Alex (Cold Fury Hockey, #1)(30)

Chuckling, I say, “Then I’m surprised you didn’t Google your question about that disallowed goal.”

“Nah. Why would I do that when I have an inside connection to a real live professional hockey player.”

“Good point,” I tell her. “So, you can normally deflect a puck off your stick into the net, but it won’t be allowed if you raise your stick higher than the crossbar on the net.”

“What’s the purpose behind that?”

“An attempt to keep players safe…keep sticks away from faces. They put in rules to make us keep our sticks down low to help prevent facial injuries.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” she says softly. “So, what are you doing right now?”

“Lying in bed. You?”

“Same,” she murmurs and my imagination takes off. I can see her clear as day, lying naked on a bed of satin with her red hair splayed out all around. My cock twitches at the thought and I wonder if I could carry on a conversation with her while jacking off to that image in my mind.

Sutton interrupts those lewd thoughts though when she says, “Teach me something else.”

“Like what?”

“How about…teach me about the various penalties,” she suggests.

I settle back against the headboard of the hotel bed, masturbation forgotten, and we talk for the next thirty minutes about hockey penalties and the resulting consequences. It’s only when she yawns into the phone that I realize it’s just past midnight and I have to be up in about five hours to get ready for my flight.

“It’s getting late,” I tell her. “We should catch some sleep.”

“You’re right. I can’t believe we talked that long.”

I could keep talking all night with her, I think to myself, and all of a sudden, I wonder for a fleeting but desperate moment, what it would be like to have someone like Sutton all to myself. To have someone who was mine, and I was hers, and we’d stay up for hours at night talking on the phone. I wonder because, sadly, I’ve never had a serious relationship with a woman in my entire life. I’ve never even had a five-minute conversation on the phone with a woman, much less a half-hour conversation.

“You still coming to watch our practice Sunday?”

“I’ll be there. Did you finish reading the binder?”

“Most of it. I’ve jotted down some ideas we can talk about when we meet.”

“Awesome,” she says. “Thanks for doing that, Alex.”

“No problem. Thanks for not bashing me over the head with that binder. I’ve given you a few reasons to do that.”

She giggles into the phone and f*ck, if that isn’t like the best sound ever. “Okay, go get some sleep,” she tells me, her voice floating over me like soft cotton. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Good night,” I tell her.

“Good night, Alex.”

When I disconnect, I quickly set the alarm to get up at 5 A.M. and then flip off the lamp beside the bed, plunging the room into darkness.

It’s funny how my night had started so shitty, yet ended on such a positive note. How can a thirty-minute conversation with Sutton bring me out of my funk? And we talked about hockey of all things.

Hockey! That sport I f*cking detest.

But for some reason, whenever I talk to her about it, it’s fun. It actually makes me happy to share my knowledge with her. I’d even go so far as to say that the conversation brought me f*cking joy tonight.

Fucking joy. I can’t believe I’d use that and hockey in the same sentiment.

I’m beginning to understand that perhaps I need to peel my blinders back a little bit. My dad molded me out of muscle, bone and raw talent but as he pushed me forward, he never let me look around at the world. He never let me form my own opinions. He never let me experience any joys. By the time I’d left home for good at the age of sixteen to join the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League, my dad’s influence had already damaged me greatly. My hatred for the sport had already been cemented, and I didn’t know any way to find happiness in hockey.

That is, until tonight, when I spent half an hour teaching Sutton about the game. Now, all of a sudden, I’m excited about her coming to watch me practice. I know she’ll have a gazillion questions afterward, and it will be my pleasure to show her all about my sport.

I don’t know what it is about Sutton that sets her apart. Maybe it’s the way she refused to judge me when I first met her in her office. Or maybe it’s the way she lives her life with such zest. It could possibly even be the fact that the girl is smokin’ hot and I’m seriously attracted to her.

Whatever the reasons, I like Sutton Price. I like her a lot and for probably a million other reasons. I probably like her most for the fact that she is getting me to reevaluate the way I look at things.

I close my eyes as a smile lingers on my face, and drift off to sleep.





Chapter 10


Sutton


Interestingly enough, I actually needed a ticket to get into the Cold Fury’s Sunday practice session and Alex had sent one over to the office for me. Not all of the practices are closed. When they practice at the actual Cold Fury arena, those are usually open to the public. But when they practice in this small, private facility, they let in people only by invitation, and so I needed a ticket. Had we not planned on working after, I would have asked for an extra ticket for Glenn, but I’m hoping I can get one for him another time.