“I am not hiding.”
Scarlett deadpans, “You’re descending.”
Piper squeezes my arm. “Relax. Players have their own side upstairs too. They won’t come in here unless invited.”
Good. My pulse ignores logic completely.
And for the first time since stepping into the Guardians arena, I don’t feel like the outsider. I stay in my seat.
Chapter Nine
Max Stevens
Outside the club, reporters crowd the entrance. Same questions, different night.
“People, you listened to my press conference remarks. Go home to your families.”
“Max, your penalty minutes are up thirty percent this month. Concerned?”
“Concerned is a strong word.”
“Toni Amato’s disciplinary program not helping?”
“Depends what you mean by helping … Gotta go, guys, there’s a glass of somethin’ waiting for me in there.”
The private lounge has top-shelf bourbon and things I don’t deserve. I should still be upstairs. The guys filtered out an hour ago, and I stayed because Trey had one more story about the Philly game, and then Coach called to run through film notes, and then I just stopped going anywhere. The quiet was good. The kind of silence you don’t get when you’re Max Stevens.
Marble floors. Dark wood. Some rich owner decided hockey players need a spa after punching each other for a living. He wasn't wrong. I find the towel rack near the back hall from memory. The facilities team leaves the sauna running Thursday nights for the players who use this level. I’m the only one who comes alone. It’s my ritual to do Contrast Therapy for key performance.
Steam curls along the ceiling of the private recovery room, thick enough to blur the recessed lights into hazy gold circles. My muscles loosen under the warm mist, but my head stays wound tight. I drag a towel over my face and swear under my breath. Two years, and she still finds the gaps I forgot to defend.
An-ton-i-a Amato. Standing in Piper’s lounge tonight, like she belongs in our world. Laughing with Scarlett. Trading sarcasm with Sophie. Letting Piper drape an arm around hershoulders as if they’ve shared secrets for years. And every few minutes, glancing toward the glass. Toward me.
I grab my towel, sling it low around my hips, and head for the ice bath for round one. Five minutes later, I step into the corridor, toweling my hair dry.
And stop dead.
Toni exits the women’s restroom across from me. Black sexy boots. Dark jeans hugging every inch of her. Silk green top cut low enough to remind me I’ve suffered enough in this life. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders.
She freezes too. Her gaze drops to my chest.
Lower. A pulse jumps in her throat before she jerks her eyes up again. Well. Would you look at that? “Evening, coach.”
She exhales through her nose. “Do players always wander public spaces half-naked?”
“Only when fate rewards them.”
“This is the private level.”
“Exactly. Premium nudity.”
Her lips twitch before she can stop it. Victory. I approach gradually, ensuring she has enough time to move. She doesn’t.Interesting.“You’ve been avoiding me,” I say.
“I’ve been enjoying my evening.”
“With one eye on the glass downstairs.”
“I was monitoring behavior.”
