Page 3

NOVEMBER – THANKSGIVING

Gavin stood near the wet bar, watching Connor O’Shea slowly drag his thumb across Jesse Webber’s upper arm.

They were curled up together on the couch watching a game, Connor’s youngest daughter napping in his lap, face pressed against his neck. Jesse appeared to be napping too, his head lolled onto Connor’s other shoulder.

They were good for each other.

While Jesse would always be a free spirit, the goaltender had calmed down considerably in the months since Gavin had negotiated his trade to Boston.

Connor, captain of the Boston Harriers hockey team, appeared steadier. More sure of himself. He looked happy, that tight, pinched look he’d carried since his divorce gone.

Gavin wished he could say the same for himself, but while the team was doing better than they had last season, it still wasn’t where it needed to be, he hadn’t gotten laid in weeks, and this damned tension headache wouldn’t go away …

But, he should probably mingle. He glanced around to see who else was here and his gaze landed on Dakota Crane.

Dakota—who was also standing by himself—offered him a tense smile.

After the horrible first impression he’d made and the way they’d butted heads over equipment and budget allocation more than once, Gavin had finally offered Dakota a deal.

If the team showed improvements by the midpoint of the season in the metrics Gavin was tracking, he’d reconsider the idea of investing in additional equipment.

Dakota had shaken on that, and they’d had a tentative truce ever since.

It would look kind of rude if Gavin didn’t at least make an effort to be friendly, since this Thanksgiving celebration was essentially a work event.

Gavin took a fortifying sip of whiskey, then walked over to Dakota. “Having a nice time today?”

“Yeah,” Dakota said, giving him another tight smile. “It’s been good. How about you?”

“Yeah, not bad,” Gavin said with a thoughtful hum.

“Really? I noticed you standing over there scowling earlier. You looked awfully serious for a guy at a party who’s swilling down some very fine Irish whiskey,” he said.

Gavin chuckled, holding the glass out in a little toast. “To a guy who knows his whiskeys.”

Dakota shrugged. “Oh, not that well. I saw the bottle and vaguely recognized the name, but I don’t actually drink much.”

That didn’t particularly surprise Gavin. Dakota spent his days bending himself into flexible positions and certainly gave off the vibes of the kind of man who liked to sit cross-legged and chant “om” while he meditated. Indulging in alcohol didn’t seem like his thing.

Then again, Gavin didn’t exactly know him well.

Dakota’s hiring shortly before training camp had been so odd.

Though Gavin probably shouldn’t complain about it when he’d gotten his brother hired with the organization recently. Nepotism truly was alive and well in the hockey world.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

“Uhh, so I came over to make awkward small talk because you were standing by yourself, but would you rather I leave you to it?” Gavin asked.

“No. Sorry.” Dakota offered him a weak smile. “I’m just not great company today.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve had this damned headache for the past two days.”

He rubbed the back of his neck because he could feel the pain radiating up from there.

“Old hockey injury?” Dakota asked with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Ahh, no. Tension headache,” he admitted.

Dakota huffed out a laugh. “Can’t imagine why. It’s not like your job is stressful or anything.”

“Ha!” Gavin said, downing another slug of whiskey. “No, not at all.”

He worked horrific hours, traveled constantly, and had the entire city of Boston, the team’s ownership group, and reporters and fans all over North America breathing down his neck about every move he made.

But no, no pressure.

Damn did he love it though. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else with his life.

Dakota looked him up and down. “So, I can tell from your physique and your social media, you’re heavy into weightlifting, right?”

Hmm. Interesting . Gavin raised an eyebrow. “You follow my social media, huh?”

They hadn’t exactly gotten off on the best foot and Gavin was very surprised to hear that.

“I follow everyone in the organization.”

“Got it. And yes, I do quite a bit of weightlifting. Why? What does that have to do with my tension headaches?”

“Well, if it’s not balanced properly with adequate stretching, it does often lead to decreased flexibility and increased tension along your traps.”

