Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
JAKE
The arena district and more specifically PenAlety Box, the bar across from the arena, had become our go-to lunch spot since I’d started working there. It was a win-win for me. Win one: it was food. Win two: it was out of the arena.
Three weeks in and I hadn’t figured out how the security for the arena had functioned in the years before I’d taken this job.
“Logan was so wrong.”
Larson blinked at me in confusion, his burger halfway to his mouth. “Logan? What was Logan wrong about?”
Shit, I ’ d been thinking out loud.
I shook my head at my friend. Larson was six and a half feet of the sweetest little I’d ever met. He was one of the friends Logan had introduced me to shortly after we’d met. “Sorry, I’m exhausted. Logan teased me relentlessly that this was going to be a cushy desk job. My brain and feet hurt more now than they ever did when I was patrolling. And we’re not even going to talk about my back.”
Larson giggled. “You sound like Trent right now. I think he bitched about the same thing when he was elected as sheriff. He kept bitching his brain hurt from the paperwork and his back hurt because he sat more than ever before.”
I rolled my eyes while leaning back in my chair and felt a number of vertebrae pop. “I feel so old. Sitting is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
Larson looked at me thoughtfully. “Maybe you need a better chair?”
I began ticking off items on my fingers. “Better chair, better lighting, better monitor, better filing system.”
Larson held up his hand. “Point taken.“
We fell into silence as we focused on our food until Larson spoke again. “Is the game at six tonight? Trying to figure out how much time to kill before Daddy gets downtown.”
“Six. I didn’t know you guys were coming.”
“Daddy grabbed tickets for us last minute. He thought it would be nice, and he had a meeting in town today anyway.”
I took another bite of my burger, thankful I’d made time to come to lunch with my friend. The juicy burger patty was exactly what I’d been craving and I was wondering if I’d actually had breakfast before I’d left the house. I wasn’t normally this hungry at noon, yet today I’d been counting down the seconds until we met up. Now that I was eating, I felt like my stomach had become a bottomless pit.
No matter how much I thought I could eat, I had limited time before heading back to work. With a game that evening, I would be extra busy for the second half of my day. Simply getting assignments out to my officers and the few security guys we’d kept on staff would be time consuming. I had no idea what the last director of security had done, but it clearly hadn’t been planning or recordkeeping or filing.
There hadn’t been a single written protocol or procedure or plan when I’d started. There had been a folder labeled Staffing that hadn’t been touched in four years. Only one person in that folder was still employed and he was a seventy-year-old usher who’d been with the arena for decades, even before the NHL expansion had brought the Grizzlies to Nashville.
“I take it things aren’t getting any easier?” Larson asked, swirling a fry into a pool of ketchup.
I rocked my hand back and forth. “Sometimes I feel like we’re getting things in order. Then others I feel like I’m the ringmaster of a shit show.”
“Why haven’t you asked Trent or Logan for help?”
I appreciated the suggestion. As the sheriff and one of his deputies in the neighboring county, Trent and Logan would be more than happy to help. Knowing others in law enforcement was a blessing at times. It could also be a curse. Trent was a Dom and would want to come and fix things for me, and Logan was Logan. Depending on his mood, he could be a huge help or a massive distraction.
As little Jake, I’d love to hand my problems over to a fully capable Dom and one of my best friends. As Sergeant Robinson, having Trent figure it out would be a blow to my ego.
“I know they would. But until I am able to get a grasp on things, bringing in extra people is only going to be more stressful. The officers that come in for games know what to do. I don’t have to direct them much more than giving them a level or area to work in. It’s more that the security team has been a fucking nightmare. They’ve never had decent direction and sometimes it’s like herding cats.”
My friend nodded in understanding and I detected a smirk on his face, though he tried hard to hide it. Not only did he have experience with overbearing Doms and over-the-top subs due to his family’s open participation and involvement in the BDSM community, Larson had been a firefighter and a paramedic before retiring to become a woodworker. He knew what it was like to be a little in a profession dominated by strong personalities. He’d retired after reaching lieutenant and he was well aware of how important it was to feel the success of completing something on your own, especially when it would have been so easy to reach out and give the problem to someone else.
