Page 18 of Ice Cold, Red Hot (Coldwater Firehawks Hockey #1)
CELESTE
I headed to the lab early. This allowed me to kill multiple birds with one stone. No chance of running into … anyone … in the apartment hallway, and it made me look like a go-getter to my new team.
As I stepped inside, my sneakers squeaking on the linoleum beneath the buzz of the fluorescent lights, I glanced down the line of terminals on one side. I was here first. Good.
But as I moved down the central aisle, glancing at the sorting bins and binders shelved on my left, I heard a distinctly masculine voice.
“Early bird gets the worm, eh?”
Ethan.
He stepped out of the office in the back, a cup of coffee from the campus coffeehouse in hand. “Wasn’t sure how you took it. Black? You seem like you’d take your coffee black.” He handed it to me.
“Um. Thanks.” There was something up. He was chipper, overeager. Still smug, but there was something else going on.
“I had a feeling you’d be in early. You’re the kind of girl who works hard.
Puts in the time. My instincts were right on target.
” He gave me a grin that suggested anything I did well was somehow thanks to him thinking I’d do well.
I didn’t like it, but now wasn’t the time to cause waves. I’d done enough of that lately.
“You can put your things down here,” Ethan said, gesturing to a terminal. “I know Daria got you briefed in, but I made this for you too.” He pulled a binder from a spot next to the computer as I hung my bag on the back of the chair and deposited the coffee on the desk.
“What’s this?” I flipped through the pages of the binder, which had my name on the outside and contained a highlighted schedule and an indexed collection of pertinent research. It was something I’d intended to make myself. I lifted my gaze to Ethan.
He smiled sweetly, turning my stomach. “Fast-track grad students get fast-track support.”
What the hell?
I’d hope to come in early, get some actual work done, and have some time to unfuck my head. But as I sat down, shaking the mouse to bring the screen to life, Ethan pulled a chair up next to mine.
“I’ll just walk you through some of the ongoing experiments, and highlight the protocols I’m really focused on.”
Which was exactly what Daria had already done, but I held my tongue and let Ethan step me through the basics all over again.
He leaned close as he pointed out specific items on the screen and showed me the file structure for the lab.
His scent—some kind of cologne and lingering coffee—wafted past me and I worked hard not to breathe through my nose.
“You’re not drinking your coffee. Did I get it wrong?”
“No, no. It’s good.” It was just that I had come in early hoping for my own space. Time to get a coffee on my own. The way I liked it—with oat milk and Splenda. To have time to think. This was… unpleasant.
Luckily, when the others began arriving, Ethan rose and headed back into his office, calling out, “briefing at ten, Celeste.”
Daria raised an eyebrow as she sank into the chair at the next terminal, and I had a feeling she knew exactly what had just gone on. “Don’t come in early,” she suggested.
“I won’t do it again.” What the hell had I gotten myself into?
Things didn’t get better at the briefing.
We were seated around a laminate table: me, Erin the senior undergrad, Marcus the second-year, and Daria, the other female grad.
Ethan gave Erin a nod—she began with the survey response rates and data accuracy. Then he turned to me.
“Celeste, walk us through the behavioral logs you reviewed last night from our existing data.”
My throat caught, but I forced the words out cautiously. “I noticed a cluster of scores flagged for impulsivity. Specifically that subject #47 showed his reaction time drop sharply after being asked to recall emotionally stressful events.”
Ethan’s eyes flicked to mine. “That’s interesting.” Then he leaned forward, addressing the group.
“And that ties directly into my work on emotional- control decline. Specifically, if teams are pushing athletes too far after a concussion, braking response suffers. That’s a pattern we noticed in football; now we’re seeing it in hockey.
It’s a connection the data has increasingly supported, and it’s glaringly obvious if you know what you’re looking for. ”
I swallowed hard. Why had he made me report the findings if they were so obvious? Ethan had just belittled me in front of my new colleagues and it took everything in me not to lash out. But I couldn’t lose this opportunity. I nodded, as if he’d just said something brilliant.
“Marcus, tell us what you were mentioning to me last night.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “I think—maybe—if we adjust the emotional-stimulus delay, we’d get clearer results.” He didn’t sound certain even though what he was saying was completely obvious.
Ethan smiled and nodded at Marcus. “Right. That’s solid. Good observation.”
