Page 77 of Puck Right Off

Tilting my head back, I whisper, “What are you doing here?”

“When you didn’t respond to my calls or texts, I became worried. When I saw that you were here, I was pissed.” His expression is soft as he stares down at me.

“You’re tracking my phone? Then you followed me here?”

He stares at me from beneath lowered brows. “I’m not apologizing for it. Your safety is my top priority.”

Before he can say another word, I shut him up with a long, deep kiss. I moan as his fingers tangle in my hair, and he kisses me harder.

When we part, we’re breathing heavily. His lips curl into an infectious smile and his twinkling eyes make me feel like I’m floating on air. “Let’s get outta here. You deserve a foot and back massage before I make love to you all night.”

I squeeze his hand. “And they say the perfect man doesn’t exist. They’ve obviously never met you.”

CHAPTER 48

Tristan

Iwhistle as I head toward Coach Jensen’s office, nodding at Assistant Coach Nelson before he steps into the small office with a shared copier and printer. A few seconds later, he curses, then grumbles, “these damn machines.” He doesn’t know it yet, but I have a solution to his problem.

Reaching Coach’s door, I draw to a stop as loud, angry voices filter outside. I look at the nameplate beneath the door number when I hear a woman’s voice floating out, her tone furious. “Your athlete needs to put in the work, Coach Jensen. I’m not coddling a student who refuses to make any effort.”

My feet are rooted to the floor as a brunette woman jumps to her feet, her hands clenched into fists at her side. My eyes rake over long, chocolate brown hair, a black suit jacket, a pencil skirt, and black heels. Even with her spine snapped straight, Coach Jensen towers above her.

Coach is also on his feet, giving her his intimidating stare, looking at her from beneath lowered brows. I’ve seen that side of him often during games and practices and even been a victim a few times. No one on the team stands tall beneath hiswithering gaze and rage. Yet, this slim, firecracker of a woman stands her ground.

A flash of surprise flits across his face before his features harden again. “He is putting in the work. If it were a matter of sheer laziness, I wouldn’t be defending Jasper.” His jaw muscles work as he grits out, “He knows I don’t tolerate laziness. I stress the importance of academics to my players. He left your office because he was frustrated and didn’t believe you were helping him.”

Jasper Ryan.He’s the player I hope Coach replaces Josh with, even though he hasn’t had much game time.

When Josh was playing shitty and clearly distracted during the last game, I practically begged Coach Jensen to bench him and let Jasper play instead. He refused but wouldn’t tell me why.

But now I know. The petite firecracker standing in Coach’s office, aggravating the shit out of him, is the reason. She must be the professor Jasper was complaining about in the weight room.

Coach runs a hand through his dark hair, clearly irritated. “Look, Professor Kennedy. Jasper has some stuff going on at home that’s affecting him. I’m not at liberty to discuss his problems, but I feel it necessary to make you aware that outside factors influence his behavior. Despite his personal struggles, he’s working hard in his other classes, turning things around. But he’s complained to me that your class material is too difficult for an introductory?—”

“Call me Morgan. And that sounds like Jasper’s problem, not mine. My course material isnottoo difficult,” she says through gritted teeth. “Yes, it’s an introductory sociology class, but I do not find the material to be beyond the comprehension of a freshman, especially if you’re willing to work.”

Coach blows out a frustrated breath, his hands balling into fists as he struggles to contain histemper. He’s so engrossed in their argument that he’s not paying attention to my presence in his doorway. I’m afraid to move and draw his attention, knowing he’ll turn his wrath on me, and any chance I have of trying to convince him to give Jordyn a chance will be shot to hell.

“Jasper is willing to work,” Coach shouts, losing his cool. “What the hell do you think he’s been doing? He has a tutor, he’s doing all the assignments, he’s studying daily for your class.” Coach glares at her, folding his arms over his chest. He’s our biggest defender when we’re doing all the right things. When we aren’t, he ruthlessly stays on our ass until we get ourselves in line.

Running a hand through his hair, he grits, “The problem lies withyou, not him. I understand you are a new professor at Weston Heights and trying to secure your future here. But the material?—”

“How dare you?” Morgan shouts back, her heels clicking as she stomps closer to Coach. I watch in wide-eyed horror as his face turns a deep shade of red. She plants her feet and stares him down, anger radiating from every pore. “You’re a hockey coach,nota professor, so your opinion of my teaching is irrelevant.”

Oh shit. Coach is gonna explode.

“The hell it is,” he roars back. “I’ve been working at this university for fifteen years and know more about the inner workings than you do. WHU prides itself on the reputation of its hockey team, which recruits some of the top players and brings in funding. Overloading freshmen athletes with overly difficult material will not secure your future here. In fact, you’re likely to end up a one-year professor who isn’t invited back for a second year.”

She gasps, shaking her head. “I’m glad you think you’re the expert on education and this university,Coach Jensen. Maybe you should try teaching instead.” Her voice drips withsarcasm, and I cringe, knowing her tone won’t sit well with him.

His withering glare causes me to shrink back. I don’t know how the hell she’s standing there, her back straight, taking him on like a tiny warrior. He’s seething at her, chest heaving beneath his shirt.

Lowering her voice, she defiantly says, “I’m not dumbing down the material I teach for a hockey player.”

“And there it is—the real reason you won’t make concessions. You don’t like jocks.”

Her mouth drops open. “I’ll have you know I was married to a jock. He was extremely intelligent and didn’t have his coach begging his faculty to dumb down the material.”

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