Chapter 3
THREE
CJ
I’ve survived playoff overtimes, bench-clearing brawls, and one very drunk bachelor party in Vegas that involved a mechanical bull and a mariachi band, but nothing, and I mean nothing, makes me sweat like being told I have to be “on time” to community service.
Usually, I’m not the most punctual person, but I don’t want to upset Olivia.
There’s just something about her… I couldn’t stop thinking about her last night, and it’s not just because she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
Something about her no-nonsense attitude and the way she makes me work to earn a smile does it for me.
I’ve never paid much attention to women. I was too busy trying to be the best goalie in the league. Five minutes with Olivia though, and I can’t stop thinking about her. Her curves, those deep blue eyes, the sway of her hips…
Would she say yes if I asked her out?
I pull into the cracked lot outside the Maple Creek Youth Center two minutes early and feel like I deserve a medal. My phone buzzes with the team group chat blowing up, but I ignore it. I’m not giving Logan the satisfaction of chirping me for being late to my punishment.
Besides, I’ve got bigger problems. Like the fact that Olivia Walker might murder me with a look if I screw this up.
I can’t let her down.
I take a breath, slap my Thunder cap backward, and head inside.
The gym smells like sneakers, popcorn, and kid energy. There are at least twenty of them running around, voices overlapping in a sound that feels weirdly alive, not annoying. Olivia stands near the office door, clipboard in hand, looking like the general of a very chaotic army.
Her eyes flick to me. Not impressed. Not unimpressed either. Just… evaluating. “You’re early.”
I clutch my chest. “Finally, recognition for my punctuality.”
Her lips press together as she bites back a smile.
I grin and add a point to my side of the board.
“The kids are finishing homework. You’ll help in the gym afterward.”
“Homework?” I look around at the tables set up on one side of the gym. Fractions, spelling words, history flashcards. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”
“For them or for you?”
“Yes.”
A kid in a Thunder jersey, maybe twelve, pipes up. “Hey! You’re CJ Morgan!”
I grin, dropping into the seat across from him. “The one and only. What’s your name?”
“Ethan.” His eyes are wide. “You stopped that penalty shot from Carter in overtime last year.”
“That’s me,” I say, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Want me to tell you a secret?”
He leans forward.
“I had no idea where the puck was. I just flinched in the right direction.”
Ethan laughs so loud that half the room turns.
His buddy jabs him with a pencil. “Told you he wasn’t that good.”
“Hey now,” I protest. “I’m amazing. I just make it look hard so you kids don’t feel bad about yourselves.”
The boys crack up, and I lean back, satisfied. Making kids laugh is easier than stopping slap shots.
By the time homework hour ends, I’ve somehow explained geography, lost a spelling bee to a nine-year-old, and drawn a stick figure on someone’s worksheet that they swore looked like Logan.
Olivia catches me on the way to the gym. “You can’t just give wrong answers for fun.”
“I was making fractions interesting,” I argue.
“You told them one-third of a pizza is ‘the saddest number.’”
“Am I wrong?”
She rubs her temple like I’m a migraine in human form. “Just… try to set a good example in the gym, okay?”
“Good example is my middle name,” I say automatically.
She arches a brow. “Pretty sure you told me it was punctuality…and responsibility…and James.”
“Wow,” I say, grinning. “You remembered.”
“Don’t,” her eyes narrow.
I want to, though. God, do I want to.
I ignore my feelings and head to the gym.
The basketball court is chaos. Kids racing up and down, sneakers squeaking, someone yelling “foul!” every thirty seconds.
Malik, the self-appointed king of the court, spots me and tosses the ball. “Bet you can’t sink it from here.”
There it is. My kryptonite. A dare.
I spin the ball in my hands, pretending to weigh the challenge. “What do I get if I make it?”
“Respect,” he says.
“Not enough. Gotta be something bigger.”
“If you miss, you gotta wear one of the pinnies that smells like feet,” another kid yells.
The crowd erupts with cheers. Even Olivia, standing by the wall with her clipboard, looks like she’s trying not to smile.
“All right,” I say, bouncing the ball. “Prepare to witness greatness.”
I take the shot. It sails, perfect arc, beautiful release… and clangs off the rim.
The gym explodes with laughter. Someone tosses me a neon-green practice pinnie, and I groan loudly as I pull it over my hoodie.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” I mutter again.
“Rules are rules,” Malik says, grinning like he just won the Cup.
I ruffle his hair. “You’re lucky I’m a man of honor.”
But when he goes in for a layup later, I block him clean, and the whole court gasps.
“Lesson one,” I announce. “Don’t get cocky.”
He hangs on my every word, and that’s how the day progresses.
By the end of the night, I’m drenched in sweat, my hoodie smells like a locker room exploded, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
As the kids trickle out, giving me high fives and calling, “Bye, CJ!” I feel this weird twist in my chest. The good kind. The kind I usually only get on the ice.
Olivia walks over, arms crossed. She studies me for a long second. “You were… decent today,” she admits reluctantly.
I put a hand over my heart. “Careful, Olivia Walker. Compliments like that go straight to my head.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a ghost of a smile. “Don’t get used to it. You’ve got a long way to go.”
I lean closer, lowering my voice. “Good thing I’ve got three days a week to win you over.”
Her eyes snap to mine, sharp and warning, but I don’t miss the flicker of color in her cheeks.
“Win the kids over,” she corrects.
“Sure,” I say easily, tugging at the disgusting pinnie. “But I’m a goalie, Liv. We play the long game. Now, I’m starving. Why don’t we go grab something to eat?”
She doesn’t respond, just turns and walks away, but I see her look back at me before she turns the corner.
Yeah, she’s as into me as I am into her.
Now I just need to figure out a way to get her to admit it.