I looked between them. What? Marcus states the obvious and gets praise. I point out a glimmer of correlation that took more than two thousand data points to become clear and Ethan takes credit?
My eyes found Daria’s and she nodded. Barely.
So it wasn’t just me seeing this.
That afternoon, I returned to the lab, hoping to get some of the work done that I’d hoped to go through in the morning.
As I worked, darkness began to fall outside the high windows, and I finally felt like I was making progress on the data coding I’d been assigned. And then the door to the lab opened and Ethan strode in.
“Well, well, I should’ve known I’d find you here. Most people would take advantage of a light day and call it early. But not Celeste.” He chuckled and leaned against the doorframe to his office. “That’s what I like about you. You don’t coast.” He winked.
A shiver passed through me.
Ethan stepped closer, his voice lower. “If you ever want a little extra help—or to bounce around thesis ideas or whatever over dinner… I’m around.”
My body tensed. Was he hitting on me? Or was this a straightforward offer of help? I’d made it clear we would be strictly professional if I took this position, but every alarm bell inside me was ringing.
On the surface, I couldn’t point to anything he was doing or saying wrong. But inside, I felt it.
“Thanks,” I said, keeping my voice neutral as I closed the files on the desktop and packed up my bag. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I felt his eyes on my back as I headed out of the lab into the cool evening air.
Back at home, I sank into the couch, exhausted. Nat dropped down beside me.
“How are you doing? New job good?” Her eyes narrowed as she took in my expression. “Aha. So not good? ”
“How can you see that just by looking at me?”
“CeeCee… all I can say is that it’s good you’re not a theater student.”
“Great.”
“So… what’s the story with Lab Daddy?”
“Don’t call him that.” She was a little too close to right.
“You’re giving a vibe…”
I was going to have to learn to hide my emotions a little better if I was going to keep working with Ethan. “It’s fine, it’s just… a little off.”
“Off how?”
I explained everything that had happened that day. Coffee. The binder. Then the meeting where he cut me down. And finally, the possible innuendo later. “There’s nothing blatantly wrong. Like… the words are fine… but there’s this undercurrent that’s weird.”
“I think you should listen to your gut.”
“I did that with Shepherd. And that turned out swell.”
Nat laughed. “Swell,” she repeated, laughing harder. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Right. No, that did not turn out well. But listen… this stuff with Ethan sounds kind of pervy.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But Nat, I can’t afford to screw it up. This is a huge chance for me.”
Nat’s eyes held on mine. “I just don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. Maybe you should back out? Or at least go tell your advisor that something’s off?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. I mean, of course I will if there’s really something to tell. But I don’t want to ruin this. I’ve worked too hard for it.” It was like I was talking myself into it as much as convincing Nat. “I can handle it. I’ll just keep it professional. About the work.”
“You know, you don’t have to fight your way through everything all alone.” Nat’s voice was soft.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do.” Nat leaned in close and gave me a hug. For some reason it made tears spring to my eyes.
God, I was under a lot of pressure. I pushed the tears away as she got up and went to the kitchen. “Tea?”
“Yeah, thanks. No Evan tonight?”
She shrugged as she put the kettle on. “We’re taking a little break.”
I stared at her, trying to see if there was pain beneath those words. “You okay?”
Nat dropped tea bags into two mugs and looked up at me. “It was just for fun, CeeCee. I’m good.”
What would that be like? To be able to just have fun? “Good.”
“Well, I guess I should be glad if you’re keeping this job,” Nat said, looking up at me across the counter. “We’ll kind of be working together!”
That was true. Nat was in the physical training program, and she spent a ton of time working with athletes in the training complex. We’d be sharing data logs, since she was listed as one of the trainers in the study I’d been assigned to.
“Yes,” I said, summoning up as much enthusiasm as I could. “I’m glad.”
Later I logged into the research portal to recheck my research assistant responsibilities. I wanted to be sure everything on my end was perfect. If there were going to be any issues with Ethan or the job at his lab, I had to be flawless. The issues would be on his side only.
My calendar had changed, and I squinted at it before I realized. All my previous TA responsibilities had been deleted. The only thing showing now were my lab hours. Each block was labeled “Calloway Lab.”
I was in this now for real. I had to make it work.