Page 6 of Sexting the Coach (Pucking Daddies #6)

Weston

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Karlee’s voice echoes out into the woods beyond us, loud and angry enough that I’m surprised it didn’t disturb any wildlife. If there are any bears back there, they probably tucked tail and turned the other way.

My career as the Squids head coach might have been short lived, but at least I had fun while I was here. I spring away from Elsie, which only manages to make me look more guilty.

Elsie is, in typical fashion, flushed from head to toe, her brown eyes practically glowing in the overhead light from the lamp on the side of the cabin. Elsie looks gorgeous.

And Karlee looks like she could rip my head clean off my body.

In typical GM fashion, she launches right into a speech about how stupid I’m being, swinging her arms around to illustrate her point as she says, “Are you serious, Wolfe? After everything with Morton, you’re going to do this?

There are security cameras out here that caught whatever it is that you’ve been doing. ”

Time slows, and not for the first time tonight, I hear myself thinking, What the fuck am I doing?

Why did I follow her out here? Logically, I know that I shouldn’t even be out here, talking to her.

Even though I thought talking about the text was the right move, I’m not stupid.

Being alone behind the building with her, when I haven’t stopped thinking about that text—about her, period—was not a smart move.

And now I’m going to pay for it.

Karlee doesn’t wait for me to answer that question. Instead, she takes the three little steps down to the patch of dirt we’re standing in and moves closer to us, her gaze narrowed in on me as she crosses her arms, her windbreaker making a swishing sound as she does.

“Incredibly unprofessional,” she spits, reaching out for Elsie, and I see the flicker of something else there—this isn’t just about me, it’s about the fact that it’s Elsie, too.

They know one another, and it’s clear Karlee feels a need to protect her.

“Another fucking scandal. Are coaches just incapable of understanding consent, or what? With a girl half your age! I can hear the fucking police sirens. Come on, Elsie, we have to—”

“We’re dating, Karlee,” Elsie says, pushing Karlee’s hand off her arm and stepping closer to me.

What?

I don’t have time to process what she’s just said because she scoots next to me, sliding her hand around my back and tucking herself into my side. I lift my arm automatically, my body willing to do anything to get her close, and we slot together easily.

The result is what must look like a completely natural movement practiced plenty of times by two people who have often touched before.

Karlee is not buying it.

She crosses her arms, popping out a hip and looking us over with shrewd eyes. “You don’t have to protect him, Elsie. I think I would know if the two of you were dating.”

“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” Elsie says, and when I glance down at her, I’m shocked at how believable she is. Right now, her flush and shaking hands seems genuine, rather than a sign that she’s not telling the truth. “But it was so new, and obviously my parents are not going to be thrilled.”

“Ye-ah,” Karlee barks out a laugh, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. Her matching windbreaker set makes noise as she shifts, taking a deep breath and looking up at the sky. “Oh, fuck, your mom is going to kill me.”

“Don’t tell her—just let me handle it,” Elsie says, and I have no idea how she’s gotten Karlee from disbelief to already thinking about the logistics of her parents.

Up to this point, I’d assumed that her wearing her emotions on the outside would mean she was easy to read.

Maybe not. “Please, Karlee. I know it seems kind of weird, but I’m really happy.

This is totally consensual, and we’re not really even at work right now. ”

“Doubt HR is going to give a shit about the semantics,” Karlee mutters, but when she opens her mouth to say more, someone from administration throws the door open, their eyes barely registering Elsie and I before landing on Karlee.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, and I remember she’s Karlee’s assistant. “But there’s an issue with the food—some of the guys are saying the meat was undercooked, and the chefs are—”

“I’m coming,” Karlee says, turning on her heel and heading for the door.

Before she pushes through it, she turns to us, her sharp eyes still assessing, like she doesn’t fully believe this story.

Pointing at us, she says, “You two need to go to HR with this. It has to be documented for the organization’s sake.

And you’d better talk to PR, too—God fucking help us when this gets out. ”

With that, she pushes through the door, and I pull my arm off of Elsie, despite how much my body wants me to pull her in tighter, get her against that wall again, finish what we started earlier.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper. Now, it’s my turn to cross my arms.

Elsie’s eyes go wide, and she gives me an incredulous look, “Are you serious? That was me saving your ass!”

“Why?”

