Page 14

Chloe

I swallow.

Hard.

He’s in nothing but low slung black sweatpants.

I’ve seen Gunner without his shirt on before.

I’ve seen all the guys that way—hazard of the job.

But I always specifically try to avoid being around Gunner when he’s not fully dressed.

There’s a reason for that.

This.

This is that reason.

I turn back around and try to keep a cool head.

“Chloe, look at me.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

I turn around and cross my arms across my chest.

“What?”

“We have our own dieticians. How is it that you’re getting sick like that? Just tell them what you can and can’t have.”

I laugh.

“That’s for the players. You know—the ones who make millions a year. I’m not one of them, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You work for the team. There’s no reason for you to get sick like that.” He runs a hand over his head.

“I thought maybe you got a slight stomachache, not that you get severely sick and can’t stop throwing up. You need to tell them; you shouldn’t take this lightly.”

Anger starts to build.

“I think I know how to take care of myself.”

“Do you? Because that’s not what I saw last night. If you won’t deal with it; I will.”

“Don’t threaten me, Coftman.”

“I’m not, and would you please call me by my name? This whole Coftman thing is getting old.”

I shake my head and grab my stuff and head towards the door.

“Is this what I get to look forward to for the duration of this fake fiancé thing? You bossing me around?”

He crosses his arms across his chest and shrugs.

“If you need it.”

Seething with anger, I grab my bags.

“See you, Coftman .” I close the door behind me and make my way down the hallway to the elevator and to the same room we ate dinner in last night; the team will eat breakfast here this morning before we get on the road.

I find a table in the corner of the room and get my laptop out, so I can get to work.

The coaching staff shows up just a few minutes later, and I move to their table so I can get the updated roster for tonight’s game and get it to the media.

“Morning, Chloe,” Coach Seers says as he settles at the table.

“Morning, Coach.”

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

It doesn’t take long for me to get what I need, and I’m able to move back to my table.

I’m busy working as the team starts making their way into the large room for breakfast or brunch really.

I see a commotion out of the corner of my eye and look up to see Kyle and Owen, two of the rookies this year, going at it.

It looks like Scott is getting in on it too.

I glance around the room and notice the coaching staff is already gone.

I have no problem telling them to cut it out, but if it comes to blows, I won’t be able to stop it.

I see Rico and Aiden getting food; both of them have their backs to what’s going on.

I’m just about ready to stand up when he comes in.

Gunner strides into the room like he owns it.

I try not to notice how he fills out the navy suit he’s wearing; but it’s impossible.

“Hey.” One word from him, and it stops.

“It’s game day. Get your act together.”

“Sorry, Cap,” Owen mutters.

Gunner strides past them and over to the food line.

“What’d you do to Cap?” Sebastian asks from right next to me, nearly startling me right out of my chair.

“Sebastian, warn a girl!”

He looks down at me.

“He was supposed to be in a better mood, not worse after spending the night with you.”

I wad up the napkin next to me and throw it at him.

“Stop making it sound worse than it was. We were in the same room; that’s it.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I can tell that from a mile away.”

“Seb, stop flirting with Chloe and get food,” Gunner says in a sharp tone as he walks towards us.

“Not flirting,” Seb says as he walks past to get food.

Gunner puts his plate down and pulls out the chair next to me.

“You don’t need to eat here,” I tell him without looking at him.

“You can eat with your teammates.”

“I’m eating with my fiancé.” His words have a bite to them.

“Well, nobody asked you to,” I mutter under my breath.

I close my laptop.

“I’m getting food.” Not because I’m hungry but because I don’t want to sit with the cranky captain a moment longer.

“They’re making you a plate.”

I frown.

“What? Who’s making me a plate?”

“The wait staff. I gave them a list of what you can’t have and asked them to prepare a plate.”

My eyes narrow on him.

“And they did it, just like that?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell them it was for me?” When he doesn’t say anything, I have my answer.

“Of course they did it. They probably think it’s for a player.” I shove my chair in.

“Stop trying to control things, Coftman.”

“I’m not controlling things; I’m simply helping you get food that won’t make you sick.”

