Page 3 of Rookie Move

She took in a deep breath and met his gaze—his furious gaze.

“I’m sorry. I panicked. I didn’t think we’d see each other again. Much less here,” she said, gripping the top of her chair. Thankfully, the cube next to hers was empty, and it was early, so there weren’t any witnesses to whatever was about to happen.

His soft brown hair fell across his brow. She knew exactly how it felt sifting through her fingers, and she made a fist.

He walked toward her desk, taking everything in.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Then he paused. “Why do you have a picture with Bugsy?”

Crap.

“Umm…He’s my dad.”

Desmond sighed deeply, tilting his head back. The edge of his collarbone was visible above the neckline of his shirt. She’d licked that collarbone—among other things.

Don’t get distracted.

“Your father? Is this a joke?”

“Uh, nope. He’s my dad, and I work for the team that you’re apparently on. Who knew we should’ve discussed our jobs before jumping into bed?” she said with a shrug, like it wasn’t an epically big freaking deal.

“Who knew,” Desmondechoed, his voice tight, and he noticed her fidgeting. She tried to act calm, but it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one freaking out.

How the hell had this happened? How the fuck had he managed to have sex with his new coach’s daughter?

She shifted from one foot to the other. He tried to ignore the slight flush in her cheeks, how her lips parted before she drew her bottom lip into her mouth. She’d done that when he was inside her, her breath choppy with need.

Fucking. Hell.

He mentally shook his head, willing the image of her underneath him to go the hell away.

“Look, Desmond, I had no idea you were a hockey player—let alone on the team. That night…” She let out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Ever.”

That stung more than it should, and he cleared his throat.

She held up her hand. “Sorry. That was rude. I told you I’d moved here a few months ago, and that was true. I’m still getting my bearings, and we had fun, but I’m not in a place for anything more than that, especially since you’re on the team.” She tittered again. “I mean, that has to be against the rules in the handbook, or something.”

“It’s fine.” Why did he hear grit in his tone? He’d known it was a one-night thing, and he would be absolutely certifiable to think, now that he knew who she was, that anything else could happen.

“We’ll pretend nothing happened and move on. I get it. It was just a shock to see you here. I should probably go to the locker room to get ready for practice. So I guess I’ll see you around,” he said, walking away from her before anything else could be said.

He focused on making his way through the building and to the practice rink that was connected to the offices. His head was spinning. He’d been excited about the trade. The Strikers had a solid team and their Cup run last season had been strong. And while he’d loved playing for Minnesota, they didn’t have the chops to win in the end, and he was ready for a change.

“You get what you needed?” Eric Finnegan, known to his teammates as Finn, said when Desmond walked into the locker room.

“What?” Desmond asked, his head still swimming.

“You said you had to see someone upstairs,” Finn said, his head tilted in question.

“Oh yeah. Right. Yep, I’m good,” he babbled. He fucking babbled.

Get it together, man.

Desmond had dropped off his gear in the locker room earlier, with the intention of swinging by HR quickly with a question, but running into Rylie had scrambled his brain. He’d email them when he got back to his condo tonight instead.

He was still trying to process how she was here as he pulled on his pads and rushed to get ready. Half of the guys were already making their way to the ice.

“Lachley, you joining us?” one of the assistant coaches barked out as Desmond wrapped tape around one of his socks.

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