4. Emile

4

EMILE

The next day, I grunt as I work out the next morning in the team gym lifting weights. I didn’t sleep worth shit. I just kept picturing Sassy in the dim street lights and then in my bed. It’s a big leap but I just can’t help it. There’s something about her that draws me in like a firefly to the light.

I’ve always dreamed of playing hockey. There’s never been anything else. But since I saw this girl, I keep dreaming about her. Nothing but her wakes me and gets me going. Even hockey is a distant second to her.

It’s crazy intense and it’s too soon and if I tell her what I’m feeling that skeptical look on her face is going to change to outright terror cause I sound like a crazy person.

I can’t concentrate and I know that my teammates would tell me that she’s just a girl. Stop taking it so seriously.

But it is serious. My whole life is always serious. Everything that I do is to make sure that I can still feel fit enough to perform out on that ice.

Because that’s my career and without it, I don’t know who or what I am. I’ve never done anything just because it feels good or I want to do it. It’s always with the ultimate goal of my career.

She’s a distraction that I can’t afford. But I can’t seem to shut it off.

“LaCourt! Get in my office!” The coach is screaming at me again and I groan, dropping the barbell that I’m lifting, slowly and carefully cause that fucker is heavy.

Then I swipe a towel across my face and stalk across the room, following the coach’s disappearing figure.

I reach the office and immediately my body stiffens when I see that it’s not just the coach. It’s the assistant coach again. And the GM. I was recruited personally by Robert Anderson and I like the guy. But the look on his face right now doesn’t bode well for me.

The coach sits down in his chair behind his desk. He’s flanked by the GM and Vic.

“What happened last night?” His voice is deceptively soft and my heart rate kicks up. I never fight and I don’t really know what he’s gonna do about it but it seems like they’re all pretty pissed.

“I saw this girl and she was trying to get away from this guy and he wouldn’t let her go. So I made him.”

Robert lifts his brows. “You broke the guy’s jaw! He’s in the hospital right now threatening to sue the whole damn team because of that stunt!”

“Hey! If he’d let that girl go any one of the several times she struggled to get away from him it would never have happened. It’s his fault,” I answer, pouty like a two-year old who needs a nap.

The coach glares at me. “You’re a helluva lot bigger than this guy and you had to know that you could seriously hurt him. What the hell were you thinking?”

I glare at all of them but I know that I can’t tell them that I was thinking about her. That I couldn’t stand his hands on her because she’s mine.

She’s not mine. She will probably never be mine.

So what the hell was I thinking?

I don’t really know. Which is a piss-poor excuse for what I did.

“Doesn’t really matter what the reason was. Point is that you put a guy in the hospital with his jaw wired shut. Because of some girl you didn’t know.”

Here Robert gives me a sharp look. Like he’s waiting for me to argue but I just slam my mouth shut. He sighs and turns to coach.

“You’re suspended, benched, until we get a read on what was going on there and how much it’s gonna cost us.”

“How long will that be?”

Vic snorts. “You should be more worried about getting traded. We’ve already got hotheads on this team. We don’t need more. You’ve always been stabilizing for the team because you handle everything so calmly. No matter what.”

“Were you drinking last night?” Coach asks me.

“Not more than one drink. I had just gotten there when I saw Sassy… I mean the girl.”

Robert jerks his head up. “You knew her.” It’s not a question.

“Just a little. She was at a game last week. I didn’t even know her name.”

Coach’s eyebrows shoot up. “And from that you tried to kill a guy that was copping a feel? Have you lost your mind?”

I grunt but don’t say another word. I’m already in enough deep shit. I don’t need to add anymore to it.

“Get cleaned up and go home. Take a few days and get your head on straight. Hell, find this girl and go fuck her and get her out of your system! I don’t give a shit. But the next time you are back in this arena you better have your shit together.”

I nod my head and stalk out of the office, heading to my locker and throwing my clothes in there, stripping down until I’m naked and then I take a towel and head for the showers.

It’s while I’m standing around in the showers that I start to think that maybe coach is right. Maybe I just need to spend some time around Sassy. Maybe fuck her once or twice and get her out of my system.

My whole world is hockey. What I can do for it and what it can do for me.

There’s no room for a girl in there.

I wash up and stalk out, ignoring the guys when they call to me and ask what’s going on. Most of them are just getting in and they’re getting shit ready for our game.

And I’ve left my guys open to who knows what tonight without me because I let myself get distracted by a pretty face and fucked up.

I can’t do that again. Never again.

Throwing my stuff in the back seat, I sit in the driver’s seat and stare in front of me, my hands on the wheel, gripping it tight.

I don’t know what to do. I’ve honestly never done anything but hockey.

What else is there?

I do know one thing. I can never let myself get messed up in the head about a girl and what’s going on with her.

I start my car and drive aimlessly, not heading home but not sure where I’m heading. The snow is drifting down across my windows and I squint, growling when I see the large building in front of me on my right. I slip into a parking spot and stare at it.

