Page 23 of Unleashed

Her explanation stopped me short. California to Nashville to Austin. The way her voice hitched when she mentioned California, the shadow that crossed her face... Not a journey she’d undertaken on her own terms.

I wanted to push. Whyhadshe left? What circumstances chased her away from a place she’d obviously loved? But I didn’t like the clouds in her blue-green eyes or the hitch in her voice when she spoke of the past. “Do you take him along when you travel with the team?”

She shook her head, more dark hair tumbling down from her bun. “No, he’s not a fan of flying.”

“Not a fan of much, I’m thinking.”

She grinned, smoothed her flyaway hair out of her face. “He definitely has his preferences. My neighbor takes care of him while I’m gone. Bright gets to stay here, so he’s happy. I know he’s being checked on, so I’m happy. Win-win. My neighbor’s been great, really understanding about my schedule. He won’t take my money, so I order extra delivery when I know he’s home.”

I stretched my neck, scrubbed my hand over my head. Something told me she had no trouble finding men eager to lend her a helping hand.

The coffeemaker chimed. Sutton nudged her cat aside and retrieved the first cup. She passed it to me, motioned to the sugar and powdered creamer containers on the island. “I have some sweet cream creamer in the fridge if you’d prefer that.”

My body was my paycheck. I’d bought in on the whole “my body is a temple” by the time I was twelve and earning accolades for my prowess on the ice. I set aside nutritional standards often enough—hello red meat, dark beer and aged whiskey. But artificial creamers, whether powdered or that syrupy sweet shit that passed as cream? No way that crossed my lips. Had I become a food snob? Yes. Was I going to put over-processed shit in my coffee? No. “Black’s fine.”

The coffeemaker dinged again and she pounced on it like a forward on a loose puck. Three heaping spoonfuls of sugar disappeared into her cup before she drowned the whole thing in creamer from the fridge. Her spoon clinked against ceramic as she stirred, gaze darting up to catch mine before skittering away again.

The hesitant act didn’t fit what I knew about Lily Sutton. I’d give a lot to crawl into her head and get a clue about what she was thinking. Dark hair trailed along her face, down to her shoulders. The remnants of a bun hung on for dear life at the top of her head.

My fingers twitched with the urge to free the rest of her hair. To see if it felt as soft as it looked spilling over her shoulders. To find out if she’d make that little gasp I kept imagining when I tugged it just right.

Fuck.

But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from those escaped strands any more than I could stop wondering what other sounds she might make.

“So,” she drew out the word, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that did dangerous things to my control. The shyness from earlier finally melted away. “Tell me more about working with Mack. What was it like when he first came on?”

I propped my elbow on the island, leaning in closer than I should. “You fishing for more content for that episode?”

“Maybe.” She lifted her chin, but pink flooded her cheeks to make a lie of her bravado. That blush of hers got me every damn time. The color made her look softer somehow. More real than the polished producer who stalked our practices. My fingers itched to trace that color on her face. Worse, I was getting too good at putting it there.

She tilted her chin up and prodded. “You already said he’d make good content. I want the real story though. What’s it like having a new coach come in when you’ve been captain forever?”

“You calling me old, Sutton?” I couldn’t help needling her, watching that blush deepen.

Her eyes went wide. “No! God no, that’s not what I—”

My laugh rumbled up from my chest. “Calm down. I am old. In hockey years anyway.”

“You’re thirty-seven. Hardly old.” She rolled her eyes. “You’ve only got a couple years on me and I refuse to be described as old.”

Try five years. I’d overheard her tell Riley she and Adele were the same age months ago while we were gearing up. Not that I should have filed away that detail. Or any details about Lily Sutton.

“Mack came in with the right attitude,” I said, steering us back to safer ground. “Didn’t try to reinvent the wheel. Actually listened to the players, got to know how we operated before making changes.” I shot her a look. “Unlike some people, he doesn’t mind having his life turned into entertainment.”

Her flinch was slight, but it was there. Good. Let her remember why keeping my guard up around her was smart.

Before she could reply, that cat slipped away from her fingers to sit right in front of me on the counter. His gaze fixed on my face and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. “He always walk around on the counter? You ever worry about him giving you some kind of cat plague?”

“Um, no? He’s not allowed up here when I have food, but I like when he joins me for coffee.” She motioned to the cabinet under the sink. “As long as I wipe things down frequently, I think we’re safe from any kitty contamination.”

“Good thing I’m not staying over,” I said, glancing toward the unblinking cat. “I have a sneaking suspicion he’d smother me in my sleep.”

Her cheeks flushed, bright and beautiful, her eyes looking everywhere but at me. “He’s not that bad.”

The grumpy cat forgotten, I leaned into the back of the stool, the metal cold on my bare skin. “He tolerates you having company overnight?”

Her head snapped up, her sea-glass eyes wide before fixing on her cat. “No—I mean, yes. Not that—” She cut herself off, that gorgeous blush spreading down her neck, disappearing beneath her shirt.

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