Page 18 of Just One Season
“Atticus’s poor sister.” Harley stops next to me with his hands shoved in his pockets.
I’m still lingering in the doorframe, a grin on my face, a chuckle in my throat.
Harley’s always the one who thinks about other people’s feelings. Which is probably why he’s been in such a stable long-term relationship, even if his girlfriend is back in his Maine hometown.
I let out the laugh. Poor girl? Yeah, okay, I can see that. But she’s the amusement I need in my life right now.
“Did you see her face? That was the funniest thing I’ve witnessed in a long time.” Lachlan says in his Aussie accent. There aren’t many Aussie NHL players—just one other in the league.
“It really was.” I head to my locker, dropping my towel to step into boxers. “She was especially horrified to see your hairy ass.”
“My ass is not hairy, mate. It’s smooth as a baby’s bottom. That’s what waxing is for.”
“Christ.” I shake my head and pull on jogging pants.
“Want to see? Maybe you should take care ofyourhairy ass.”
“My ass isn’t—” I stop. “You know what? Fuck off.”
Lachlan laughs and reaches for his hoodie. “I can’t wait to tell Atticus.” He runs his hand through his long, blond curls, securing them back into the man bun we mercilessly make fun of him for.
Doesn’t seem to stop him from getting women.
Being a professional hockey player plus that damn Australian accent gets them every time. The tattoos and beard haven’t hurt him either.
“Tell me what?” Atticus emerges from the showers in a towel.
“You missed your sister, Atter.”
“Lucy?” He furrows his brow. “In here?”
“Yeah.” I answer Atticus because Lachlan is laughing too hard. “She walked right into the locker room.”
“Why the actual fuck would she do that?” Atticus groans.
“Apparently she has—had?—a meeting with Coach.”
“Oh, shit.” Atticus glances back over his shoulder through the glass, where Coach Jackson is typing something painfully slowly with two fingers.
“Yeah.”
“Was everyone dressed?” With a slight panic in his voice, Atticus scans the room, where there are no asses or dicks on display.
At least not anymore.
“Absolutely not,” another player calls out.
“It could’ve been worse,” I say helpfully. “I think it was only Lachlan’s ass that was visible.”
“And my dick,” Lachlan adds, now that his laughing has died down. “But I don’t think she saw.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Atticus rubs his hands on his face. “Alright. Listen up, assholes!” he yells to the room. The side conversations die down.
I turn to him and cross my arms, biting back a smirk. This should be good.
Atticus turns in a circle, looking each of our teammates in the eye. Trying to look intimidating? Which normally I could see happening, given his height and bulk. But it’s not quite workingright now. Probably because when I look at him with his red curly hair, I think of his sister’s expression when she realized she was in the same room as a half-naked hockey team.
“My sister Lucy is working for the team for just one season to cover Fiona’s maternity leave.” He pauses. “Please be nice.”
