Page 7 of Offside and Off-Limits (Love in Maple Falls #2)
CLARA
What am I doing?
I promised myself I wouldn’t film any cheesy, overdone dancing hockey players when I took this job, and what am I doing right this very moment?
Filming three super big guys, wearing all their game day gear, dancing to that catchy Rosé and Bruno Mars’ song “APT” like a bunch of overly energetic teenage kids in High School Musical .
It’s cheesier than a bowl of mac and cheese slathered in extra Edam.
Yup, first day of my job and this is my life now.
But you know what? Today isn’t proving to be as intimidating as I feared it might.
Veronica has been so nice and helpful, and the marketing assistant, Millie, has gotten me coffee, helped me set up my desk, and shown me how to use the computer system.
Even the big boss, CEO Paul Vaughn, who’s answerable only to Troy Hart, the team owner, welcomed me with a warm smile, even if he went on to call me Claire.
Sure, it was intimidating to walk into the team’s locker room post-practice with Coach Hauser and get confronted with all those huge, athletic, brawny guys who sail across the ice as though they weigh less than five pounds, when in reality they weigh something like two hundred and five.
And when Cade Lennox sauntered in late, wearing nothing but a towel? That nearly threw me off my stride completely, his super broad shoulders, shapely arms, defined pecs covered in a light dusting of hair, and the obligatory taut washboard abs on display.
Not that I was looking.
Okay. I was totally looking.
But anyone would. The guy looks like Jacob Elordi and Thor had a love child, threw on a load more muscle, and gave him crazy talent on the ice.
Besides, we all know you don’t get to play professional hockey in the NHL unless you’re in peak physical shape, and Cade Lennox is certainly that.
And then I remembered that he thinks I’m an overprotective mom of at least forty-five who he saw fit to flirt with right in front of my son, and I’d managed to pull my gaze from all his hotness with relative ease.
Since then, of course, he’s apologized, and as used to female attention as his reputation suggests he is, it seemed genuine enough.
I know it’ll be useful in my job if I can get on well with all the players, Cade Lennox included. I plan on working with them for my various social media initiatives over the coming season, and they’re more likely to be helpful if we have a cordial working relationship .
Cordial . Good word. That’s what I’ll aim for with Cade Lennox. Cordial and professional and in no way regarding him as a handsome hockey player with an incredible, honed physique, and all that sexy manliness that seems to ooze out of his every pore.
I clear my throat.
It’s a work in progress.
Perhaps having an online relationship with a man I’ve never seen in real life means I’m missing out on some of the important parts of human connection.
If what Warrior and I have is, strictly speaking, a “relationship.” But I definitely feel an emotional connection with him.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s love, but it sure feels… nice. Easy. He gets me and I get him.
Besides, everyone knows that one of the key aspects of a romantic relationship is an emotional connection and affection. I have those with Warrior. Just not the actual being able to see him part.
I definitely don’t have that issue with the three big Ice Breakers in their bulky game day uniforms in front of me on the ice right now.
Asher Tremblay, Weston Smith, and Cade Lennox are standing together on the ice, trying out the dance moves Asher is demonstrating for them—to varying degrees of success.
By which I mean Weston and Cade look like oversized newborn deer trying to walk for the first time next to Asher’s smooth, confident dance moves.
I’m playing the catchy tune on my phone so they get their moves in sync with the beat, and I’ll overlay it with the song when I upload it to social media.
“No, man, it’s like this,” Asher is saying to the other two as he lifts his foot and taps it with his gloved hand, then does the same to the other foot before spinning around, his arms above his head.
I applaud him from my spot at the team bench as I lean over the boards for a clear shot. “That was awesome, Asher!”
He smiles at me before he returns to the lesson, and I watch once more as Cade and Weston do their best to copy Asher’s moves.
I try not to laugh. Really, I do. But they look so dang funny next to Asher’s sleek, honed dance skills, even the looks on their faces showing they’re completely flummoxed by this new way of moving on the ice.
“Just bend your knees a little more,” Asher instructs, and Cade and Weston follow suit. “There you go! Now swing your hips to the right, arms up, and…awesome! Now watch this.”
Asher glides backward across the ice, his movements fluid despite being in full hockey gear.
The Canadian's ever-present smile widens as he executes a series of coordinated arm movements that have absolutely no business looking that graceful on skates.
