Page 33 of Not My Coach

A floor-length black satin dress flows down her body, hugging every curve of her, like it was custom-made to drive me insane.

She’s mingling with her parents and Laura Kostelecky, Alec Kostelecky’s wife.

She turns slightly, looking at someone. I follow her eyeline, and it lands on Brett. I swear if anyone looks at her for too long, I’m going to lose it.

My gaze is sucked back to her, unable to look away for more than a second. My dick fucking pulses when I see what the front of her dress looks like. A slit runs from her ankle to her high thigh, parting just enough to show off her smooth, tan leg. Then there’s the bust—a low-cut sweetheart that outlines her juicy tits.

Two tiny straps are somehow holding that dress up, but they are putting up one hell of a fight from the way her dress is pulling down on her chest. My jacket would cover her up perfectly. But even then, she would have everyone in the room’s attention. It wouldn’t matter if she showed up in a trash bag.

I can’t keep looking at her like this; someone is going to notice. But it’s damn near impossible not to stare.

Forcing my gaze to the ground, I take a shaky, deep breath as I remind myself that these feelings are fleeting. It’s just a crush, and with time, it will pass.

But I also never felt this way about my wife, not even when we were dating. I wonder now why we stayed together for so long or why we had gotten together in the first place. She didn’t challenge me; she didn’t rile me up. She was an easy addition to my life. The complete opposite of Evie.

Looking back on my marriage, I can’t help but think that I agreed to date her, then wed her because it got the media off of my back and let me once again focus on my game. There wasn’t a complete lack of romance between us. We went on dates, we kissed, and to some extent, we loved each other. Well, until she loved my best friend more. She never expected anything of me. As long as her needs were funded and we fucked, like, once a year, she was content with our dynamic, as was I.

It wasn’t until I met Evie that I realized just how much I had been holding back in life. There was a whole side of me that never got let out to explore. She unlocked a side of me that I never felt confident about, and she craves it as much as I crave her.

My ex made me feel like I was floating on water, drifting through life. Evie makes me feel like I’ve been lit on fire, and she’s the one who lit the match. And I think I might like getting burned.

She is ruining me. She makes me frantic and giddy. She’s taking over my brain. Because when she’s near, I can’t fucking think straight.

With her in that dress, this entire night is going to be a struggle. Everyone had better stay in their lane and stay the hell away from mine. Possessive is never a word I would have used to describe myself before meeting her. But now? I would shred a man into smithereens for touching her.

Consciously keeping my gaze anywhere but on her, I meet with the event coordinator who is assigning the players and coaches jobs for tonight. Hopefully, my job will be hiding in the shadows so I can look at my sweetheart all night long.

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Meghan,” she says with an enthusiastic smile. “I will be your point of contact for anything you need tonight or any questions you might have. For the start of the night, most of you will be serving the guests and waiting on them.”

She lists off the players with their table, assigning them each a number, pointing out which table they will assist, and handing them an apron.

“Coach, unfortunately, I was just told that one of the players is out sick tonight, so you will be waiting on table nine,” she says hesitantly. “If it’s too much for you, I can find one of the other staff for the night and have them take over for you. The table is right in the back there …”

She points, and I follow, finding the one table that is seating the only girl capable of stalling my lungs mid-inhale.

Fuck.

“Is that okay with you, sir?” she murmurs. “I can swap you with a player’s table if you want?—”

“Absolutely not. I’m happy with that one. Thank you. What happens next?” I cut her off.

“The event will officially start in ten minutes. Rolling trays will help you transport all beverages and food. Ice water will be ready in the tunnels connected to the players bench for easy access. Appetizers will be served right after that, followed by dinner and dessert.”

“Perfect. I’ll return in a few minutes then,” I inform her before storming off, finding the nearest exit.

I just need a moment alone, a second to not have eyes on me. I can do this. I can keep myself together long enough to get through the next couple of hours.

Sighing, I march back into the rink. Nearly all of the tables are now full with our guests, including Brett’s parents, who have joined my assigned table. My jaw tics as I see Jensen’s younger brother sitting next to Evie.

Jensen’s family is filling the other half of the table, and I wish his mom were the one beside Evie because then I wouldn’t have to worry about wandering hands and making a scene if he tries anything on her.

“Coach, we are being summoned,” Costello whispers to me, and I turn without thought, following behind him.

My palms sting, and I realize I was clenching my fists so tightly that my nails started biting into my skin. Stretching them out, I flex my hands and try to calm the roaring monster in my chest.

I follow Costello, and we join the rest of the group, heading into the tunnel to grab water for our guests.

I find cart number nine and stand in line behind one through eight. Sweat burns the broken skin on my palms as my body starts freaking out about seeing her again.

---