Offside: Chapter 42

I didn’t get naked FaceTime, but I got cleavage FaceTime, and that’s still pretty hot. And now Bailey was finally leaving her hellacious living situation with Satan’s mistresses.

Saturday was off to a great start.

After a quick lunch, we headed back to her soon-to-be-former place. Bailey sat at her desk, meticulously itemizing the contents of each box because she was adorably and obsessively organized. She didn’t even have much to keep track of, but hey, whatever worked.

Until Ward arrived to help move big things, I was taking care of the boxes of smaller items, stacking what I could fit in the back seat of the truck.

“Wow,” I mused, picking up another medium-sized cardboard box. It was one of the last, then we could move on to the large furniture. “It’ll be so weird for you to live somewhere I’m actually welcome.”

“I know, right? I can’t wait.”

From beside her on the desk, her pale purple phone vibrated. Then it vibrated again. She glanced down and made a sound of disgust.

Oh, it better not be.

I set down the box I was holding. “Is that dick texting you again?”

“Yeah.” She turned in her chair to face me, tugging on the drawstring of her turquoise hoodie. Her eyes were wide, her expression vaguely guilty. “I’ve been ignoring him.”

She should have blocked his sorry ass, but Bailey was scared he would escalate if she did. We’d argued about that, but I eventually gave up because fighting about him wasn’t worth it. Once she moved into her new place today—which he didn’t have the address for—she would hopefully come around.

“Why is he bugging you now?”

Bailey inhaled and held her breath for a beat. “Because he’s mad that I wouldn’t talk to him last night.”

My blood pressure shot through the roof, skyrocketing off into the atmosphere.

“What?”

I wasn’t paranoid; I was right. I knew it. That fucking stalker.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” she said. “He wanted to talk, I said no, we had words. Then I called him an asshole, and he left.”

Had words? Sure sounded like a big deal to me. I balled my hands into fists while I clamped down on the sour irritation brewing in my gut. I was only annoyed because I cared. Picking a fight wouldn’t accomplish anything positive.

And yet. Dammit, James.

“But you didn’t call me.”

She scrunched up her mouth, which was cute enough to lessen my frustration. “You were still on the ice.”

“You said you would either way.” I raised my eyebrows.

“I would have if I needed to.”

In my opinion, this incident fell firmly under the “needed to” category. Clearly, I wasn’t the only stubborn one in this relationship.

I shook my head, my lips drawn in a thin line. “James.”

Her phone vibrated again.

Easing down onto the foot of her bed, I nodded at it. “Mind if I see?”

I liked to keep tabs on what Morrison was saying and doing because he pinged my crazy radar—which, generally speaking, was pretty spot on. Taking the temperature of how he was behaving at any given time was important. Just in case.

Was this that worrying thing Ward was talking about last night? Whatever. It was necessary. Justified too.

Bailey shrugged. “Sure.” She stood and came to sit beside me, handing me her phone. But her expression was off—almost like there was something she didn’t want me to see. Weird.

The latest one said: Answer me.

My grip on the phone tightened. Oh, I’ll fucking answer you.

I scrolled back to his previous string of messages.

I scrolled again.

The blood in my veins turned to hot molten lava. What a piece of shit. The fucking nerve of this guy. I was too angry to read any more. Strong chance I’d break her phone if I did.

With a death grip on the device, I glanced up at her. “Can I please write this motherfucker back?”

“If you want to.”

You bet I wanted to.

I hit send and locked her phone, handing it back to her. I doubted it would deter the creep anyway. Changing her number would probably be a whole lot more effective than blocking him.

With that said, there was a more urgent issue at hand.

“Not trying to pry,” I said carefully, “but is it true that your parents are selling their house?” Or losing their house, from the sounds of it, but I was trying to be delicate. It wasn’t my strong suit, so I was trying really, really hard.

“Yeah, they are.”

“Morrison knew that, and I didn’t?” I asked, putting my arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Her hair smelled like something tropical, maybe coconut and pineapple.

