Page 14 of Role Model

“It’d crossed my mind,” Harris admitted.

“I wasn’t. I swear. It just surprised me. I really don’t have a problem with...y’know.”

“Pins?” Harris bit the inside of his cheek. He was enjoying teasing this guy more than he should, probably.

Troy’s cheeks pinked, just slightly. “Right.”

For a moment, Harris was mesmerized by the way Troy’s lips had formed into something close to a bashful smile. His eyes softened, and Harris was reminded that Troy was only twenty-five. The same age as him. “Let’s start over, then.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Harris.”

Troy’s smile grew another millimeter. “Troy.”

His hand was as solid and warm as Harris remembered it being from their first handshake, his grip firm and his skin a bit dry. “Nice to meet you, Troy. Get comfortable there and I’ll make sure this is quick and painless.”

Troy sat in the chair, legs spread and hands folded in his lap. He was wearing loose shorts that draped over his bulging thigh muscles. Harris had seen more than his fair share of perfectly sculpted thighs and asses during his time working for the Ottawa Centaurs, but he still allowed himself a moment to admire Troy’s legs before checking the light levels on his face.

“You know it’s cold outside, right?” Harris teased.

Troy glanced at his own bare legs. “I kind of half jogged over here.”

To apologize to Harris. Which was distractingly sweet and didn’t at all align with everything people said about Troy.

“You’re not down south in Toronto anymore. Winters are brutal here.”

“South,” Troy scoffed. “Toronto has the same winters.”

“You might sing a different tune in January. If you haven’t frozen to death by then.”

“I promise I’ll wear pants in January.”

Harris laughed, then stole one more glance at Troy’s muscular thighs before moving the conversation away from his impressive lower half. “If you decide to set up an Instagram account, I can help you with some content for the first posts.”

“Okay.”

Despite his reputation for being mouthy during games, Troy was definitely not a talker off the ice. Fortunately, Harris had no trouble filling a silence. “You can keep it totally professional, and just post official team stuff. Some of the guys barely use their accounts, and some are super into it. Wyatt posts a lot of comic book stuff. Bood basically does my job for me, with all the videos he posts. Ilya didn’t used to use it, but now he’s super into taking photos of random stuff in different cities.” Harris laughed. “I wish he’d turn the camera around sometimes. The fans would probably rather see their hero than a weird fire hydrant, right?”

“I guess.”

“Sorry. I’m chatty.”

Troy pinned him with that gaze for a moment, his blue eyes sharp but not cold. He almost seemed amused. “I noticed.”

“I’d say just tell me to shut up, but it probably wouldn’t work.”

“It’s fine.” Troy returned his gaze to the floor, his shoulders slumped. He looked tired. Harris decided to move things along.

“I just need to get this mic on you and then we’re all set.” He grabbed a little clip-on mic out of his equipment bag and walked over to Troy. He crouched down between Troy’s widespread legs and carefully clipped the mic to the collar of his Centaurs T-shirt.

When he glanced up at Troy’s face, he found those deep ocean eyes studying him. An unwelcome burst of heat shot through Harris, as his dick noticed that he was wedged between the muscular thighs of a very handsome man.

He stood quickly and walked back behind the camera so he could observe Troy on the little screen, instead of from between his legs. “Ready when you are.”

“Okay.” Troy rolled his shoulders back and sat up straight. He kept his hands folded in his lap, all business and probably not at all distracted by sexual thoughts.

Harris started off with hockey questions, because he found hockey players were the most comfortable talking about their sport. He asked about Troy’s favorite players as a kid, and favorite career memory.

“Who’s your favorite current player?” Harris asked.

Troy didn’t hesitate. “Scott Hunter.”

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