4. Chapter Four

W hat does one wear to a welcome party? It's for me, so I can wear whatever I want, right? But it isn't an office party. This is being held at the house where the guys live. So maybe casual would be better, right? Ugh!

I pull out my phone and immediately type a message in the group chat.

So quick question, what does one wear to a welcome party?

Vicy

?? What do you mean? Clothes obviously.

??Obviously. Is this a causal thing?

Oli

Jeans and a tee are fine. Nothing fancy.

Thank you! That's what I was asking. Clothes obviously ??

Perri

Got ourselves a sassy one fellas! This is going to be fun!

Taz

You tell him, Roe Roe!

Roe Roe?

Fenni

It's your nickname. Everyone on the team gets a nickname.

Oh! Cool! So I'm part of the team now?

Gilly

It's official. You're stuck with us.

An audio file comes through, so I open it and can't help but laugh. It sounds like the whole team is together because there is a cacophony of male voices chanting, "One of us! One of us! One of us!"

I've only been with the team for five days, but I'll admit, I've never loved a job more. Well, other than teaching kids how to ice skate. But that doesn't count. That was more of a hobby than a job.

I send a quick text, then finish getting ready to head over.

Be there in ten.

Tuck

Just walk through the front door.

??

Staring down at my phone for a moment, I realize there's one member in the chat who has been silent since I was added. The guys have been texting me all week while at work. Ironically needing to have their phones taken away because they were distracted. Their excuse? It was important they got to know their athletic therapist. Truthfully, the memes and gifs they constantly send have been making it harder to do my job.

Lewi is missing from the conversion now that I really look at it. The only time he said anything was when they all first messaged me their numbers. Odd. Is he not a talker, or does it have something to do with me?

Shaking my head, I pull on a pair of jeans and one of my favorite tees. It's a shirt my dad got me for my graduation. The front of it says, "If at first you don't succeed, try doing it the way your athletic therapist told you to do it the first time." It should get a few laughs from the guys.

I pull my hair into a pony and put an extra tie on my wrist. Then I slip into a pair of sneakers and grab my keys and wallet purse. I hate carrying a purse around, and I usually leave it in my car unless I actually need it. Tonight, it will be tucked in my center console and my keys will be clipped to my belt loop.

When I step outside, there's a note taped to my front door. What in the…? Peeling the folded note off my door, I open it.

I crumple the note and throw it on the ground. If this is someone's way of greeting their new neighbor, they are barking up the wrong tree.

Huffing out a sigh, I mumble, "Ha ha very funny, whoever you are. If you are going for creepy, you win. Leave me alone." I march down the stairs and out to my car.

Ten minutes later, I'm pulling up in front of the guys' house which, by the way, is not how I would define their house. Although, when I think of houses, my parents' small home is what I think of. This looks more like a mega house. I mean, it isn't quite a mansion, but it certainly isn't the type of house I had pictured, either.

It does have to house a lot of guys, though, so I suppose that needs to be taken into consideration. I park on the street, so I don't congest the driveway, in case any of the guys need to leave. Making my way up to the door, I go to knock but remember they said to walk in. Wiping my sweaty hands on my pants and taking a deep breath, I turn the knob.

What the… hell? The moment I walk inside, I'm greeted with a wide-open living space, but that's not what catches my attention. No, it's the three hockey players standing on the table, dancing and singing the Cruise remix by Florida Georgia Line featuring Nelly. Badly, may I add. Although, I'm not sure if they are actually trying to sing to the song or just playing around. I am going to go with playing. No one can dance or sing that badly.

No one seems to have noticed me yet, and considering how loud the music is, along with the general ruckus, I doubt they would be able to hear a bomb going off. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I yell, "Am I interrupting something?!"

They all turn to me and yell, "ROE ROE!"

I laugh, covering my ears until the music is turned down. "Seems like you boys are having fun. Hope I didn't interrupt."

Vicy grins from where he stands on top of the table and holds out a hand. "Want to join the fun?"

I shake my head, laughing. "No! Absolutely not. I am not a singer or a dancer. For good reason."

Taz does an overly dramatic shoulder shimmy and calls, "Come on. You don't have to be good at it to have fun."

I snort as I make my way to the kitchen area. "I'm still going to pass."

Vicy hops down from the table with a shrug. "Well, guess that leaves us to question you like crazy and eat."

I smirk. "I thought you guys questioned me already. You bugged me all week while I was trying to work."

"Lies," Taz says as he hops down and heads to the living room. He drops down onto the floor and gestures to the couch. "Sit. Sit. Time for questions!"

I look at him then turn back to the kitchen to admire the spread of food. As I look back at him, I point over my shoulder with an exaggerated pout. "But… food."

He grins. "One of the guys can bring you food. Sit. Sit."

I can get my own food, though, I don't need them to get it for me. Oli steps up beside me with a soft smile. "I'll bring you something to eat. I think Taz may bust a gut if he doesn't get to ask his questions."

"You sure?"

He nods, pushing me in the direction of the couch. "We have burgers or brats."

"Um… brat, please."

He nods. "Chips?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

He chuckles. "If you name it, we most certainly have it."

