Page 9 of Off the Post

Confusion and mayhem, we’ve all come to learn, are just part of the game when talking to Tanner. The plus side is that Rossy is an excellent communicator on the ice, where he is clear and intentional, creating good team dynamics.

Out in the wild, however, Rossy is on an island all his own.

Ballas claps us all on the back as he heads out to his car. “I’m outta here, fellas. Have fun at this Playgirl shoot Rossy’s arranged for you all.”

Rossy throws his hands in the air as if aggrieved in some way. “It’s a calendar shoot, Beast, not a dirty magazine!”

I click my car fob to open my trunk, set my bag down in it, and pull my phone from my pocket. There had been some sort of conflict the last time Rossy mentioned the photoshoot, but I can’t remember what it was.

And then I see it.

“Oh, shit,” I gripe, noticing the date overlaps with when Anna and the kids arrive. “Dude, I may have a problem.”

Tanner looks at me expectantly. “You can’t back out on me now, bruh. Whatever it is, you’ll have to cancel it.”

I shake my head and let out a loud sigh. I suppose I can schedule a pickup at the airport for them and organize something for them to do while I’m getting my photo taken. How long should a photo take?

“Yeah, fine. I’ll make it work.”

“It’s definitely not a hot date,” comments Lyons, clearly feeling freer with his chirps after a few too many beers. “We all know The Wolf is a monk.” And then he howls.

Like a goddamn wolf.

I glare and growl menacingly at Lyons. This gives me so much pleasure that I bare my teeth in the wolfish scowl that I’ve been told makes me look predatorial. He instinctively shrinks back though he’s standing two parked cars away from mine and quickly jumps into his car.

Good. He deserves it. The punk.

“I get plenty, asshole.”

Honestly, I don’t. It’s not easy for me to date. The superficial chitchat bores me to tears, to the point where the mere thought of having to do that makes me dread meeting someone new.

I do hope I’ll meet someone that just gets me someday. A woman who can read me without explanation, who understands me to the core and accepts my idiosyncrasies without the need to dig deeper.

Because if they do, they’ll probably not like what they find.

I know I don’t.

5

Ali

“Here. Have some M&M’s,” Leanne suggests helpfully, sliding a bowl of the colorful chocolate candies across her desk. “They’re great for stress relief and PMSing when you feel stabby.”

I look up from my iPad to the dish, then my gaze bounces between my new boss and the candy, as if this decision will impact the rest of my life. Leanne flaps her hand like you would shoo away a concern. “Please, help yourself.”

My fingers smooth over my eyebrow, and I chew on my lower lip. “I don’t know… I have no portion control. An open bag of sweets can quickly turn dangerous.” I shrug and pull a face. “I might end up eating them all in one sitting.”

“And that is a problem, how?” She grins.

I don’t want to let my boss down, so I pluck out a red one and nibble on it.

“There you go. Join me on the dark side, my young apprentice.” She cackles and waggles her brows, her expression mimicking an evil overlord.

I give her a mock glare. “I thought you were supposed to be my mentor and guide me toward good decisions?” Leanne and I have clicked so easily in just a few short days that I feel completely at ease as we tease back and forth.

Leanne chuckles. She gracefully tucks her sleek dark hair behind one ear, showing off a diamond earring that coordinates well with her pink silk blouse.

“I do my best to ensure you have the right tools to do the job,” she offers, plucking the dish away from me and dumping a few of the candy pieces in her palm before tossing them into her mouth. “And sometimes, those tools are made with sugar.”