Page 42 of The Big Puck

They talked about me. Fuck. There’s no way I’m going to ask. There’s nothing they could have said that I’d want to know about.

I clear my throat. “I’ll be having company this weekend.” She looks up, her eyes bright and interested, her smile unfailingly pleased, like she’s always got a good buzz going—high on life, they call it. I wouldn’t know. I squelch the impulse to clear my throat again.

“Spit it out. Who?”

“My girlfriend, Shonda Evans. I mentioned her…” I don’t know if I did. I should have. Though it doesn’t feel exactly right calling her my girlfriend at this point. Fuck.

Lainey looks at me like there must be more to the story. Sadly, there’s not. If I’m honest with myself, there’s a ninety percent chance this weekend will be the end of the story. Not sure why. Double fuck.

“That’s terrific. I bet you miss her. Has she met Krissy yet? Will you be taking time off? Maybe I should stay with my brother for the weekend—”

“No. I…won’t be taking time off. She’s never met Krissy.” I doubt she has baby experience since the fact that I inherited Krissy was her final excuse not to move with me to Portsmouth.

We were fine when I was at St. Paul U, but neither of us jumped wholeheartedly into the idea of a long-distance relationship. She likes the idea that I’m an NHL coach, and she enjoys our relationship between the sheets—so do I—but I honestly don’t know what else we have.

Nothing.

“Oh, right. I’ll be here then to take care of Krissy, and I promise to stay out of your way and give you privacy.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I don’t explain. She gives me a look like she’s expecting or hoping for something more. But no explanation is forthcoming from me, and it makes me frown because she should know better by now. “It’ll be fine.” Fuck. I didn’t need to say that.

She smiles, or I should say, she smiles more broadly, more brilliantly, as in trumpets should be blaring and all flowers should be leaning in her direction.

“Shonda will bring work with her. We’ll probably go out for dinner, so you won’t need to cook for us.”

“Great. I’m going to clean up now. You can go and watch your tapes or do what you need to do.” She makes a shooing motion and, turning to the sink, rattles some pans around.

I’m dismissed. I have the urge to say the words out loud to get a reaction or an explanation from her. Maybe I feel like she owes me something because I stood up for her honor earlier, or maybe I feel more connected because I feel protective.

Hell. I’m a protective guy in general. I always stand up for the vulnerable person in any situation. It’s how I’m built. It’s why I want to take good care of Krissy. So why should Lainey be any different?

“You can join me when you finish,” I say. What the fuck am I doing?

She swings around to face me, a smile so intensely brilliant aimed directly at my face, that I feel it heat me up all the way down to my dick. Sweet Jesus. Beams of positive energy bounce around the room like she just released a mega slapshot from her heart.

That’s what I’m doing—instigating this reaction from her so I can feel it rumble through my body like a wave of relief. It’s a fucking selfish thing to do. The last thing she needs is encouragement from me. I already told her she’s off-limits, so why am I suddenly sending mixed signals? She’s no less dangerous now, no less tempting.

Then again, maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, and she doesn’t feel the sparks that I do. She’s a people pleaser, so naturally she wants to please me because I’m her boss. She can’t be into me for any other reason. Look at her.

Young and fresh, with legs long and shapely, her body rounded where it needs to be, and her face—soft velvety skin, lush lips, those big blue eyes that express everything from deep in her soul, innocence and mischief in every look. Somehow, everything about her adds up to Lainey, a sexy-as-sin temptress with a heart of gold and crazy cooking skills.

And me? I’m an old guy who used to play hockey and got this one-year deal to coach because I’m a nobody, and only a nobody would take the deal for the terms offered.

That was probably not disappointment I saw flicker in her eyes when I mentioned Shonda’s visit. It was most likely annoyance, or if she was disappointed it was because she likes spending time with Krissy. She wants to please me, to help me, because she has a giving soul, not because she’s attracted.

The spark I sometimes feel between us could be real, but it’s animal instinct, not human, not something to be acted upon. Not unless I want to suffer the consequences.

The way Gavonza talked, he’d turn any whiff of impropriety into a jailable offense if he could. And he’s not blind. He’s seen Lainey, and he knows she lives with me. Fuck.

I sit in my chair, and she takes the chair next to me, giving me a sideways glance, pleased beyond reason as she smooths her billowy dress across her lap.

Reaching over, she touches my arm. It’s a small gesture, hardly anything, but it feels like I’m being electrocuted the way I sizzle.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, her brilliant smile and wide eyes telling me everything inside her words, underneath the simple phrase.

She lets go of my arm and skin, and my entire body still sizzles. That sizzle says I’m in trouble because she’s so fucking into me—I’m trying to kid myself if I believe otherwise—and she’s so fucking gorgeous, inside and out, and sexy, and somehow would be appealing if she were wearing a burlap bag and a ski mask and all I heard was her voice and that sexy laugh.

But I’m above all that. I have this under control. She’s not for me. Aside from Gavonza’s threat—which is more like a red flag to a bull—she’s too young, too sunny, and she’s the sister of my star player. No way can I do anything that would mess with his head this season.