"Doritos?" I ask as I take a seat on the couch.

He nods again. "I'll get everything, and I'll bring the toppings over for you to pick what you want on it."

"Don't bother. I don't like toppings."

He looks over his shoulder with an arched brow. "No toppings?"

I shake my head. "I like a raw dog." I slap a hand over my mouth and feel my face burn red. What the fuck did I just say? Why the fuck would I say that? Oh my god, kill me now!

His eyes widen for a moment before he bursts into laughter and turns to head to the kitchen. "One raw dog coming up."

Embarrassment has me burying my face in my hands. After a moment, I feel the couch dip beside me, and I peek between my fingers to see who it is. Vicy greets me with a wide grin.

"I like you. You're funnier than our previous therapist," he snickers.

I groan, my hands still covering my face. My words come out muffled when I say, "This is such a bad first impression. Although, I suppose it's technically my second impression. Ugh! Either way, it's a bad impression."

"On the contrary; this is an amazing impression," Perri says from his spot on the chair next to the couch.

I peek through my fingers, looking at him as I ask, "How so?"

Merc speaks up. "The older guys"—he points to the four men who live outside of this house— "have learned to filter our words and watch what we say around women in the hockey industry. A lot of women are switching to this industry, which is great, but it means that what we say is often thought of as inappropriate."

Fenni builds off of Merc's thoughts. "We don't always mean for what we say to sound vulgar, it's just often how it comes out. The youngest ones here often have trouble with their filter. Which can cause issues, especially because our previous athletic therapist was male and, now, we have a female."

"The things we used to joke about when getting stretched or taped by our therapist were all in good fun, but they could come across as inappropriate if we said them to you," Gilly says with a sigh.

"Basically, these fuckers are saying that your mind appears to be as dirty as theirs," Lewi says, his voice ringing out behind me. I jump at the sound of his voice, not having noticed he was here. He has avoided talking to me all week, and now he chooses to say something?

I watch him make his way around the couch and take a seat on the floor next to my legs. Interesting spot choice. Oli clears his throat behind me, and when I turn, he hands me a plate piled high with food.

"What Lewi means is that it's nice to know you have a similar sort of humor. And that if we say anything inappropriate, you understand we don't mean to. Just let us know if you are uncomfortable with anything we say or do, and we will stop."

Lewi snorts, muttering, "I said what I meant."

Ozzy kicks him in the leg from his spot on the loveseat. "Be nice!"

Lewi groans, "I am."

"Try harder," Tuck huffs beside Ozzy.

As the tension in the room grows, I decide to squash it while I can. "Taz, you have questions for me, right?"

His eyes meet mine. Taking the cue, he nods. "Right. Um… let's see. Where are you from?"

I smile. "Here, actually. I'm from Tacoma. My parents don't live too far from here, which is nice."

"You're close to your parents?" Lewi asks.

The question catches me a bit off guard, and it takes a moment for my brain to compute. "Oh! Yeah, we are. My parents helped me get through school, even though I told them not to. I'm an only child, but not for lack of trying on my parents' part."

Oli hops over the couch and sits beside me. "Did you like being an only child?"

I shrug. "I didn't mind it. Made it hard to get away with anything, though. There wasn't a little sister or brother to blame stuff on."

Taz laughs. "I bet." He scoots a bit closer before leaning back on his hands. "Have you always loved hockey, or was this just the best offer type of thing?"

"This was a dream offer; I love hockey. I watched it with my dad growing up. I purposefully picked teams that he hated when I was younger. I'm pretty sure I almost gave him an ulcer once when I told him my favorite team was based on whoever had the cutest goalie that year."

The guys chuckle as Oli asks, "Why the goalie?"

I shrug. "My dad's favorite player was a defenseman. I thought it would be funny."

"And who is your favorite player?" Vicy questions.

I smirk as I press a finger to my lips. "That's a trade secret."

Merc laughs as he joins Taz on the floor. "Fine. Let's ask the most important question of them all, can you skate?"

I stiffen without meaning to. It isn't a secret. When Oli appears to notice, he raises a brow. "You good?"

Shaking myself, I force my body to relax again. "Yeah… yeah, I'm good. Um…yeah, I can skate."

Merc, seeming to realize that it is a sensitive subject, quickly changes it. "Well, guys, it seems we have a keeper. She gets our sense of humor, likes dirty jokes, and she can skate."

"She's pretty too," Taz adds with a grin.

Vicy hums beside me. "Mhm, that is a good point."

I playfully smack him with the back of my hand. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Vicy shrugs. "It's a good point is all I'm saying. The last guy was old, and now we have a pretty lady looking after us."

Narrowing my eyes a bit, I ask, "So you only like me because I'm pretty."

"I most certainly never said that."

"You implied it." I turn to Oli beside me, trying to hide my smirk as I say, "Didn't he? He implied he only likes me because I'm pretty."

Oli nods, continuing the charade. "He did. I heard it."

Vicy grins and says, " Mange la merde !"

I, of course, have no idea what that means, but it's clear everyone else does when they begin laughing. Taz must see my confusion and tells me, "He said eat shit."

