She made it so easy, but that was Tedi. She didn’t dissect situations or scenarios, she lived her life in the moment.

  She laughed in my arms.

  “What?”

  Picking up her head, she looked into my eyes. “It’s just funny. You’re my fuck-it bucket list turned boyfriend.” She shrugged. “It’s funny.” Her face grew serious. “But also amazing.”

  I captured her lips with mine, and we didn’t end up swimming for long before we tried out the bed.

  Ten

  Tedi

  I arrive at the arena early to meet Coach Buford so we can talk and so I don’t mess with his schedule and what he has planned with the players. Usually, coaches aren’t on board with the distraction social media can have on their objectives, so I want to assure him I’m here to work with him and make his program more successful. I’m here to fill the seats, sell merch, and hopefully get more rabid fans who can’t get enough of the sport he loves.

  The door behind me opens, and he rounds the small table in the room I was put in to wait for him. Coach Buford is known as a no-nonsense coach, but like any good coach, he cares about his players. Otherwise, the top players in the league right now would be doing anything to be traded. A coach’s worth is usually seen through the players they coach, and Chicago is no different.

  “Miss Douglas,” he says, folding himself into the chair across from me. “Thank you for meeting me before I introduce you to the guys.”

  “Of course.” I straighten in my seat. “I did want to discuss a few things. Set some expectations.”

  He quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt me.

  “You tell me times that are off-limits. You don’t want me at practices? Done. Games, I’m happy to sit in the stands. I’m not going to interfere with what you have going on. After all, you helping the Falcons to win the Cup only makes my job easier.”

  He nods, and the tips of his lips rise. “I appreciate that.”

  “And please, call me Tedi.”

  “Okay… Tedi. I know Bud called his frat brother or whatever about Gill. I feel bad for the kid. He was a little out of his league, but—and I’m biased.” He raises his hands. “There’s a great group of guys in that room next door. Easy to market. Guys who put everything on the line for me and this team, this city, and their fans. All I ask is that you don’t make them out to be some kind of sex symbol. I couldn’t stomach the thought of these stands filled with hormone-crazed women only here to see their warm-ups. This team is a once-in-a-coach’s-career dream come true, and they need to be appreciated for their skill and mastery on the ice.”

  I blink, surprised by his candor, but happy at the same time. “It’s my job to gain loyal fans. Loyal fans who stick by your side even in the droughts. Sure, those men in there aren’t hard on the eyes, and their faces will get them a certain amount of attention, but I’ll do my best to make sure it’s about their athleticism and not their weekend activities.”

  He nods. “Well then, it’s a pleasure to work with you.” He sticks out his hand and stands from his chair. I shake his hand. “Come on and let me introduce you to the guys. They weren’t thrilled with Gill, so hopefully you have better luck. If any of them give you any real problems, all I ask is that you come to me before Bud.”

  “Deal.”

  “I heard good things about you, so I’m excited to work alongside you.” He holds his arm out for me to go out the door first.

  “Oh, you heard about me?” I tilt my head, really hoping it doesn’t have anything to do with Tweetie.

  “Tweetie Sorenson. He said if anyone can do this, it’s you.”

  My feet falter, and I stumble forward. Coach Buford grabs my elbow, and I put up my hand. “I’m good. Thank you. My heel must have gotten caught on the carpet.”

  He offers me a kind smile, but I fear there’s something underlying it. I’m probably just paranoid that everyone knows our story. But no one knows us here. What was left of us remains in Florida.

  Reaching around me, he opens the door, and I step out into the hallway, running straight into a man. His hands grab my elbows, and before my gaze lifts to see his face, I already know it’s him. Tweetie.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  “Tweetie, you know Tedi, right? I was just telling her how much faith you have in her.” Coach Buford stands next to us.

  I swallow down my parfait from this morning that’s coming back up.

  “Yeah, we knew each other back in Florida. Tedi is a friend of Saige Drake, Aiden’s wife,” Tweetie says.

  It sounds so believable, as if we ran in the same circles a few times. Ran into one another at a baby shower or wedding or something.