A laugh bubbled from me and made Larson stare as though I’d lost my mind. “Sorry, I went around the arena yesterday with the fire marshal. We found a door that was totally unsecured. There’s a lock on it. No one has a key to it. Hell, no one, not even the maintenance staff, knew the door was operational. It leads to a stairwell that goes straight to the locker rooms!” I shook my head, fully aware I likely sounded like a lunatic as I continued to chuckle at the absurdity.
Larson winced. “I bet that was a fun conversation.”
“Oh yeah. It’s now secured with a temporary lock. Maintenance assured us it would be fixed by the time the atrium opens tonight.”
Shaking his head, Larson reached for a napkin to wipe his fingers. “Better you than me. I’d lose my mind trying to keep up with all that.” He shuddered for emphasis. “I have hives just thinking about it. I only want to watch a game and have fun.”
“That’s my goal. I want to enjoy the games and deal with normal issues, not finding five-plus years of neglect and trying to figure out how the fuck to fix it.”
Once we finished our meals, we paid the tab, then headed back toward the arena. We chatted as we entered the garage and walked toward Larson’s SUV. Well, it wasn’t Larson's. It was his brother's and Larson was driving it while the Grizzlies were out of town.
Shocked hadn’t begun to describe my thoughts when I’d discovered my friend was the big brother of Grizzlies forward Seth Johnson. And now I worked in the arena and saw Seth regularly. From what Larson had told me, the family kept no secrets, so I’d known going into the job that Seth knew I was a little. Larson had assured me his brother wouldn’t treat me any differently and my secret was safe. So far, Larson had been right on all accounts, and aside from bringing me little toys for my desk every time they traveled, Seth had never mentioned knowing I was a little.
We were saying our goodbyes when Blaise walked out of the building.
He wasn’t much older than me, though he held one of the most important and demanding jobs in the building. As director of hockey operations, if it involved either team, Blaise knew about it. He oversaw two of his own assistants as well as a director of operations for the Parliament. He was also dating the Grizzlies assistant coach, Imil Bouchard, so he had an extra in to all the ins. All the players liked him, and from what I’d gotten to know of him over the past three weeks, he was a genuinely nice guy, though he often looked frazzled and anxious.
“Oh! Jake!” Blaise jogged over to me and blinked a few times at us, and then realization dawned in his eyes. “Larson!” Even knowing Larson was Seth’s brother, it always took me by surprise how everyone here had known him longer than I had.
While they exchanged pleasantries, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the notifications I’d received while at lunch. One was for a new security badge to be issued to one Esme St. Claire. I blinked and felt the color drain from my face.
“Everything okay?” Larson had finished talking to Blaise and had come over to invade my personal space and look at my phone. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
I turned off the screen and looked over at Blaise. “Esme St. Claire?”
Blaise nodded. “Yeah. He’s the new director of player relations… is that a problem?”
My mouth was dry as the fucking Sahara and I sounded like I hadn’t taken a drink in days when I finally croaked out a question. “Red hair and beard, light French accent?”
Blaise nodded again.
Larson’s eyebrows pulled downward, then shot upward in comically rapid succession. I’d told him about the summer hookup and the traffic stop, though I hadn't told anyone his name. The description was enough for Larson to put the pieces together and he blinked rapidly at me as he mouthed Gorgeous Dick behind Blaise’s head. All I could do was blink back.
The longer I stood there wordlessly the more worried Blaise looked and I watched as his jaw began to twitch rapidly. “W-why? I-Is something wrong with that?”
Yup, definitely worried.
The last thing I wanted to do was make Blaise worry about the new hire. He was open about his struggles with anxiety as well as Tourette’s. The diagnoses fed off one another and as his anxiety spiked, his Tourette’s got worse. Then as his related tics increased, he became anxious about them. His boyfriend was always good at calming him down, but as I looked around for the Grizzlies assistant coach, he was nowhere to be found.