I nod and try to repeat the words but, apparently, butcher them. Vicy just smiles. "You need to produce the sounds from the back of the mouth. But you did well on your first try."

I laugh. "You will have to teach me more French, so I can practice. Curse words are especially fun when no one understands you."

Taz smacks the floor with his palm as he laughs. "Ain't that the truth."

The guys continue with their questions, to which I gladly answer. They even answer a few of mine as well. As I sit there getting more comfortable with each question, I notice Oli lift an arm and rest it on the back of the couch behind my head. What gets my cheeks heated, though, is the way he shifts to get more comfortable by leaning closer to me. Does he realize he's doing it?

I peek over to find him laughing as he engages in conversation with Ozzy and Tuck on the loveseat beside us. He must feel my eyes on him because he turns to me. With a smile, he asks, "Everything okay, Chérie?"

Fucking hell. I can feel my face growing hotter. "Y-yeah… fine. I'm-I'm fine," I stutter.

His eyes rove over my face before meeting my eyes again. "Are you sure? Your face is red. Are you getting too warm?"

Oh my god! Is he serious right now? Does he not have a single clue as to why I may be blushing?

A snort from the floor by my feet has my eyes flicking over to a grinning Lewi. "If her face gets any redder, I think she may combust in your arms, Mac." He arches a brow as he asks, "Has a man never been that close to you before? You're blushing like a virgin."

If it were possible to die from humiliation, this would be the moment. My mouth drops open in shock as the room turns deathly silent. The last time I was this embarrassed was when Emmitt left me on the ice with a broken ankle. My eyes begin to burn with tears as the heaviness of the emotion falls over me.

Before anyone says anything, I jump up from the couch. My voice is low as I say, "I believe it's time for me to go." Without waiting, I rush toward the door, slipping from Vicy's grasp when he tries to stop me.

His voice sounds a little desperate as I run past. "Roe Roe! Don't leave."

Waving a hand over my head, I continue toward the door and yell over my shoulder, "It's been fun, but it's getting late. Thank you for having me."

I hear a thump behind me, then Perri's grumbled words. " Connard! "

With how thick his accent is, I assume that's another French word. I push through the door, closing it behind me and rushing to my car. I hate crying, and I hate it even more when it's due to embarrassment.

I hear the door open behind me and look back to see Oli rushing out after me. He keeps muttering, " Putain " loudly to himself—whatever that means. When he sees me beside my car, he rushes in my direction. "Please wait! Don't leave."

I huff a sigh and wipe the few tears that managed to fall before he can see them. I wait, because how the hell can I not? He's been nothing but sweet, and this isn't his fault.

"I'm so sorry," he rushes to say before stopping in front of me.

Good lord, he's tall. He's definitely got a foot and some change on me. I wipe another tear that escapes before replying. "You have nothing to apologize for."

He slowly reaches out a hand but then hesitates. His fingers curl into a fist before he lowers it back to his side. "I do. I didn't realize I was making you uncomfortable. Forgive me. I didn't notice how close I was sitting to you—it felt so natural."

My eyes finally meet his, and even in the darkness, I can still make out their almond color. They look pained though. As if he truly feels responsible for me running off. Biting my lip, I debate what to say as my eyes dart back down to his chest. "I-I didn't… feel…uncomfortable." Exhaling a sigh of frustration, I rub the back of my neck. "To be honest, this whole thing is new to me."

His keeps his voice soft as he asks, "Do you mind explaining?"

"I… I don't trust easily. It takes a while before someone can earn my trust. I was…"—I swallow thickly—"I was burned by someone close to me, and since then, I've found it hard to make friends," I say, rocking awkwardly on my heels.

When I look up, Oli is ruffling his hair, a frown on his face. He briefly looks back at the house, then back at me. "I promise Lewi isn't bad. He… well, he's been burned, too, and he doesn't take to new people well. He does his best to push them away before he can get attached. The guys and I—we—" He groans. "But that isn't an excuse for his behavior."

The smirk that pulls at my lips surprises me. "It wasn't his words that bothered me, to be honest. It was the fact he said them in front of everyone."

His brows knit together as if he doesn't follow. "Why does that matter?"

Groaning, I explain, "I'm trying to make a good impression here. I don't want everyone to think I'm crushing on you like a dang horny teenager. Relationships between the players and staff are frowned upon and, to add to it, I'm new."

He laughs but beams down at me. "So you crushing on me would be bad? Or are you saying I'm not handsome enough for you to crush on?"

"Yes, the crushing would be bad, and it would be easy to crush on you."

His smile widens. "So… you find me handsome?"

I roll my eyes but laugh. "Yes, you are handsome. As I'm sure the puck-bunnies have told you many times"

"But you could never have a crush on me?" His eyes glisten with mischief as he continues to grin down at me.

I pause before I mutter, "Correct." What is he getting at?

He takes a step back, then quickly boops me on the nose. "Challenge accepted."

He runs back into the house before my brain can reboot and make sense of what he said. Challenge accepted? Wait… he wouldn't… would he? He's inside before I can reply, but I yell anyway. "Wait. Wait! That wasn't a challenge!"

What did I just get myself into?