Page 11 of Power Play (Titans Hockey #2)

Chapter nine

Scott

W e're in Vancouver and just won our first away game of this leg.

We have Edmonton and Toronto after this.

The "kids", as I call the players, and most of the younger staff, have gone out to find a club to celebrate in.

I prefer to find a quiet pub or brewery to have a few pints, scroll social media for highlights and fan reactions to the game, before heading back to the hotel for an early night.

What? I'm old as fuck. Leave me alone.

Tonight, I'm at a brewery called Grover's Farm. It's all dark woods and metal, giving a rustic, industrial, masculine vibe. The lighting is low and intimate, and brewery bros hang out in groups, sipping and comparing the different flavor profiles of different beers.

I’m perched at a high-top bar, alone, radiating ‘fuck off’ vibes to anyone nearby, when I hear her. Lacey - my sexy as fuck new PT and coworker.

She's not shouting, but there's a strain in her voice that has me lifting my eyes.

I've been far too aware of the sweet new PT than I would like to admit.

I'm always aware of her when she watches the practices, where she is behind the bench during games, and my eyes can't seem to help but follow her.

Fuck. I’m way too aware of our new PT. Of course I've been attracted to coworkers before.

The men and women surrounding professional athletic teams are driven, determined, and athletic.

I'll ignore my crush until it fizzles. She'll do something someday to completely turn me off - give me the ick, as the ladies say .

Yeah, real fucking old.

My eyes clock her. She's at the long bar, on a bar stool, tucked in the corner, giving off the same "fuck off" vibes I have.

Her hair's in a messy bun, she's got a book open, and she's tucked against the wall with her back to the room.

Except, leaning over her is a tall man. Maybe mid-twenties?

And he's large. He might have been a football player in high school?

His light blue polo hugs his larger midsection and love handles tightly. Yeah, he hasn't played in a few years.

But he's tall, and his chest is broad, his arms huge...and it's clear from his and her body language, that he doesn't realize how intimidating men are to women. Or, if he does, he doesn't care.

I'm on my feet before I'm conscious of what I'm doing.

"No, thank you. I'm fine," Lacey says, her words said clearly, and with force.

"Come on, baby, lemme buy you a drink. I know the owner," former football-bro pleads, as he sways on his feet and slurs slightly.

Oh, fuck this.

I slide up behind her, pressing her back to my front and wrap and arm around her waist. My broad shoulders effectively shove football-bro away from her. She starts and turns in surprise, but when she sees it's me the relief that floods her face hits me straight in the gut.

It was a gamble to touch her so intimately, but by her reaction I know she trusts me and is grateful for the save.

"Sorry I'm late, angel. It's impossible to get a cab in this town.

" On impulse, I lean down and kiss her. The idea was to stake a claim, make sure football-bro knows I'm not her brother or friend, and to get him to fuck off.

But when my lips make contact with her soft mouth and her lips mold to mind, I lose my head for a moment.

I forget that we're Lacey and Ward, PT and Coach, employee and boss.

All I can think about is how soft her lips, how responsive they are to me, how she smells like strawberries, and how her lips taste like wine.

She tilts her head up to give me better access.

I breathe harshly through my nose and pull back.

I stare at her face, searching for an answer I'm not sure I have the question for.

Why was that so good? Why did she let me kiss her?

Why did her eyelashes flutter and a pretty pink creep into her cheeks?

Why did I want to do it again and again and again?

Why did it make me want to drag her to my hotel room and have my way with her?

My cock swells against my zipper, and I shift my weight to adjust it.

But what I see on her face isn't an answer. It's more questions. Her lips are still parted, panting slightly, her eyes are glazy and hooded and her pupils are blown wide. Fuck, she's turned on.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to notice her like this. But the way she fits in my arms, the way her smile lights up the room... Fuck, this is dangerous.

I turn on dude-bro and stick out my hand. He looks down at it, frowning.

"Hey man, how're you?" I try to make polite conversation to get him to fuck right off.

He holds up both hands. "Dude, I didn't know. She wanted it. She was hitting on me."

Lacey scoffs behind me while I bristle. "She wanted it," is a phrase that should be abolished from the English language unless it's said on the heels of a yacht, or a pony, or a fucking mansion .

Instead of decking the guy, though, I decide to play into the drama a little, hoping she's quick enough on her feet to play along, and the drama will fuck this guy all the way off.

I turn on Lacey. "You're hitting on other men, while you're pregnant with my child!?"

Her eyes widen for half a second in disbelief before she bites the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. But instead of the blown-out lust I saw on her face before, now she has a playful glimmer. Good. That's what I want to see on her.

She plays along. She rests her hand on her flat stomach. "I'm sorry, babe, but you know how these pregnancy hormones make me soooo horny."

Now it's my turn to stifle a laugh. God, this girl is so much fun. Whip smart and playful.

Dude-bro chokes on air before spinning so fast he stumbles and literally runs away.

I look down on Lacey as a moment passes between us before we both burst into laughter.

I don't step back, though, and I don't remove my arm from around her waist. When was the last time I'd held a woman?

When was the last time I'd wanted to? I'd pretty much signed up for the bachelor lifestyle.

It wasn't so bad after you got used to it.

I'm my own man. I have my own place. And I can do whatever the fuck I want, whenever I want.

I did the whole domestic, married life. Fuck that noise.

But, in this moment, I do have to admit, having a beautiful woman in my arms, her soft smile, the strawberry scent of her shampoo is nice.

Lacey is strong, lithe, with the body of an athlete, but here, she's soft.

She rests her weight against my chest, and I get the feeling she's enjoying the physical contact just as much.

Neither one of us wants to break the spell this contact has over us.

Maybe we are playing in to our carnal needs.

Maybe we are just weak to basic human touch.

But she doesn't pull away, and I don't step back.

Eventually, I need to do a temperature gauge.

"Do you think dude-bro left?"

She turns her head up at me. "Dude-bro? In my head I was calling him douche-bro."

I laugh again. "What sport do you think he played?"

"Football."

"Me, too!"

"But like... D level High School quarterback. Peaked in eleventh grade."

I pull her closer. "Fuck, that's exactly what I was thinking. You've got a vicious side to you."

She shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. "When you've got a douche-canoe hitting on you and getting in your personal space, you say some pretty unflattering things in your head."

I bristle again. His "she wanted it" comment and the invasion of her personal space have me angry. How far would he have taken it? Would he have taken advantage? Pushed her? Raped her?

Now I want to find the guy and fucking kill him. She'd been scared. Scared to make a scene, scared he'd take it too far. Fuck that.

I lean down and whisper in her ear. "Want me to go finish him off?"

She laughs again and it sounds lighter this time. "'NHL coach gets into a bar brawl with a washed up high school QB?' No thanks. It's not worth it."

It is to me .

Holy fuck, I need to reign in my internal caveman.

"Alright, let's close out our tabs and head back to the hotel, before I get into a bar brawl."

She smiles at me again and I swear it lights up the entire room. Lacey doesn't smile a lot, but when she does, holy fuck, it's startling. I can't help but look around me, and I'm not the only one whose noticed how fucking radiant this woman is.

It makes me want to quit my job and spend the rest of my life finding things that make this woman smile.

I shake my head. What a stupid thought. I love my life. I get to coach some of the best hockey players in the United States. I'm living my dream. I will not throw that away for a simple crush.

"Alright, Rocky, let's get you to safety."

We close out our tabs and grab a cab together.

After tonight, I know two things: I’m ridiculously attracted to my PT, and acting on it could ruin everything. But fuck, staying away from her might ruin me.