8. Maddox

Chapter 8

Maddox

I knew the first day of the preseason would be difficult, making the transition from player to coach. But it had gone completely off the rails.

This morning, I'd woken up in the bed of a beautiful redheaded goddess, and I never wanted to leave. She had blown my mind in the best possible way, and I wasn't sure I would ever find an instant connection like the one we'd shared with anyone else. If I hadn't in the past thirty-five years to this point, the odds were low.

The urge to pin my number to her fridge on my way out had been overwhelming. To leave some way of contacting me. For whatever—I wasn't sure what.

But something held me back. Probably the fact that even though I'd been inside her, I didn't know her name, and that's how she preferred it. I figured even if I left my number, she might toss it without saving it.

So, I decided to leave it up to chance. We'd run into each other once at Pipes; who was to say it wouldn't happen again? Wasn't there some saying about letting something go, and if it came back, it was meant to be ?

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that the universe would force us back together only a few hours later.

When I first saw her in the press room, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. The image of her had been at the forefront of my mind since the moment we said goodbye—her wild red hair betraying how hard I'd fucked her all night long, lips swollen and puffy from our endless kisses, the pale blue of her eyes filled with sadness that I was leaving.

But when she spoke—with that same voice I still regretted not hearing screaming my name as she came around my cock—I knew she was real.

Unfortunately, that was also when the spell she'd cast on me at the bar was broken. She asked a question poking at my deepest insecurity in taking over the head coaching role, and I laid into her—indirectly, but everyone in that room knew it was meant for her.

My blood had been boiling ever since. I'd let those doe eyes fool me, taking me for a ride. In reality, she was just another one of the vipers, ready to strike when they sensed weakness.

When I snuck up to my office, it was to cool down. Staring out over the ice surface I'd once ruled, I let the sight calm me. I was still in charge, albeit in a different capacity. I couldn't make the magic happen anymore, but I could orchestrate it. That would have to be enough. There wasn't another option.

At a knock at the door, I expected it to be Jared telling me I was needed downstairs or one of my assistant coaches checking on me. What I never expected was for the woman who had sent me reeling in more ways than one to step inside my office. In my frame of mind, I didn't care much about what she had to say for herself. She'd fucked me to get ahead, maybe hoping for a little buzz piece on how you could take the player out of the game but you couldn't take the game out of the player.

When in all reality, I was the one who'd been played .

Even still, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her stunning form. She looked different in the light of day and in a professional setting but was no less beautiful than when she was sweaty, tipsy, carefree, and singing off-key at the bar.

That unique copper hair—the color women paid stylists hundreds of dollars to achieve but never came close—was as vibrant as ever, twisted away from her face on the sides and pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck. Those perfectly plush lips were painted the same pink as her nipples hiding beneath the fabric of her white blouse, which was tied at the neck with a little bow.

A sense of primal satisfaction flowed through me, knowing that she was covering where I'd marked her neck.

Her heart-shaped ass was trapped inside a form-fitting black pencil skirt, showcasing her slight curves. Sheer black tights covered the bare skin between her knees and ankles, where her feet disappeared into black pumps. I wondered if they were pantyhose or thigh-highs, my hands itching to skim up her legs to find out.

She had the sexy librarian look on lock, and God help me, even feeling used, I was very interested in signing up for a library card so I would have an excuse to return day after day to check out a new book when my real motive was just to see her.

I wanted to hate her for what she'd done, but as she begged and pleaded with me not to say a word to anyone, any malice I felt toward her melted away. She sounded desperate, and it tugged at my heart. I was trying to process the sudden shift of emotions from lust to anger to compassion when her lip trembled. Before I could blink, she ran.

Stunned, it took me longer than normal for my reflexes to kick in and give chase. Thankfully, her red hair acted like a beacon, and I caught a flash of it as she turned the corner at the end of the hallway. By the time I made it there—cursing my bum knee for slowing me down—the door to the women's restroom slammed shut, accompanied by the telltale sound of the lock sliding into place.

Even with my heart pounding against my ribcage and my pulse filling my ears, I could hear her sobs through the door. Exhaling, I dropped my forehead against the polished wood, kicking myself for being a dick to her.

