Page 12 of Offside Play (Love The Game #1)

Jude

A buzzing sound pulled me out of a dream involving a hard, naked body— Hang on.

It wasn’t a dream. The buzzing was coming from Cody’s phone, next to mine on the bedside table, and that was his arm tightening around my waist as he fumbled for it with a yawn.

A smile tugged at my lips as I lay there, so fucking happy he’d stayed, that he was still here in my bed, warm and solid against my back.

“Shit,” he muttered, blinking at his screen. “I didn’t mean to sleep this late.”

“Late? I squinted at my own phone screen before rolling over to face him. “It’s only nine.” Smiling, I took in the sight of the hot-as-fuck, tattooed man in my bed.

His hair was even more tousled than normal, his eyes hadn’t even managed to open all the way yet, and the bruising around his nose had darkened to shades of blue and purple overnight. Despite all that, he was beautiful.

“Yeah. I have things to do today.” He dropped his phone on the bed and then dipped his head to mine, brushing a soft kiss over my cheek.

I swallowed, rubbing my hand over my torso as something that felt weirdly like butterflies erupted in my stomach.

It seemed as if he’d done it almost absent-mindedly, without really even being aware of what he was doing.

“Things?”

“Just prep for the next game. And…” He hesitated, and I pressed my lips carefully to the very tip of his nose, where there was no bruising.

“Tell me? I won’t say anything. You can trust me.”

He stared at me for a long moment with an inscrutable expression on his face. Eventually, he nodded. “I know I can. This needs to stay between us, okay?”

“You can trust me,” I said again. “I’d never break your confidence.”

Rubbing a hand across the thick, dark stubble of his jaw, he sighed. “No one knows about this other than the people involved, but I coach a few kids down at the community rink. I’ve got a one-on-one session tonight with one of them.”

I blinked, caught off guard. Of all the things I’d been imagining he might say, that hadn’t even featured on my radar. “You coach kids?”

“It’s not a big deal. Just a few teenagers who could do with a helping hand.” His words were casual, but I could hear the underlying defensiveness in his tone. “The team doesn’t know about it. They decided I must have a secret girlfriend, and I haven’t given them any reason to think otherwise.”

My body tensed. “A girlfriend?” I ground out, my jaw clenching involuntarily, and he smirked at me.

“No need to be jealous. She doesn’t actually exist.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, feeling my face heat. For fuck’s sake. Now he’s gonna think you’re obsessed with him . Clearing my throat, I got us back on track. “So, anyway, you coach these kids in your spare time?”

“Yeah. I let my teammates think what they want, because it’s easier than explaining why I spend my free time teaching teenagers how to perfect their skills. And if word ever got out, I’d be bringing unwanted publicity to both them and me. I don’t need the media dragging up any shit.”

There was something almost vulnerable in the way he said it, like he was expecting me to laugh or dismiss his words as unimportant. Instead, I found myself warming all over at this glimpse he was letting me have of what was clearly something very private.

“I get it, and I think it’s great that you’re doing this. How long have you been coaching for?”

“Since I got to Calgary. Started with just Marcus—the kid I have a session with tonight, and now I’ve got four regulars.” He shrugged, trying to play it off as if it were no big deal, but it was clear how much it meant to him. “It’s good extra money.”

I propped myself up on my elbow, studying his face. His words flashed through my mind. Community rink. A helping hand. “Extra money,” I murmured to myself, and he looked away, but not before I caught the flush that spread across his cheeks.

“Okay. I charge them a minimal amount,” he bit out. “Why would I take advantage of anyone in their position? It’s not as if I need the money.”

“Cody,” I managed to say around the lump in my throat, wrapping my arms around him and dragging him into a kiss. Eventually, his tension melted away, and he kissed me harder, rolling me onto my back and pressing me into the mattress.

It was a while before my brain came back online, but when it did, I’d managed to successfully bring him to orgasm with my mouth for the first time, and he’d reciprocated, leaving me boneless and spent.

But after he left to go back to his apartment and get ready for practice, my mind returned to our earlier conversation.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d told me.

Cody Clements, the standoffish, antisocial left winger who barely spoke to his own teammates, spent his spare time teaching teenagers how to play hockey.

By the time I’d done my physio exercises for my hamstring, showered, and then eaten a room service breakfast, I’d made up my mind. Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I tapped out a message.

