Once off the elevator, he prances down the hall directly to Easton’s door.
“You know your home, don’t you?” He stops at the door, tongue hanging out of his mouth, and I give a knock.
Easton opens it right away. Otis predictably goes nuts, jumping Easton. I don’t blame him for that. Easton is absolutely jumpable. His tousled hair makes me want to slide my fingers into it and see if it’s as thick and silky as it looks. His beard stubble darkens his jaw in a way that makes me imagine morning sex and what those whiskers would feel like against my skin. As usual, he flashes a cocky smile. “Hey!”
He tries to calm Otis, picking him up, letting him slobber his tongue all over his chin. There are two kinds of people in the world—those who let dogs lick their faces and those who don’t. I don’t judge anyone for their preferences, but I’m glad Easton lets Otis kiss him.
I set Otis’s bag on the hardwood floor and close the apartment door.
Best not to think about kissing Easton. Even though his lips are sexy as hell.
Ahem.
He rubs the back of his hand across said sexy mouth as he sets Otis down. “How was he?”
“Good. Only one pee accident.”
Easton grimaces. “Sorry.”
“He’s getting better! Still freaks out over the elevator, though.”
“Yeah. Hopefully that will get better too. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
He knows my soft spot. “Sure. Thanks.” I follow him to his kitchen while Otis sniffs around. “Nice win last night.”
“Thanks. It felt like things were clicking for us.”
“I missed your assist. My dad called right in the middle of the game.” I make a face. “I watched the replay, though.”
A slow smile stretches his beautiful mouth as he leans against the counter waiting for my coffee to brew. He crosses his arms, and I’m immediately distracted by the bulge of his biceps at the sleeves of his T-shirt. “You watched the game again.”
Ohhhh. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted to that. I toss my hair back. “Sure. I’m a Bears fan.”
He smirks. “I think you’re a fan of me.”
“Apparently your biggest appendage is your ego.”
He laughs. “Oh, babe, you don’t want to challenge me on that.”
Heat washes down through me but I maintain my unimpressed expression. “You’re right, I don’t.”
The coffee’s ready and he hands me the cup. I meet his eyes and a quiver of awareness vibrates through me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The heat in his eyes makes my nipples tingle. I push away from the counter and turn to watch Otis. “Hey, Otis! Should we show Easton your tricks?”
“Tricks?” Easton moves out of the kitchen, also holding a mug. “Wow.”
“Okay, not really. I might have taught him to sit. That’s about it so far.”
I pull the bag of treats from Otis’s bag and he gambols right over. With one in my hand, I hold it out and say, “Sit.”
He doesn’t sit. His stubby tail is quivering.
“Sit,” I repeat. “Remember? Bum down. Sit.”
Miracle! He sits!
I feed him the treat. “Good boy!”
“Otis! You the man!” Easton grins.
His pleasure makes warmth bloom in my chest.
He helps me work on a few other simple commands with Otis and we give him lots of praise and treats. Easton is surprisingly patient. Why is that surprising? Maybe because he’s always bursting with energy, so alive with a masculine vitality and strength, always moving.
Sitting on his living room floor, I lean back against the couch and lift my coffee cup to my mouth to finish it. “He’s getting it. He’s smart.”
“He is. With his, er, issues, I was wondering.”
“Many of us have ‘issues,’ ” I say dryly. “Doesn’t mean we’re not intelligent.”
“What are your issues, Lilly Evans?” He too leans back against a chair, his knees bent, bare feet on the carpet. His feet are big. Long and lean, dusted with dark hair.
I drag my attention away from them.
“I’m not going to tell you all my issues,” I drawl, with a casual smile. “You’re a client.”
He smiles. “Oh, come on. We can be friends.”
“Hmmm.”
“Is it business problems?” he asks.
“No. And thank you for the referral. I met with your friend and I’ll be walking Loki.”
“Great.”
“My friends and family think I’m crazy to be doing this.” Oh hell. Why did I blurt that out?
“Doing this? Starting a business?” He lifts one thick eyebrow.
“Yes.” I peer into my coffee mug. “They think I should be trying to find a job with a steady paycheck.”
“Well, there’s something to be said for that, I suppose.”
I roll my eyes. “As if you have to worry about money.”
He shrugs. “I know I’m lucky that way. There’s also something to be said for doing what you want. Following your dream. That, I do know something about.”
He sounds serious. I eye him. “Was it hard? Following your dream?”
“Yeah. Not in the ways you might think, though.”
I tilt my head. “I guess you have to be really dedicated to get to play in the NHL.”
“Oh yeah. It consumed my life since I was about twelve years old. Then…” He stops. “Then it was all I had left, so it was even more important.”
My forehead tightens. “All you had left?”
He waves a hand dismissively and I get the feeling he said more than he intended to also. “If walking dogs is your dream, go for it.”
Back to me. Hmmm. “Well, I can’t say it’s been my lifelong dream, but right now it feels good. It’s what I want to do.”
“Then do it. Don’t let anyone discourage you.”
