Chapter 24

Wade

"That was fun. Rory loves you and he's so cute." Kali, alongside one of her bodyguards, follow me into the locker room and I should tell her to stop, but I don't. Coach will be hot on our heels to debrief.

After dozens of photos and signing every piece of memorabilia Rory and his buddies brought for me to autograph, we waved them off, and since then she's been so busy running through a list of stuff to share with me, she hasn't noticed what room she's standing in, or the instant drop in noise as my team gawk at her as they listen into our conversation.

"You were amazing tonight." She beams at me as I pull off my gloves and throw them down.

She thinks I'm amazing.

However, are we going to continue to ignore the fact she hasn't spoken to me since Monday? The day she sucked my cock, and I haven't stopped thinking about it.

"Is this yours?" She points to the small framed photograph of Gretchen and me, which she then picks it up.

"Gretchen gave it to me." I"ve never told anyone that. "Never missed a game without it."

Handing it back to me, she places it in the palm of my hand and closes my fingers around it. "I thought you weren't superstitious?"

"I'm not."

The planets could stop spinning around the sun and cause a natural disaster for all I care as she holds onto my clasped hand and everyone around us becomes a blur.

It's not just about my attraction for her, it's everything about her I find fascinating.

I want her.

And yet that feels impossible.

She would never jeopardize her business because she's not a risk-taker.

I know this because I watch her. Too much sometimes. I"ve watched how she analyzes each and every word she writes. The wording of articles that have been published and written about me, devours statistics, rereads contracts. She's thorough.

Unlike me, she makes better decisions than I do; she makes lists, weighs up the pros and cons, and that's why she's an icon, and brave. Successful and prepared.

There is no amount of planning that could have prepared me for her.

Taking her time to consider her next question, she asks tenderly, "Does it make you feel like she's here with you?"

"Always." I feel like Gretchen sent me Kali for a reason and it has nothing to do with my career and everything to do with healing my broken heart.

It doesn't feel torn apart like it did before she arrived in my life.

I feel… healthier, fitter, stronger… and dare I say it… almost… happy.

"Keep it safe." Smiling, she tilts her head to the side and removes her hand. "I wish I had met her."

"She would have loved you." And told me to jump into the unknown.

"I'm so proud of you tonight. How you conducted yourself out there. You're trying and you have no idea how much I appreciate that. We all do."

The first compliment in months from Spike earlier, and now this one from Kali, displaces my emotions and I don't know if I want to cry, jump for joy, or pull her into my arms and kiss the hell out of her.

The weight from dozens of eyes on us makes me tuck my photo safely back into my cubbyhole.

Kali shakes her head as if she was in a daze, checks her watch, and puts her business head back on. "So, no game tomorrow and I know you have training in the morning then a session with Ash and Joe, but I wondered if you could drop into the office to film a QA with Casey for the sixty-second sports skit for that funny YouTube channel. Have you seen it?" Reaching down, she pulls off her sneaker, then the other, and passes them to her bodyguard, who, if my memory serves me correctly, is called Max, and exchanges them for a pair of the sexiest pair of strappy black high heels. "The guy who owns the online channel is coming in to do a piece with Jayden Spurr. You know the basketball player?" She jabbers on and doesn't let me answer, while I stare at her, completely mesmerized by the way she's wrapping the long straps around her ankles and rolling the bottom of her cuffed joggers up another couple of times, making them shorter. "As soon as we launch KRTM, we're going to be representing him. He's such a cool guy, and funny too. You should meet him when you come in. And then we have the gala ball on Friday. Did you sort a date out for that?" Slipping on the other shoe, she uses the bench to prop her foot on and begins wrapping her other ankle in fine leather before she then ties it in a bow and rolls up the leg of her jogger to match the length of the other.

"No," I answer deadpan, fucking annoyed that I assumed the other day we would go together. Stupid of me, I know that now.

Placing her foot on the floor, she looks up to the ceiling as if thinking. "Ask Lola. She's perfect. Immaculate, well mannered, would look hot in a gold-colored silk dress."

