Page 100 of A Little Crush
With a slow nod, Henry turns to one of his assistants. “This meeting is over.”
“Yes, sir.”
Everyone stands, and I grip the leather coating the armchair to do the same when Henry adds, “Jaxon, stay a minute. I have something else I want to discuss.”
My pulse thrums in my ears as I let go of the arms on my chair and rest my elbows on the glass table, unsure what the hell I’m supposed to do. One by one, everyone files out, leaving me alone with Rory’s dad. Not Henry, my boss. Not Uncle Henry. But Henry, the father of the girl I like and messed around with recently.
Fingers steepled in front of him, he asks, “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
I tilt my head but stay quiet, refusing to show my hand.
“You seem off,” he clarifies.
Off. It’s a vague answer, but one I can work with.
Choosing my words carefully, I admit, “I’m tired.”
To be fair, it’s the truth. Apparently, my celibacy has only made my dreams of what Rory would look like bouncing on top of me even more vivid.
Not. The fucking. Time.
“It’s no excuse,” I add, “But…”
“Don’t worry about it. I know what it’s like to run on no sleep. How was miniature golf?”
I keep my expression blank, wiping my sweaty palms against my thighs beneath the table. Miniature golf? He knows about miniature golf? “What?”
“When I was with your dad at the gym this morning, he said he saw you,” Henry explains. “Seems my daughter’s wrangled you into helping her with Crowther?”
Fuck!
“Uh, yeah,” I lie. “She did well. Not sure when Crowther’splanning to take her out, since his mom’s going through everything, but, uh, she was excited, so…” Again, my voice trails off like my hard-on withered away some time during my wet dream of Rory last night.
“You should ask the team’s physical therapist for a massage,” Henry decides. “You look tense. Everything going okay with Pops and Iris?”
Relief washes over me at the safer topic of conversation, and I answer, “The usual.”
“And Rore?” he prods.
Aaaand, we’re back to shitting my pants.
“She treating you all right?” he asks. “Working hard?”
Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke.
I swallow past the bile in my throat and force myself to nod. “Yeah, she’s been great. You raised a good one, Mr. Buchanan.”
Mr. Buchanan?
What the fuck? I haven’t called Henry Mr. Buchanan once in my life, and I blurt that shit out now? What is wrong with me?
“Mr. Buchanan?” Henry repeats, somehow managing to weave his words with amusement and confusion. “Yeah, I’m going to make that massage mandatory. Since when am I Mr. Buchanan to you?”
I shrug. “You know, trying to keep things professional so I don’t feel like I’m taking any handouts by being here.”
He frowns. “Is this about my comment to Hoffman about his grandson? Jax, you know I wouldn’t have offered the coaching position if I didn’t think you were qualified. Look at our stats from the season so far. They might not be perfect, but you’re doing a hell of a job.” He shifts closer. “Which is another thing your father and I discussed this morning.”
Dread lines my stomach, though this time it has nothingto do with Henry’s connection to the girl I’m seeing and everything to do with his praise.
