Page 30 of At the Edge with You

“Chelsea Cutler.”

I bring in my brows. The only reason I know that name is because I saw it listed under the hockey coaches on the website. The website doesn’t even have a figure skating section. “She’s a hockey coach, not a figure skater.” I let out a frustratedbreath. “I realize that you feel betrayed, even blindsided by my grandfather’s decision. But after seeing what I’m seeing, I know he did it this way to help you in the end. Don’t fight me on this.”

His eyes are pure fire as he stares down at me. Anyone else would be intimidated by him, and I now know why they call him a grumpy ass. He fits the part perfectly. But I know Jett Cook. I have landed on top of him because he wouldn’t allow me to hit the ice. He may be upset, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Through gritted teeth, he mutters, “I could figure it out.”

I shrug. “Sure, but that’s not an option.” His eyes narrow, and I don’t dare look away from his heated gaze. “We can work together, pretty boy, or we can clash. The choice is yours.”

Silence stretches between us, his jaw ticking, and I notice his fists clenching by his armpits.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“I guess you don’t,” I say with a nod. “So, I’ll see you bright and early Monday.”

Neither of us moves, though, and the tension in the room is palpable. He doesn’t want me here. He doesn’t want my help. But he’s going to get it anyway.

I’m here for a year, and I’m going to help him put this building on the map forallice sports.

He knows I won’t look away first, just as I know he won’t. Instead, our glares deepen before he mutters, “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

I grin ever so sweetly as I go toe-to-toe with him. “When have I ever?”

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Jett

When have I ever?

Fuck, the look in her eyes as Fable so coyly said those words to me still has me on edge by Monday morning. The fire, the confidence, her… Damn it, she has me twisted in ways I haven’t had to deal with in twenty years. I should have known as soon as I asked her to follow my lead, I was basically asking a bird not to fly.

Fable… Fuck, she’s Fable. There is no describing how beautifully unruly she can be.

When she has her eyes set on something, she doesn’t let up. I have seen it. The whole time I was showing her around, I saw the look in her eyes. She had so many questions, so many suggestions, but she sat back and let me give her the tour. While her restraint impressed me, I should have known that once she let go of her control, she was going to let me have it.

And she did, while not only being gorgeous as hell, but also absolutely right.

Our figure skating program is trash. Hell, it’s not even a program. It’s three girls whom Chelsea tries her best to coach.She doesn’t even like figure skating, but I didn’t think two six-year-old girls and a ten-year-old would be comfortable with me. So, I trained Chelsea the best I could, but it’s obvious the program isn’t thriving. Shit, it’s on the verge of flatlining. I don’t carry anything in the pro shop because people get it online. I sure as hell don’t promote it, because why? It’s embarrassing, and with how great the hockey programs do, I didn’t see a point.

Despite how badly Phillip wanted it to succeed.

Damn it, I don’t want to need Fable.

But I do. In more ways than are written out in the stipulations of Phillip’s will.

When she touched my bed, I wanted to lay her down in it. Let her nuzzle her nose in my sheets before I nuzzled her sweet pussy. Seeing her in my space, I was nervous she’d think it was plain, but she had such a look of awe in her pretty green eyes. The way her lips parted when she looked at the photo of me kissing her nose during our Olympic skate still has my cock throbbing. I want her, desperately, and if I make it through her driving me up the wall with whatever ideas she has to revive the skating program, I may tell her so. I may finally shoot my shot, as Liam said. But…for what? To fall madly in love with her and then let her go?

Again?

She doesn’t like Thistlebrook, and this place is my home.

Her in my space is a mindfuck all in itself, and I don’t know how to handle it.

I do know that my damn heart isn’t safe around her.

I’m sipping on a cup of coffee when a knock lands on my office door. I know it’s her, and instantly, my blood rushes to my cock. I try to steady myself and will my cock not to plow through my zipper. I feel like I’m sixteen again, unable to control my desire for her. How many times did I have to “go to the bathroom” to get control of myself or rub one out just to be ableto touch her again? I hate to admit this, but it was enough times that, at almost-forty, I’m still embarrassed. She does something to me. Even when she isn’t here, I’m haunted by thoughts of her. Now, she’s not only living rent-free in my head, but in my space.

I have to work with her.

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