Dakota stepped forward, gently touching the tops of Gavin’s shoulders where they met his neck. His fingers were warm, even through the thin cashmere sweater Gavin wore.

Gavin shrugged reflexively and Dakota’s hand fell away. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have touched you without asking first.”

A frisson of guilt shot through Gavin at the tightening of Dakota’s face. The shutting down. Gavin hadn’t been trying to shrug him off, only to loosen the tight muscles.

God, why did they always manage to piss each other off? Gavin was never trying and yet he always seemed to say the wrong thing.

“No, you’re fine. I don’t mind,” Gavin assured him.

Unfortunately, he could understand why Dakota assumed the worst about him.

It didn’t help that Gavin’s twin brother, Thad, had been making a nuisance of himself around the training facility lately.

He’d come to Gavin recently, begging for a job. His time in prison had made employment difficult and while he’d eventually found a position at some start-up tech company doing social media work, that had gone belly-up in record time.

Gavin had hated to see his brother struggle, especially after the way everything had gone down when he was arrested, so he’d given in and found him a position within the team’s social media department.

By all accounts, he was doing well so far. But he was also an unashamed flirt and he’d been sniffing around Dakota’s studio, checking out guys on the team and the staff. Which probably didn’t help the awkwardness with Dakota.

They had settled into a wary working relationship recently though and Gavin really didn’t want to risk upending that.

Gavin reached up to rub his neck again, then shot Dakota a wry smile when it hit him what he was doing. “So you think tight traps are my issue?”

Dakota shrugged. “Well, I think your overall stress levels are a big issue. But tight traps never helped anyone.”

“Yeah, fair. So what do I do about it?”

Dakota gave him a skeptical look. “You want my advice?”

Since Gavin had questioned if Dakota was really qualified for the job, he deserved the suspicion.

“I do,” Gavin said, meeting his gaze and holding it. “If you’re willing to offer it.”

Dakota’s eyes were an unusual shade of greenish-gray and Gavin took a moment to really study the rest of his features. He’d noticed Dakota’s body of course. It was hard not to when he dressed in snug workout gear and had his ass up in the air more often than not when Gavin walked by his studio.

But Gavin had never really looked at his face. Studied it.

Dakota was handsome, with thick, shaggy dirty-blond hair, and short facial hair, somewhere between heavy stubble and an actual beard. His skin was slightly olive-toned, sprinkled with a few freckles, and he licked his full lips, leaving them shiny.

It brought to mind other things and Gavin shifted, clearing his throat.

Yeah, he really needed to get laid soon. He’d made plans for after the game last night, only to have to cancel when he got caught up in an impromptu meeting with one of the team owners.

Story of his life.

“Okay,” Dakota said thoughtfully. “Well, if you’re serious about wanting help, why don’t you come to my studio this weekend? I could meet you before the optional skate on Saturday.”

“Uhh, sure,” Gavin said, returning his attention to their conversation. “Anything I can do before then other than downing over-the-counter painkillers?”

“Well, laying off the alcohol would help,” Dakota said, his tone dry.

Gavin slugged back the few mouthfuls of whiskey left in his glass, the chilled stones rattling as he set it on the counter nearby.

Dakota snorted. “Proving a point there or what?”

“As you mentioned earlier,” Gavin pointed out, “it is some rather fine Irish whiskey. I wouldn’t want to offend our host and hostess by leaving it half-drunk.”

The Thanksgiving open house they were at had been organized by Declan and Catherine O’Shea. Declan was a former Boston Harriers player, and three of his four sons had played for the organization. Connor was the only one left on the roster, but the family name carried a staggering amount of weight in this city.

“I’m sure they’d understand.”

Gavin held up his hands. “I promise that’s the last one I’ll drink today.”

“ Today ,” Dakota said, his tone laced with derision, though humor lurked around his eyes and the corners of his mouth.

Gavin grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to promise more than I can deliver.”

“Says the man who sounds cocky as hell about the team’s chances in his interviews.”

