The door shuts and everything becomes quiet again.
“Hey,” Jack says in his deep voice. I try not to let it stir up any unwanted memories.
“Hi,” I say. “Umm… why don’t you set up your mat and we’ll do some stretches for your back.”
“Am I going to get in touch with my feminine side?” He asks.
I laugh. “I see you’ve read my website.”
“It’s a nice website.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Your mat?”
He unrolls his mat and stands on it. I notice his black gym shorts, his black t-shirt. I look up into his brown eyes. There’s a noticeable tension in the air.
“Why did you put a curse on me?” I blurt out.
He laughs. “This is really bugging you, huh?”
“Yes. That’s why I want to know—why did you put a curse on me?”
“Why did you kick me out at six in the morning?”
“I had a class to teach!”
“So? Do you give them a tour of your bedroom?”
I cross my arms. “No.”
“So? What’s the problem?”
“I’m not going to leave a guy alone in my bedroom! I’m allowed to kick someone out whenever I want.”
“Okay, that’s true. But you kicked me out when I was butt-naked. Is that usually how you treat cute guys that you invite over?”
A wave of guilt washes through me. “I admit, I was wrong for doing that.”
He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“Don’t look so shocked.”
“I’m not used to women saying they’re wrong.”
I lift my chin and look away. “I can admit my faults.”
“Maybe witches aren’t so bad after all.” He smirks that impossibly handsome smirk.
“Now, see? Why would you call me that?”
“What, a witch?” He asks. “That offends you?”
“Well, no. But you’re clearly not using it as a term of endearment!”
“Are you not a witch? I saw the crystals and the creepy cards on your desk.”
“They’re not creepy, they’re tarot cards.”
“Well, I don’t want to know how I’m gonna die or anything.”
I can’t help but giggle. “That’s not— you know what? Never mind. Why don’t you tell me about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” I cross my arms. “You know so much about me and yet I know so little about you.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “You know how I dance. You know how I move. You know what I’m like when we’re alone, naked.”
My breath hitches. “That’s not what I meant!”
He smirks. “Well, my name is Jack. I was born in New York City but I moved to Quebec City when I was a baby. I moved back to New York a few years ago to play on the junior team. As you know, I’m a hockey player.”
“Did I know that?”
“I told you last night, remember?”
“Oh, right,” I lie. I’m racking my brain trying to figure out how much I drank last night.
“I was just drafted as a forward for the Blades,” he says.
“Oh, okay. This is all starting to make a lot of sense.”
He furrows his brow. “What is?”
“Your ego. That cocky attitude. The carefree night during your first day in a new city. It just makes sense that you’re a jock.”
He laughs. “What was it that I called you yesterday? Judgy?”
“I’m not judgy!”
He steps forward, close enough so that I can smell his irresistible crisp cedar scent.
“What do you have against jocks?” He asks.
“Well, let’s just say that the jocks at my high school were never very nice to girls like me. When you’re into crystals and tarot cards, the cool kids don’t think very highly of you.”
He tilts his head slightly. “I thought my actions last night made it pretty clear how I felt about you.”
My cheeks burn and I turn toward the dark side of the room in an effort to prevent him from seeing me blush.
“You liked how I looked,” I say. “What happened last night had nothing to do with our personalities or, you know, the spiritual connection between us.”
He gives a half-hearted chuckle.
“Something about our spirits got along last night.” His voice is deep and creamy sounding.
I’m momentarily distracted by how effortlessly sexy he is—his strong build, that gorgeous smile, his dark eyes… I pull my gaze away.
“Why’d you pick me anyway?” I ask. “Out of all the women at the bar last night, why me? I don’t wear heels or a push-up bra. I barely wear any makeup…”
I stop before telling him that I spent most of the evening crying over an ex-boyfriend.
He stares at me for a moment, narrowing his eyes as if remembering the night.
“It was the way you danced,” he says. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he stares.
“The way I danced?”
He nods. “Dancing is about sexual confidence. And you’re a really good dancer.”
My cheeks instantly burn with heat.
“And I was right to pick you because you’re good at other things too.” He smirks.
I try to look away in an effort to hide my reaction, but it’s no use. There’s no hiding it from him now. He’s staring at me with that cocky smile.
“You know, maybe we shouldn’t do this.” I pick up my yoga mat and start rolling it up.
“No.” He puts a hand on my mat to stop me. “Please. My back is killing me. Your tiny bed is gonna end my career before it even begins. What kind of psycho has a single bed as an adult anyway?”
I give him the most judgmental side-eye I can muster. If he’s going to call me judgy, I’m going to lean into it.
“Fine.” Rolling out my mat again, I get in position and he does too. “I want you to stand tall and breathe in. Bring the arms up, yes—like that. And down again. Repeat.”
As we do the movements together, I try to stare straight ahead and avoid eye contact while still monitoring his body and making sure he’s doing the movements properly. Meanwhile, I’m trying to tame the red hot heat flowing through my body while trying to teach tranquility and calmness.