I swallowed hard, shook my head a few times, then coughed to clear my throat. All I wanted to do was calm Blaise before his anxiety spiraled, so I tried desperately to think of a way to downplay my current shock and own anxiety spiral. “I just know the name. It surprised me.” Curiosity had gotten the better of me and I’d also done some Internet sleuthing and found out he’d played for the Boston Bulldogs until training camp when he’d suddenly retired.
I’d had my brains fucked out of me by the team captain of one of the most prestigious—and hated, if word of mouth could be believed—hockey teams in the world.
And now he works in the same building as me.
I glanced around the parking garage, thankful it was empty aside from us. “Well, I’m going to get back to work. You should probably get going if you’re going to miss insane traffic.” It was off-peak hours, but Nashville traffic was a crapshoot at the best of times. Thankfully Larson didn’t ask questions as he got into Seth's SUV, though he held his hand up like a phone, his mouth saying to call him ASAP.
With him gone, I turned to Blaise and pasted on my best everything is fine, just fucking fine smile. “I know I’m new here,” I said, hoping like hell the right words would come out of my mouth. The last thing I needed to blurt out was that I’d been fucked senseless by the newest director of hockey things. “You, along with everyone I’ve met here, care so much about this team. If there were any red flags during the hiring process, he wouldn’t have been offered the job.”
Blaise gave me a weak smile. “Thanks, Jake.” He took a few cleansing breaths before speaking again, though I noticed he’d developed a twitch in his shoulder since I’d asked about Esme. “I’ve got to get home and make sure Imil has actually packed clothes and not just game systems and pajamas. I’ll see you next week. You know how to reach me if you need anything.”
That explained why Imil wasn’t with him.
I nodded and waved goodbye.
Game systems and pajamas sounded a lot like the way I’d pack when I was feeling more little than big. It was something for me to ponder later because right now there was a thirty-seven-year-old, six-feet-three-inch, red-haired ex-hockey player with the most perfect dick I’d ever seen or felt waiting for me to give him an ID card.
When Larson eventually told the others, my phone was going to blow up with texts. I was thankful I'd been with Larson and not Aiden or Logan because they would have told the others so fast my phone would already be exploding in my pocket.
I waited until Blaise had pulled out of his parking space before turning and scanning my badge to enter the building. It took five minutes to make my way from the basement to the office level thanks to being stopped numerous times by people with questions about the night ahead as well as the locksmith who had arrived to install a new lock on the unsecured door.
Oh, how I long for when the unsecured door was my biggest stressor.
When I finally stepped off the elevator at the office level, I’d forgotten about Esme as my brain went on autopilot for the afternoon tasks. I turned the corner to my office, flicked on the light, and smiled at the little dinosaur parade on my desk. It had been slowly growing since I’d started working here. First, Aiden had bought me one with a police badge on its chest. Then Logan had found a stress ball dinosaur. A few days later, Larson had shown up with a wooden dinosaur he’d made me. It was actually a puzzle and I’d built and rebuilt it numerous times since. The week before, Seth had given me a bright orange dinosaur wearing a helmet, and he’d glued a tiny hockey stick to its hand.
At the rate they were multiplying, I was going to have to move them from my desk before long. For the time being, they still fit and I smiled each time I saw them. The stress dino and puzzle one had been especially helpful as I’d sorted out some of the logistical nightmares I’d been faced with. Besides, the dinosaur parade was a part of my little side no one thought twice about.
Well, no one but Imil and the Grizzlies team captain, Trevor Cane. They had both mentioned how cool the dinosaur collection was. And I was back to thinking about what Blaise had said about his boyfriend’s packing habits.
Everyone else had either ignored the dinosaurs completely or had commented on how fun they were and how much they loved them. Despite Logan’s annoyed protest when he’d come to visit me the last time, though, I knew not to bring my dick-o-saur to work.
