Page 10 of Behind the Net

Her eyes bug out. “What? That’s so sad.” She catches her reflection in the mirror behind me, which she must have hung yesterday. “Oh my god.” She wipes a finger under her eye to clean up the makeup. “Is this what I look like? Jesus.”

Shedoesknow that I fired her, right?

She turns back to me and takes a deep breath. “I did a good job yesterday.”

I hesitate. She’s not wrong.

“No.” Her cheeks are flushed. “A great job. I can handle everything you throw at me, no problem. And you didn’t even introduce yourself.” Her mouth tightens. “Who do you think you are, Ryan Gosling? You can just fire me like a dickhead?”

I know Ryan Gosling. I met him at some NHL party last year that the team had to go to. He’s a nice guy. Way nicer than me.

Is that her type? My jaw tenses. I don’t like that idea.

“Dickhead,” I repeat.

“Sorry.” She winces. “I’m a person, you know. I deserve to be treated with respect.”

Her eyebrows pinch together and she blinks rapidly, looking like a kicked puppy. Oh, fuck. My heart sinks. I hate this feeling. I hate her feeling like this, and I especially hate knowing that I did that.

She’s right. I was an asshole yesterday. I didn’t mean to be, though. I don’t know how to be normal around her. She showed up looking like a Disney princess, and I could barely say two words to her.

She points at Daisy, who’s waiting by her feet, gazing up at Pippa with adoration. “I get along great with Daisy. I’m sorry I was still here last night. I lost track of time, and it won’t happen again. I promise you’ll never have to see me.” Her voice wavers. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my job back.”

The air thickens with tension, and we both stare at each other. Is she…? In my head, images appear of us tangled up in bed. She’s beneath me, head tipped back, eyes closed, with an expression of pleasure on her face as I thrust into her.

I’m going to be thinking about that later with my hand around my cock, and I hate myself for that.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says quickly, cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “I said that weird. I just mean, I really need this job, so whatever I did that made you think I’m not a good fit, please let me know.”

There’s no way I can tell her the truth—that she’s the girl I was obsessed with for two years in high school. And everything she said? She’s right. I like the way she set up my apartment. She tired Daisy out yesterday more than I could have. I can already tell this dog needs a ton of mental stimulation as well as physical exercise. Deep down, I trust her with this dog.

I should let the team find me another assistant. Pippa’s problems are not my problems. I have enough on my plate.

Just like at the shelter with Daisy, I ignore that hesitation. The way Pippa’s looking at me now, with a mix of determination and worry, her head held high like that? It gets me right in the middle of my chest.

I stare at her, studying her face. Even though she looks like a drowned rat, her eyes still sparkle. Her cheeks are flushed, so full of life and vibrancy, and my chest feels weird, like I have heartburn.

I raise an eyebrow at her. “You call me a dickhead, and then you ask for your job back?”

She shifts, wincing. “Yes, I did.” She flattens her lips, looking up at me with a guilty expression, and the determination in her eyes plucks at a muscle in my chest. “Sorry.”

I like this girl. She’s scrappy. It took a lot of guts for her to show up and call me a dickhead. No one talks to me like that.

I can’t screw her over like this. I’ll find a way to focus this year. I always do. I’ve had years to practice discipline. This year, I’ll just have to practice harder.

I can’t fire her, but I can keep her at arm’s length.

I fold my arms over my chest, shifting on my feet against the doorframe. The back of my neck feels warm. “Okay.”

She lights up, and for a moment, I’m terrified she’s going to throw her arms around my neck. “Really?”

Terrified or excited. I don’t know.

“Don’t keep anything here,” I add quickly.

She claps, and that riles Daisy up. She starts zooming around the apartment. Pippa beams at me, smile stretching wide across her face, and I feel like I’m about to be sick.

“Thank you.” She clutches her hands together. “I promise, I’ll be great.”

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