“Breathe deeply into your belly, all the way down to your root.”
He gives me a quizzical look. “Your root?”
“This is how I teach yoga,” I say.
“What’s a root?”
“Your root chakra,” I say.
“Am I supposed to know what that is?”
“Your root chakra is located where you create life. You know, where you put down your roots, spread your seed. The roots of a family tree… Do you get it?”
“Oh, I get it.” He smirks to himself.
“What?”
“It’s just that… in Australia ‘to root’ means to fuck.”
I sigh. “Good, so you get it. Can we continue?”
“I’m going to breathe into my root.” He inhales deeply.
I go back to my soft teacher’s voice. “Let go of judgment. And breathe out all the tension in your body.”
“Let go of judgment?”
“Shh.”
He smirks as he watches me. The intensity of his gaze throws me off guard.
“Close your eyes,” I say. “Focus on your body and yourself.”
He smirks as he closes his eyes. “I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to tell me something.”
“Push away your thoughts and quiet your inner—and outer—voice.”
Eyes still closed, he smirks again.
I smirk too. “Breathe in and lift your arms over your head.”
He does as I say. Now that his eyes are closed, I can look at his form and make sure he’s holding himself properly. My eyes scan his strong and sculpted body and I’m momentarily transported to last night—the shaking, the breathing, the moaning.
I shake away the thoughts as I try to remain professiona
l, treating him as I would treat any other client. But it’s no use.
Jack’s curse has taken root.
JACK
For the next forty minutes, I behave and listen to Jemma’s instructions as I stretch the knots out of my back.
I can’t help but give her a hard time. After all, she’s the one who made me sleep in that horrible bed and kicked me out after only three hours of sleep.
Not that I’m resentful or anything.
Okay… I am. Just a bit.
“Now lean your body to the side,” she says in her soft voice. “Yes, like that.”
I do as she says.
“A little bit more,” she says, watching me.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” She walks over and places her hands on my back, pushing gently against my oblique muscle near my ribs.
I can smell the incense scent on her tied up hair and the sex sweat on her body. I can tell she hasn’t had a chance to shower since we woke up this morning.
Her hands push against my back, giving me a well-needed stretch. The pressure of her hands feel nice. I let out an involuntary moan.
“That feels good.”
Eyes wide, she pulls her hands off me.
“The stretch, I mean,” I say.
She flashes me those big doe eyes.
“I didn’t mean to touch you,” she says as she lifts her chin haughtily.
I suppress a chuckle.
“What?” She narrows her eyes and places a hand on her hip. Her soft teacher demeanor is gone and the witch is back.
“You’re just…”
“Just what?” She tilts her head to the side.
“Just a little out of your mind sometimes. You know, in a cute way.”
Her mouth falls open. “You know what? We’re done here. I think you’ve gotten all the stretching you need.”
I stand up and shake my body out.
“You know, this didn’t have to be so awkward,” I say. “I really just wanted a yoga lesson.”
“We had sex last night,” she says in a hushed voice, as if someone could be listening.
“I know. So?”
“It’s going to be awkward no matter what.”
I shrug. “We were just borrowing friction from each other.”
Her mouth is open again. “Is that all I was? Friction?”
“What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that all you wanted? Because I explicitly remember you saying it was just a one-night thing. And, as you said, it’s not like we got to know each other’s spirits or anything.”
She wrinkles her nose and furrows her brow. I can tell she’s having a horrible internal dilemma.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I know it’s hard for you to admit that you only had sex with me because you were horny and thought I was hot—”
“That’s not why I had sex with you!” She protests.
“Oh no?” I smirk as I cross my arms. “Enlighten me, please.”
“I… I…”
“I’m waiting.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation!”
“See? How can our spirits ever get along with this amount of secrecy? It’s okay though. Our bodies got along just fine.” I smirk again as I consider for a moment if getting too much satisfaction from pressing her buttons.
“You know what?” She asks. “You can leave now. But first, I want my five-hundred dollars.” She puts her hand out.
“I can give you forty bucks. The rest will have to wait until next week when I get paid by the Blades organization.”
She drops her head back in exasperation. “Oh my god, are you serious?”
“I wasn’t expecting to pay for a five hundred dollar yoga class when I left my house today.”
“You’re the one who offered the money to begin with!”
“Yeah but my back really hurt!”
She rubs her face in frustration. I can tell that she’s even more exhausted than I am. I wonder if she’s even had a break since waking up early this morning.
“Fine,” she says, “give me the forty dollars.”
I reach into the pocket of my basketball shorts and hand her the bills.
“And we should exchange numbers so that I can drop off your money at some point,” I say.
She gives me a deathly glare. “If this is all some sort of plan to date me, I swear I will castrate you.”
“Date you? Why the hell would I want to date you? You literally just threatened to castrate me. That’s negative energy and a sign from the universe if I ever saw one.”