  “I tried to get Drake here years ago, but he said he’ll be retiring in Florida if they’ll let him.” Coach Buford shakes his head and pats Tweetie on the shoulder. “Thank goodness the Burrows let this one go so we could eventually get him.”

  Tweetie puts on a brave face, a fake smile to say he couldn’t be happier to be in Chicago, but I remember the day he was traded to Nashville from Florida and how cutting that felt to him. Sure, he’s ended up in a great place here, but there will always be hurt feelings.

  “Which way is the room with the guys?” I step back from Tweetie.

  Coach Buford pats his pockets. “Damn it, I forgot my phone in my office. Do you mind if Tweetie shows you the way?”

  Tweetie isn’t saying much, and I doubt this is his usual behavior around here. He’s going to give us away if he keeps staring at me as though he can’t believe I’m here.

  “If you just give me the directions, I can find my way,” I say.

  “Nonsense.” He pats Tweetie’s shoulder. “Show her the way, and I’ll be right there. You’re in good hands, Tedi.”

  I smile softly, but when Coach Buford turns his back to his office, my smile drops. “I can find it myself,” I murmur, walking down the hall like a spoiled teenage girl.

  “Good luck then.” Tweetie leans against the wall and crosses his arms.

  The hallway is long, and there are a lot of doors. Surely one is marked conference room or something. I turn in the direction of where Tweetie was heading, figuring it has to be that way.

  His chuckle rings out down the empty hall. I turn around, and he pushes off the wall. So damn dramatic.

  He places his hand on my elbow and turns me down another hallway that I wouldn’t have guessed. I shrug out of his hold, and he turns right, opening a door into the room I need to be in.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, holding the door open for me.

  “You could have just given me directions.”

  “That’s not what Coach asked me to do.” He nods, and I step into the room.

  All of the players are in there, talking and laughing.

  “Tweetie!” a player they call Alvin shouts but stops when he sees me. “Who are you?”

  I narrow my eyes at him, walking down the stairs to get to the bottom of what reminds me of a lecture hall from college. I sit in the first row and cross my legs, waiting for Coach Buford.

  “Hey, Tedi.” I look over my shoulder to see Henry Hensley behind me.

  “Hi.” I don’t know Henry, but he seems like a nice guy.

  “Where are you going?” I hear that same guy who made a spectacle of Tweetie walking in as if he’s the it guy in high school, and they’re trying to befriend him or kiss his ass.

  A big body walks by me and sits next to me.

  Snickers from the row behind me have the hair on my neck rising.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper to Tweetie.

  His elbow falls onto my armrest. I elbow him back, and I’m not sure if it’s Henry or someone else who laughs when Tweetie’s arm falls off.

  “Believe me, I don’t want to sit here either.”

  I lean forward, looking past him to a few seats down the row that are unoccupied.

  “Kick my ass or tell me off later, but I’m not gonna let you be ogled in a room full of athletes,” he admits, and I can tell from the tic of his jaw that he wishes he hadn’t.

  “I can handle myself,” I whisper.

  “Deal with it, Tedi.”

  I turn in my chair and glare at him, but his gaze remains forward, pretending we’re not having a conversation. “You know what your problem is?”

  “I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

  His calmness drives me crazy, and he knows it. That’s why he’s doing it.

  “We’re not a thing,” I seethe through my teeth. “Let them ogle me because it doesn’t matter, we’re not a couple.” I wave my finger between us.

  “I’m doing it for your own good.”

  I scoff.

  Henry leans in, his head between us. “You’re worried about us, but you’re giving yourselves away.”

  Tweetie doesn’t turn around, but when I look at Henry, I see some curious expressions on the other players’ faces as they pointedly stare at us.

  I huff and straighten in my seat. “Why do you have to be so… you?”

  Tweetie chuckles. “I’m sitting in a chair. You’re the one who has such a problem with it.”

  “Well…”

  “What, Tedi?” He crosses his arms, not glancing at me at all.

