Talk Hockey to Me (Bears Hockey #3) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,21

that I get on the team bus without that sharp flash of memory, but I’ve felt a lot more confident. I may have screwed up years ago, but I’ve worked my tail off and I’ve gotten where I want. Almost. This contract will put me where I want to be. Secure. Validated.

And I need Kate to do that, so I have to keep my shit together.

I send her a text message, telling her I talked to her references and I’d still like to sign with her.

When she doesn’t reply immediately, I get changed and go to the gym in the building to work out. That’s always been the best way of dealing with stress and anxiety for me. An hour later, sweating and panting, I return to my apartment. Of course I check my phone first.

Still nothing.

7

Kate

I never make mistakes. Except that one night…

Am I really going to do this? Agree to be part of Hunter’s life again, after what happened?

Oh my God, I was so awkward yesterday. When I saw Hunter in the restaurant, I was a big stew of emotions. I was nervous, for sure. But also…happy. A joyful sense of fullness spread through my chest, reminding me how much I missed him. But I tried to hide how happy I was, tried to be professional. Instead, I came across as stiff and amateurish.

I was hurt about how things ended, but when I heard from him what had happened, I couldn’t blame him. I blamed myself for catching feelings when we were only friends, and then for one night, friends with benefits.

He looks good. A little more mature, with dark gold beard stubble, his thick wavy hair cut in a tousled style with neat sideburns, his body a little heavier. Is it possible his shoulders are broader? He was wearing a blue and white checked shirt over dark-wash jeans, the soft cotton of his shirt fitted to his shoulders. I wanted to run my hands over that soft cotton.

His eyes held the same focused intensity, the same brooding look of someone who’s experienced a lot of pain and guards his heart from feeling it again.

When he leaned in to hug me, I breathed in his scent. He smelled the same—the same shampoo or body wash he used back in college, clean yet musky and warm. That scent alone was enough to melt my ovaries, never mind how hot he looked. And that only added to my awkwardness—he still affects me.

Okay, I need to put things in perspective. I was hurt when he left without saying goodbye, and without even a hint that maybe we could try to be together. I’d gotten sex confused with feelings. That was all it was—sex. So we spent the night boffing our brains out. Big deal. We were drunk and horny and that night clearly wasn’t supposed to mean anything to either of us. It was just sexy fun and games at the end of a wild vacation.

It was years ago. We’ve both been with different people since then. Okay, I have, and I assume he has. I haven’t met anyone that I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but that’s life. I have no trouble getting dates on dating apps and I could go out with someone this weekend if I want. In fact, I should do that.

This is business. And, like I told Hunter, I’m a businesswoman and I’ll make this decision considering the alternatives, the pros and cons of each, and consequences of a decision to represent him or not. I sit down at my desk and actually write things out, then I read over my notes.

It’s a no brainer, as far as business goes. I just need to leave out my feelings.

I slouch in my chair. I think about Tarek Bennani at PSM where I started my career. I think about the demeaning things he said and did to me. I think about the helpless fury I felt nearly every day I worked for him. I think about my decision to leave there and go out on my own and prove to him and the rest of the management at the company that he was a sexist asshole and I could do this job better than him, and with more integrity than him, all day long.

I want Hunter Morrissette as my client.

With a client like Hunter, I’ll be a real agent. I almost laugh at myself for that thought, but sometimes I still feel like I’m