Then I step out and stalk up to the door, opening it and slipping inside.

It’s so hushed and quiet that my hackles rise. I’m used to noise everywhere I go. In the bars and restaurants that we hang out in, fans rushing over to get autographs and talk to us. On the ice it’s quiet when you’re in your head but there’s noise all around you. The fans screaming, the music, the coach screaming plays during practice and yelling that you’re fucking shit up.

The only time I hear silence is when I’m home getting ready for bed. And that’s why I avoid my penthouse apartment except when I’m sleeping. It’s eerie.

Just like this place. I didn’t lie. I never hung out in the library.

My eyes study the old building, staring at the rows and rows of bookshelves packed with every kind of book that you could wish for.

If you wished for books.

There’s a single, long bookshelf in front of the desk and I wander over to take a look at it, realizing that they’re new releases.

I look around again and that’s when I spot her. She’s on the other side of the huge L-shaped desk and she’s smiling as she does something with the books someone hands her and then she hands them back to them.

They take the books and walk away, smiling and perusing what they’re taking home.

I walk over to her and she smiles at me. “What are you doing here, Emile? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your game?”

“Not right now.” I don’t know why I don’t tell her about the suspension. I just know that I don’t want her to know. I glance around the room and eye the huge space packed with spaces to sit and read and research. “This is… nice.”

She snorts. “Right. That didn’t sound convincing, Emile. Not that I’m really surprised by that sentiment out of you.”

I cock my head and frown. “Why me in particular?”

“You don’t seem like a reader and you said you never really hung out in libraries so it’s kinda hard to picture you being enthused about one.” She laughs.

“You might be surprised.”

“Sure. Can I help you with anything today?”

“Yeah. I thought I might check out some magazines.”

She points over to the side where there seem to be newer issues on a long display that appears to have cubbies underneath with stacks. “There are our current magazines.”

“Thanks.”

I walk away and study the magazines offered and pick up two sports magazines that are current. I take a seat in a chair that allows me to see the desk and office and keep an eye on Sassy. I start reading them but every few seconds my head comes up and I watch what she’s doing.

She’s beautiful. She’s wearing a pale pink, soft two-piece sweater like a 1950’s T.V. character and her glorious auburn hair is pulled back in a soft updo that shows off her pretty face and the long column of her throat. When she steps out from behind the desk to help someone find a book, I almost swallow my tongue when I see a dark gray skirt that hugs every one of her luscious curves down past her knees. Her dainty feet are wearing delicate sandals that show off her delicately muscled calves.

She’s a fucking work of art and if I thought that coming to see her at work was going to disabuse me of my fascination with her, I think the opposite is true. I want to see more. I want to touch that fabric and see if it’s as soft as it looks. See if her pale skin is softer.

I want to lift her up in my arms and carry her off to my place for the next few hours and just devour her, consume her.

I don’t think even that will cure me of my feelings for her though. I’ve never wanted a woman like I want this one.

By the middle of the day, she’s got company at the desk and she picks up her purse and speaks to the woman who just came in. She laughs and smiles and then she walks out the door and I stand up abruptly and put my magazines back, following her out.

By the time I get outside she’s way ahead of me on the sidewalk but I consider it a win since she didn’t take her car. I follow behind her, keeping her in sight. After a five-minute walk, she turns into a tiny restaurant that serves the lunch-time crowd. She gets a table in the crowded place and I quickly step inside, ducking around a corner and finding another handy spot to keep an eye on her that’s hopefully out of her sight.

I see her order lunch and when a server comes up to me, I ask for a hamburger and double-order of fries plus a huge glass of water. The water’s brought and I keep my eye on her as I sip at it. She pulls out a book and immediately seems to get lost in it, even jumping when the server brings her lunch. I frown when I see that she’s just got a salad and a drink.

That’s not enough food for a bunny let alone a fully-grown woman.

The server comes around and drops off my food and I take a bite of the hamburger, groaning under my breath. Fuck that’s good!

I see there are televisions in the corner of the place and there’s a sports news program on and I can see the GM of the Frostwolves on there talking and I cringe, assuming it might be an announcement that I’m not going to be starting for the immediate future.

Within seconds of that program being on, I start to hear rumblings around me and my stomach sinks. It doesn’t take long before the first person shows up at my table, holding out a piece of paper and a pen.

“Hey, are you Emile LaCourt? Could you sign this for me?”

That’s the start of the swamping of my table. I’m at least three deep when I manage to get a second to look through the people circling around me and I see her standing there, her mouth dropped open, staring at me before she walks away.

But I can’t get up and run after her. I smile and sign things and chat with all of these people because it’s what I’m supposed to do. These are our fans and we are dependent on them to keep our jobs. This is important.

No matter how much I want to get up and push my way out of here, I can’t.

But I miss her more than I thought it was possible to miss a perfect stranger.

And although that should be terrifying and confusing, I just can’t stop wanting her more than anything in my life.