That one would be relegated to home and maybe playdates.
I settled in behind my laptop, ready to start work, just as a knock sounded on my doorframe. "Excuse me," said a voice with a hint of a French accent. My pulse picked up and my heart pounded against my ribs so hard it risked breaking free.
My eyes had barely risen from my laptop and Esme St. Claire, the same Esme St. Claire from Knoxville and the traffic stop, stood in my doorway. The red-headed, broad-shouldered man looked more dumbstruck than I felt. “You.”
“Uh-um, yeah. Me.” My stutter wasn’t going to give him confidence in my ability to lead a preschool class, much less an entire security team.
I had basically committed his driver’s license stats to memory. The ones I hadn’t retained had been easily found during my Google searches. Six three, two twenty-five, a birthday in March. Even though he was only a couple inches taller than me, it felt like he took up the entire doorway. Without a dark, crowded dance floor and lust, or the shock and confusion of pulling him over clouding my thoughts, Esme looked much bigger.
His muscular arms pushed against the material of his shirt, and his chest was barely contained by the thin fabric and buttons. I knew something else that would be barely contained beneath the fabric of his clothing, and I steadfastly refused to look at it. It would only make this meeting more uncomfortable. In the poor lighting of my office, the scars on his face were no less pronounced and the fascinating gray green of his eyes was just as mesmerizing as it had been both in my hotel room and on the side of the road as I’d written his ticket.
“Officer Jake Robinson,” he said, his voice a smooth drawl. “So we meet again.” There was a subtle twitch in the corner of his eye, and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or if he was as uncomfortable as I was… maybe it was both.
My face burned red and there was nothing I could do about it. Instead, I pointed to the patch over my badge. “Actually, it’s Sergeant.”
He studied me closely before speaking. “The ticket said officer . My apologies, Sergeant Jake Robinson . ” His French accent made my name sound far sexier than it had any right to as it rolled from his tongue.
If my pulse continued to speed up as he looked at me, I was going to need a doctor. I had to struggle to keep my breathing even in the quiet space. “No apologies needed. It’s a new title change.” I gestured around my office. “And a new position.”
Esme's sardonic laugh showed a crack in his confident entrance to my office. “What are the fucking odds?”
I shook my head, still unable to believe it. Not only was I staring at the man I’d given a ticket to the previous month, but three months before that his cock had been buried so deep in my ass, I’d wiggled in my seat the entire drive from Knoxville to Nashville.
I tried to focus on the traffic stop, though I fully suspected he meant both of our previous meetings. “Not very high. I mean, unless you’re my friend’s brother. He wrote a ticket to his future sister-in-law when she was on the way to meet the family.”
He blinked, clearly at a loss for words as his mouth opened and closed and nothing came out. After a few attempts, he shook his head like he was trying to shake the confusion away and finally spoke again. “Well, your ticket killed my perfect driving record.” I was pretty sure he’d wanted to say something else, but he’d bit it back and now was looking at me uncomfortably.
Silence stretched awkwardly between us and I finally knew I needed to say something. “Yeah. Sorry about that.” I went for a smirk, though I was pretty sure my face contorted in weird ways. “You really were going way too fast, especially for that stretch of road.” Trying to find something to put us on an even footing and erase the awkwardness, I directed the conversation to what had brought Esme here. “Is this the job you didn’t want?”
He actually gave a genuine laugh at the question. “Truthfully? No.”
And it turned out I could be more shocked and confused than I’d been when Blaise had said Esme’s name. “No?”
“No. I’d interviewed for an analyst position for the Parliament. I was sure I had totally botched the interview because someone had shocked the shit out of me on my way there. Somehow, I didn’t blow it. That or they were really desperate—I may never know. They offered me this position instead.” He grinned and lifted a shoulder. “So here I am. And I hear you’ve got my security badge.”
“Oh, yeah.” I rummaged through the small pile of envelopes on my desk containing the ID badges for the new hires starting this week and found the envelope labeled Director of Player Relations.