“I’m not cocky!” Gavin protested. “I’m … trying to project an aura of confidence around the team and what we’re doing with this re-tool.”

Because God knows, he didn’t always feel it.

“Mmm,” Dakota said like he didn’t quite believe it. “Well, maybe try alternating the alcohol and some electrolyte water going forward.”

“That I can do,” Gavin agreed. He reached for the nearby refrigerator door handle, pulling it open, then grabbing a sports drink.

“Spend a lot of time here, huh?” Dakota asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

He was dressed well today, wearing a cream-colored open-weave sweater and black trousers that hung loosely around his hips. It should have looked sloppy, but he wore it well, his perfect posture and toned shoulders giving him a look of easy confidence. Fashionable rather than careless.

“Nah,” Gavin said, cracking the bottle open. “I’ve been to a few of these holiday get-togethers and some smaller dinners, but honestly, earlier I overheard Catherine tell some of the guys to help themselves to anything in here. Since Declan was so generous with his Irish whiskey, I figured he wouldn’t begrudge me one of these.”

He held up the bottle in another toast.

Dakota huffed quietly, but held up his own glass. It looked like it had come from the pitcher of non-alcoholic cranberry ginger punch that Gavin had seen earlier.

“So, less alcohol,” Gavin prompted. “More hydration. What else?”

“Do you meditate?”

Gavin scoffed. “What do you think?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Gavin barely had time to get his dick sucked. When the fuck was he going to find time to meditate ?

Speaking of dick sucking, he wondered if he’d have time to make that happen today. Although his hookup had fallen through last night the guy had said he might be available this evening …

It was worth a shot, anyway.

“So, you’re inflexible,” Dakota said.

Gavin scowled. “What makes you say that?”

“Most weightlifters are.”

“Ahh.” At first, Gavin had thought Dakota meant mentally inflexible but maybe he was simply talking about the physical.

But a closer glance at the little smirk still playing around Dakota’s lips told him his first guess might have been accurate after all.

Asshole.

Still, Gavin rather enjoyed that Dakota gave as good as he got.

“Are you hinting I need to take up yoga?” Gavin teased. He took a swig of the sports drink and winced. Ugh, he detested this flavor, but it was all they had left.

“I’m not hinting at anything. I firmly believe yoga can benefit everyone.”

These days, Gavin lifted weights and did cardio to stay fit. To relieve his stress. What the fuck did he need to be so limber he could wrap his leg around his head for? He didn’t mind it in a partner but he’d never had any need of it in the bedroom himself. And he’d never had any complaints about his performance or stamina.

“Short of taking up yoga, is there anything quick and simple I can do when my brain feels like its two sizes too big for my skull?” he asked. “If tight traps are the issue, can’t I stretch them or something?”

Dakota gave him a look but he nodded. “I have one suggestion that might help.”

Gavin set down the bottle. “Show me.”

“You’re a demanding fucker, aren’t you?” Dakota asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gavin grinned, catching his gaze. “I can be. Under the right circumstances.”

Something sizzled through the air, some undeniable frisson of chemistry and interest.

Huh . It wasn’t the first time that had happened.

At first, Gavin hadn’t been sure.

He’d certainly checked Dakota out before. He couldn’t help looking, not when an ass as fine as the one hiding under Dakota’s street clothes existed. But he’d never really been sure there was any reciprocation.

Of course, there was the argument they’d gotten into in Dakota’s office about a month ago … Now Gavin was starting to wonder what would have happened if Violet hadn’t interrupted.

“Mmm,” Dakota said.

His tone sounded more skeptical than appreciative now, so maybe Gavin had read both those times wrong. Though honestly, Gavin liked that he didn’t intimidate Dakota. He did most people.

“Stand straight, shoulders square,” Dakota instructed, demonstrating it.

Gavin did so.

“Tip your left ear toward your left shoulder. Use your left hand to guide your head down— gently !” Dakota corrected when Gavin tugged.

Gavin let up a little.

