Page 33 of Power Play

Walking past him, I line up my shot, making sure that when I lean over to take it, my ass is nearly pressed against him. It’s not my fault the cue ball is directly in front of him, and he’s refusing to move like a gigantic ass tree. After making a few adjustments to my shot, I wiggle around a bit, knowing he’s probably admiring the way my ass looks in these jeans. Glancing over my shoulder, I smirk when I see his eyes immediately shoot up from checking me out. A faint blush crosses his face at being caught, but I play coy. “Sorry, not a lot of room here to make the shot.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Carry on,” he says, his expression unreadable other than the slight darkening of his eyes.

Refocusing on the game, I line up my shot and send a solid directly into the pocket. Without even looking at Rex, I move across the table and make one more solid before I miss on the third shot.

“That’s two,” I tell him with a smirk.

“You would have had three if you had held your hand correctly,” is all he says in response.

Tapping my finger on my lip dramatically, I think of what question I should ask him. Why doesn’t he date? Has he ever dated? What happened after his hockey injury that kept him in Texas? I decide I should be gentle with my first question and go with the safer option.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I coach hockey at the college level. Just started up this year.”

Interesting. Of course, I’ve found someone in the same sport as my brother, even though I said I’d never be interested in someone who played hockey. I guess a coach is different enough, right? Besides, we’re just hanging out. It’s not like I’m interested in anything going further with him, just some fun.

“Hmm. Okay, second question. What kept you in Texas?” I ask.

I see the moment my question hits him. His whole body tensed just enough that I know this isn’t the easiest question for him. “Or you could tell me what caused you to move back to New York. Whichever you’d prefer.”

“That’s a loaded question. Shot first.” Rex grabs the glasses, passing me a shot of Jameson. Quickly clinking our glasses because everyone knows it’s a crime not to cheers, we take the shot. When I look up, he’s already set his glass down and is looking at me.

“I moved back to New York because of an opportunity that came up with an old friend. He offered me this coaching job, trying to help me get back into a world I missed. As for why I stayed in Texas, I was fucking up for quite a while, making one bad decision after another. There was no point in coming back when there was nothing left for me here.”

I think that’s the most he’s ever said to me at one time. He’s always so serious, almost grumpy, and gives short, quick answers, like speaking offends him. But now... he’s talking to me. It may not be much, but it’s a start.

“So, this is an exciting opportunity?” I ask, trying to push the limit just a bit and get him to tell me more.

“If I’m being honest, I would love the opportunity to coach for the NHL, so starting with college is step one. So yeah, I guess it is an exciting opportunity,” he says with a smirk before standing up to look for his next shot. When he’s walked a few paces away, he turns around smugly. “Don’t think I didn’t catch that you stole an extra question. I’ll save mine for later.”

Then he proceeds to shoot another ball perfectly into the pocket. When he goes to make the next shot, he surprises me by looking back. “Next time you shoot, try to loosen your grip like this. You were holding on to it too tight and the cue didn’t have room to move or pivot in your hand.”

Then he shoots the next two shots perfectly into their pockets before finally missing.

“Question time,” he says.

“I’m ready.”

“Why are you here hanging out with me? When all your friends left.”

My jaw drops at his rudeness, and he looks guilty.

“Let me try that again. Why are you choosing to hang out with me instead of your friends?”

“Because I enjoy hanging out with you. It’s different than what I’m used to. It’s refreshing. Even if you aren’t very nice when you talk,” I respond.

One step.

That’s all it takes before I’m holding my breath. The next two steps he takes make me feel like I’m suffocating, unsure of what he’s doing, until he’s standing directly in front of me and looking down at me with eyes so dark they look like the night sky. Slowly taking a step back to try to see him fully, I’m surprised when my back is already against the table.

Shit.

I feel like I poked the bear. Unsure of what to do next, I stand in front of him like a deer in headlights.

Rex leans forward until his lips are right above my ear. I can feel his shallow breathing as I try to anticipate his next move.

“I’ve heard that I can be quite generous. Does that count as ‘nice’?” he growls.

---