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“Oh, hey, honey.” He hits pause on the game tape and drops the remote on the table. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Your practice usually lasts until at least four-thirty.”
“Coach Vaughn let us leave early.”
“You should have stayed behind to get more time in on the court.”
My dad doesn’t know the meaning of a break. All he does is work. When he’s not coaching hockey, he studies it. He’s obsessed to the point of madness. By extension, he thinks I should be as crazy about basketball. But it’s not like I plan to make a career of it.
“Three hours was enough for me. Coach Vaughn had us running suicides for over an hour. My calves are screaming at me.”
He laughs. “Uh, okay. Just make sure you don’t fall behind. You need to keep your position on the team.”
Dad sets the remote on the table and turns to face me. “Did you come in through the side entrance?”
I nod. “Uh-huh. Yep, sure did.”
Mental note: Find the side entrance.
For the love of all that is holy, I do not want to run into more dicks or Preston. Or Preston and his dick. Why am I even thinking of him?
Damn him.
“How was your day?”
I almost laugh but manage to keep a straight face. “Good. Nothing special. The usual practice and classes.”
I didn’t see a bunch of naked men on my way in here. I didn’t talk to his favorite player and break rule number one. Nope, not at all. That would make for interesting conversation, one I never want to have with my dad.
“Are you coming to the game on Friday?” He plops down on the couch in front of the TV and pats the cushion next to him.
I drop the gym bag on my shoulder to the floor and sink into the plush fabric. “Yeah, I guess.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You guess? It’s the first game of the season. You have to come. Bring some of your teammates along.”
“I’m sure Taylor will tag along with me, even though she hates the cold.”
“She’s a real California girl.”
My best friend, Taylor Bradshaw, has been my teammate and roommate since freshman year.
“What team are you playing?”
“Boston,” he says, and my blood runs cold.
I sit awkwardly still when I think about who plays for Boston College. Kellan Lehane. The asshole who ruined my life.
Dad notes the fear in my eyes. “I’m sorry, honey. I wasn’t thinking. It’s been so long since everything happened.” He places his hand over mine on the couch and holds it there. “You don’t have to come. It’s all right. Come to another game.”
I broke my dad’s rules with Kellan, and that ended horribly for me. Because of him, I no longer have the desire to date another athlete ever again. One bad apple was enough to spoil the rest. So, why do I keep thinking about Parker?
“No, I can do this. The game is a big deal for you.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve been coaching for long enough. It’s another year, different season, same game. Nothing ever changes.”
“But this is your first season as the head coach of a college team.”
Until last season, my dad was an assistant coach at Strickland University.
He crosses his arms over his chest and casts a sideways glance in my direction. “Are you trying to make me nervous?”
“No, of course not.”
He brushes it off as if his new role is not a big deal, when it’s major. “I was thinking we could grab a pizza from Gio’s, before I have to get back to work.”
“But practice is over.”
“Coaching never ends, honey. I have a few hours of tapes to run through before I head home.”
I frown, saddened that his life has been reduced to sitting in dank offices watching old hockey games. “You work too much.”
“You worry too much.”
I laugh.
He smiles. “What do you say? Wanna eat with your old man before you head back to your dorm?”
“Sounds good. But only if we can get pepperoni.”
He holds out his hand for me to slap, because that’s what you do when you’re the only daughter of a hockey coach. It’s like I’m one of the guys.
“Deal.”
Chapter Two
Preston
The image of Bex Bryant in the locker room has left a permanent imprint in my mind. The athletic blonde made my dick hard with one look. Her tight spandex shorts that rode up her ass didn’t hurt. I can’t shake her from my system. I can still feel her fingers on my skin, imagine her wide, blue eyes staring up at me.
I walk through campus with a few of my teammates, who I’ve known since we were babies. Tucker and Trent Kane, known as the Kane twins on campus, are on my right. They get so much trouble together, always confusing girls and professors by switching places. It’s all a game to them. Tucker, the big mouth, yells across the street to a group of sorority girls and whistles at them.
