The Secret Hook-Up

I have a problem.

Her name is Addie Bloom.

She doesn’t have the decency to bid on me while I’m on stage, which shouldn’t be a surprise.

Her coaching salary can’t compete with the big donors in this room.

Plus she doesn’t want me.

And I shouldn’t want her.

I shouldn’t.

But every moment I’m in the same breathing space as her, she’s all I can see. All I can concentrate on. All I know.

That pink dress—just fuck me. She’s goddamn gorgeous. And she still smells like lavender. And the way she was laughing before she saw us—I miss that laugh.

I miss her.

I never should’ve left her the way I did. I should’ve gone back and apologized for getting mad that she didn’t think we were serious. We went from let’s hook up every few weeks to me telling her I should move in with her and she should wear my jersey to the Thrusters’ preseason opener.

She was in the midst of a personal crisis, worrying she couldn’t do her job while the Fireballs were headed into their second playoffs with a team that would go all the way and make fucking history.

And I asked her to put me and our relationship at the top of her priority list when she was feeling the pressure of being a young coach for a historically terrible team that was being watched and analyzed by the entire damn country.

I thought I was taking care of her, just like I take care of everyone in my life to the best of my ability. And she didn’t want me to.

Her rejection—the way she didn’t need me at all—was so foreign a concept that I couldn’t handle it.

“Most people don’t scowl after they go for ten grand at an auction, Uncle Duncan,” Paisley whispers to me as I retake my seat.

“My shoes are tight,” I mutter back.

“Those ugly things you’ve had for as long as I’ve known you? Now they hurt?”

“Yes.”

I shoot another look back at Addie’s table.

She and Waverly are whispering about something, and whatever it is has Waverly cracking up.

“Dude, if Cooper Rock realizes how much you’re staring at his wife, you’re fucked next season,” Rooster Applebottom says on my other side. “He’ll pay guys to fuck you up on the ice.”

Rooster’s fun. He’s offering a chance to go skydiving tonight.

“He’s not staring at Waverly,” Paisley tells him. “He’s staring at the woman with her. Maddie, right?”

“Addie,” I correct without thinking, then shift a look at my niece, who grins.

“Addie,” she says, zero shame in the mischief shining through her. “Right.”

“You’re obsessed with the Fireballs’ lady coach?” Zeus Berger asks from Paisley’s other side.

He retired from the Thrusters a few years back, and now he and his wife, who’s an even bigger badass than Addie, are raising quadruplets.

Quadzeuslets, Z-man calls them. He’s close to seven feet tall, built like a dump truck, and he’s equal parts troublemaker and teddy bear. His identical twin, Ares, played for the Thrusters for a few years before and after Zeus. He retired at the end of this past season. Time to focus on his wife and kids as well.

All these guys I played with forever are moving on.

While my agent’s starting to ask what I want to do when my contract is up with the Thrusters at the end of this coming season.

The contract I signed when I was hooking up with Addie.

The contract I signed when I thought it would be my last because I thought I’d be leaving my own hockey career to spend more time with my badass wife and our kids.

“He stripped her in a dress shop last week,” Paisley tells Zeus.

I slam my glass down too hard. “Not what happened.”

“Gonna have to tell us what did happen then,” Zeus says.

Joey, his wife, who owns a flight adventure company giving people a chance to experience zero gravity like they’re in space, gives me a stern spill it now look.

And since it’s fucking awesome to fly in her jet as a floating passenger, I oblige the order in a way I’m sure she’ll appreciate. “I did a good deed with unintended consequences. The end.”

“Up next for your bidding pleasure, we have one Ms. Addie Bloom, representing the Fireballs coaching staff,” Levi Wilson, emcee for the evening, announces.

Levi’s a former boy bander who’s on hiatus from his solo musical career while he, too, focuses on his wife and family. I like playing his music when I’m jamming on my guitar. His brother, also his former bandmate in that boy band and majority shareowner of the Fireballs, roped him into running the show tonight. If the Thrusters had been in charge, Zeus and Ares would have been the emcees.

Maybe next year.

I look back at Addie and Waverly again.

They’re whispering furiously.

Addie snatches Waverly’s paddle.

