Page 37

EIGHTEEN

DALTON

INSTANT PUDDLE

“Are you whistling?” Jimenez asked, pulling a collared shirt I swore had glitter on it over his head.

Shit, was I?

I’d been walking on clouds since Ari and I had gotten out of my car. She’d run off to turn in her new hire packet with HR before she had to coach us through a workout.

“I suggest you don’t eat anything,” she’d called over her shoulder, looking straight up gleeful as she tossed out the warning. I grimaced at the memory. We were all about to get our asses handed to us.

“What, I can’t whistle before practice?” I asked with a shrug, pulling on a shirt that was admittedly a size too small and cropped. And I might have worn some of my shortest shorts after noticing how Ari had stared at my quads last practice.

“Great, and now you’re dressing like a hoe for training?” Jimenez shook his head. “Hoe behavior is reserved for me. You can’t walk out there trying to outshine me,” he complained, unwrapping a protein bar. He may go out and party on a weekday during the off-season, but Jimenez didn’t mess around when it came to his fitness.

I ignored his previous comment.

He wasn’t wrong, I was exhibiting signs of his behavior. But I wasn’t about to admit it aloud.

“Eh, I wouldn’t eat that,” I said, swatting the bar away from his mouth.

He growled, bending over to pick it up while counting to five under his breath. “And why the hell not?”

“First of all, the five-second rule does not count in a locker room. That is foul, Jimenez. And second, Coach suggested we shouldn’t eat anything before this practice,” I told him, pulling off my sweatpants and stuffing them into my locker.

“When the hell did he say that? We aren’t even on the ice ’til later.” His voice trailed off, eyes growing wide as it dawned on him who I was referring to. “Holy shit. He didn’t tell us, but she told you.” He hit my shoulder playfully before dropping his volume. “Shut the fuck up, Cap. Is she really your girl?”

I hated my personal life being the topic of conversation, but he was practically a brother. We’d come up together in juniors, got recruited to the same college, and when my dad had showed up to sign me, that was one of my negotiation requirements—Jimenez would get signed too.

Monroe coming on as coach was the other.

A pang of guilt shot through me for not telling either of them about my arrangement with Ari. I’d need to ask her about that, but until then, I’d have to get creative with the truth. “Yeah, we’re a…thing. It’s new and complicated because of her working here and all.”

There. Not a lie, not really, anyway.

He beamed at me, slapping a hand on my shoulder and making me feel guiltier. “My fucking man. Now I understand the hoe aesthetic, but bold move going for the hoochie shorts because a boner will not be contained by those.” He pointed to the honestly pathetic amount of fabric, then switched gears. “I’m so proud of you for getting back out there. I wasn’t going to say anything, but the way you two were looking at each other in that picture—damn. It was hot. Thought you were going to pull her into the bathroom, and you know.” He thrust his hips forward, folding his hands behind his head and biting his lip.

I laughed, shaking my head at his antics. Whatever woman he ended up with would have her hands full.

“Hey, assholes,” Monroe popped his head into the locker room, “let’s go. You’re supposed to be in the gym in about two minutes. You already embarrassed yourselves yesterday. We’re not doing that again. Got it?”

The locker room broke out in a chorus of “Yes, Coach,” as everyone started making their way out the door he held open. But he stopped me as I tried to exit.

“I need to speak with you for a minute. The rest of you get your asses over there.”

“Sure thing,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. He always sounded pissed off, but something in his tone had rock settling in my stomach.

Monroe folded his arms across his chest. “What’s this I hear about you and Coach Contreras dating?” he asked when everyone had left the locker room.

My fists clenched at my sides. The last thing she needed was for Monroe to be on her case, too. “Yes, Coach. That a problem?” I challenged.

The distance between us disappeared, and he drove a finger into my chest. “Quit acting like a dick, Dalton. We both know your mom didn’t raise you to like that. Don’t you cost that girl her job.” If only you knew. “She’s worked fucking hard to get here. I saw her résumé, and it’s impressive.”

I swatted his hand away. “Fuck you, Josh, if you think I’d risk her career. You should know me better than that. You’ve been around me my whole life. How could you think I’d use her?”

Instead of anger, Monroe did something I’d never seen him do in a locker room—he smiled. “Yeah. I do know you’re better than that. I’m just making sure you’re still the same man you were before your dad walked back into your life three years ago.”