I didn’t actually have anything to do with the printing of badges or security for employees. That was all the front office staff. I’d just somehow been given the badges for the executive level employees. I suspected it was because I was usually in the building during normal business hours and most everyone else had weird hours on this level.
I handed it over and tried to smile. “Esme, huh? That’s an interesting name.”
Esme shrugged. “My mom is a history teacher. She conveniently forgot the name Esme turned predominantly female after 1900.”
I nodded. The man must have taken a lot of shit growing up with a feminine name. “Ah. I see. Well, here’s your badge. If you have any issues with it, don’t come to me.” At his shocked-Pikachu face, I laughed. “Email HR. They're the ones who print everything. They just come up to me in little envelopes to hand out.”
Shock turned to humor. “Got it. If I need anything, you’re not my guy.”
“Not of the security badge sort .”
At his surprised blink, I realized the words had come out of my mouth and I knew my face had turned as red as his hair. “I-I mean.” There was really no explaining that. “Please excuse me while I go hide under my desk for the next year.”
I’d told Logan I wasn’t going to look Esme up on Grindr because I wasn’t looking for a fuck buddy. I wanted long term. I wanted what Logan, Aiden, and Trent had, what their entire friend circle had. Knowing Esme now worked on the same damned floor as me was going to make it challenging for my dick to remember as much. I had to find a way to keep Esme the coworker separate from Esme the hookup.
When we’d been quiet too long, neither of us sure what to say now that I’d put my foot in my mouth, I tried to find a graceful way to die of humiliation alone. “Uh, yeah, not your guy for HR stuff. Now, if there’s a bad guy in your office, then you call me.”
He chuckled, though it felt forced. I wished I knew what was going on in his head. Had he thought as much about our hookup as I had? Had it been as amazing for him as it had been for me? Or was I just another notch on his bedpost?
“Got it.” His smile was stiff. “I should probably figure out what my job actually entails now.”
“Good luck with that.” I genuinely hoped it wasn’t as much of a mess as mine was.
He disappeared around the corner just long enough for me to take a deep breath before his head appeared in my doorway once more. “What if I tell you there's a bad guy in my office?”
I jumped sky-high and let out an undignified squeak. For a second I wondered if he was being serious. Then I saw the mischief in his eyes, and I groaned. “Go do your job, Mr. St. Claire.”
He sighed. “Fine. Have a good afternoon, Sergeant Robinson.”
He was gone before I could blink, and I waited a few seconds before dropping my head against my desk and groaning. “Fuck my life.”
What I wouldn’t give to go home and grab Elle, my favorite blanket, and forget about the weirdness that had become my life. I peeked an eye open to look at the clock on my computer, startled to find it hadn’t been twenty minutes since I’d left Larson in the garage.
After a few more seconds, I pushed myself up and resolved to get my job done. I still needed to finalize the security plans and do a walk-through before the game, but those tasks were going to have to wait a bit. Before I could tackle them, I needed to check my phone because it had been buzzing in my pocket so much it could double as a vibrator. Larson must have talked to one Logan or Aiden and news had spread.
Before I could tell them about my afternoon, Esme’s voice echoed around his doorway and into my office.
“Chloe!” A few seconds went by and he spoke again, this time his accent a little more pronounced as his voice rose. “Be nice for Ms. Donna today. Don’t be a total brat. And eat your lettuce.”
With my thumb hovering over the text screen, I stared at my office door trying to figure out who Chloe was.
“Much better.” His voice softened and I heard him laugh. “You really are a handful. It’s a good thing I love you so much.”
I deleted my original text.
Does Esme have a kid?
Larson’s response came back first.
Larson
Not to our knowledge. Seth asked Brax and Brax said no. He’s not married, no kids, not even a rumored girlfriend.
I wondered why Seth’s linemate would know better than Seth, then remembered Brax had played for the Bulldogs before being traded to the Grizzlies.
Larson
Now I’m curious… Why?
I was just wondering.
And confused. Very, very confused.