Destiny on Ice (Boys of Winter #1)(43)

Lucky for me, Mr. Dolby, a much more cautious man by nature, balks at the idea of a contract extension.

I breathe a sigh of relief when he says, “Let’s see how things go the next month or two. We’ve seen this pattern with Brent for the past three seasons. He starts out strong, but it never seems to last.” He eyes me pointedly. “Remember to keep on him about staying focused. The last thing he needs is a distraction.”

Like me?

Clearing my throat, I say, “Yes, sir.”

“Are you still having daily meetings with him?” Mr. Dolby asks.

Hmm, this is where it’s going to get tricky.

“Um,” I begin, “well, he’s been really busy lately with the start of the season. But we try to make time to talk.”

Not true.

It’s a small fib to protect us both. The truth is Brent and I speak one-on-one only if other people are around. That means our private meetings have dwindled to none. I just can’t trust myself around him, and I think he feels the same way.

“Going forward, I’d like for you to spend as much time as you can with your client, Ms. Shelburne.” Mr. Dolby stands, signaling an end to the meeting. “You seem to be exceptionally good for him.”

Yeah, that’s the problem.

We know there could be something “exceptionally good” between us, but not in the way the team wants. And that’s why we can’t be alone together. Not being allowed to give this thing a try makes us want it all the more. There are days I crave Brent Oliver. I long for him to touch me. And I sure as hell want him to kiss me again.

But no, none of that can happen.

That’s why when we’re in his house, we’re never alone. Not only does Brent invite Benny and Nolan over all the time, along with a bunch of other players I’m getting to know, but a day after our encounter in my bedroom he hired two live-in employees. There’s now a housekeeper and a cook on the premises, though their accommodations are located on the first floor.

Nevertheless, we take steps to avoid running into each other in the upstairs hallway that separates our bedrooms. I always stick my head outside my door before leaving my room to make sure the coast is clear. I suspect Brent does the same since there’ve been no slipups on either of our parts.

A day after the meeting with Mr. Dolby and the coach, it’s time to hit the road for upcoming games in Detroit and Chicago. I pack my bags and head to the airport by myself. When I arrive, I notice Brent’s already there. We share a nod and a smile, and then busy ourselves with talking with other people.

All the guys look so damn good in their finely tailored suits, but Brent especially does. When we all start boarding the team plane, I make sure he’s in front of me so I can check out the view.

Wow, what an ass!

I suddenly wish we were flying off to some exotic locale, sans the team.

How romantic would that be?

Stop it, Aubrey!

I sit far away from Brent on the plane and continue to avoid him in the hotel we’re staying in. I hole up in my room, waiting for the game against Detroit.

That game turns out to be another great one. Brent racks up four points, two goals and two assists, and the OPS line is firing on all cylinders. In addition, and giving my libido a mighty boost, Brent gets into a fight late in the third period.

Shit, seeing him all riled up gets me all riled.

I squirm in my seat as I watch him throw a mean right hook that knocks the other player off his skates. When the player gets up, they go at it again and have to be broken up by the linesmen. Since it’s so late in the game, Brent gets kicked out for fighting. I’m fine with that. It gives me a perfect opportunity to watch him as he skates off the ice, all sweaty and fired up. I allow myself an indulgent moment to imagine what it’d be like to meet up with this angry version of Brent in the locker room. He’d have all that aggression to work out.

“Oh my,” I squeak out, making the people around me look at me strangely.

Time to go.

But not to the locker room.

I beeline instead to the bus that will be taking us all to the airport, after all the players are showered and locker room interviews are concluded.

On the plane to Chicago, I sit next to Benny. He’s seated by the window and out like a light. When Brent boards, he chooses the seat across the aisle from me.

“Hey, Aubrey,” he says as he gets comfortable.

I give him a little wave. “Hey, Brent. Great game, by the way.”

“Thanks,” he replies, smiling.

I notice he has a split lip, a tiny reminder of the fight. “Does it hurt?” I quietly ask.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he does. “No, it doesn’t hurt at all. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Yeah, sure.” His eyes meet mine and we share a bittersweet smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” I whisper.

We can’t tear our gazes away from one another. “That’s sweet of you to worry,” he says.

I stare into those whiskey-shaded orbs longer than I should. He makes no move to turn away, either.

I hate that I can’t be alone with you, I try to convey.

All I want is to be alone with you, I think he says back.

What are we going to do?

Our silent communication is unfortunately interrupted when Nolan makes his way to the seat behind Brent’s. “You two seriously need to get a room,” he mutters.