25. Emma

My hands are shaking as I sit in my car outside the arena. I'm glad to see it's stopped raining, and the sun is trying to break through the clouds, but it doesn't do anything to improve my mood. The confrontation with Lachlan has been a bitch slap of reality. Shagging him and flirting with Keir is a no-go. Absolutely out of bounds.

At least my brain knows this, but my body is still betraying me. And since when did I ever fantasise about two different guys at the same time? Like, never, that's when. This whole thing is one big grenade waiting to blow up in my fucking face.

"Fuck you both," I mutter and pull my phone out, wanting to talk to Anna.

I see a notification of a follow or fifty on Instagram and frown. Pulling it up, it seems word has spread about me being the new team owner, and I'm getting follows from randos everywhere. Men, women, teens. Even as I stare at it, another bucket load come in. "Wow, okay. Fame in a weird place." Chuckling, I go through a bunch of them, but one catches my eye purely based on the fact that he is smoking hot. Dark-haired with blue eyes so clear you could drown in them. He is so fucking hot in his profile pic decked out in his blue, not green like the Warriors, hockey jersey, half pulled up as he wipes his face, showing off abs you could climb up. "Hello, hockey hotness. And who are you?"

Taran Fraser. Captain of the Castle Arrows.

"Oh." My interest takes a nosedive. They are the Warriors biggest rivals being a derby team.

I tap on the screen, letting my thumb hover over his profile for a moment longer than necessary, and then I hit ‘follow back' before I can second-guess myself. It's probably just good sportsmanship to acknowledge the local competition, right? But deep down, I know it's those abs that's got me clicking that button. I seem to be a sucker for hockey-god bod right now.

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat with a huff, feeling slightly irritated by the entire thing. I just told Lachlan off for being unprofessional, but this is different, isn't it? He doesn't play for me. Sure, he's a rival and pillow talk sinks ships or whatever that saying is, but… Whoa. Slow your roll there, tigress. He just followed me, didn't ask me out on a fucking date. I swear my libido has gone into nymph mode since moving here two days ago. But is it surprising? The local hockey talent is knicker-melting.

"Focus, Ems. Go home and just forget about the guys and do a bit of studying instead." I start up the car and pull out of the car park, intending to do just that. But my brain has other plans, replaying the image of Lachlan's intense gaze and Keir's awkward charm. It's like they've set up camp in my mind and won't budge no matter how many times I tell them to get lost.

When I pull up outside the cottage, my phone buzzes. I grab it like it's the holy grail of distraction. A DM is waiting for me to jump on it.

Taran Fraser.

It would be rude to ignore it, wouldn't it? My finger hovers for a moment before tapping open his message.

Welcome to the official rivalry.

I snort. He's quick, I'll give him that. Without overthinking it, I type back a fast response.

Thanks! May the best team win... which will be us, obviously.

I hit send before I can talk myself out of it. That's right, Emma Thornton doesn't shy away from a little friendly banter. Besides, I'm only human and a woman with needs—and we've established that I'm weak for a hockey player with abs that could probably slice cheese.

Taran sends a reply with a laughing emoji followed by:

Is that so? We'll see about that.

My lips curl up in an involuntary smile. This is just the distraction I need from my players. Moving forward, onwards and upwards and all that bollocks.

Climbing out of the car, I smile, trying to think of a witty remark but come up blank. I'm not good on my feet. I will have a perfectly crafted response three weeks from now, but in this moment, it escapes me.

Anna opens the door before I reach it with a smile. "How did it go?"

"Pretty good," I reply, pulling my boots off and then closing the door behind me before flopping on the couch. "The business side was boring, but Keir explained?—"

"Keir?" Her eyebrows go. If we end up with GIF-face again, I'm going to stop telling her things.

"Yes, Keir explained the actual game to me in Emma-speak."

"And Lachlan was…?"

"Not there until he was, and we had a bit of a showdown about last night. It didn't go well. He was a bit…" I twist my lips.

"A bit what?"

"Let's just say he reacted badly to me shutting it down," I murmur.

Anna frowns. "Badly how?"

I shake my head. "He was hurt. It was weird."

She relaxes a bit. "Why is him being hurt weird?"

"It's like he wanted to pursue it. I don't know. It was unexpected. I figured he'd, you know, want to forget about it."

"And he doesn't?"

"Didn't seem like it. Unless it was his ego because I was the one to say so and not him."

"Hmm," Anna muses. "So, what now?"

I flop back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers to my messy life. "Now? I focus on getting this team to win some bloody games and avoid any more run-ins with Lachlan's ego—or any other part of him, for that matter."

Anna nods sagely. "Good plan. But you do know that avoiding him is going to be impossible, right?"

"Yeah, much as I hate it and want it put to bed, I think we need to have another conversation."

"One that doesn't involve him tripping over and landing with his dick inside you."

"Anna!" I burst out laughing as I whack her with a pillow. "Stop it!"

She laughs as well, and all is right again in my little world.

"I'm going to lie down for a bit. I'm fucked."

"Off you go. I did a bit of shopping earlier, so I'll make dinner," she says.

"Thanks, babes. You're the best."

She beams, and I head to my room, crawling onto the bed with my phone, still wondering what I can send back to Taran.

As if he knew I was thinking about him, he sends another message.

No comeback?

Smiling, I lift up the phone and start typing.