Maybe it came from far too many years of marriage to Leda, but there has to be a reason she’s doing this.

Something she wants from me. If there’s one thing I learned from that woman, it’s that everything is transactional, and if you think it’s not, you just don’t know what you’re expected to give up.

“What do you mean?” Elsie’s brow wrinkles, and I resist the urge to reach out and smooth the little spot between her eyebrows with my thumb.

“This was my fault,” I say, clearing my throat and standing a little taller. “I shouldn’t have followed you out here—and we shouldn’t have been…”

What exactly were we doing against the wall? Almost-kissing? Flirting? Whatever it was, clearly it was enough for Karlee to see red, which means I should have known better. I should have kept my distance from Elsie, maybe just let her fall on her ass.

“I’ll go to Karlee and HR and tell them the truth,” I say, taking a deep breath, knowing this means I’ll lose my job. But it’s the right thing to do—I’m not going to let Elsie lie to a friend like this, and the bit about her parents being pissed didn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

She looks at me like I’m crazy. “What—why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” I deliver this with what I know to be a lacking conviction. “This whole thing is my fault.”

“Okay—okay,” Elsie pushes her hands into her hair and starts to pace in front of me, her long legs swinging out in front of her with each step. Her black converse are scuffed and dirty from the week of camp events, and her joggers hug her hips and tighten in around her ankles.

“Elsie—” I try, realizing I’m already checking her out again and need to stop. This is exactly what got me into this situation in the first place.

“No, just listen—” she pauses, turns on her heel, and continues pacing in the other direction, not looking at me as she starts to talk, her words coming at a faster and faster clip.

“First, this whole thing wasn’t completely your fault.

I sent that text, and that’s what started it.

So, I can take accountability for that.”

Actually, it was her bursting into my room that started it. Or maybe just her having the gall to accept the job with the Squids, coming around every day, filling every room with her laughter and getting all the guys all mushy over her. Being around, day in and day out. Existing near me.

But I don’t say any of that, I just watch her pace and let her go on.

“Second, this job is important to me. I need to keep it—I haven’t even gotten a chance to help anyone yet.”

There’s something a little desperate in her tone, and I file it away, watching her face as it cracks slightly, revealing something I don’t quite understand.

She runs her hands over her hair again, flattening down the fly-aways and turning to me, so she’s back lit by the lamp, her silhouette tall, her shoulders pulled back.

“And finally, the Squids need you, too. If you guys want a chance at the Stanley Cup, you have to stay.”

“You’re that confident in my abilities, huh?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her, ignoring the little spark that causes in my chest.

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a slight quirk to her lips, like she knows how the compliment pleased me. “Turbulence with the coaching staff is never good for team morale.”

“And how would you know that?”

“At the risk of sounding snobby,” she laughs, pressing her lips together, giving me a joking look, “You do know who I am, right? I grew up in the NHL. Understanding this stuff was like learning about my own family dynamics.”

“So, what, we’re…dating now? You should know that I’m not really available.”

Her face goes pale, and she steps closer to me, eyes widening, “You’re dating someone?”

“No—” it comes out a little too fast, and I clear my throat, trying to regain control. “No, but I’m not looking to date anyone right now.”

“Neither am I,” she says, in a voice that says you’re so arrogant. “I’m fresh off a break-up. We’re not really dating—we can just keep it up long enough to convince Karlee you weren’t doing anything untoward, then have an amicable split. Easy.”

I bite my tongue to keep from asking her about her recent break-up, to keep from laughing at the idea of an amicable split—that’s how it was supposed to be with me and Leda.

“This was my fault,” Elsie doubles down. “I sent that text, and I gave you the wrong idea.”

Why does the sound of that make my chest tighten? It’s a good thing that the text was an accident. I have no interest in this woman.

“So, Wolfe, do we have a deal?” she asks. A second later, she sticks her hand out toward me, palm up, like she’s just remembered how people signify a deal.

I’m not happy about the idea of touching her again. Not while we’re still out here alone. And this entire thing sounds like a terrible idea to me.

But Elsie seems confident. And right now, I don’t have much of a choice.

“Sure,” I say, sliding my hand into hers, swearing that flush on her face grows a little darker when I do. Her palm is warm, dry, hand smaller than mine but her fingers long, wrapping around mine. “We have a deal, Montgomery.”