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“Because he’s a professional hockey player with the Colorado Silvermines.”
My mouth fell open as I put together what Aspen said with what I knew about Dex.
I spun my chair around so I faced my desk, went to a browser on my computer and typed in his name. A flood of photos and articles came up. Over a… holy shit. Over a million.
I gasped.
“You didn’t know?” Aspen wondered, stepping close and leaning over my shoulder. While she was a single mom whose daughter was obsessed with ice hockey, which meant Aspen knew tons about the sport, I was clueless. “He’s one of the best players in the league. Highest paid and in an eight-year contract. I mean, he’s on the first line and is a top scorer, not just for his team but the entire league! I’d say he’s the most well-rounded player we’ve seen in a long time, even with all the attention that bar fight got. His stats alone–”
I tuned Aspen out because I was a little cranky that she knew more about Dex than I did. Hell, the entire world knew more about him than me. And I was in his bed every night.
I grabbed my cell off the desk and pulled up his number, the one he’d given me in Denver last weekend so we could coordinate the return trip on his private jet.
“Hey, sugar.” The sound of his deep, smooth voice had me heating up like a menopausal woman. “I’m at Steaming Hotties with Mav. Want me to pick you up a drink? I can swing it by and–”
“You are a professional hockey player,” I said, cutting him off because he was being all nice and stuff.
There was a slight pause.
“Yes.”
“You play for the Colorado Silvermines.”
“Yes.” He should have said duh since it seemed I was the only one who didn’t know.
I glanced over my shoulder at Aspen, whose eyes were bugging out of her head. You really didn’t know? she mouthed.
I clicked on the link for the Silvermine’s web page. Front and center was Dex in full uniform. The site was practically sparkling with green and blue, clearly the team’s colors, with his name in fancy lettering and a cool logo of a minecart with hockey pucks piled in it.
“My friend Aspen wants to know if you’ll coach her daughter’s PeeWee hockey team while the coach is out of town.”
“Sure. I have to go out of town this weekend, but I can until then and then when I’m back. What time today?”
Holy shit. Dex wasn’t unemployed like I thought. He wasn’t a slacker playboy. He wasn’t living off a trust fund or hiking his summer away. He was hot as hell in a hockey uniform. All that padding, the skates. The helmet… Aspen was right. He was the most amazing piece of man candy. Ever.
Which was really bad for my willpower because I was going to break down and beg. It was only a matter of time.
21
LINDY
* * *
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were a hockey player,” I said, dropping onto the metal bench beside Dex. We sat just outside one of the indoor rinks at the winter complex. He was leaning down and lacing up his skates. His professional hockey skates he told me he brought with him to Montana. Because supposedly professional hockey players didn’t leave home without them, even on a vacation.
No rentals for him.
I didn’t linger at work like I normally would. I held no illusion of accomplishing anything whatsoever after Aspen and I got off the phone with Dex this morning. So I cut out early and showed up for Sierra’s team practice. To see Dex. To confront him as to why he hadn’t told me about his job. No, it wasn’t just a job. A job was me being an accountant, making money to pay the bills. The contract he had was public knowledge and for the sum he was making, he didn’t play hockey to pay his electric bill. They gave him millions, hundreds of millions, because of talent. A skill only a few had.
It was blowing my mind.
He angled his head and looked up at me, kept tugging on the long laces. “You never asked.”
I sputtered. “Didn’t ask? You could have shared it! I mean, it’s a big deal. Something like, By the way, Lindy, I’m a professional hockey player. The best in the league.”
He finished the lace, then sat up. Eyed me with a smirk. “Is it a big deal?”
“Yes! I thought you were a lazy trust fund kid.” I looked away because it was a truth that didn’t sit well now. I’d made assumptions about him that clearly weren’t accurate. If what I’d found online about him, he didn’t need the James billions. He was a self-made man, wealthy on his own. His contract with the Silvermines was astronomical. “I’m sorry about that.”
