Page 9

Remy

I ’m doing eighty down the highway, tailgating the truck in front of me like my life depends on it, which it kind of does.

Though to be fair, being thirty minutes late to my admin job once in a blue moon isn’t going to summon the kind of shit storm Stone is about to walk into. Not even close.

Juliet, my boss and director of business operations, probably won’t even notice that I’m late. And if she does, she won’t care. I’ve earned her trust with three years of high-level performance as the kind of assistant director who gets shit done on time, every time, and never leaves a mess for her to clean up. She’s told me numerous times that she has no idea how she got by without me.

But if my dad realizes that Stone and I were both late, just like we were both “out sick” last Monday? If he connects those dots and realizes I’m the reason his star forward is missing meetings and losing focus…

Well, he’ll kill me.

Not literally dead, of course, but I’ll wish I were six feet under by the time he finishes dressing me down and icing me out. My father can hold a cold, merciless grudge like no one else. The one time he caught me drinking in high school, at some dumb summer party I wasn’t even excited to be attending, he grounded me to within an inch of my life and didn’t speak to me for three weeks.

Three weeks is a very long time to go without human contact in a house as quiet as ours was. When school finally started, I was so grateful, I almost cried on the bus.

“He’s not going to connect the dots,” I mutter to myself, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “He hardly ever talks to Juliet, and even if they run into each other in the halls, she isn’t going to say anything about me being late. Once. In three years. Everything is fine.”

Except it’s not fine. The mandatory weekly team meeting started twenty-eight minutes ago, and Stone is still behind me somewhere on the highway. My father expects every team member in his assigned seat at least five minutes early, notepads out, phones off, ready to receive his wisdom. Dad’s time is a treasure, not to be squandered or disrespected.

Being late to any meeting with him is akin to pissing on the Mona Lisa, let alone a work meeting.

I should have hauled my ass off the couch last night and set the alarm myself.

What is wrong with me?

You know exactly what’s wrong with you. Or rather, who … And you aren’t nearly as freaked out about it as you should be.

The inner voice is right.

Yes, my heart is pounding and stress levels are currently high, but I don’t run the red light half a mile from the stadium. And upon pulling into the parking lot, I keep my speed to a respectable twenty miles per hour.

Then, I do something completely bananas.

After parking, I take a beat to smooth on lipstick and redo my hastily brushed ponytail, my thoughts turning to Stone and how terrible I feel for contributing to his lateness. Especially when I was the one who insisted on a second quickie in his walk-in closet last night, even though we were both exhausted and he’d already made me come in the shower.

But what can I possibly do to make this better?

Appealing to my father for mercy on Stone’s behalf would only get us caught and make everything fifty times worse. I suppose I could pretend I needed Stone in the admin office on some urgent piece of morning paperwork, but if that were the case, Dad knows me well enough to know I would call down to the locker room to alert him that Stone was going to be late.

No, the only way an excuse like that would work is if I somehow didn’t have access to a phone.

“No access to a phone,” I mutter, sitting up straighter as inspiration strikes.

A beat later, I’m texting Stone, my fingers flying— When you get here, meet me in the stairwell by the old part of the practice building, okay? I have an idea that might get your ass out of this sling.

His response is immediate— Really? Can’t wait to hear it. Because honestly, my ass is pretty puckered up right now. The closer I get to the parking lot, the more the stress is setting in. At this rate, I may never unclench my cheeks again.

Despite the very serious nature of the current situation, a soft laugh escapes my lips as I text back— Understandable. But I think I’ve got this problem solved. See you soon.

Do I have the problem solved?

I actually think I do, and it’s all thanks to the kind of creative thinking I’m not sure I would have been capable of even a week ago. I was too tapped out for creativity, so focused on my never-ending to-do list that it was starting to feel like I was living in black and white.

But now, as Stone joins me in the stairwell a few minutes later, the world is in vivid color. It’s so bright, I can’t help noticing how vivid his blue, blue eyes are this morning, even as I quickly fill him in on the plan.

“Okay, first step, turn off your phone and give it to me,” I whisper, holding out my hand, palm up. “I’ll put it in my purse, and you can say you left it in your locker. I’ll be sure to get it back to you during your lunch break. I left my phone in my car, so that’s already covered.”

He blinks, looking confused, but he hands his phone over without a fuss. “Okay, but how does this save my poor clenched ass?”

“You’ve heard the rumors about the old wing being haunted, right?” I ask, talking fast. Every moment counts, and we don’t have many to spare. “That’s why the lights are always flickering on and off down there and people keep getting locked in the storage room and the?—”

“The bathroom,” he cuts in, nodding as he catches my drift. “Like Tank and Steph.”

I point a finger at his face. “Bingo. So, here’s the story… I needed to get into the storage room for supplies for my volunteer job. But the boxes of whatever I needed were too high, and I couldn’t find a ladder. I was on my way to maintenance to get one when I saw you coming out of the bathroom next to the storage room and asked if you could help me out. Since you’re tall and, at the time of the asking, you still had fifteen minutes left before you had to be at the morning meeting.”

