Page 6 of Offside

I grumble about to argue with her. “I don’t need—”

She cuts me off. “You do and you will. I’ll be back.”

When the door closes with a click, I open my inbox and wince. Even though Christine has gone through and prioritized and deleted, I still have over a hundred emails to review and respond to. I’m going to need more coffee for this.

Speaking of which, I think Christine is back when there’s another knock on my door.

I don’t bother to look up.

“Back so soon?”

“No?” The sound of a deep, masculine voice rumbles through the office. Tearing my gaze from my email, I lift my head and stare up at the six-foot-five hockey player standing at the threshold.

One look at Ballas makes my cheeks flame hot and my body flicker alive. Damn him for being so insanely attractive in his tailored navy suit that tugs around his sculpted shoulders and thighs.

Don’t let him in. Both figuratively and literally.

“Karis, we need to talk.”

He doesn’t even bother to ask me if I have time, he just shuts the door behind him and strides forward like he owns the place. Like he owns me.

Well, joke’s on him. I ownhisass.

I do my best to reengage my ice queen mask to appear calm, when on the inside, I’m anything but that. My body lights up like the red lamp when a goal hits the back of the net, but it’s not from desire. This time, it’s with annoyance over the interruption and resentment over him just barging in like this.

Pull yourself together, Karis. He’s not worth your tears or time.He’s just another player—in all definitions of the word.

A player who used me, held me in his arms while I cried, then walked away and forgot about me.

I wish I could scrub my memory and focus only on Ballas’s dickish behavior. But I can’t because I also know there’s a decent man underneath the grouchy exterior. He blew away my preconceived notions last Christmas Eve, the night my uncle was admitted to the hospital.

Ballas showed up unexpectedly in Seattle and was there by my side the entire night. He was the man who held my hand and let me cry on his shoulder, knowing I had no one else in the world I could lean on.

It’sthatBallas I want to forget.

I need to remember him as the man who shattered my faith when he left without a word of goodbye—no message or note, no follow-up text or call. Ballas Keeney ghosted me, disappearing without a trace, until the moment he sat across the table this morning.

If I allowed my pride to rule my decisions, I would have. But this team means everything to my uncle, and business always comes first. I refuse to make choices that will impact the team based on my heart, feelings, or emotional state.

I can, however, boot him out of my office because I’m his motherfucking boss.

“Ballas, there is nothing more we need to discuss. You have your contract and another year on the team. Now, please leave.”

But I can’t help the words that escape my mouth when I mutter, “You’re good at that.”

3

Ballas

I realize any conversation that begins with, “We need to talk” is going to border on being unpleasant and potentially unwanted on one of the participants’ behalf.

In this case, I’d say it went over like a puck to the chin.

The cold-shoulder treatment is right in line with how I saw this going. I don’t begrudge Karis for being pissed off at me for barging in uninvited, either. I’d be considered delusional if I had ever expected her to welcome me with open arms and a cheery smile after my douchebag disappearing act last December.

I’d hoped she could at least hear me out and allow me to apologize. I came up to clear the air about my actions last Christmas. My behavior was reprehensible by most standards, even though pretty typical of me.

An apology is long overdue and also the only way I can see to start fresh and avoid any awkward future interactions between us now that my position is solid on the team. Karis just needs to hear me out.

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