"She's engaged to be married. I'm not asking Lola." I pull off my helmet and throw it into my cubbyhole. That's not happening.

"Looking the way you do, surely you have a little black book filled with names of damsels wanting to wear a pretty dress and accompany you to charity galas. Yes?" She checks the time on her watch again and curses under her breath.

She knows I don't whore around, so I ignore her hideous question. I'm attending alone.

"Where the hell are you going?" I look down at her perfectly painted red-black toenails sitting in the sexiest shoes I've ever seen that have the elongated YSL logo as the heel and then check her joggers. She's the only woman I know who could pull off that look.

"I have a dinner date."

What the fuck."With my jersey on?" Hell no.

Looking down at herself, she looks back up at me as if completely baffled. "You don't want me to wear your jersey to dinner?"

"No fucking way." I straighten my spine. That feels like cheating. Although it's not.

But it is.

Not really.

Not at all.

She drives me fucking crazy, every inch of me craves her and I'm tense all over at the thought of her meeting a guy tonight.

Hands on her hips, in a standoff, we glare at each other.

"Fine," she snaps.

Quicker than I can stop her, without untying the knot she made in it to make it fit her, she pulls it up over her head and I immediately let out a sigh of relief at the sight of a short-sleeved white cropped top she has on underneath. She throws the jersey at my chest, and I catch it, wafting her vanilla perfume up my nose.

I'm never washing it.

I can't peel my eyes off her.

Jesus fucking Christ. She's stunning.

"What the hell are you doing?" I look around as every man in the room drools over how beautiful she is.

"Getting ready for my dinner date, I told you that. I'm already late. Max." She beckons him. "Can I have your jacket, please?" Without hesitation, he removes his black suit jacket and hands it to her. Kali puts it on, pulling her endless long black hair out of the back of the neck and combing it with her fingers.

Checking herself out in the mirror, she stands the collar up on the oversized blazer that looks like it was made for her. Looking down, she admires her outfit. "That'll do. Okay, I gotta go." She points at me. "Get back to me with a name, or let Lola know and she can email me. Whatever works. Next week is stacked. We have a game show to film, three games, one which is away and I'm traveling to it with you, and I have an interview to confirm with Men's Health magazine. Oh, and the test photoshoot." She winks, keeping the name Calvin Klein to herself. "I'm already exhausted thinking about how busy we are going to be, and in between that, you have training every day to help you spin around the rink quicker." She giggles. Fucking giggles and everyone else joins in. The little minx, she knows that will piss me off.

It"s only when the guys laugh, she becomes aware of the audience she's pulled. "Oh crap. I'm sorry." Her eyes dart left and right, noticing the different stages of undress of my team. "Am I in the locker room? I shouldn't be in here." She doesn't even blush. Having spent years surrounded by naked men and women at catwalk shows, I'm guessing nothing fazes her. Although she couldn't look at me the other day when I was in my boxers.

Interesting.

As she turns to leave, she waves over at someone before saying, "Oh, hey Zane."

I don't think he was lying about her messaging him last night.

Fucking hell.

Why do I care?

Max follows behind her as she rushes to leave before yelling goodbye. "See you tomorrow, Wade."

When she exits, the locker room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop as we all stare at the door she left through.

"Joggers and heels?" Spike asks.

"Yeah. I think I just unlocked a new kink." I sound love struck and not much like myself.

"I think we all did," someone says from behind me, making the guys burst into loud, boisterous laughter and everyone goes about their business.

Jordy wraps his arm around my neck in a headlock. "If you don't jump on that soon, you'll lose your chance."

"She's going out on a date."

"It means nothing. It's just a date."

"She wants to keep our relationship professional." I've said that to her too, but I'm fucking lying to myself and her. "She's just my publicist."

Jordy ruffles my sweat-soaked hair. "Keep telling yourself that."

"She's too old for me."

"She's fucking perfect for you. You need someone like her to keep you in check."

My stomach knots. "You make her sound like someone's mom." Not mine though. My mother never gave a shit about me.

"I saw the way you look at her."

"How the hell do I look at her?" I ask, annoyed.

"Like she's already yours."

I wish she was.