Page 6 of Offside and Off-Limits (Love in Maple Falls #2)

Man, she’s so pretty in a total girl-next-door kind of way, with her porcelain skin and full lips.

She’s not in her mom outfit today, but rather something more professional: a pencil skirt that does everything for her curvaceous hips, and a pale blue cotton shirt that enhances the blue of her eyes.

Her blonde hair is tied up in a low bun, and I can't help but imagine loosening her hair to see it fall in soft waves, like the way she looked at the bookstore.

Geez, stop.

I can't go thinking about her in that way. I'm here to clean up my rep, get a new start as the man I want to be. And what do I do? Start fantasizing about the first girl I’ve met.

“Thank you, Ms. Johnson. I'm sure all the guys will help you out with these campaigns over the coming weeks and months,” Coach Hauser says. “Isn't that right, men?”

“Yes, Coach,” I say along with the rest of the team.

“You’re free to go. Back here seven sharp tomorrow,” Coach says.

And then the guys start to collect their things and leave, and I throw on a pair of jeans, and a T-shirt, ready to meet with Clara and the other two in the players’ lounge, adjacent to the locker room.

A couple of the guys are already in there watching some old footage of a game, so the four of us sit at the other end of the room on some comfy sofas by the coffee machine.

Clara’s back is as straight as a rod, her hands clasped on her lap, and I wonder if she’s nervous. “First of all, thank you all for volunteering for this campaign. Everyone on the team will get the chance to work on one or more of these, but it’s great to start small with just the three of you. ”

“Sure thing, Ms. Johnson. Anything you want,” Weston says with a grin.

“Yeah, we got you,” Asher adds.

“That’s great, guys. Please call me Clara. I’m probably about your age and I’m new at all this. So…yeah.” She lifts her lips in a smile.

Yup, definitely nervous.

“You're Asher Tremblay,” she says, pointing at him. “And you’re Weston Smith.”

“That’s right. You’re a quick study.” Asher flashes her a smile, and I'm not sure if he's interested in Clara or he just likes everybody.

“And I'm Cade Lennox,” I add when she doesn't refer to me. “Even though you already know that since we’ve already met.”

“Wait, what?” Weston asks, his gaze darting between us.

“Yeah, we go way back. Right, Clara?” I say, throwing her a wink.

I’m being friendly, not flirty. It’s all good.

She gives me what I can only refer to as her stern mom look, and I immediately regret the wink. That’s the old Cade, not the new and improved version, even if I'm just teasing her, having a bit of fun. What can I say? It's a reflex action around a beautiful woman.

And it’s probably partly what got me the reputation I'm now trying to shrug off.

“Mr. Lennox and I met in the bookstore while I was buying a comic book for my son,” she explains to the others.

“Hitting on a mom? Dude ,” Weston says, judging me.

“It wasn’t like that. Benny’s a cool kid. We got to talking about The Timekeeper Chronicles ,” I say.

“The what now?” Asher asks.

He hasn’t heard of The Timekeeper Chronicles ?

“The comics? The game? The movie ?” When they all give me blank looks, I say, “What planet do you live on?” I point at my chest. I’m wearing a T-shirt that reads Ask me about my temporal paradox above The Timekeepers Chronicles logo.

Asher shrugs. “I thought that was just some quote of yours you liked so much you got it screen-printed onto a shirt.”

Weston snort laughs and the two men bump fists.

I ignore them, instead asking Clara, “What exactly do you want us to do?” I shoot her a smile that I hope tells her I’m not the creep she thinks I am.

Man, this is what my life has become?

“My boss, Veronica Reynolds, thought we should kick things off with some dances on the ice.” The look on her face suggests this is not her first choice.

“Awesome!” Weston says.

“I'm a trained dancer,” Asher adds with a smirk.

My eyebrows ping upwards. “You are?”

“Yeah.” He stands up and busts out some quick moves to prove his point, and I'll admit, he looks like he knows what he's doing.

“Where did you learn to do that, man?” Weston asks.

“Dance school, dummy,” he replies as he returns to his seat.

“That’s amazing! I’m so glad you volunteered for this campaign,” Clara says, clearly impressed. “Can you dance on the ice?”

“Is water wet?” he asks.

“Sure is!” Weston replies enthusiastically.

“In that case, let’s see what you’ve got out on the ice,” Clara surprises us all by saying as she rises to her feet.

“What, now?” Asher asks.

She shrugs. “Why not?”

“Sure. Give me ten minutes to suit up,” Asher replies, jumping to his feet.

“You’re not Iron Man, dude,” I say with a laugh.

“Oh yeah? Wait until you see me out there,” he responds, and he and Weston make their way back toward the locker room .

“You coming, Lennox?” Weston calls, turning to look at us as he walks backwards.

“Be there in a sec,” I call back. “Kids, huh?” I say to Clara as the two guys disappear around the corner, only stopping to high five the guys watching the TV.

“How old do you think I am ?” she asks, her brows pulled together.

Well, that one backfired.

“I didn’t mean I was just making a joke.”

“A joke? Okay.”

“Sorry.”

She waves my apology away with a flick of her wrist. “It’s fine. And I’m thirty-one, in case you wanted to know.”

“Huh,” I reply, doing a quick calculation in my head.

“What does that mean?”

“Benny’s what? Seven or eight?”

“He’s eight.”

“You had him young.”

“My daughter’s ten,” she says, lifting her chin as though to challenge me.

“ Real young,” I amend with a smile that I’m hoping will disarm her.

Not to boast, but I have been told my smile is disarming.

Her features relax a touch.

Heck, yeah. The famous Lennox smile strikes again.

“You’re right, Cade. I did have my kids young.”

“And their dad? I noticed you’re not wearing a ring.”

Yeah, I’m fishing. Don’t judge. The new me can still fish.

“Their dad is a few years older than me,” she replies with a smug smile.

Touché, Clara Johnson. Touché.

I guess that’ll teach me to get personal.

We stand in silence for a beat before she gestures at the exit to the locker room. “Aren’t you going to ‘make like Iron Man,’ too? ”

“Make like Iron Man? Oh, you mean get into my game day gear? Sure. I just wanted to take this chance to say I was sorry for…well, I’m just sorry.”

She gives me a brittle smile. “I got that. Thanks.”

It’s hard to tell from her tone if she’s being sarcastic or not. I decide to go with not because the way I see it, life’s too short to get hung up on the small stuff, and I much prefer to take people at face value than suspect them of ulterior motives.

“I’ll go get changed, but I warn you, I’m no dancer,” I tell her.

She smiles at me. “We’ll see about that.”

I guess we will.