“It’s just that…” I drop my gaze again. “I have…obligations…and I feel like I might be letting people down.”
He’s silent. Then he says, “I don’t know what that means, so I can’t really comment.”
“That’s okay.” I finish off my coffee and scramble to stand. “I should get going. Thanks for the java.” I hold up my empty mug.
“No problem. Thanks for the training help.” He too stands, towering over me in a way that’s…exciting.
God, I have to get out of here.
He takes my mug and strolls to the kitchen counter. “Do you have another job right away?”
“No. Not until two. Apollo.”
“Let’s go grab lunch.”
I blink. My eyes flick to a huge clock on one of his walls. It’s nearly noon. “I thought we went over this.” I hit him with a level stare and an arched eyebrow.
“I’m a slow learner. What did we go over?”
“Going out with each other.”
“Oh right.”
He knew exactly what I was talking about. My lips try to smile and I shake my head. Dammit, he’s so attractive, and as I get to know him, he’s not as annoying as I thought he was. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get personally involved if we’re going to have a business relationship.
“It’s just lunch, Lilly,” he says with a guileless expression.
“If I say no, will you fire me?”
He frowns. “No! Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“Because when it’s a business relationship, that could happen, and that’s why it’s not a good idea.”
He stares at me, then sighs. “You’re right.”
Damn. I kind of did want to have lunch with him. But this is for the best.
“You’re right to be cautious about that,” he continues. “But I assure you that our
business arrangement has nothing to do with whether you go out for lunch with me.” He sets his hand on his chest. “I can be a cynical asshole, but I’m not petty or vindictive.” His smile makes my panties dampen. “You can find that out over lunch.”
I laugh. “Oh my God. Okay, fine. Let’s go have lunch.”
Chapter 9
Easton
“Yes!” I give a small fist pump and enjoy the pleasure that passes over Lilly’s face. “This time Otis stays home. Sorry, boy.”
Otis lifts his head from where he’s now lying on the rug, then lowers it again.
“I’ll be right back.” I head down the hall to my bedroom to put on socks and shoes and a sweater. I return to the front foyer carrying my phone and wallet. Now Otis pays attention, jumping up and trotting over to us near the door. When I pull a jacket out of the closet, he starts whining.
I wince. “Won’t be long, my man.”
We make a quick exit so as not to prolong the suffering. Out on the street, we pause.
“How about the Cheerful Rhino?” I name a bistro a few blocks away.
“That’s fine. I like that place.” We start walking. “No practice today?”
“Optional. I decided to skip it.” I grimace. “Which will probably piss off Coach. Ah well.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I get the feeling you and your coach don’t get along.”
I don’t answer right away. I know better than to criticize the coach or team management in public. Players have gotten themselves in deep shit by doing that and being overheard by their Uber driver or someone sitting at the next table in a bar. But it’s just me and Lilly, and somehow I know she’s not someone who’s going to run to the media, and also I really need to talk about this to someone who’s not involved. I can vent to my teammates, but they’re not objective about this either.
“You’re right,” I finally admit. “We’re…very different.”
“That’s diplomatic.”
I sigh. “Fuck it. I don’t like him. I don’t like how he coaches, I don’t like how he leads. He’s not a leader. He’s a fucking dictator. We’re grown men, we’re dedicated, we’re talented, and he treats us like shit.”
“Don’t hold back.”
I catch her dry smile, and one corner of my mouth lifts. “Feels good to let it out.”
“I guess there’s not much you can do about it.”
“Nope.” I fill my lungs with icy air. “And it doesn’t help that I’m kind of…grumpy.”
After a beat, she says quietly, “Why are you grumpy?”
“Because I have a bad coach.”
She laughs softly. “Hmm.”
“I get so pissed off,” I continue. “Sometimes it’s hard to keep my mouth shut.”
“Is it just him that gets to you? Or are there other things?”
I think about that. “I get annoyed in traffic sometimes.”
She nods. “I guess we all do.”
“And I hate littering.”
She bites her bottom lip as if trying not to laugh. Which makes me smile. “I hate that too,” she says solemnly.
“I also hate racism. Homophobia. And slut shaming.”
She blinks. Her bottom lip pushes out. We walk about half a block in silence. Then she says, “I hate to tell you this, but you’re not grumpy. You’re a good guy.”
I feel her words hit me in the chest. But because I’m not a good guy, I say, “Phhhht. I’m a jerk. Just ask Coach.”
“Why doesn’t he like you?”
“Because I hate assholes.”
We arrive at the bistro. It’s a tiny place, but popular in the neighborhood. We enter to a gust of warm air scented with yeasty bread and garlic. I’m starving.
The place is nearly full, but the hostess seats us at a small table for two in the back corner. We settle in, removing outerwear, adjusting our seats.
Lilly picks up her menu. “Hmm. What should I have? I love their salmon and spinach salad, but I always have that.”
“Have what you love.”
“I should try something different.”
“We’ll order different things and share.”
She tilts her head. “Okay.”
“I’m going for the roast chicken, avocado, blue cheese, and bacon on ciabatta. With fries.”
