Page 5 of Shootout
Jessie read my mind and scurried on all fours away from me, giving me a delectable view, which I appreciated more than a decent human being should’ve. But who said I was decent?
She was still cursing. Our little liaison had obviously ended.
I grasped the door handle and hauled myself to my feet. Scooping up both towels, I held one out to her. She snatched it from my fingers and wrapped it around her body. I’m not ashamed to say I was disappointed to lose the view.
“Don’t you have your own locker room?” she spat with impressive venom.
“I do. I, uh, yeah. I do, but the shower is closed for cleaning.” I stuttered and stammered like my thirteen-year-old self after approaching the hottest girl in school.
“If you value your dick, you’ll move out of my way right now or else.” She punctuated her threat with a wicked glance down at my now-erect cock. Misinterpreting her meaning, it twitched in response.
“Or else?” I repeated dumbly. My usual glib tongue had deserted me.
She made a snipping motion with her fingers. I shuddered and gingerly shuffled out of the way.
She pushed past me, head held high, and strode into the locker room. I debated on following her but decided not to push my luck. I suspected she might make good on her threat, and I liked my dick right where it was.
With a sigh and relieved my humiliation was over, I dropped my towel on a bench and turned on the shower, making it colder than desired just to calm myself down. I’d probably get called into HR tomorrow for sexual harassment.
As the cold water shocked my system back to a semblance of normalcy, I reclaimed control of my head and cringed inwardly. Now that I had my wits about me, I needed to apologize more profusely. I might be a bad-boy asshole, but I wasn’t one to treat women as objects or take advantage of situations like this.
Toweling off and wrapping the towel around my waist to cover up certain parts, I ventured into the locker room, rehearsing in my head what to say to her.
She was gone, and I had no idea where, but I had to find her. Not because I might get in trouble if she repeated this story with her own personal slant, but because I needed to grovel for her forgiveness.
Dressing as quickly as possible, I jogged down the hall to the parking garage entrance and yanked open the heavy metal door so hard it slammed into the concrete wall. I was just in time to see red taillights disappear into the darkness.
Fuck.
I stood on the concrete and wondered what to do next. If only Braden were around. He’d tell me what to do, but he had his own problems. We’d grown apart since he’d been taken by the Portland Icehawks in the expansion draft earlier in the year.
I was in a new town with a new team. I had a negative history with most of these guys, and they would be hard to win over. Whoever Jessie was, she had connections with the Sockeyes, or she wouldn’t have been skating all by herself in the Sockeye rink.
I might be in deeper shit than I imagined.
ChapterOne
COLD RECEPTION
~~Jessie~~
Isat down in the staff conference room at the Sockeyes Hockey Athletic Center, fondly known as the SHAC. It was far from a shack. In fact, it’d been built for the team eight years ago when they’d been purchased by billionaire Ethan Parker and moved from Florida to Seattle. The facility housed three rinks: one was part of the Sockeyes’ practice facility, and the other two encompassed a skating complex designed to promote hockey and figure skating in the Seattle area.
My mostly sleepless night had been inundated with images of a naked hockey player writhing on top of me with his impressive hard-on rubbing against my private parts. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he felt, all hard muscles wrapped up in a gorgeous example of male beauty.
I had to stop reliving last night and face my first day at my brand-new job. Despite being sleep-deprived, I had butterflies flapping around in my stomach.
Now was not the time to fret about Banks. I relegated him to a remote area of my brain. I had enough to deal with right now. I’d track down Geneva and explain later. And Banks, well, I hoped I never saw the man again but doubted I’d be that lucky.
I glanced around at the faces, all male; not one of them looked at me. Up until today, the one area women hadn’t infiltrated within Seattle Sockeyes management was the youth hockey program. I was chosen to be the first woman selected as a player development coach within that system.
“Welcome,” said Pete Stevens, the director of the Sockeyes Youth Hockey Program. I’d done my homework on my colleagues. Stevens was in his fifties, and he’d played college hockey back in his twenties. His expertise proved to be in coaching, and he coached multiple junior teams that made the playoffs or won it all. Now he devoted his time to developing younger players and working with the most talented children the area had to offer.
The small group quieted and focused on Pete.
“I hope you’re ready for another fantastic season of youth hockey. Our summer camps had waiting lists despite adding more sessions, and our fall programs are looking to be as popular.”
The men nodded and murmured their agreement. I managed a stiff smile, the most I could do considering the frostiness in the room.