“Seriously, these are gentle, easy movements. We honestly should have started with a warmup,” Dakota said, a frown appearing on his smooth forehead. “I don’t like static stretches on cold muscles.”

“I don’t really feel much,” Gavin pointed out.

“That’s normal. Now, with your right arm by your side, lift your hand, bending only at the wrist, so your hand is at a ninety-degree angle to your thigh.”

Gavin did—and yelped.

Dakota smirked. “Felt that, huh?”

“Yeah. Shit .”

“Hold for maybe five to ten seconds to start out with, then lower your hand, let go of your head, and straighten your neck.”

Gavin did so, his eyes widening when he realized the tight sensation in his neck had eased and the band around his head had already loosened. “ Shiiit .”

“It’s effective,” Dakota agreed. “Before you try the other side, I want you to do a warmup though. I should have started with that.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Slowly, gently , turn your head to one side, hold it for a beat or two, look back to the center, then turn your head to the other side. Do that for about a minute.”

“That’s it?” Gavin eyed him skeptically.

“Did you learn nothing in the past minute?” Dakota teased.

“Right.” Gavin gave him a small smile. “It doesn’t take much to be effective.”

“Sometimes. It depends on what muscle group we’re talking about. But that’s almost always true with the neck. You’ll see once we get further into this. And, in fact, with the neck you can cause lasting damage if you don’t take it slowly and carefully.”

More cautious now, Gavin turned his neck to the left. “So how often should I do this? Just when I feel tension?”

“Well, I’d love to see you start a gentle morning and night stretching routine at the very least. Although it’s also very effective when you’ve been on your computer or phone for too long.”

Gavin winced, facing front. He did spend way too much time on both.

“So, morning, night, and throughout the day?” he prompted.

“Ideally, yes. Something tells me you’re going to be the least compliant person I’ve ever worked with though.” Dakota had his arms crossed over his chest again.

“Can’t imagine why you’d think that,” Gavin teased, turning his head to the right.

“No idea.”

Under Dakota’s supervision, Gavin turned his head back and forth for a minute, then did the neck stretch and hand flex thing a handful of times on each side.

“And that’s it,” Dakota said when he was done. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Gavin admitted. “Not one hundred percent but a lot better.”

“Good. Now imagine how good you’d feel if you did that regularly.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gavin promised. Because he had no problem being regimented about his routine, but he did find it difficult to add anything else to it. Mostly because his damned schedule wouldn’t allow him to jam much else in there.

“Are you up for coming to HCI on Saturday?” Dakota asked.

Gavin mentally ran through what he knew he had on his agenda for the day. “I’ll make it work.”

“Then, if you’d like, I’ll put together a training plan for you.”

“I don’t have much time?—”

“I’m aware.” Dakota’s gaze was serious now. “That’s one reason why I was hired, you know? I have experience tailoring programs to people who have tight schedules and erratic travel. I know you’re short on time and stress is high. I promise I’ll take all of that into consideration. I just want to see what I’m working with here.”

He gestured to Gavin’s body and somehow, Gavin didn’t take it as a compliment.

“Hey,” he protested, because damn it, “I train hard to look like this.”

“Looking great is fine. But a six-pack and big biceps doesn’t mean your body is healthy or in balance. Or, for that matter, your life is. And if you have frequent tension headaches, that tells me they’re both out of whack. Do you want my help or not?”

Gavin huffed. “I’ll come in on Saturday morning. Seven work for you?”

The team had played last night, then had Thursday and Friday off, and a game scheduled for Saturday night.

He had about three weeks of work to squeeze into that time but what else was new? His head was better and if Dakota could actually fix it, he’d give his suggestions a shot.

“I can do seven,” Dakota confirmed.

“Thanks,” Gavin said, still a little stung by Dakota’s earlier comments but grateful it no longer felt like someone was trying to crush his head like a watermelon. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” Dakota held up his glass. “To a new working partnership, I guess.”

Well, it was something , anyway.