Page 21 of Hot Stuff
Her whole body softens on a deep sigh. “We need a plan.”
“A plan?”
“How to handle our relationships.”
I’m glad she put the s on the end of that word because if we’re going to make either a success, we need to know there is a distinction.
Personal and professional.
A line we both need to be aware of from the start. “I think this one should be easy enough.”
“The other would be too.Ifwe weren’t in this one. It’s the two together, the bridge between them that is going to need managing.”
“I’ll do whatever you think is best as long as that isn’t ending either. But if one has to go, I’d prefer it not be us.”
I need that out there. I don’t know why, except the thought of not being with Oakley cuts deeper than the thought of not coaching her new team. Cuts sharper than walking away from hockey all together.
Sitting up, she spins on her knees to face me. “You’d give up the coaching job for me?”
The surprise and confusion in her voice is matched by the look in her eyes. And I give her the only answer I can. “In a heartbeat.”
“Walker.” My name is more sigh than word.
Cradling her face in my palms, I bring her closer until our lips almost touch. “I know.”
“I never expected this. You.”
“Join the club.”
“How do we make this work?”
“I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even know what’s going to happen tomorrow when the world finds out I’m retiring. Shit. I haven’t even told my sister yet.”
“You need to do that before it becomes public knowledge.”
“I will. After I leave here tomorrow.”
“You’re staying the night?”
“That should never have been in question.”
“Walker.” A small smile tilts my lips when she says my name again. I love the sound of it on her tongue.
“Shh…” I press my mouth to hers hard, then pull back. “Tonight we forget about everything outside of this suite. It’s just you and me and hours of alone time. Nothing to worry about but each other.”
“We should?—”
“The only thing we should do is hop out of this tub and get back to what we were doing before I carried you in here.”
Putting action to words, I stand and offer her a hand. Once we’re both on our feet, I don’t delay in grabbing a towel, wrapping it around her shoulders, and lifting her into my arms.
“Are you going to make a habit of carrying me?”
“I like you in my arms.”
“I like being in them, but this can’t be good for your knees.”
She’s right, it probably isn’t, but if I no longer plan on hitting the ice in a professional game I don’t need to take as much care. And as a non-sportsman, my knees are in great shape. “You don’t have to worry about that. It’s fine.”