Waverly’s security agent takes it back and hands it to Waverly, who laughs and uses it to shoo Addie.

“All good there, Coach Addie?” Levi says.

“Can we disqualify pop stars from the bidding this round?” Addie’s voice carries naturally through the room.

She can be so soft and quiet and delicate, and she can also command a room.

I always liked that about her. You can’t put her in a box. She knows when she needs to shine, and she knows when to step back. She’s bold where she has to be, and she’s quiet and vulnerable when she’s home.

I fucked up.

I fucked up so bad with how I left her.

I had regrets immediately, but I blamed her. By the time I realized it was my own fuckup, it was too late.

The regrets are resurfacing, but they’re coming with something else.

Determination.

I thought I had closure.

I don’t.

Levi puts a hand to his heart. “I can’t bid on an evening of playing Croaking Creatures with you at a tea shop?”

Fuuuuuck me. That wasn’t what was listed on the auction website yesterday.

But I suppose throwing axes won’t work for her now.

And instead⁠—

“Isn’t that your favorite game, Uncle Dunc?” Paisley whispers.

“No,” I lie.

“It’s an afternoon,” Addie says to Levi. “Not an evening.”

She’s making her way through the crowd toward the stage, and I don’t like it.

She can do whatever she wants.

She wants to offer an afternoon of playing a handheld video game at a tea shop, fine.

But what I don’t like are the murmurs going up around the ballroom.

The way the men at the tables around me are sitting straighter.

Reaching for their paddles.

Addie’s hot as fuck tonight.

She’s glowing in a shimmery pink gown, her arm in a matching sling. I don’t know much about makeup, but I know she’s wearing it. Her lips are a deeper pink and her eyes pop in a different way than they normally do. And her hair—all of that thick chestnut hair is tied up in an elegant knot that you’d never see her sporting on a baseball field.

Addie Bloom is the sexiest secret hiding in Copper Valley. Now, because she put on a fucking dress, all of these nitwits are noticing what I knew years ago.

My fingers curl around my paddle.

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If she wants to get fancied up and have men drool all over her, tough shit for them.

She won’t give any of them the time of day.

And she can take care of herself.

“Sit back, boys, this one’s mine,” a guy at the next table says.

He’s graying at the temples. Custom-fit black suit. Beady little predatory eyes tracking Addie as she makes her way to the stage. Thin mouth. Soul patch that makes him look like he has an ashy turd under his lower lip.

He’s oozing bad guy as he taps his bidding paddle on the table.

“You play Croaking Creatures?” I ask him.

The look he gives me is pretty easy to interpret.

No, you fucking moron.

But he doesn’t say anything out loud.

Just goes back to tracking Addie.

“You’ve been having some fun with my friend Waverly back there,” Levi says as Addie finally climbs the few steps onto the stage.

“She’s a fun person,” Addie replies as he shifts the microphone to her.

“Are you a fun person?”

“No. I’m boring as hell.”

Levi grins.

Addie grins back, startling the hell out of me.

“I have to be a hard-ass,” she told me more than once. “If they see me crack, they’ll walk all over me.”

And here she is, smiling for all of Copper Valley’s biggest charity supporters to see.

“How long have you been playing Croaking Creatures?” Levi asks her.

“Since day one.”

“Do you all know the game?” Levi asks the crowd.

The halfhearted murmurs of response suggest the majority of this crowd either doesn’t know it or doesn’t play the game.

Fucking shame.

It’s hilarious.

It’s a sim game about building an island to host your favorite creatures, except shit goes wrong and the creatures croak.

“Well, there’s still the tea part of your offer,” Levi says.

“One thousand dollars!” someone yells from the back corner of the room.

Addie pulls a face.

Levi half chuckles. “We haven’t started bidding⁠—”

“Two thousand,” the fucker at the next table says.

“I was going to ask if your arm’s okay,” Levi says to Addie.

“It’s fine,” she answers as he holds the mic in her face. “My doctor says I can’t arm-wrestle bears anymore though. National Forest Service says the same. Apparently wrestling bears is a federal misdemeanor or something. Especially when you beat them.”

Paisley giggles. “She’s funny.”

I scowl.

Addie being funny used to be my personal secret.

