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But then, as if he hadn’t just casually referenced one of the dirtiest, most intimate, incredible moments of my life, Vaughn leans forward and swipes my phone off the coffee table. Grumbling about how I ought to have a lock screen, he thumbs across the glass. “In case your brother manages to look past his own ego long enough to notice you staring at the one guy you shouldn’t, you’ve got my number now.” He pushes up from the couch and stretches again. No eye contact. No drool-worthy chest rubbing. Just the unconscious actions of a man whose body takes a relentless beating and needs some rest. It’s still breathtaking to watch.
Crossing to me, he places the phone in my hand, his long fingers wrapping around so he’s holding my hand for a beat as well. “Call if you need to.”
Chapter 5
Vaughn
“Yeah, Travis, I know. I was there when they said it.” My agent’s pissed because of a soundbite from last night’s postgame interview that’s getting some traction on social media. The one where that dickhead Dixon Lannish essentially asked if it bothered me that half of Chicago thinks I’m an asshole.
It’s bothering Travis, and it’s bothering Coach, which means it’s bothering me.
I push out the doors of the practice arena and head for the private lot out back, nodding at Bill, the guy working security, as I go. “What am I going to do about it, stand out front of the arena offering hugs to the fans as they walk in?”
This call is the last thing I need. I’m tense, itchy, after seeing Natalie last night. I thought going to her place would take the edge off after hours of watching her get pulled into affectionate hugs and easy conversations with every other player at the Five Hole but me. And for the thirty seconds I was there it did. But then…fuck.
It would have been better not to go at all.
Better not to have her laugh with me. Better not to have been looking into her eyes while she reminded me of who she was—pissing me off so much, I ended up reminding her who she’d been to me. Better not to have touched her hand, even with that damn phone between us. Because then I was thinking about how soft her skin was…everywhere. I was thinking about what it was like having her laughing, squirming, over my shoulder as I carried her like a caveman down the hall in that hotel.
“Vassar, you listening to me?” Travis demands, and I can’t even bite his head off and tell him of course I was, because once I started thinking about Natalie and all the places she’s soft and tight and wet, and all the noises she made when I touched them—I didn’t hear a word.
I stop at my black Escalade and dump my bag in the back. “Look, man, I’m not rocking the boat. I don’t say shit about any of the players on or off the ice. I’m not fighting, and I won’t.” Because showing up at Baxter’s little sister’s house at two a.m. isn’t going to happen again. I made sure she was okay. Gave her my number. And took whatever dirty thoughts I might have been harboring with me instead of putting them into action. “I’m keeping my nose clean and scoring goals.”
“Keep that up, because Oregon fucking loves it. I was talking to the GM yesterday. He’s got a hard-on for you, all right, but until we have a contract in hand, that could change at any time. Oregon likes your edge, but they’re gonna like you a whole lot better if we get the fans behind you too.”
Rubbing a hand over my face, I slide into the driver’s seat and shut the door. “Yeah, just like that? Newsflash. These fans don’t like me. They’re pissed about the business with Golden Boy Baxter, and apparently, they’re not going to forget anytime soon.”
“They will. We’ve just got to give them something else to latch on to. Which is why we’re changing the lineup on your charity work. Higher-profile stuff. I’ve got a consultant going through a list now looking for something to make you pop. I’ll let you know where you’re going when you come back from Philadelphia on Thursday.”
“Yeah, fine. Set it up.”
“Glad to hear you so amenable, because we’ve got another opportunity here I’d really like you to consider. And I think it would be gold for your image.”
“What’s that?” I ask, pulling out of my spot.
“Chelsey Channing’s people reached out asking if you might be interested in some public appearances together.”
My foot lands hard on the brake, the car coming to a sharp stop. “What the fuck,are you trying to get me arrested? She’s in high school!”
“She’s twenty-two and actively trying to break away from her Disney teen sweetheart image while pursuing more mature film roles. The two of you could do each other some good, image-wise. You’d give her some edge and she’d be the girl that turned you around. Couple sappy posts on Insta about how you cried watching some romantic comedy and—”
“No,” I say with a capitalfuck off. Faking that I’mnotinto one chick is bad enough, no way am I going to fake that Iaminto another.
“Why, you got a girl?”
Allie’s smile flashes through my mind and my jaw clenches. I need to get Natalie Baxter out of my fucking head. “No. No girl. Just not interested. Look, do whatever you want with the charity work. As much time as you can fill, fill it. But that’s all.”
* * *
Natalie
“Don’t thinkI don’t know what you’re doing,” Helene says from where she is suddenly hovering over my shoulder.
I jump, banging my knee on the table and making the spoon fall out of my yogurt. I turn to scowl at her, but those crossed arms and jutted hip warn she’s not having any of it.
“Don’t give me that look. You know what you were doing.”
Letting out a guilty sigh, I pick up my phone and make a show of tucking it into my back pocket. “I didn’t text him.”