“Well, fat chance of that because everything makes me sick.” I regret the words as soon as I say them.

He looks up at me, and I resist the urge to step back now that his entire attention is focused on me.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

I walk past him to head to the buffet, but his hand encircles my wrist and pulls me to a stop.

“I told you they’re making you a plate.”

“And I told you I don’t need you to step in. I can take care of myself.”

“Ooo, trouble in paradise?” a voice says, really close to me.

“Get lost, Zac,” Gunner growls.

“No way. This is much more fun.” He pulls out a chair and sits at the table.

I pull on my hand, and Gunner releases it.

“Zac’s here now. Maybe you can micromanage his life.”

“Uh, no thanks?” Zac says, sounding confused.

I storm up to the buffet, feeling like I want to hurt somebody.

I decide to veer towards the bathroom for a moment to try to compose myself.

“Oooo, watch out. Chloe the Cold-hearted is on the warpath.” The whispered words are loud enough for me to hear, and I turn my gaze on Kyle, the rookie who hasn’t learned yet to keep his mouth shut.

“What did you say?” I ask sharply.

He smirks at me, and it sets my teeth on edge.

“I didn’t say anything.”

I step towards him.

I’m almost eye-level with him in my heels.

“I have the power to make you look really good this season, Rookie.” I don’t tell him the alternative; hopefully he’s got enough brain activity in his head to figure it out.

“You must be really good in bed.”

I recoil, shocked.

“Excuse me?”

“For Cap to put up with,” he motions up and down my body.

“All this. You must be really good in bed.” I stare at him, and he gives me that infuriating smirk again.

“Oh, come on. It’s not like I hurt your feelings. You have no feelings. Everybody on the team says you’re incapable of emotion, hence the nickname.”

“Kyle!” one of the guys calls.

He gives me a mock salute.

“Later, Chloe.”

I push open the door into the bathroom and escape inside.

I step into one of the stalls and close the door behind me.

There are days like this when I regret that I’m one of only three females that travel with the team.

Normally, it doesn’t bother me, but on a day like today, I wish I had someone to commiserate with.

I drop my head into my arms and run Kyle’s words through my head again.

I don’t want to, but it’s like they’re stuck on repeat.

Everybody on the team says you’re incapable of emotion.

I’ve always struggled with being soft.

I know I’m overbearing and difficult to be around.

I’ve always been driven by my work and a desire to be my very best; but sometimes, I wish I could be like other females—be all soft and warm and laugh more and not be so critical.

I sigh and blink back tears before I get control of myself.

“What is wrong with me?” This is so not me—sitting on a toilet, commiserating just because a hockey player said awful things about me.

It’s definitely not the first time it’s happened.

I fight the urge to cry, which is so not me; and then I groan.

There’s only one reason I’m feeling this way.

I close my eyes.

My period’s coming.

I’m not an emotional person ever, unless I’m on my period.

Even then, I vacillate between crying and wanting to murder anybody within a six foot vicinity; you just never know which way it’s going to go.

A few minutes later, I leave the restroom.

Right now, I need to focus on two things—not crying at the drop of a hat and not murdering anybody.

With Kyle’s words ringing in my ears, I steer clear of any players and skirt the outside of the room to get to my table.

Thankfully, Gunner isn’t there at the moment.

I grab my bags and hightail it out of there and make my way to one of the private cubicles off the lobby where I can work in silence before we have to hit the road.

I shut the rest of the world out and work until it’s time to load up.

Not wanting to have to talk to anybody, I wait until nearly everyone is on board before I head out to the bus.

I hand my bag off and step onto the bus.

I don’t bother looking for Gunner; I just want to slip into the first available seat.

Before I get to the open seat I spy in the third row, a big body blocks my path.

“I was looking for you.”

I meet Gunner’s eyes.

“I was working.”

His eyes narrow on mine, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ve got seats for us back here.” I don’t want to follow him, and I don’t want to sit with him.

But I agreed to this whole thing.

So without a word, I follow him to almost the middle of the bus.

He steps back, and I slide into the seat by the window.

I shove my bag under the seat in front of me and then turn my gaze out the window, hoping it’s a quick ride.