He grins. “And I said, yes, because I’m a sweetheart like that, but oops! Oh, no! As soon as we stepped inside, the door swung shut, and we were locked in. I would have called for help, but I realized I left my phone in the bathroom! I must have just walked out and left it on the sink after I washed my hands.”

I nod faster. “Ooo, good idea. We can drop it there on the way to the storage area. And, like I said, I left my cell in my car, so we had no way to text anyone.” I turn my lips down hard in a faux “poor me” expression as I lift my hands into the air. “We shouted and shouted for someone to come let us out, but we guess no one heard. So sorry, Coach.”

“Fuck, yes! You’re brilliant!” He snatches me up into a hug, spinning me around as I laugh and hiss, “Stop, psycho. We have to go. Now! This only works if we get ourselves locked up before anyone spots us.”

“Right. Got it.” He sets me down, adding in a rush, “But you’re really sexy when you’re plotting and scheming. And I really appreciate it. I hope you’ll give me the chance to show just how much I appreciate it with some high-quality, extremely focused oral sex at your earliest convenience.”

“What part about we have to go now didn’t you understand?” But I’m fighting a smile as I tell him to, “Focus, horndog.”

“Right. Sorry. Focused. Let’s go.”

I poke my head out of the stairwell, checking both ways to ensure the long hallway is deserted, before waving Stone after me. He follows, guiding the heavy door shut with an almost silent click before following in my footsteps. We dash quietly past the family bathroom, where he quickly drops his phone, then on to the storage room, which is thankfully empty and giving off its usual haunted vibes.

Honestly, the haunted vibes I could do without, but the general creepiness of this part of the complex should lend authenticity to our claim. And it’s not like we’re the only people who’ve ever been accidentally locked in. It happened to Tank last year, and Grammercy, the transfer from Louisiana, just last week, not long after we freed Tank and Steph from the bathroom. The poor guy was trapped in the storage room for so long, he had to pee in his water bottle.

There’s definitely been enough trouble with this punch code door that they should have replaced it, or just taken it off the hinges, years ago. I mean, who’s going to steal the grungy old stuff the team stores in the overflow area anyway?

As we slip into the storage room and I pull the door shut behind us, I’m reminded again of how icky it is in here. The large, cinder block room is dim, lit only by the pale light filtering in through the high windows on the far wall. It stinks of moldy socks, must, and degrading plastic, and there are boxes everywhere. They fill nearly every shelf, all the way to the ceiling, and it doesn’t take me long to find one labelled “1980s. Scarves. Bucky.”

“There,” I say, pointing to the sagging cardboard on a shelf just out of my reach. “We’ll say I was going to grab a few vintage scarves to give to the kids at my volunteer gig. Ten-year-old girls like cool old clothes, right?” I wrinkle my nose. “Or, in this case, kind of creepy old clothes…”

“Totally. My niece is way into that stuff, and she’s only eight. She always wants to hit the thrift stores when she and my sister, Katie, come down to Portland to visit.” Stone leans against the wall by a pile of moldy towels I can’t understand why anyone thought were worth saving, looking pleased with himself. And with me. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a genius? I mean, legit. Genius.”

I can’t help preening, just a little bit, even as I wave him off. “Stop. I’m just glad I got the idea when I did and caught you on your way in. If you’d rushed into that meeting, it would have been too late.”

“Totally.” He nods for a beat before his brow slowly furrows. “So, how am I getting to the meeting before it ends? Since neither of us has a phone? And the walls are too thick for anyone to hear us scream?”

I open my mouth.

Close it.

Open it again.

“We could…” I trail off as I begin to suspect I may have made a tactical error. “Or maybe…” I exhale, tension creeping in to tighten my jaw as I confess, “Okay, so maybe there’s a teensy tiny flaw in my plan.”

Stone’s shoulders begin to shake.

“Don’t laugh,” I warn him, torn between the urge to freak out about being trapped in a haunted room and finding our situation at least a little amusing. “This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, but it is,” he says, snickering in earnest now.

“Stone, I swear, if you don’t?—”

“You should see your face.” He’s starting to tear up now, he apparently finds this so hilarious . “I’ve never seen you this pale before, Bossy. Not even last February, after a long, cold Oregon winter. You’re actually scared of ghosts, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” I say. “Ghosts are scary. I never believed in them until I started working here, but now I do, and I don’t like it. Or them.” A loud thunk sounds from the back of the room, making me suck in a breath and clutch a hand to my chest. “Oh my God, what was that?”

Stone bends over, bracing his hands on his knees as he continues to lose his shit. “The ghosts. You pissed them off.”

“Stop!” I beg, biting my lip as I scan the shadowed room.

“Better tell them you were just kidding and want to be friends.”

