Parker (Face-Off 1)

“No, they’re taking me to get my first Philly cheesesteak. Of all the times I ever played against the Flyers, I’ve never had one.”

“My dad was a lot like you.” She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. “He was a successful orthopedic surgeon who could’ve been so much more. He lost a ten-year-old boy on the table during what should’ve been a routine operation. No one knew the boy had a rare disease that caused complications, leading to his death. The loss was too much for my father to bear. That’s when the drinking began, and the drugs didn’t come long after that.” Her grip tightens, and she moves close enough that I can feel her breath on my face. “You can’t let your father’s death be the end of you and your career, Alex. Your life is not over.”

I’m embarrassed because, no matter how much I want to pretend that everything is all right, it’s not. My life is a fucking mess. If Charlotte could overcome such a horrific childhood, then there’s hope for me.

“I won’t,” I promise. “I just need to get back on track. A midseason trade to Philly was sort of a wake-up call for me.”

“I wish I could believe you, but your actions so far have proven otherwise. Kane and Donovan are both man-whoring pigs, so you’re in like company with them, but I know they don’t make a habit of getting shit-faced every weekend.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” I counter, wanting to prove her wrong. “They were both on a first-name basis with the strippers at Scores.”

“That’s because the club owner buys a lot of season ticket packs. You’ll see the girls at the games from time to time. I guess you could say their boss is an important man in Philly. He holds a lot of influence with people who matter.”

She lifts her left thigh, drawing my attention to her legs and the fact that she’s wearing thin underwear that look like shorts. Her white tank top, still stuck to her chest from her waking up in a sweat, reveals the outline of her nipples. The material is thick enough that I can’t see the color or size, but they’re most definitely hard. It’s also cold outside, so there’s that.

Before I can stare too long, Charlotte snaps her fingers in my face. “Eyes up here, Parker.”

“Hmm.” I’m still checking her out, unable to

peel my eyes from her gorgeous body. “You know, you could probably model for fitness magazines. Seriously, babe, you’re in top physical condition.”

Reaching for the sheet at the edge of the bed, she glances at me and frowns. As she pulls it over her legs and lowers her head onto the pillow, I lean over her, and she doesn’t seem to mind.

But I don’t miss the irritation in the tone of her voice as she says, “Why must you ruin these nice moments when you stop acting like Alex, the professional hockey player, and start acting like Alex, the regular person? When you offered those tickets to Rico and gave him your jersey, I saw another side to you. Based on everything I’ve ever read or heard about you, I expected the cocky, arrogant womanizer, but instead, for a very short period of time, I got Alex, the man who likes kids. Then, tonight, I got the Alex who will sit in bed and hold me until the nightmares pass.”

My stomach knots at her speech. She’s very good at giving them, and every time she lays into me, I swear, I want to be better, be someone worthy of a woman as incredible as Charlotte.

“The Alex you like is always in here,” I say, pointing to my heart. “I know that sounds cliché or cheesy, but it’s true. There’s more than one side to a person. Before we met, you acted like a hard-ass on the phone. Hell, you even counted off the seconds until you were hanging up on me, and then you hung up on me without saying good-bye. You were mean and rude, pretty much Mickey’s twin. But I’ve already seen that there’s more than the person everyone else in the sports world knows. Everyone knows Coach, but I want to get to know Charlotte.”

“Wow,” she mumbles as she rubs the corner of her eye. “I told you…”

I take her hand between my palms, and she locks eyes with me. She bites down on her lower lip to keep it from quivering. As much as I want to kiss her, I push the thought to the back of my mind.

“I know what you said about your past, but I know that scared little girl is in there somewhere even if you don’t want anyone to know that part of you still exists. So…will you let me know Charlotte?”

Clearly, she’s struggling with this decision, and judging by the tears in her eyes that have yet to spill down her face, she wants to let me in just as much as I want to open up to her.

She lets out a frustrated sigh. “I knew your father. We met right after I tore my ACL. Most people recover within six months, but I had done more damage than what they originally thought. It took me about eleven months to heal, which meant I had to miss the rest of my junior and most of my senior year. Even after I was cleared, the doctor wasn’t convinced I should play again. My coach didn’t want to take the risk, so my last game was the one where they had to carry me off the court. I didn’t feel like myself after that, which is why I never attempted to go pro. My point is, it was your dad who told me about his injury and how he didn’t let it get in the way of doing something he loved. That’s when Mickey came up with the idea of me coming to work with him.”

A wide grin tugs at her mouth, and she shakes her head, as if recalling a memory, lost deep in thought. I love when she smiles because she doesn’t do it often enough. “Originally, Mickey wanted me to work only with basketball players because he thought I’d relate more to them, but he eventually realized that I was knowledgeable in most sports and just as good with reading contracts. I told Mickey he was crazy and that no one would ever see me as anything other than his assistant. It’s not because I didn’t believe in myself because I did, but I honestly never expected to be taken seriously in a male-dominated field where men looked at women sportscasters and thought, I wonder what’s under her skirt, instead of if she really knew her stuff.”

“We think it’s hot when you’re able to talk about the sport,” I interject. “It’s even hotter if you can play, and from what I remember, you were a really good ball handler.” I crack a smile, afraid she’s going to pummel me.

Instead, she slaps me on my bicep. “Ha! Very funny, Alex. Like I haven’t had guys ask me if I was a good ball handler before. Nice try. Let me finish, will you? And stop interrupting.”

I pinch my index finger and thumb together and bring them up to my lips, moving from left to right, as if I were zipping my mouth shut. My silly attempt at humor rewards me with her pouty face that’s so damn sexy, I want to kiss the expression right off.

“Anyway,” she says, clearing her throat, “I was having dinner with your dad and Mickey when the idea was presented to me. I’m pretty sure the whole thing was John’s doing. I wasn’t so sure that knowing a sport was enough to sign clients and score huge NBA contracts, but it was your father who talked me into giving it a try. Do you know what he said to me?”

As I contemplate all the inspiring things my father probably pulled out of his ass to get Charlotte to pursue her career, I get a little bit choked up. I wasn’t expecting this to be such an emotionally draining night. He always said the right things at the exact time you needed to hear them.

“No, what did he say?”

Her face lights up as she begins, “He told me, ‘You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.’”

I can’t help but laugh. “He quoted Gretzky to you? Yep, that was my dad all right. He loved that quote, and he didn’t mind repeating it to me anytime I had even the smallest amount of self-doubt.”

“John was a good man and a great coach. A good coach is able to inspire their players. You can fight this, Alex. I can help you get back to the person and the player you used to be. You just need a little direction.”