And how two-faced am I for being mad at her for wanting us to stay low-key while also wanting how funny she is to be my secret?

Fuuuuuck.

I am so not over this woman.

“Five thousand,” someone hollers from the center of the room.

“Ten,” the dude next to me says.

Levi looks out over the crowd. “You’re in demand, Coach Addie. I haven’t even told them exactly what you do for the Fireballs and Copper Valley sports yet.”

“I don’t play soccer,” she says, which gets a laugh.

The only other women offering experiences tonight are from the Scorned, Copper Valley’s women’s soccer team.

“We’ve hung out before,” Levi says to her.

“I had to kiss your ass since your brother’s my boss,” Addie agrees.

I catch myself before I join everyone else at my table in laughing.

Half the room is laughing, actually.

Including Levi’s brother—her boss—at that back table with Cooper and Waverly.

“Eleven thousand,” someone yells.

Addie leans into Levi’s microphone. “That’s a figure of speech. Ass-kissing doesn’t come in this package. Literal or figurative.”

“How long have you been the Fireballs’ batting coach?” Levi asks her.

“This is my sixth season.”

“And that’s how many championship rings?”

“Three.”

Levi smiles at her.

I know the wide smile she beams back.

But again, not because it’s one you usually see on her in public.

She should smile though.

Three rings is something to be proud of.

Almost as good as my four.

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” the douche-muffin next to me says.

“He looks like the kind of person who’d follow a woman home,” Paisley whispers to me.

My fingers clench around my paddle.

“Is it true you fixed Cooper Rock’s swing?” Levi asks Addie.

She nods. “Crowning achievement. He’s notoriously difficult to coach.”

“Accurate,” Cooper calls from the back of the room.

“Any chance you’re offering batting tips while you’re playing Croaking Creatures and sipping tea?” Levi asks.

“Not until I quit wrestling bears,” she quips as she uses her good hand to gesture to her bad arm.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” someone from Waverly and Cooper’s table yells.

“Bro, your wife is sitting right next to you,” Levi says. “And you can’t bid on your own batting coach.”

“My wife and I both object to how the Thrusters’ owner’s looking at her,” Tripp replies, prompting all of us to crane our necks to get a better view of my team’s owner, who’s also sitting near the back of the room. “If she can teach Cooper to hit a ball better, she can teach a bunch of puckheads to score better too. I don’t want him stealing her from us.”

“Accurate again,” Cooper yells. “Twenty-five thousand one hundred.”

Addie flips him off while color rises in her cheeks, which I know is from the compliment she just got from her boss.

The crowd roars with laughter.

“Thirty thousand dollars,” the fucknugget at the next table drawls.

“I think I need to start the bidding,” Levi says to Addie.

“I think you’re falling down on the job. It already started without you,” she answers.

“Okay, folks, I’ve got thirty thousand dollars at this table to my right. Do I have⁠—”

My paddle flies up before I’ve decided I’m definitely doing this. “Thirty-five.”

Addie visibly chokes. “That one didn’t count,” she says to Levi.

He squints at me. “Why?”

“He’s Canadian.”

Levi grins. “That’s a shitty reason.”

She doesn’t grin back. “Give me a beer and five minutes, and I’ll come up with a better answer.”

“Forty thousand,” the wank-nut next to me says.

“Forty-five.” I’m being an absolute fuck myself.

But none of these assholes—none of them—would’ve given her a second glance if she’d walked on stage in her baseball uniform.

Fuck. Them.

They don’t deserve her.

And I have a metric ass-ton to unpack when I make my next appointment with my therapist.

Addie doesn’t want me. She wanted us to be a secret. She’s given me zero signs she still thinks about me at all. She doesn’t do long-term relationships.

And that’s what I want.

I want what my friends have. I want a wife. I want kids. I want pets. I want to see my partner more than three hours a week.

Even if Addie did serious relationships, we wouldn’t have worked. We’re both too busy.

So why am I doing this?

Closure, half my brain says.

A second chance on her terms, the other half of my brain says.

“Fifty thousand,” Waverly Sweet calls.

“She can’t bid on me either,” Addie says. “Pop star rule, remember?”