According to Asher, this is a trending TikTok dance, only right now it looks more like a gem from a blooper reel.
I make sure I capture everything on my phone.
“Come on, man. I look like I'm having a seizure,” Weston complains.
“Nah, you're doing great, Smith!” Asher says, not missing a beat. “It's all in the hips. It’s just like you're trying to dodge a check, but make it sexy, eh?”
I snort laugh and am glad the guys are too engrossed in their dance routine to notice.
“Make it sexy? Dude, I'm wearing thirty pounds of protective gear and sweating like I just did suicide drills,” Cade complains.
“No one wants to hear about your sweat, Lennox,” Weston says, and he receives a shove from Cade.
“Yeah, sweat isn’t sexy,” Asher says before he transitions into the next move. “This is the move that gets all the likes. Just watch, okay?”
There really is something so endearing about watching some of the NHL’s top players trying to nail a dance move that’s probably meant for lithe teenagers with very different builds than these guys.
Cade and Weston copy Asher, looking about as comfortable as a couple of cats in a room of cucumbers.
Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I can’t help but zoom in on Cade.
His usual easy confidence is replaced by a look of intense focus, his brows pulled together in concentration.
His dark blond hair is curling under his helmet, and when he flicks his eyes in my direction, I quickly zoom my phone back out.
Professional distance. That’s what I need here.
“Lennox, you're thinking too much. Less hockey brain, more boy band,” Asher scolds.
“More boy band ?” Cade asks with a note of distaste. “I don’t even have a single boy band neuron, let alone a whole brain.”
“Asher’s right. Channel your best Justin Timberlake,” Weston says. “Like me.” He busts out a move that’s really not bad.
“With those looks you’ve got total boy band potential,” Asher says, clapping Cade on the back.
Cade shakes his head, grinning before his eyes flash to mine once more, sending an unexpected flutter through my chest.
Weston attempts the hip shake again and nearly topples over, saved only by Cade's quick reflexes as he grabs his teammate's elbow.
“Give me a brutal game against the Nebraska Knights over this any day of the week,” Weston grumbles.
“I'm starting to think you suggested this just to watch us make fools of ourselves,” Cade calls out to me.
“You volunteered, remember?” I shoot back, willing that weird flutter to die. “And besides, Coach Hauser told me the winner gets out of something called ‘bag skate’ tomorrow.”
Both Weston and Cade straighten up.
“You didn't mention this is a competition,” Asher says.
“There’s no way I want a bag skate,” Cade adds, resuming the position Asher put him in a moment ago. “Let’s do this. Bring on the boy band brain!”
I press my lips together to stifle a laugh. “This is gold, guys. The fans are going to love seeing this side of you.”
“You’re filming this?” Cade asks in surprise .
“Of course I am,” I reply. “It’s my job.”
“I thought you were only filming the dance, not us bickering like a pack of old women,” he replies, and then thinks better of it. “Not that old women do bicker.”
This time I can’t stop the laughter from bursting free.
“You’re such an idiot,” Weston says, clocking Cade on his helmeted head with his gloved hand.
Cade shrugs. “I’m just trying to be PC.”
“Line up, guys. Let’s give the full dance a shot,” Asher instructs.
They line up facing me, and as I start the song over they begin by shrugging one shoulder, then the other, then swaying from side to side, and when Rosé’s voice sounds out, they break into three and begin to follow the moves Asher taught them.
It’s all going perfectly until Cade moves to the left instead of the right and bangs right into Weston.
“Wrong way, man!” Weston yells and all three of them come to a stop.
“Keep going!” I call out over the music, because who knows? Maybe hockey players messing up dance moves will be the next TikTok trend?
The guys resume their routine, picking up where they left off, and with only one minor mishap—Weston tapping the wrong foot—they finish, and I cut the music.
“I know we can do better, Clara. Take it from the top?” Asher says.
“Sure thing.” I start the song again, and this time the guys do the routine flawlessly, and clearly have fun doing it, their burgeoning team chemistry obvious in the video.
“That’s a wrap,” I tell them when I’m certain I’ve got the footage I need.
The guys skate across the ice toward me.
Asher says, “I’m happy to help choreograph any of your other dance videos, Clara. Just say the word. ”
“That’s so sweet of you, Asher. I’ll definitely take you up on that,” I reply.