She moans. “Their fries are so good.”
He grins. “We can get extra if you want.”
“That would be perfect.”
“Easy.” I set down my menu just as our server approaches. We both request coffee and place our orders.
“Okay,” she says, fiddling with a fork. “Why doesn’t your coach like you?”
Now I’m facing her, I’m having those doubts about sharing this stuff. But hell, I’m already into it. “I don’t take his shit. He gets pissed at stupid things, and I’ve tried to tell him they’re stupid, and that just makes it worse.” I shrug and drop my gaze to the table. “I’ve been trying to keep my mouth shut, but it feels like it builds up inside me and I’m going to explode.”
Jesus. I can’t believe I just told her that. I glance up at her.
She nods slowly. “That’s what happens when you don’t deal with your anger.”
“I try to deal with it other ways. Working out. Punching things. Fucking.”
She coughs. “Well. Those are all excellent. I was thinking more along the lines of communicating how you feel.”
“Yeah, that’s what gets me in trouble.”
“I mean, in an assertive, nonconfrontational way.”
“I’ve tried that.” I lean forward, capturing her gaze with mine. “I’m not a dick. I tried meeting with Coach and telling him when he yells at us and kicks things across the room it de-motivates us.” Okay, yes, there have been times I didn’t communicate in a calm way. Like when he called one of the guys a little bitch. I blew up at that in front of everyone. Big mistake.
“Oh.” She nibbles that sexy bottom lip. “That’s good, then.”
“Yeah, and then he makes me watch four hours of video.”
“Okay, he’s just a bad man, then.”
I laugh and lean back. “You just hit the nail on the head.”
“But that’s not right! He’s in an important position. How can he still have a job? Who’s his boss?”
“The GM. Mr. Julian.”
“Doesn’t he know what goes on? Or is he terrible too?”
“He’s not terrible. I don’t know how much he knows.”
“Well, someone should tell him.”
“I don’t think going over Coach’s head is a good idea.”
She slumps back in her chair, looking as defeated as I feel some days. “That sucks.” Then she straightens. “Don’t you have some kind of whistleblower protocol?”
I look at her. “Whistleblower?”
“Yes.” She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and her eyes shift away. “Like when a business is doing something wrong, someone can ‘blow the whistle’ and tell someone higher up. And not be punished.” The words come out edged with bitterness.
I frown. “I don’t think so.”
The server sets our coffees in front of us.
“I’ve had bad coaches,” I continue. “I’ve been playing sports my whole life, you’re bound to run into some. But usually it was just incompetence. Or someone too focused on winning.” I pick up my cup. “Oh well. It is what it is.”
Lilly picks her coffee up too. “But if it’s making you miserable, that’s not right.”
“Maybe I need more fucking.” I lift an eyebrow at her as I sip my dark brew.
“Ha ha. Maybe so.”
I like that she’s not freaked out by my crudeness. Our eyes meet across the table in what feels like a sizzle. Good. She’s thinking about fucking too.
She’s turned down my dates—well, at first—but I’m pretty sure she’s as attracted to me as I am to her.
“Why do you feel like you’re letting people down by starting your own business?”
The change of subject makes her eyes flicker. “Oh.” She drops her gaze. “It’s a long story.”
“The story of why your life is a dumpster fire married to a train wreck?”
Her head snaps up, her eyes wide. “You remember that.”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
“Well, yes.”
“So tell me. I confessed my anger management issues.”
She tips her head. “I think you’re managing your anger okay.”
“Until the day it builds up to the point where I punch my coach in the face.”
She grimaces. “Don’t do that.”
“I’m not making any promises. So…”
“Well. When I lost my job about eighteen months ago, it was a retaliatory firing.”
I lower my chin. “Retaliatory?”
For a moment she says nothing. Then, “I blew the whistle on a bunch of unethical practices. They were pissed off, so they fired me.”
“Holy shit. Really?” My jaw slackens. That’s why she was talking about whistleblower protocol.
“Yes.” She lifts her chin and straightens her shoulders. “But I was pissed too, so I sued them.”
“Did you win?”
“Not yet. The case is still ongoing. It takes forever.” She rolls her eyes.
“Well, good for you.”
“Eh, not so much. They spread a lot of rumors about me in the industry. Even some of my co-workers were angry about what I was doing. It was impossible to find another job in the hospitality industry. Finally I got a job as a front desk clerk at a small motel, but that didn’t last long.”
“Damn.” I’m startled by all this. I knew she felt down on her luck, but this is big.
“Anyway, to make a long story short, I got into some debt. My roommate covered my half of the rent when I couldn’t, and my mom loaned me some money, which she couldn’t afford because my dad is off having a midlife crisis on the other side of the world.”
“Whoa.”
“And I think my roommate wants to move in with her boyfriend but feels like she has to stay because I can’t afford to live alone.” She sighs. “So when they tell me I should get a real job, I feel like maybe I should, because I need to pay them back. My dad’s the only one who’s encouraged me to go for it, but then, I don’t owe him money. Also, he’s not exactly a model of responsibility right now.”
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