Levi chuckles. “Any of them can, Coach. Even the Canadians are using American dollars tonight.”

“People usually listen to me when I use my stern voice.”

“You can use your stern voice on me, baby,” the shitwaffle mutters.

“Seventy-five thousand dollars,” I hear myself say.

A small gasp ripples through the room.

“Are you for fucking real?” Addie gapes at me.

“I need to up my Croaking Creatures game.”

“You do not play.”

“Porty Picky’s my favorite character. What’s yours?”

Her mouth goes round. “You just googled that.”

“I was late to an orientation thing because he was trying to get a double-death one day last week,” Paisley yells.

“Eighty thousand dollars,” Mr. Not Gonna Win Tonight barks.

“One hundred.” I stare straight at Addie, my paddle still up in the air. “Ten more if you tell me your favorite character.”

“Fluffle Bucket,” she says. “And I got a triple-death before I came here to get dressed.”

“You can play one-handed?”

“I can do a lot of things one-handed.”

Fuck. Me. Again.

I just popped a boner.

Worst part?

Betting I’m not the only one in this room that just happened to. And if I find out who any of the other boner-sporters are, I’m kicking their asses.

“That was hot,” Rooster murmurs.

“Quit looking at her if you don’t want to lose your eyeballs,” I murmur back.

Every last one of my friends at the table turns and stares at me. Paisley does too.

“One hundred and ten thousand dollars,” Levi says. “Do I hear one-twenty?”

The fucker beside me throws his paddle on the table and glares at me.

Makes me wonder if he had that eighty to begin with.

“Going once,” Levi says.

“Waverly, you can bid on me again,” Addie says.

“I lost my paddle,” Waverly calls back.

“Going twice…” Levi’s laughing as he says it.

Addie stares at me.

“You’re a fucking ass,” the actual fucking ass at the next table says in my direction.

Zeus stands up to his full six-foot-nine height and glares past me. “Say that again to my buddy’s face. And then I’m gonna rearrange yours.”

“And sold,” Levi says. “To our very own captain of the Thrusters, who apparently has secret hobbies that all of the pundits will be asking about as soon as hockey training camp starts this year. Nicely done, Coach Addie. Way to beat the record for highest bid ever recorded at the annual athletes’ auction.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if I wore my baseball pants,” she replies.

The crowd laughs again.

But she’s not wrong, and it’s pissed me off since the minute she stood up to walk to the stage.

“Sit down,” I tell Zeus.

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at you.”

“I can take care of myself,” I assure him.

“I’m really in favor of Zeus handling this for us,” Paisley says. “You’re getting old, and you don’t have a sugar mama yet, so you still need your dashing good looks.”

Addie strolls off the stage to cheers and claps from the rest of the audience.

Joey stands up next to Zeus and glares at the fucker at the next table too.

I don’t pay attention to him at all though.

I’m tracking Addie as she circles the other side of the ballroom, never once looking my way.

She hasn’t glanced over here at all by the time she retakes her seat next to Waverly, accepts a drink from the Fireballs’ head coach, and slams it.

Half the people at her table are staring at me, but she doesn’t.

She sits back down, back straight, and looks at the stage while Waverly leans in and says something to her.

“All good over there, Zeus?” Levi says in the microphone.

Zeus lifts an arm and flexes. “Showing off before me and my lady hit the stage,” he says, still glaring at the turdnugget at the next table.

“Not getting soft at all in retirement, are you?” Levi says.

“I lift quadzeuslets for exercise daily,” Zeus says.

“How about you and the missus get on up here so she can tell us what she’s offering that you’re taking half credit for?”

“I’d call you out on calling me out, my dude, but you’re still my number one boy band crush. No offense to other former boy band dudes in the audience.” He sends one more glare to the fucker at the next table, who flips him off with an eye roll.

Paisley scoots closer to me while Zeus and Joey head for the stage. “We are totally talking later about your history with Coach Addie.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

She snorts in you’re such a liar.

“I would’ve bid entirely too much for you too if someone like the fuckarello at the next table was looking at you wrong,” I tell her.

“You’re such a softie, Uncle Dunc.”

I’m not a softie.

I’m the guy who’s paying over a hundred grand for one more date with the last woman I let into my heart.