Page 9 of Lawson

Lawson credited his perceptiveness to his little sister, which I couldn't help but think was adorable as hell. I’m not usually one for being rescued, but last night he'd showed up right when I needed him.

And sure, he definitely had that cocky prick attitude that bordered between insufferable and irresistible, but I never thought he was a Badger. I wouldn't have let him kiss me if I suspected he was.

Now I'm regretting it more than ever because that kiss had ignited a hungry need in my core that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since. It kept me up more than half the night, the memory of his lips against mine, his strong hands raking over my body as he brought us flush, the way he kissed me like there was nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing.

Which is ridiculous because it didn’t mean anything.

It was for show.

A show formybenefit, but that didn’t stop him from reacting to me. It was easy to tell he was attracted to me, and before I figured out he was a Badger—thanks to Clay hollering at him about practice across the bar—I’d already been calculating a way to have some no-strings fun with him.

Reese and Monroe—my two best friends—had been hounding me since breaking up with Brian to allow myself someexploration. They knew how difficult Brian had been when it came to physical intimacy, but it’d been hard for me to spot because I’d never experienced anything else.

I'd been with Brian since my freshman year of college, and I had spent my high school years focusing on my figure skating aspirations, so I never had any serious boyfriends or any serious sexual experience before him.

After one kiss with Lawson, I'm realizing my best friends might’ve had a point.

I had no clue how amazing intimacy could be. And yet a perfect stranger had awakened sensations inside me that I never knew existed from just a kiss.

What would’ve happened if we’d gone further?

What would it feel like if I’d given in to my instincts and invited him back to my place?

I’d unabashedly played out that scenario in my mind a dozen times last night while I struggled to sleep, unable to get the absolutely gorgeous Lawson out of my mind.

Of course, I’d noticed his incredible body, now completely explained by his profession, but it was his eyes that took my breath away last night. Well, before his lips anyway. He had the most gorgeous hazel eyes with flecks of gold and green and brown that swirled together and were laced with nothing but confidence and mischief and pure fun. He'd made it all too easy to fall right into his act when he'd scared off Brian, and I couldn't remember a time when it’d been so effortless to banter back and forth with somebody.

Of course, I’m not ready for a relationship, and I'm more than certain Lawson isn’t looking for that either. No, before Clay Kiplin came and ruined everything, Lawson seemed like the perfect specimen to embark on some much-neededexplorationwith.

But that doesn’t matter now.

Not when my father is introducing me to the Bangor Badgers, going so far as to say they needed to treat me like their freakinggrandmother. I mean seriously, Dad?

I wait just outside the ice, listening to him continue to explain the way this preemptive camp is going to operate. I guess I deserve the grandma comment, especially because I applied for this position without his knowledge.

I used my middle name as my last and went through the interview process with the new owner, wanting to earn my position on my own now that I'd graduated college and had put my competition days behind me. The last thing I needed was somebody accusing me of nepotism.

I’m not an asshole, but I know how talented of a skater I am, and I know what I can offer this team.

And Ilovedthis team.

My father had become the coach of the Bangor Badgers at the start of my college career, uprooting our life in Virginia and giving us a new adventure in Maine that I’d been more than excited about.

Of course, the first few years for Dad were rough, with him and the previous owner never seeing eye to eye. We almost left last year, but Dad's love for these players kept him here.

And now that we had a new owner? I can see hope radiating through my father from where I stand. I can’t blame him, either. I like the new owner. Mr. McClaren had been more than fair in our contract terms when he hired me, and he’d laughed after I signed it and admitted who I was. He'd given me a prideful look, like he respected my desire to prove myself outside of my father's connection to this team.

Most importantly, he agreed to my wishes to not make it public knowledge that I’m the coach's daughter. Sure, some of the veterans on the team, like Clay, Nash, Pax, and Baylor know me from my frequency at practices and games between classes from years prior. But they respected my wishes too. Which is probably why Clay didn't haul Lawson off of me when he caught us last night—something I’ll have to find a way to thank the captain for later. Those four are the only players left from our original Badger team, the rest rightfully and understandably accepting offered trades and any chance to get on a team that isn’t the worst in the league.

A sense of determination buzzes inside me, and I hope I can contribute to the change Bangor needs. My father is an excellent coach, and I'm hoping under new ownership and with the new group of players he's brought in that he'll finally get the winning season he deserves.

Dad finishes up his speech, having divided everybody into groups, and I take that as my cue to step onto the ice.

It's like coming home, a sense of familiarity and comfort that is unmatched as I glide across the ice. I can't help but soar across the expanse, gliding and spinning and gaining speed just because I can. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't showing off just a little bit. I may be confident in my abilities, but I knew the job I'd been hired for wouldn't be easy.

Convincing a bunch of professional hockey players that they aren't expert skaters yet?

That’s a mountain of a climb, but I’m more than willing to do it.

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