Page 22 of Reputation (Toronto Royals #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Eavie

Had she lost her fucking mind?

What had she been thinking, letting herself get that close to him—close enough to smell his soap, to feel his breath on her face? She was obviously going insane. Not two hours ago, she had resolved to stay as far away from him as she could, and here she was, letting his words mean something.

I’m sorry about the other day.

She just couldn’t help herself. On the heels of her again questioning the two versions of himself she kept seeing, the sincerity of his gaze made that gut feeling roar to life again, giving her heart hope that it was true. It didn’t help that the southern part of her body was on her heart’s side.

There isn’t a single place in this building you can hide from me .

She didn’t want to hide.

No . You cannot go down that path.

Stupid, stupid woman. Clearly, she needed to be reminded of what was at stake—and a cold shower, she decided as she stormed back to her office.

She felt Mandy’s curiosity at her abrupt change in mood as she stomped to her desk and slumped into her chair. She had to get control of herself before Sam came back from lunch. Reaching for her water bottle, she took a healthy swallow.

Okay, she told herself, no more. She would avoid him as much as possible until the heat between them died. It wouldn’t take too long if she kept her distance and focused on her work. Today was pure chance, but it wouldn’t happen again.

A few minutes later, when Sam walked back through her office, she felt calmer.

“Legal called,” she said, switching gears and into work mode. “Nic needs to speak with you about the upcoming contract negotiations.”

“Right. Can you schedule a meeting with him this week?” Sam asked, heading toward his office. “Oh.” He paused just outside the door, turning back to her. “I need you to clear my schedule for tomorrow morning. I want to be at the team’s practice.”

“Of course.” She jotted down the note on a watermelon post-it. She swallowed before she continued. “Do you need me to go with you?” she asked, mentally crossing her fingers that he would say no.

“No, that’s fine. I actually need your help to review the contracts Nic wants to discuss. His team is supposed to send them over sometime today. I would appreciate it if you could look them over when they get here.”

“No problem,” she confirmed, adding to her sticky note.

This was precisely what she needed, something to divert her thoughts and focus her attention on. If she continued like this, she would get over…whatever this thing with Jax was.

The email notification in the corner of her screen drew her eye. It came from Molly and was addressed to the entire operations team. The subject read Thanksgiving Volunteer Assignments.

The Royals and the Heirs always did an afternoon or evening of volunteer work leading up to the holiday. Opening the email, she skimmed the message, one corner of her lips lifting at the vague threat about this being mandatory.

She opened the attached PDF of the assignments and searched the groups for her name.

She spotted it under the Field of Dreams project on the second page.

She smiled, having heard of the charity before.

They gave homeless and needful youth a safe place and access to play sports, aimed at using the activities to provide them with a chance at a future.

As she scanned the remaining four names of her group, she sighed out loud at the one right above hers.

Jax Morghan .

Of course, she thought bitterly. Fate really did have a sense of humor.

Casting her eyes to the ceiling, she mumbled, “I’m really trying here. A little help would be nice.”

As if the universe would concern itself with her. Sighing, her mouth twisted into a pout. Just what she needed—spending an entire afternoon stuck with him.

That evening, by the time Eavie packed up her things, the offices on the twelfth floor had grown quiet.

She was still feeling a little annoyed at her assignment—not the Field of Dreams designation, but who was in her group.

She knew it was petty, that she was acting childish, but it honestly felt like every effort she made to remain focused and professional had been disrupted.

Reaching down beside her desk for her bag, her hand wrapped around the strap when noise from the practice arena had her turning her head toward the windows. Standing, she peered down at the brightly lit rink, curiosity flitting through her.

Below were dozens of tiny figures clad in jerseys in a rainbow of colors, all printed with the Timbits Hockey logo across their chests.

They wore little black helmets with matching body gear.

A few of the older-looking groups carried sticks, while the small ones had empty hands, likely because they were just trying to master skating.

The practice rink was rented to various leagues and groups whenever the Royals weren’t using it. This was another charitable program the organization offered for youth groups. Adult leagues were charged a fee but could book it whenever it was available, which was most evenings.

Eavie smiled, watching the toddlers and young children learning to play hockey. Everywhere on the ice, bodies shuffled with stiff limbs around the rink. Every dozen seconds, one would fall, landing on their knees, bum or back.

She chuckled when one Timbit clad in a green sweater, who could be no older than three, caught their toe and went sprawling.

Lying face down, a long red ponytail trailed out of the helmet, now covered in snow from the fall.

She had just pushed herself up onto her knees when one coach skated over, kneeling beside her.

Eavie’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, almost pressing her face to the glass.

Was that…

Surprised, and even more intrigued, Eavie grabbed her purse and threw her trench coat on.

Rushing out of her office, instead of turning left toward the elevators, she went right, following the darkened hallway.

At the end, a steel door led to a staircase that opened onto the top level of the viewing platform which wrapped around the practice arena.

Slowly, she crept down the coated landing, stopping beside a pillar a few feet from the door. The spot was cast in shadow, allowing her to observe without being noticed.

Fixing her gaze back on the little girl, she watched as she looked up at the coach kneeling beside her on the ice. He was dressed in light gear, only gloves and shin pads, with simple black warm-up pants and a zipped-up jacket. Even though he wore a helmet, she knew she was looking at Jax.

He coached Timbits hockey?

Watching the pair intently, she was too far away to hear what he was saying, but the little girl nodded, a big grin appearing beneath her cage.

Jax chuckled, unfolding himself from his kneeling position.

Reaching down, he pulled the redhead up.

Turning her around, he positioned her so she was in front of him between his bent knees.

He hooked his gloved hands under her armpits and pushed off, sending them gliding down the ice.

As they moved, the little girl shuffled her feet.

Eavie’s heart jumped into her throat, beating as rapidly as a bouncing ball. This professional hockey player was teaching toddlers how to play hockey? He could be doing anything with his time. Instead, he was spending his night here.

Something warm spread through her chest, making her heart thump madly.

How often did he do this? She continued to watch, unable to pull her gaze from him.

It made something inside her swell, her cold perception of him cracking as she watched this big, strong, gorgeous man handle the toddler so delicately, giving her the courage to get back up and try again.

She sucked in a lungful of cold arena air, trying to calm her racing pulse. Watching him work with these kids was so sweet, she couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at her mouth.

Jax guided them over to where the group of green was gathering. Carefully, he deposited her in line, sticking his hand out for a high five. Even from here, she could see the smile the girl gave him—wide and enraptured, excitement and awe shining from it.

I know the feeling, kid .

Jax circled them, helping the other tots form a line, bending down occasionally to say something to one of the kids.

Eavie slid behind the pillar, the stirring warmth inside her making her feel flushed. Confusing emotions thrummed inside her. She closed her eyes, trying to process this turn of events.

The Jax Morghan coached Timbits hockey? The thought softened her heart, making that feeling inside, the one that told her there was something off about his cocky persona, grow.

She wanted to believe this was evidence that her gut was telling the truth, but logic still warned her it could mean many things, and the last thing she needed was to get burned.

This could be a one-time thing, or maybe it was part of the Thanksgiving volunteer project. Perhaps Molly had set it up as a PR stunt.

Despite all the variables she didn’t know, she couldn’t shake the stirring response in her gut. Something about what she’d just seen made her believe there was more to him than she knew.

Confused and flustered, she quickly retraced her steps, careful not to look back down at the ice.