“Krista said she’s going to tell the press that I’m the father of her unborn child and refuse to help support her.” I grimace, shaking my head. “She plans to weave a story about being destitute, that she’s a good girl and only slept with me because I told her I loved her, and blah, blah, blah.”
“Are you sure?—”
“Don’t even,” I interrupt. “Like I told you earlier, I didnothave sex with her. Never,” I emphasize.
“How does she plan to get away with it, then?” Ash asks. “I mean, if you don’t pay and she takes it to the press?”
“I think she hopes I’ll want to protect my name and just pay whatever she wants. It’s a total scam.”
Ash nods but his eyebrows draw down in concern. “Problem is, with your reputation, she can get away with it.”
He isn’t being mean; he’s just telling it like it is. And he’s right. I’m not ignorant of my player reputation.
I don’t work at it, but then I don’t do anything to make it better, either. If women are throwing themselves at me, why not enjoy them?
But I don’t lead them on. I don’t pretend to have feelings other than lust, and I never let them believe anything will come out of it but some great sex.
If I think a woman is looking for more, I usually avoid her. I don’t need or want those kinds of complications in my life.
“There has to be something we can do.” I meet Ash’s gaze, my expression serious for a change. “I don’t want to add to the Thunderwolves’ bad press.”
A grimace spreads across his face. “Well, you’re going to have to talk to Tish about that.” At my frown, Ash explains, “Trent’s sister, the one you were drooling all over.”
So, her name is Tish. It suits her somehow. And then Ash’s words filter into my brain.
“Why would I talk to her?”
Ash narrows his eyes. “She’s our new PR lady.”
5
TISH
A blast of cold air hits me in the face as soon as I step outside of the clubhouse and practically run to my car.
It takes two tries to be able to open the door handle and yank open the door.
Once inside, I lean back in the driver’s seat and take a deep breath.
What is wrong with me?
My heart races like I just finished running a marathon and my palms are sweaty, despite the near freezing temperatures outside.
Puffs of steam escape my mouth with every rapid breath I take. If I don’t get a grip, my windshield is going to be all fogged up.
But I can’t help it. It’s like my body and mind are acting independently and I’m sitting behind a steering wheel that doesn’t work.
Never in my life have I felt such a strong attraction—to any man, not even Becky’s father. Yet here I sit, trembling with desire, for not one, but forthreemen!
Gripping the steering wheel, I lean forward and rest my head against my hands.
When I first stepped into the coach’s office, I was immediately drawn to Carl Zoren.
I’ve seen him out on the ice or on the sidelines during games, of course.
But this was my first time seeing him up close. He’s much more handsome in person and I found myself instantly attracted to him, which is weird since I’m not usually attracted to men twice my age.
But there’s something about Coach Carl that appeals to me on a physical level.