Me:

I won’t take offence if you say no, but can I come and watch your coaching session tonight?

Cody’s response finally came through an hour later, when I was walking across the Peace Bridge that spanned the Bow River, hidden behind a baseball cap and sunglasses. Just another anonymous tourist enjoying the summer sun.

Cody:

Why?

Me:

Because I want to see. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone

I’d almost made it back to my hotel when he replied.

Cody:

I’ll send you the address. 7pm. Stay in the stands and don’t make it obvious we know each other

Me:

Thanks. I’ll be there

The contrast between the modern, well-maintained facilities of the Calgary Bobcats’ training centre and the community rink was stark.

This building was much older, with scuffed and chipped walls and flooring, worn seating, and flickering overhead lights.

Despite that, I immediately felt at home.

It reminded me of some of the places I’d grown up playing football as a kid—run-down and fraying around the edges, but with a sense of community.

Football was one of the few big sports where money was no obstacle, bringing people together of all income brackets.

There was no need to buy expensive equipment or pay for specialist coaching.

All you needed to play was a few people, an open space, and a ball.

Now, even more, I understood why these coaching sessions might be important to the kids who came here.

And maybe not just the kids, either. My internet stalking hadn’t mentioned anything about Cody’s life prior to the beginning of his NHL career, and I couldn’t help wondering if there was something personal about his decision to do this.

I took a seat in the upper section of the stands, far enough away that I wouldn’t be obvious but close enough to have a clear view of the ice.

I was probably being overcautious. The rink was nearly empty, with just a few parents scattered around watching their kids skate, but I didn’t want to risk anything for Cody.

When the clock on my phone ticked over to 19:01, a man and a teenage boy of around fourteen or fifteen emerged from the locker rooms, followed by Cody.

The transformation in him made my breath catch in my throat.

This was a side of him I had no idea even existed.

Instead of the intimidating, aggressive presence I’d seen in the game against Dallas, he was relaxed and casual, his movements loose and easy as he glided across the ice.

His voice carried across the rink to me, so patient and encouraging.

“We’ll pick up where we left off last week, but let’s start with your backhand shot after our warmup. Show me how you’ve improved.”

For the next hour, I watched Cody work with the teenager, breaking down techniques into manageable pieces until Marcus got the hang of them. His patience never seemed to run out. Whenever Marcus messed up one of the drills, Cody broke it down again, repeating it until he understood.

“Much better,” Cody called after Marcus successfully completed the drill they’d been working on. “Just remember what we talked about. Your grip needs to be a little looser, and then you’ll nail it.”

Marcus nodded, determination written all over his face. “I want to try it again.” This time, when he completed the drill, both he and Cody were grinning, and Cody held up his hand for a high five.

“I knew you could do it.”

That grin. Fucking hell. Did Cody even realise how much he lit up when he was doing this? How obvious it was that Marcus looked up to him, hanging on to every one of his words?

When the session finally ended, Marcus glanced up at Cody as they skated towards his dad. “Did I do okay today?”

Cody reached out, patting his back in a casual gesture that made my heart skip a beat. “You did great. Keep working on that backhand shot, and I’ll see you next week.”

After the rink had emptied out, I climbed to my feet and made my way towards Cody, who was leaning against the boards, watching my approach with an unreadable expression on his face.

“So,” I said when I reached him. “That was different to what I expected.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “What did you expect?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really know. I guess… I like that I got to see this side of you.”

He turned away from me, and I placed a hand on his bicep, feeling it tense beneath my grip. “Cody. Maybe I was seeing things that weren’t there, but it almost seemed like you were enjoying this more than playing.”

His hands fidgeted with his stick as his gaze dropped to the floor. “It’s just a side job.”

“It’s not,” I said. “You were amazing out there, and it was clear to me that Marcus thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”

“It’s—” He cut himself off, rubbing his hand across his jaw. “Fuck. I don’t know why I told you about this.”

Gripping his bicep more firmly, I pulled him closer to me. “I’m glad you did.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the ice between us. When he finally met my eyes, I could see the vulnerability in his expression.

“I won’t say anything,” I promised again. “This is yours. No one else has a right to know, not unless you want them to. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or…or like you felt as if you had to say yes to me coming to watch you.”

Shaking his head, he glanced around the empty rink before wrapping his arm around my waist. His mouth dipped to my ear. “I don’t mind sharing this with you, Jude. Only you.”