I'd made assumptions, and now she probably hated me. It would serve me right if she rode me hard with tough questions the rest of the season for how I'd acted.

Being stressed about my new job wasn't an excuse for lashing out at her. And I would wait until she opened the door—however long that took—so that I could apologize.

We'd gotten off to an explosive start that was quickly doused by a bucket of ice water. I was hoping we could find a happy medium, seeing as how we would be working together for months on end. That was, if she didn't quit because of my dumb ass.

I would feel terrible if she did. I knew how hard it was for women to gain a foothold in sports reporting, and if she gave up this opportunity, it could be a while before she scored another.

When I heard the lock disengaging, I stepped back, prepared to make amends. What I wasn't prepared for was for Bristol to barrel right into me at full force, knocking the breath from my lungs with an "oof."

Instinct had me wrapping my arms around her while I struggled to recover. But when she pushed against my chest, I released her, stepping away.

Even with the space between us, her eyes were still trained on the floor. Drawn to her in a way I couldn't understand, I tilted her chin up with my fingers beneath it. My heart clenched at the view of her red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I was out of line. "

Those beautiful blue eyes grew glassy, and she looked away. "I know it looks bad."

It did. She was right about that, but I wouldn't be the man my father raised me to be if I didn't give her the benefit of the doubt. Not every woman was a bloodsucking leech who only wanted to sink their claws into a hockey player for their money or a step up in the world. Jenner had found and lost a good woman. Braxton also had one.

What if . . .

No. I shook my head. I couldn't go there.

What if there was a reason you two connected one day before you began working together?

Fuck. This was not the time to be having these thoughts. I had a job I needed to focus on. And getting tangled up with this woman in particular was a huge conflict of interest.

But God help me, it didn't stop me from wanting her.

I sighed, explaining, "Last night—" Her eyes locked with mine, eager to hear what I had to say. "It was the first time since the injury that a woman didn't look at me like I was damaged goods."

Instead of pity, empathy shone back at me in her gaze, and she ducked her head. "Right. I heard about that."

A corner of my lips turned up as I teased, "See? Already proving me wrong. You have done your research."

Her cheeks pinkened, but she cocked her hip, giving me a hint of sass. "I think you'll find my knowledge of the sport up to par, Coach Sterling."

"And for the record," I offered. "You look different from last night, too, but I'd know you anywhere."

Bristol sighed, her pupils dilating briefly before the shutters slammed down, and she looked away.

What the hell was that about?

"Did I cross the line of our professional relationship, Miss Cooper?"

She shot me a glare as she stepped past me to lean against the opposite wall. Looking skyward, she breathed out, "I just wanted a night of strings-free sex, but apparently, that was too much to ask of the universe. Can't escape the past no matter how hard I try."

The past? Did this have anything to do with the cheater?

Before I could ask, she looked directly at me, stating, "You're not the first hockey player I've been with."

"I'm not a player," I shot back, even though the admission pained me.

She waved a dismissive hand. "Technicality. You all operate the same. Smooth lines designed to get women into bed before you chew them up and spit them out. You get to move on to the next while we are left destroyed, trying to put the pieces of our life back together."

Bristol might be the journalist, but as soon as I got a moment alone, I would be digging up any info I could find on her. Given her age, it was probably some little shit wannabe who had ripped her heart out.

But right now, I needed her to know I wasn't cut from the same cloth. Yes, I'd screwed around, but never had I toyed with a woman's emotions. It was kind of hard to do when you never stuck around long enough to form a relationship.

Stepping forward, I said softly, "I'm not going to tell anyone."

Shocked blue eyes stared at me in disbelief. "You're not?"

"No." I shook my head. "I don't think it's anyone's business what a head coach and a reporter get up to in their free time."

Her back was pressed against the wall, and I stepped closer. Her breathing hitched, and she tracked my movements until I was a breath away, my hands caging her in.

"Don't you agree . . ." I waited a second before I breathed her name, "Bristol? "

Her swallow was audible, and my dick didn't give a shit that we were at work, rising to the occasion with how close he'd gotten to her body—a body I could picture laid bare with crystal clarity.

"Yes." The word left her lips on a shaky exhale.

