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“I would’ve suggested four if I thought you’d make the effort, but I think two is a good starting point. You can use my home gym while you’re living in the building, if you like.”
Biting down on her bottom lip, she flashes a sexy-as-fuck, bend-me-over-and-spank-me kind of look. Except she has no idea she’s even making a pouty face that, to most men, says, I’ve been a bad girl. And I want to do so many dirty things to her. I have to remind myself that she’s off-limits—not only taken by another man, but also Mickey’s girl.
I slide off the edge of the bed, needing to get away from her and the sight of her bare legs in those tiny pink shorts that hug her ass. “Two is a good start. I think I’d be even more motivated if you worked out with me.”
She doesn’t catch on that I’m flirting with her, or at least attempting to, and a broad smile lights up her face. “That’s what I like to hear. I’m glad you’re giving this a real shot. It’s important to me that you take this seriously. I’m here whenever you need me. My schedule fluctuates, and so do my workouts, but tomorrow works for me. I expect you to stay after practice and hit the weights. No junk food, and no fucking off with Kane and Donovan.”
After our late-night chat sessions this week about our fathers, I know exactly how much this means to her, and I don’t want to fuck it up.
Once our on-ice practice drills conclude, I head to the gym inside the Flyers training facility, per my agreement with Charlotte. I’m halfway into my routine, minding my own business, when Kane comes up from behind my bench and offers to spot me. Charlotte is right. I’m out of shape because benching two hundred pounds shouldn’t feel like such a chore, yet it does. I used to be able to press twice my weight, and now, I’m like some geriatric hockey player who’s on the last year of his contract, just here to kill time.
Kane laughs after my tenth rep and helps me set the bar on the rack. “Man, you look like shit. Were you out all night with a bunny?”
I’m out of breath, and this is so fucking sad to have my teammate call me out. “Nah, I was at home with Charlotte.”
His eyebrows rise in confusion. “Who?”
I sit up and take a sip from my water bottle. Then, I wipe my face with my towel and hang it around my neck. “You know, Charlotte, your agent.”
“You mean, Coach?” He balls his hand into a fist and bites down on it, making an obscene facial expression. “Damn, Parker, you’re tapping Coach? How did you manage that? Her panties are harder to get into than Fort Knox.” Then, he holds his hand up for me to smack it, but I ignore him. “I’ve tried just about everything with her, and nothing works. She always tells me that she has ‘rules,’” he says the last word by making air quotes with his hands.
Instead of acknowledging his stupidity with a high five, one that I haven’t even earned, I stand and shake my head. “I wish I had a shot with her. She has a boyfriend.”
“What are you talking about? No, she doesn’t.”
Kane walks with me to the next machine, and I stop and wait for one of our forwards to finish up with his workout. Kane stands beside me, his hands on his hips.
“Yeah, she’s dating that guy Jamie. She even brought him home with her the other night.”
Technically, he only stayed for ice cream and then left. He even made a point to tell me that Charlotte isn’t like other girls, something I’d already figured out, and engaged in a stare-down with me until he finished eating. It was awkward. I’m almost positive Charlotte picked up on the bad vibes he was sending in my direction, but she never let it affect her mood. Rico also added a nice little buffer between us. If he hadn’t been in the apartment, I’m not so sure Jamie would’ve held his tongue. Clearly, he has an issue with me staying with Charlotte, which I attributed to him being her overprotective boyfriend.
Kane shrugs and gives me a knowing look. “She played you then because Jamie is her best friend. They grew up together in foster care. There’s nothing sexual at all between them.”
I never once considered who had ra
ised Charlotte because I assumed she’d had one decent family member agree to take her in after her parents’ deaths. It never occurred to me that her life had been even harder than she’d let on.
The amount of respect I have for this woman grows by the day.
“I’m not so sure that they’re not together. They seem pretty close, and Jamie practically threatened me before he left last night.”
Once the machine becomes open, Kane takes a seat and pulls the towel from his pocket to wipe down the equipment. “If you weren’t hooking up with Coach, then what were you doing at her apartment?”
I turn my head away from him and stare off into the expanse of the room. “Hanging out, I guess.”
“You guess?” He chuckles to himself. “Right. You were just hanging out. Hey, I get it. If I had a chance to hit that, I’d be all over her.”
I want to beat the smirk off his face. Kane’s not a bad dude, but hearing him talk about Charlotte like she’s a puck bunny really pisses me off.
How do I tell him about our deal? It’s best if my teammates don’t know about the drinking or the fact that this is my first legit workout I’ve done in over three weeks. I’ve been with Philly for all of ten days, and other than the mandatory on-ice skills our coach enforces, I haven’t lifted a single weight or even attempted a squat. My legs haven’t hurt this bad since off-season when I drank for one week straight and then attempted one of my dad’s insane strength training regimens. I cut back on the drinking once the season started, but for the last few months, I was hitting the bottle a lot harder than I should have been.
After taking such a long break, I feel weaker than I used to, and I hate it. One bad hit is all it would take to end my career, a lesson my father learned when he was a few years younger than I am now, which is why I need to get back into game-ready shape.
Whatever I need to finish, I can do at home. I’m already calling this city and Charlotte’s apartment my home. The thought gives me a chill.
I’ve had enough of Kane and this discussion—though I can’t pretend I’m not relieved to hear that Jamie and Charlotte are just friends. That makes sense, considering I’ve slept in her bed without her giving me as much as a warning glance to keep my hands off. A woman like Charlotte, one with so many rules, wouldn’t let a man into her bed if she were in a relationship.
“I’m going to go hit the showers. I’ll catch you later.”
