Page 26 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“I don’t think I’ll have time for that. I’m on call 24/7 to… handle Maddox.” Although I’m not sure about away games. Jett was going to confirm that the Brawlers agree that Coach is in charge of him on the road, or this proposition could get costly. We have a nice reunion and chat and I promise to take her to the next home game.
“How about inviting to me a part so I can meet one of those hot hockey hunks?” she asks. I laugh, but I have to let her down.
“No parties. Maddox is off parties. We’re concentrating on hockey.”
“Not even a charity event or somewhere I can meet—maybe even hook up with one of those notorious Brawlers I hear tell about?”
I snort at her. “You’re crazy. Most of them are married and the rest are harmless. Maddox is the only one you could classify as notorious.” And privately, I’m not even sure his notorious rep is deserved.
“Well then, maybe I can hook up with big bad Maddox unless you’re already—”
“No! I’m not.” She laughs. “And no, you can’t—he’s on good behavior. Strict orders for no hooking up and I can’t very well make an exception for my friend. How would that look? My boss would kill me if anyone found out.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble, but damn, girl. That’s one tough assignment you got there.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So when can we get together and hang out?”
“How about at the next Brawlers home game?”
She squeals her acceptance to the invitation. “I bet you get damn good seats as the star player’s handler.” She shoves my shoulder and I roll my eyes.
“We’ll have the best seats and a blast. Having you around will keep me sane.”
“Why is that? He driving you crazy?”
“Out of my mind.”
“Sounds like a story I want to hear about, but I have to get back to work. Managing a Paul Revere College’s rink is fun, if challenging. But don’t you worry. I’ll make sure I get time off for every single Brawlers home game for the duration. Wouldn’t miss this little adventure with you for the world.”
“You’re the best, Shelly. It’s been too long and now I remember why you were my bestie.”
“What’s this with past tense? We’re still besties.” She gives me a hug and I walk her back out to the door, sneaking a look in the direction of Knight’s room. His door is still closed and in my mind’s eye I see him splayed across the bed sleeping, hair all mussed. Shirtless…
“Call me tomorrow with the deets to meet at the Garden for the game,” Shelly says as she steps into the hallway. I nod and give her one last hug because she really is going to be my lifesaver for the next four months.
I return to my room and sort through all the clothes, relieved that I finally have a suitable pair of pumps to wear with my business suits, though not as special as the ones I lost. Checking my phone, I see it’s getting late and Knight has a haircut appointment coming up so I arrange for some food to be brought up ahead of the barber appointment then wander out to the main room. His door is still closed and I’m staring at it, considering knocking to wake him, when it flies open.
He emerges half naked. He’s dressed only in his boxers and looking far better than I recently imagined. I suck in a breath and snap my eyes back to his face, determined to keep them there.
“I need a shower,” he says, “but the one in my bathroom’s not working. Is yours?” He walks past me, his hair looking deliciously rumpled, his face dark with unshaven stubble that my palm itches to scrape across and his eyes still sleepy. He heads into my bedroom and I snap from my stupor rushing in behind him.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Too late. He stands in the middle of the room, taking in the array of clothing and other effects still spread out on my bed. It’s all out in the open, laid out like a display of my personal life. Shit. He turns and gives me a look.
“Nice underwear.” He winks, and there’s nothing half asleep about him right now, his muscles on display from his broad sinewy chest, sculpted abs, and… so much more. My eyes wander down, unable to resist checking out the wood tenting his boxers as he checks out my intimate apparel. His eyes are on my hot pink and black VS matching bra and thong. They’re in my arsenal of secret weapons along with my Christian Louboutin heels to combat occasional feelings of inadequacy in my daily dealings with the super men and women of the sports world.
I withstand his wink without flinching and he saunters into my bathroom. My automatic reflex is to follow him, but I stop short and thank god he didn’t notice. I stand outside the open bathroom door and hold myself back from going in and pulling it closed behind me.
He turns the water on in my shower and I hear the spray. Thank god my shower works and it’s only his shower that’s broken.
“Looks like yours is working,” he says when he comes out of my bathroom.
“I’ll call the hotel manager.” I pick up the phone right away and tap on the button. He keeps his eyes away from the bed and I can tell he’s impatient to take his shower. After a few seconds on the phone, I hang up.
“They’re sending someone. I’m sure they’ll have your shower fixed up in no time.” I escort him back out of my bedroom, careful not to touch him, to keep my hands off those impressive muscles, hard and bulging biceps and chest covered in a light sheen of sweat that makes him glisten. Even from behind, watching his back and shoulders rippling, his thigh and calf muscles bunching and unbunching with each graceful step, I feel the power and energy coming off him. I make the mistake of breathing deep, taking in that ridiculously intoxicating male scent of his.
“Why don’t you get dressed while we’re waiting?” My voice comes out high but otherwise calm and reasonable. He gives me one of those looks that saysI know what you’re thinking. I know you’re salivating at my half naked body and having a hard time resisting.
Okay, maybe his look implies a general accusation and it’s mostly my guilty conscience projecting all the details again. Either way, I heave a sigh of relief when he goes back into his bedroom without saying a word. When he comes back out a minute later in a T-shirt that saysI Do my balling on Virginia Beachpaired with his standard gym shorts, I resist commenting. A second later, the knock on the door relieves us from having to carry on a conversation. I’m irrationally thrilled to open the door to let the hotel’s plumber and a manager inside.
They gawk at Knight and address him as if I’m not in the room because after all, he’s the celebrity.I could really use my confidence boosting Christian Louboutin heels about now.