“Are you making fun of me?” She puts her hands on her hips.
I’ve clearly hit a nerve.
I put my hands up in defense. “Never! I’m just speaking your language.”
She looks away.
“Listen,” I say, “if you don’t want to exchange numbers, I’m cool with that too. I can leave without a trace and you’ll just have to trust that I’ll eventually come back with your money… You know, after you threatened to cut off my dick.”
Watching me with hesitation, she sighs.
“Fine,” she says. “Give me your phone.”
I hand it to her. She taps her number into it and hands it back.
I tap the screen a few times. “There. I texted you. Now you have my number too.”
“Great. Is that it then?”
I roll up my mat. “I think so.”
“Alright then, see you later.” She starts pushing me toward the door.
“You know, for someone constantly preaching about feminine energy, you sure have a lot of aggressive masculine energy fighting to get out.”
“Out!”
***
A few days after getting settled into Connor’s place, I’m finally ready for the day I’ve been looking forward to—the first day on the ice.
When we arrive at the arena, we see the other guys filing in. Entering the Blades’ locker room is like a dream come true. I see a Blades jersey with my name on it hanging in one of the lockers.
“Number twenty-one. Lalonde,” Connor says. “It has a good ring to it.”
I smirk. “Thanks.”
I look around the room, a bit starstruck at all the amazing players I’m seeing: Rory Edgar, Dennis “Gopher” Barkley, Marcus Rock, Logan Drake. Sure, I met half of them at the draft ceremony but this is something different. This time we’re actually on a team together. We’re teammates.
The smell of testosterone and competition is heavy in the air.
Coach Murphy walks into the room and everyone goes quiet. His white hair and broad stature command attention. He’s intimidating without having to say a word.
“Alright, everyone,” Coach says. “Welcome to this season.”
The guys clap and holler.
“As you know, we’ve got some new faces this year. We’ve got Johnny Breakwood, who will be a forward on our fourth line.”
The room applauds as Johnny strokes his black beard and points at everyone. Coach continues.
“We’ve got Austin Berr on our third line.” More applause as Austin runs his hand through his blond curls and waves shyly. “And Jack Lalonde, a right-winger on our third line.”
I smile as the guys give me a warm welcome.
“Now, let’s get to business,” Coach says. “Today we’ll keep it easy with some warm-ups and passing practice. I just want everyone to get comfortable with each other, got it?”
The room responds enthusiastically.
After gearing up, we head out onto the ice where Coach is spilling a barrel of pucks out onto the ice.
I’m frozen for a moment as I watch some of my idols skate out onto the ice and begin handling the pucks.
“Are you ready to get out there?” Logan Drake grabs my shoulder as he sneaks up behind me.
Slightly starstruck, I stare at him for a moment. He’s a living legend and here I am about to play with him. Although I have a height advantage on him, he’s certainly built a bit stronger, stockier. I puff out my ches
t a bit.
“Yeah, for sure,” I say. “I was born ready.”
“Take some advice from me: don’t try so hard.” Logan smirks as he steps out onto the ice, gliding easily over the smooth surface. He taps his stick to grab Edgar’s attention. Edgar passes the puck and Logan takes a slap-shot right into the net.
A wide smile sweeps across my face.
I’ve done it. I’m here. I’m in the big league.
Following his lead, I step out onto the ice. As I skate, the cool air rushes against my skin and hair. I breathe in deeply, smelling the adrenaline in the chilled air. I breathe deeper, deep into my root. I laugh to myself as I think about Jemma for a moment.
“You doing okay?” Connor asks as he skates by me and taps my leg with his stick.
After spending so much time with him at home, it’s strange seeing him in a helmet.
“Yeah,” I say. “It feels good to be back on the ice.”
Connor uses his nose to point at the other players. “Go have some fun.”
Spotting Johnny fiddling with a puck, I speed over to him and snatch the puck out from under his nose. I handle it a few times before taking a shot. The goalie, Skip McGovern, gloves it down. Johnny taps my skate with his stick.
“Nice one,” he says.
“Thanks.”
We practice for another twenty minutes before Coach calls for a break.
Johnny and Austin skate over to me.
“You guys doing okay?” Johnny asks.
“It’s a bit intimidating being out here with all these professionals,” Austin says. He’s taking off his helmet and shaking out his drenched curls.
“We are professionals too now,” I say. “And next year the rookies will be looking up to us.”
Johnny breaks into a toothless smile. “That’s the attitude I like.”
Austin pushes my chest, causing me to lose my balance for a second.
“What happened at the bar the other night?” He asks. “One minute you were dancing with that woman, the next you were gone.”
“You hook up with her?” Johnny asks.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Man, how do you do it?” Austin shakes his head in disbelief.
“Hey, her friends were there and they were cute. It’s not my fault you can’t pick anyone up.”
Austin sighs.
“So, will you be seeing her again?” There’s a glint in Austin’s eyes.
Jack: An Enemies To Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Hockey Book 2) Page 5