I knew I was walking a fine line but couldn't resist grazing her cheek with a knuckle. A stuttered breath fanned my face as I pressed my forehead to hers. "I can't stop thinking about last night."

"Maddox." The breathy sound of my name on her lips for the very first time nearly did me in.

A groan rumbled from deep in my chest, and I admitted softly, "I'd have given anything to hear my name rolling off your tongue when you came. Might need a do-over for that reason alone."

Bristol whimpered as I nuzzled my nose against hers, my lips moments from taking what I already knew was mine.

We were lost to lust, not caring that we were at work.

But reality crashed down hard when a familiar voice called out, "Maddox, they need you—Oh shit."

Fucking Jenner.

Our heads turned to the side to find my best friend staring at us, slack-jawed, at the end of the corridor.

Bristol recovered first, ducking beneath my arm, muttering, "I should be getting back," before hightailing it past Jenner with her head down until she was gone from sight.

With an eyebrow raised, Jenner approached where I stood trying to get a handle on the raging erection that would not quit.

There was no way in hell he would drop what he just witnessed. So much for nobody knowing .

A shit-eating grin curved on his lips. "Damn, bud. If I'd known you were hot for redheads, I would've done a better job at staggering our showers all these years."

I shoved at his shoulder. "You're an idiot."

"Seriously, Maddox. I know how much you hate the press, especially after what happened"—his eyes dipped briefly at the mention of my injury—"and now I find you cornering the new girl on the first day? What gives? I know she's pretty, but you can't go there. You know that."

Running a hand down my face, I mourned the loss of my beard. Jenner was my best friend. I'd been there for him during the highs and lows of not only his career but his life, and he'd done the same for me. If there was anyone I could trust to keep this quiet, it was him.

Blowing out a breath, I admitted, "The dry spell ended last night."

Jenner's brown eyes widened as his dark red eyebrows rose high on his forehead. Peeking over his shoulder, he gestured to where Bristol had fled. "With her ?"

I grimaced as the reality of my situation sank in. "Yeah. But in my defense, she insisted on no names. I had no clue who she was, and let's be real, even if she had shared her name, it wouldn't have struck a chord. It's not like I'm handed a list of reporters covering the team for the upcoming season."

"Dude, this is bad." Jenner groaned.

"I know."

"Where did you even meet her?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing he was going to lay into me. "Pipes."

"Jesus, Maddox! Are you fucking kidding me? Pipes? Everyone knows who you are there. And it's no secret that's our main hangout. Chicks flock to that place specifically to shoot their shot with the players. How many times have you hooked up with a bunny you met there?"

"Too many." I sighed. "But you don't get it. Women have given me a wide berth since the injury. The way she looked at me—" I paused, picturing her beautiful face as she'd devoured me with her eyes, then later when she begged me to spank her perfect ass. "She saw me as simply a man, instead of the former shell of the player I used to be."

"It's your first day as head coach. You can't do this. Tell me you're not going to keep seeing her." Jenner tried to be the voice of reason.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"You could lose everything." He gave me a stern glare.

Throwing my arms wide, I challenged, "Haven't I already?"

Jenner softened. "That's not what I meant."

"Doesn't matter," I muttered. "It's true. But to settle your anxious little mind, she just spent the last half hour crying in the bathroom, thinking her career was over because of last night. She begged me to keep it quiet."

"Shit," he said under his breath as he rubbed a hand over his chest, near his heart. I knew he was thinking of his ex-wife, Evie. His Achilles' heel was his empathy toward emotional women. It hurt him to see them upset for any reason, and his marriage had ended because he couldn't stand to see his wife suffering. The tradeoff was that he was forced to let her go, but he had never stopped loving her. I hated it for him.

"So that means"—I made sure he looked me in the eye before continuing—"this stays between us."

Jenner nodded in confirmation. "Got it." He let out a low chuckle. "Leave it to you to kick off this new gig with a bang."

I rolled my eyes, but he was right. Throughout my career, I'd been known to have a flair for the dramatic. I was the one out there hyping up the crowd, mixing it up with the other team to provoke a reaction. And more than once, I'd caught myself in a sticky situation with a girl.

I guess old habits die hard.