Page 52 of Coach's Temptation

But I'm still standing there, perfectly still.

And my knee?

It’s screaming like it did that night in Vancouver when I knew I’d never play again. Knew I’d never have this moment as a player.

It's throbbed painfully all damn night, but I just beat the team that ended my playing career.

Game One is ours.

The team's still celebrating when Natalie materializes in front of me, her smile brighter than the arena lights. She's beaming at me like I just performed a miracle instead of coaching a hockey game.

Before my brain can process what's happening, she launches herself at me.

I catch her, pulling her close. Too close.

That fucking scent of her shampoo, her apartment, her clothes… it all hits me, and her body molds against mine as I bounce her up and down with excitement. My throat constricts as I breathe her in.

She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, hers sparkling with joy as we celebrate together. "You did it, Hunter! You did it!"

"No,wedid it." I smile, my hands suddenly down on her hips. "Including you."

Her fingers dig into my shoulders. "I just tape ankles and massage shoulders."

"You've kept this team healthy. You keepmesane." The words slip out before I can stop them.

She raises a brow, and that dimple appears in her left cheek. "Coach Brody, was that almost a compliment?"

"Don't let it go to your head, Hayes."

She’s still in my arms, laughing with me. I should let go. Should step back. But I don’t.

Because for one night—just one fucking night—I let myself have this.

Camera flashes explode around us. The crowd's roar becomes deafening.

For the first time in twenty years of coaching, I let my guard down.

Let myself smile. Really smile.

In the locker room, chaos reigns. Beer sprays everywhere as the boys whoop and holler. The bass thumps through speakers while they belt out victory songs off-key.

I hang back, watching them celebrate as Big Mike demands we continue the party at his mansion on the hill.

My team cheers, and for just one night, two decades of weight starts to lift from my shoulders.

Natalie bumps my hip as she comes to stand beside me. She's holding a fresh towel, that smile lifting her chapped lips that still somehow overpowers the smell of Deep Heat on her hands.

"Still grumpy?"

I exhale, shaking my head.

"Not tonight."

Chapter Thirteen

Natalie

Big Mike's mansion pulses with victory and vodka-soaked celebration. The marble floors vibrate with bass as "Mr. Brightside" blasts through speakers.

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