Page 5 of Role Model

“Do dogs like the ice?” Troy asked. Chiron seemed to be sure-footed and happy as he chased pucks, but he asked anyway.

“Not every dog, but Chiron is part Labrador, part mountain dog. He’s built for the cold.”

“And he’s going to be a...therapy dog? Like a Seeing Eye dog?”

“He’s going to be trained to assist people with anxiety or PTSD. If he gets in the program.”

“Does he have to write an exam or something?”

That weak joke earned Troy another horrifyingly loud laugh. “He just needs to be physically able to be a therapy dog. We’ll know in a few months.”

Harris kept talking about dogs, probably, while Troy’s gaze, once again, went to the rainbow pins on Harris’s jacket. The stab of longing and intense jealousy that he always felt when he saw Pride symbols must have shown on his face as apparent contempt again, because when he glanced at Harris’s face, he found another disappointed frown.

Okay. Enough was enough. Troy needed to say something now to clear up any misunderstanding. He swallowed. “I, um—”

A whistle blew, and then Coach Wiebe called out, “All right, time to work. Harris, thank you for the special guest.”

Rozanov scooped up the puppy and brought him over to the bench. He booped the dog’s nose with his gloved fingertip, then very reluctantly handed him to Harris. “Where does he go when he is not here?”

“He stays at a training facility. They take good care of him, I promise.”

Ilya frowned. “Is it fun for him?”

“Definitely. He doesn’t have to start doing the hard work until he’s older. If he qualifies.”

“He will qualify. This is a good dog. Will he get big?”

Chiron licked Harris’s face. He licked his mouth and Harris didn’t seem to mind at all. Troy tried not to wrinkle his nose, but he probably did.

“He’ll be a pretty big boy,” Harris said. “Won’t be able to cuddle him like this for long.”

Coach blew his whistle again. “Roz, Barrett. Let’s go.”

Troy’s face heated. Why had he even been standing by the benches still? He wasn’t a dog person and he wasn’t friends with Rozanov or Harris.

“You are in trouble already,” Ilya said. His tone was flat, but his eyes were playful. “Bad start.”

Troy didn’t answer him. He just put his head down and got to work.

Chapter Two

Damn. Troy Barrett was a looker all right.

Harris was in his office, staring at a headshot Gen had just taken of the newest Ottawa player. He had always thought Troy was one of the hottest players in the NHL, and meeting him in person today had only reinforced that belief. Troy’s intense blue eyes, glossy dark hair, and pouting lips made him look more like a pop star than a hockey player. His narrow face had a razor-sharp jaw, shaded with dark stubble, and his cheekbones were frankly astonishing.

But it was his eyes that Harris couldn’t look away from. Glinting like blue flames from under dark, heavy brows and long, full lashes.

Harris remembered the bare contempt that had been in those eyes when he’d been staring at Harris’s pin collection. Harris knew the look. He got it in grocery stores, on the bus, and sometimes, yes, at work. None of it would stop him from wearing his queerness proudly on his chest, or on his wrist, or on one of several pro-queer T-shirts he owned. He always felt disappointed, mostly, when he received looks like the one Barrett had given his rainbow flair.

Extra disappointed in this case, because Harris had been hoping that Troy Barrett was a better man than rumors had described him to be.

Still, though. He was pretty.

Harris had never hooked up with an NHL player because he was determined to keep things professional. Also because the opportunity had never presented itself.

NHL players were basically gods, with spectacular bodies and loaded bank accounts. And Harris was... Harris. Short, a little pudgy, unathletic, and definitely not rich. He earned less in a year than some of the players did in a day. So Harris’s personal pledge to never sleep with a member of the team he worked for showed about as much resolve as pledging not to take too many trips to the moon.

But if Harris ever went to town on an NHL player, he wouldn’t mind if that man looked something like Troy Barrett.

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