Page 26 of Face Off With Fate

She kept talking, oblivious to my panic. “What I need from you, Tommy, is the green light, so Monroe can move forward and pick someone.”

I glanced at Graciella. Her head held high, showing off the delicate line of her neck. Afternoon sun shone off her hair, highlighting the blue-black color that looked so good against her flawless golden skin. She turned toward me, thick lashes fluttering a few times as she tilted her head, dark brows pulling together in a silent question.

I swallowed, snapping my head forward.

Not picking her.

I wasn’t sure if that was a statement or a reminder.

EIGHT

MONROE

HE KNOWS EXACTLY HOW SHE GOT THAT LEASH AROUND HIS THROAT. HE SAT THERE LIKE A GOOD BOY AND BEGGED FOR IT.

“We need to talk about getting you a girlfriend.”

“Fake,” I called over my shoulder toward where I’d left Graciella by Tommy’s door. The distinction didn’t help the situation I’d found myself in.

Relationship.

The word was ash on my tongue. Fabricated or not, I wanted nothing to do with it. I quickened my pace, taking the stairs two at a time, the temperature dropping with each step.

“Would you slow down?”

“Jog or something. I’m not slowing down.”

It was a lie—I’d already slowed, allowing her to catch up. Truthfully, I hadn’t realized I’d sprinted out of there. Too focused on getting out of Tommy’s and somewhere I could process.

Rubber and the faint scent of bleach welcomed me home, loosening the tension by a hair. If only I could ditch the woman who’d somehow gotten a leash around my damn throat.

Maybe I should retire.

Yeah, retiring twenty-something years early was sure to work. I kneaded my temple. Feeling hot despite the chill coming from the ice rinks nearby. We skirted around them, the noise rising with every entryway we passed.

“Where are we even headed?” Graciella asked, voice slightly muffled. “God, I didn’t realize Stars’ ice was so big. Wow, there’s curling here, too? Isn’t that more of a Canadian thing? Oh my god, is that a bar?”

I shook my head. “I can’t even tell if you’re wanting me to answer or just announcing your every thought.”

Turning, I found her sticking the upper half of her body into another open doorway. The hemline of her dress teased the backs of her shapely thighs. Not quite high enough to show the curve of her ass, but enough to make my dick stir.

She was loud, impulsive—borderline reckless—and wore her emotions on her sleeve. All the telltale signs she was not the right person for me.

The reminder was pathetic.

I stomped away, needing distance.

“My office.” The heavy glass door was cool against my palm, but I paused when the green name placard caught my attention.

Josh Monroe

Stars Head Coach

Fuck. It might not say that much longer.

They’d replace it with someone else’s, like I was never here…

I pressed my shoulders back, striding inside. The rink noise was cut off by the click of my door, replaced by the low conversations of sports casters that played nearly twenty-four seven on the grid of four mounted televisions. Only exception being when I watched film. Player files were piled on top of my desk, calling me over. A few lay open, notes scribbled on their profiles.