  “I’m not sure my boyfriend would appreciate it.” I almost gasp and cover my mouth. Where did that lie come from? But somehow, I manage to remain calm, at least on the outside.

  Tweetie’s head whips in my direction, his eyes dark and pissed off.

  I open my mouth to say something, but the words don’t come.

  “Sorry, guys.” Coach Buford jogs down the steps and taps me on the shoulder, nodding his head for me to join him. “We have our new social media manager with us today.”

  I’m frozen, staring at Tweetie as his jaw locks and his chest rises, but he faces forward again. Then all the tension disappears, and he raises his hands, clapping and smiling at me. What the fuck?

  “Come on up here, Tedi,” Coach Buford says.

  The entire time Coach Buford tells them about me and my objective for the Falcons, all I can think about is how I promised Tweetie I’d never lie to him. I kept that promise until right now. But does it really count when we’re not a couple anymore?

  Somehow, it feels like it does.

  And it’s not as though he ever has to meet my fake boyfriend.

  Eleven

  Tweetie

  A boyfriend? She has a fucking boyfriend? What the fuck, Aiden? He tells me she’s coming to Chicago, but not that she’s seeing someone? Not that it matters. We’re not going to be anything anyway. It’s over for us, but fuck, she killed me with that information, and she knows it. I hate that she saw my reaction.

  Now she stands up there with Coach, and I’m front and center, but I’m not the only asshole in this room who’s staring at her. The only difference between me and the other unattached guys here is that I’ve had her. My hands have slowly unbuttoned her out of blouses and pants like she’s wearing today. I’ve taken her heels off after a long day or night and kissed my way up her legs. And I was the lucky asshole who found her wet and wanting.

  “So, no one give her a hard time. If you do, you have Tweetie to answer to.” Coach saying my name pulls me out of my maze of memories with Tedi.

  “Oh, I can handle myself. I don’t need a bodyguard.” She smiles at Coach and shakes her head.

  Her laugh dies quickly, and it’s not hard to see she’s uncomfortable, which is not very Tedi-like at all. Maybe I’m the only one who sees it.

  “I think I speak for all of us when I say welcome, and we look forward to helping you make this program a success.” Coach smiles at her. “She’s going to be meeting with each of you in the coming days, but I’ll let her explain it some more. The floor is yours, Tedi.”

  Coach stands to the side, and Tedi takes the center stage.

  “I’ve done a random selection, so you’ll all receive an email from me later today. If the time I selected is a conflict for you, just let me know. I’m pretty flexible.”

  The doors in the back shut, signaling someone just walked in. Rustling in the seats sounds as the players turn to see who’s joined us.

  “My dream team. Good morning.” Bud Caldron walks down the steps, patting a few players on the back, stopping at Rowan and telling him how great he looked the other night. When he reaches the bottom, he extends his hand toward Tedi. “I haven’t had the pleasure. Bud Caldron, GM.”

  Tedi shakes his hand. “Tedi Douglas. I was going to stop by your office after I was finished here.”

  He laughs because he’s kind of a goon. He nervous-laughs at things that aren’t even funny. Plus, he tends to only look at and appreciate the guys on the first line. Whoever is selling the most jerseys is always his favorite. The word team doesn’t seem to be part of his vocabulary, and he makes you feel about as dispensable as a napkin.

  “No need. Here I am.” He holds out his hands.

  Bud is tall and thin with a small beer gut that hangs over his belt. He dresses as though he never left the nineties, with wide-legged slacks, loafers with tassels, and huge sports coats. I really don’t like the guy, but he was the one calling me in Nashville, promising me he was putting together an unbeatable team, and he hasn’t been wrong. I’m at the tail end of my career, and I want to win again, not just play.

  “Tedi was just telling them about the interview process,” Coach says.

  “Yeah, that Gill wasn’t worth his weight in—” Coach clears his throat, and Bud waves off his comment. “Anyway, I’d like to talk to a few players and Tedi. I have some ideas. Do you mind?” Bud looks at Coach.

