Page 65 of Wallflower
“Hey, Wallflower.” I cock an eyebrow as her eyes dart from my ass to my face. “Do you need me?”
“Oh, I, uh…” Violet clears her throat as her cheeks brighten and she looks around the room, eyes bouncing from man to man before she finds a spot on the floor to stare at. “I’m here to let Coach know that the post-training food and drinks have arrived, and according to the schedule, it’s almost time to wrap up.”
I roll off the foam tube and jump up. “Great. Thanks.”
Beside me, Hayden groans as he climbs to his feet, rolling his shoulders as he tests the muscles in his back. “Jesus Christ, Davenport. When did you learn how to smile? Give a guy a little warning before you grin like that. It’s fucking unnatural.”
I scowl at him—hard—but Violet rolls her lips like she knows she’s the reason for my good mood, and it’s hard to keep the frown on my face.
“You’re a riot, Shore,” I mutter.
He gives me a wide smile. “Fuck, yeah, I am. Wait until you hear my knock-knock jokes.”
I roll my eyes but gesture toward Violet. “Hayden—this is Violet James. She’s with the Fury marketing team and my summer assistant. Violet—this is Hayden Shore. Left winger and funny man, apparently.”
Violet offers him a shy smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, Violet. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a sweaty mess.”
“Oh, of course. No problem.”
Coach makes his way over from the side of the room. “Are we cooling down over here or having a tea party?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt your session, Coach, but the post-training menu is on the dining table,” Violet replies. “I’ve let theother groups know it’s time to call it a day, and this is my last stop.”
Coach raises his palms and gives her amea culpaface. “I take back the tea party comment, Violet. Thanks for letting us know and for all your assistance today. You’ve been a lifesaver.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
Violet shoots me a short, warm look from underneath her thick lashes before she slips out the door, and I stare at the spot where she disappeared, wishing the house were empty so I could chase her down the hallway, pin her against the wall, and kiss her senseless.
“You heard her,” Coach bellows as Theo, Jake, Breaker, and West drop to their mats in varied states of pain and exhaustion. “Wrap it up and hit the showers. I’ll see you all in the kitchen in fifteen minutes.”
Hayden waggles his brows at me as he makes his way to the bathroom attached to the gym, and I shake my head with reluctant amusement. Hayden’s another new trade for this season. He’s in his late twenties, so he’s old enough to know a thing or two, but still young enough to be having fun. A fantastic player waiting for the chance to prove himself.
Coach hangs back as the other boys follow Hayden. West approaches first, and he surprises me with a handshake as he passes. I return his firm grip and respectful nod, and I appreciate the acknowledgment that passes between us. West has been in the game for ten years as a solid and dependable defenseman, but he’s flown under the radar for most of his career. Recently divorced, if I remember right, but I’m probably wrong. I don’t listen to rumors.
Theo, Jake, and Breaker line up like fucking puppies once West clears the door, jostling each other and shaking my hand with about half the level of West’s maturity. Their young, objectively pretty faces should piss me off—guys at the start oftheir careers, their best years still to come—and a year ago, they probably would have. But their energy is less irritating and more inspiring right now, and fuck if I know why.
When it’s just Coach and I left in the gym, he stops me from walking out with a hand on my shoulder. His brows are drawn and his mouth is turned down, and my stomach tightens at the dissatisfaction painted on his face.
“I know, you need me to be better. Friendlier.” I shake my head with an uncomfortable grunt. “I’ll work on it for next time.”
His brows pull tighter. “If I’m honest, Chord, today went better than I thought it would. Not perfect, and we can talk about how to improve before the next session, but that’s not what I want to discuss.”
I rub my neck, working at a kink that probably needs a professional touch. “It’s not?”
“No.” Coach crosses his arms over his barrel chest. “I got a call from Courtney Reynolds this afternoon.”
I want to ask him why I should care, but I’m supposed to behave less like a prick, not more, so I settle for something more neutral. “Okay.”
“She says you declined to attend the San Francisco Fury Foundation gala later this month.”
I blink in surprise. “This is the first I’ve heard about a gala.”
“So, you didn’t RSVPnoto the event?”
“No. I mean…” With sudden insight, I realize Violet must have declined on my behalf, just following my instructions to keep me out of the way of the press for the summer. I pinch a bead of sweat from my nose to hide my chagrin. “Actually, yeah. I probably did. I told Violet to decline all my invitations over the off-season. I don’t want to deal with cameras and questions before October.”