“But I don’t,” I say, raising my voice as I add, “No offense, ghosties, but I don’t want to be friends. And I really do not want you to follow me home.” Another thunk sounds from the opposite corner, making me emit an unusually girly squeal and cross my legs extra tight. “Stop it, please, Mr. Ghost, or you’re going to make me pee my pants.”

Stone loses it completely then, sliding down the wall to chortle on the floor.

“You’re such a jerk!” I insist. But soon, I’m giggling, despite myself. The absurdity of the situation is too much to handle with a straight face. “Fine, keep laughing,” I add. “But when I wet myself and you’re trapped in here with my pee stink, you’ll be sorry.”

“Never,” he says, gasping as he makes an effort to regain control. He wipes his eyes, grinning up at me as he adds, “Never going to be sorry to be stuck with you, Lauder. Not in a million years.”

My heart flips as my grin fades away. Our eyes lock, and his smile vanishes, too, replaced by a moment of such raw, honest connection, I know there’s no going back from here. This is it, the moment we get real about what’s actually going on between us.

But before I confess that I’m starting to want more, no matter how scary and complicated “more” will probably be for us, the door creaks open. We both jerk our heads toward the sound as fluorescent light slants into the shadows.

A moment later, Tank’s massive frame fills the doorway as he leans in to ask in a slightly spooked voice, “Hello? Anyone in here?”

“Yes, us!” I say, my breath rushing out as I start toward him, Stone close behind me. “Thank God, Tank. We thought we were never getting out of here.”

“Remy came up with a brilliant plan to excuse my tardiness,” Stone adds in a whisper, “but we forgot the ‘getting out of the room we were pretending to be locked into’ part.”

Tank’s expression shifts from concern to amusement. “Smart. Good work, you two.”

“It was all her,” Stone says. “She’s the genius. I’m just along for the ride.”

I roll my eyes. “A real genius would have thought of the whole ‘getting out’ part.” I turn back to Tank, my brows pinching together. “How did you know to come down here, anyway?”

He clears his throat, paling as he shrugs. “I don’t know. I just had a feeling someone might be...” He waves his hand vaguely. “I don’t know. It sounds crazy, but I had a feeling. So, when Coach ended the meeting early, I came straight here.”

“You had a feeling?” I ask, as the hair lifts on the back of my neck. “What do you mean you?—”

“Hey, is everyone okay down there?”

We turn to see Grammercy jogging down the hall toward us, his Louisiana drawl thick with concern.

“I just had the weirdest feeling someone was stuck down here,” he adds. “Like a voice in my head saying to come check the storage room in case some other poor soul was trapped.”

Stone and I exchange wide-eyed looks as Tank mutters, “You too?”

“Me too, what?” Grammercy asks, slightly out of breath as he reaches us. “Y’all okay? I got stuck in here last week. Just about lost my shit and had to pee in my water bottle.”

“We know,” Tank, Stone, and I say in unison.

“Yeah, Stone and I got locked in while he was helping me grab a box from one of the higher shelves,” I lie, cutting a glance toward the open door. “Then, we realized we’d both misplaced our phones, and couldn’t call for help…”

“Yeah, me too,” Grammercy says. “And I never take my phone out of my pocket, y’all. I swear, I think that poltergeist snatched it out of my bag or something.”

An awkward silence falls as we exchange spooked looks and the fluorescent light overhead flickers once, twice, before it steadies.

“Let’s get the heck out of here,” Grammercy whispers. “Coach is going to be way less pissed when he finds out you weren’t late, just the latest victim of…whatever lives in there.”

“Or died in there,” Tank mutters, in a thin voice that isn’t like him.

“Right.” Stone straightens, his professional mask sliding into place. “I’ll just grab my phone from the bathroom and meet you guys in the locker room in a few.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Tank claps him on the shoulder. “Make sure you don’t get locked in there, either.”

As they head down the hall, Grammercy between them, Stone glances back at me. Just for a second, just long enough to shoot me a look that makes my heart race for reasons scarier than a hockey storage room haunting.

It’s a look that says we’ll talk later, because we clearly have unfinished business.

I take a breath and then, after a beat, I head for the second floor to start my day. But my mind is already racing ahead.

To tonight. To the conversation Stone and I need to have.

The one about where we go from here.

But I’m not scared about that anymore. Okay, maybe I’m still absolutely terrified, but in a good way, like I used to feel stepping onto the ice for a big game. Nervous energy mixed with excitement, and the hope that something amazing is about to happen.

That I’m going to make something amazing happen because I have the skills to pay the bills.

And Stone is part of the reason I have those skills.

He isn’t just my fuck buddy anymore. He isn’t even just the guy who makes me laugh or helps me remember how to have fun.

He’s a man who sees me, challenges me, and makes me want to be brave. Who makes me think that maybe I’m more than a one-trick pony. Maybe I can have ambition and ease, drive and play, professional success and personal connection.

For the first time in my life, I’m at least ready to try.

Even if it means breaking a few of my rules along the way.