more goals last year than every other player combined.”
“I think his Ivy League degree studies centered on regular corporate policies and strategies, which probably frown upon married couples working so closely together.” Had I made my point clear without throwing him under the bus? I drank more wine and followed it up with a forkful of food.
Eyeing me, Mason said, “So he thinks we’ll be a problem? Even after the stellar season we had last year?” His gaze swung toward Jett. “If he tries to trade one of us, Coach Henderson will—”
“No one is getting traded.” I set my fork on my plate.
“Julian just asked about it, and I assured him it was common to have family members on the same team, even married couples. I pointed out the women’s team as an example.
” Granting Julian that kind of power right away would cause a mutiny.
“Just play as professionally as last year, and there won’t be any problems.”
“You don’t need to tell us that, Alex.” Jett pursed his lips. “You know us better than that.”
“I do, I just…wanted you to know he might have his eye on you.” I focused on Jett. “You know I have your back.”
“Yeah, we know.” With a nod, Jett dug into his food.
“What else did the little bastard say?” Mason ate some chicken.