  Coach sighs but reluctantly nods. “Fine, but I need them on the ice in a half hour. Who do you want?”

  Bud turns to me and nods. “Tweetie, Rowan, Henry, and Conor.”

  A few guys groan. I’m sure it’s because we’re seen as the best on the team, but we couldn’t win without everyone here.

  Tedi’s back straightens. I’m sure she’s pissed off that he’s taking over her agenda, but since Bud called in the favor to get her here, she’s smart enough not to make waves. I hate that my heart still hurts when she hurts.

  Bud holds out his arm for Tedi to go first, and she leads the way up the stairs. All of us have our heads down because it’s like being the teacher’s pet and everyone hates you when you’re singled out like this.

  In the hallway, Tedi’s jaw is hard, and her eyes have that fire they do when she’s trying to hold in her anger.

  Bud walks toward the same room she was in with Coach earlier, and now there are refreshments on the side table. Fruit, juice, coffee, water, and some bagels. What the hell is this, a timeshare meeting?

  “Please help yourselves to something to eat.” There’s already a bagel with cream cheese and a coffee in front of a chair Bud sits in. Seriously, what’s it like to be a GM?

  We all take a seat. My friends and I cross our arms, extending our legs, all of us on the same page with not liking Bud. Tedi also sits and doesn’t take anything to eat or drink.

  Bud takes a bite of his bagel, looking around to see we’re all waiting for him to tell us why we’re here. He laughs and swallows. “No one else is hungry? Okay then.” He turns to Tedi. “There’s really no need to focus on the entire team. I’ve decided to center the campaign around a select few.”

  Tedi’s eyebrows scrunch, and she stares at him as if he told her he doesn’t want to win the Cup this year. “Excuse me, Mr. Caldron, but⁠—”

  “We did it your way, Tedi, and you sent us Gill.” He shuts her down quickly.

  Her face turns red, and I’m actually scared for Bud’s balls for a second.

  But it seems she’s found a way to school her nonverbal cues when she’s mad, because with a blank face, she says, “Actually, I think I’ll grab a coffee.”

  “I figure you’re our stars.” He looks at all of us. “You’re who’s going to bring in the fans.”

  My gaze diverts to Tedi, whose hand is shaking as she pours coffee from the carafe. She’s trying to center herself, and it’s taking all my restraint to keep my ass in this chair. She picks up a creamer, and it drops to the table. She huffs and picks it up again, fidgeting with the foil on the top.

  “That’s a lot on our plate if we’re doing the brunt of the social media,” Conor says.

  “If you want us to be fresh on the ice to win games, we can’t spend all our time on camera and doing photoshoots,” Rowan chimes in.

  “My kid isn’t going to be a part of any of it,” Henry says.

  As Bud tries to calm them, I rise from my chair, silently cursing myself the entire time. I step up to her side and take the creamer from her hands. She wrestles it back, so I stay at her side as her fingers steady, and she peels back the foil, then dumps the creamer into her coffee.

  “We’re going to have a dinner. Get to know one another better,” Bud says.

  Tedi and I turn around so fast, her coffee spills all over my shirt. Fuck, that’s hot. I grab the edge of my shirt and pluck the fabric away from my skin.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says.

  If it was only her and me, I’d strip it off just to show her what she’s missing out on. Fuck it, why am I second-guessing my instincts? I pull off my T-shirt, and her eyes widen at my abs.

  I might be old according to the league, but there’s nothing old about my defined chest and abs.

  She clears her throat and shifts her attention back to the table.

  “What are you doing?” Conor says with a scowl. “Put your shirt back on.”

  “The coffee was hot,” I say, and my three friends roll their eyes.

  “There’s no reason I can’t get to know the players here,” Tedi says, abandoning her coffee and turning her back to me.

  “It’s a distraction when they should be practicing, just like Rowan mentioned. So, let’s do a dinner. You guys bring your girls.” He looks at Tedi. “I’m sure you have a boyfriend, bring him. We’ll make it a casual thing. Once you know one another, Tedi can have a better vision for what’s going to work.”