Bailey looked down, placing her palms on her dark jeans and refusing to meet my eyes. “Derek must have told him.”

“Circling back to the me not knowing part,” I said gently. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Probably why she looked at me funny when she gave me the phone. She didn’t want me to know. But why?

“I don’t know.” She peered up at me, snagging her pink bottom lip between her teeth. “I found out the other day. My dad got laid off recently, and they can’t afford to keep it.”

My stomach sank. Well, fuck. I guess that was why.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bailey gave a little one-shoulder shrug that was anything but convincing. “It’s not a big deal.”

But it clearly was. I could tell from the way she talked about home that the house mattered to her. It was where she’d grown up. She said her mom had this crazy huge garden in the backyard; they did Christmas there every year; all of her and her brothers’ heights were marked on the kitchen doorframe, all of those sentimental things.

“Where will they live?”

“They’re downsizing somewhere nearby,” Bailey said. “They don’t need as much space now that we’re all grown, anyway. It probably makes sense.”

Maybe, but making that choice and having it made for them were two different things.

“The market is terrible where they live, though, so the house isn’t selling,” she added.

And it kept getting worse.

“Will they be okay if the house doesn’t sell for a while?”

“I think so,” she said. “My brothers can help them out if they need money. I’m sure my dad will find another teaching position soon too.”

I nodded. “Right.”

For better or worse, Bailey wasn’t a good liar. The way she nibbled at her lip and kept her head ducked told me things wouldn’t be okay. And she wasn’t giving me the full story, either, not with how Morrison’s text was worded. Money was a touchy thing with her, though, so I didn’t want to pry.

I needed to mull this one over a little. There was something to it, I just didn’t know what.

We fell quiet for a moment. The room was nearly empty, save for a few boxes and bare furniture, but the air was heavy.

I nudged her with my elbow, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you excited about moving?”

“Yeah. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

If I were her, I would be wearing a shiny party hat and giving both Amelia and Jillian a gigantic “fuck you” on the way out.

“Well,” Bailey hesitated, “I guess there’s a small part of me that wonders if I’m letting my life revolve around yet another hockey player. You know, with the whole you-Dallas-Shiv connection. Feels a little…puck-bunny-ish.”

Ouch. I had skin as thick as hockey equipment, but that one still stung.

“You think you’re a puck bunny?” I gave her a pointed look until she made eye contact, trying to get a read on where this was coming from. “And I’m just another hockey player? We aren’t cardboard cut-outs. We’re real people.”

And if, god forbid, things ended between us, I’d never be a crazy asshole like Morrison and make her living situation difficult. But I couldn’t bring myself to think about that scenario in any greater detail. Wasn’t going to happen, anyway.

Bailey took my hand, her skin cool and soft against mine. “Don’t you think I’m a bit of a stereotype, though? I went from one hockey player straight to another.”

“It’s not like you went after me because I play hockey. I pursued you. In my own slightly misguided way.”

A small smile peeked out on her lips. “Still…”

“Would you still like me if I quit the team tomorrow?”

Her hazel eyes widened, and her tone hushed. “Of course.”

“Then you’re not a puck bunny. Problem solved.” I studied her. “Where’s this coming from?”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and shrugged, making a little “I dunno” sound.

“Did someone call you a puck bunny?”

“Paul may have. That one day.”

A trail of expletives exploded in my brain.

My hit list had officially grown to two people.

We were due to play Callingwood again in a few weeks, and my entire team would be ready to clobber both of those dipshits. Repeatedly.

“Don’t let him get in your head. It’s exactly what he wants.”

“But it’s not wrong. First I was Luke Morrison’s girlfriend, and now I’m Chase Carter’s girlfriend.”

Ouch again. But now I knew where this was coming from.

“You’re not just my girlfriend. There’s so much more to you than that label. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that.” Which ruled out Paul.

Plus, the way she worded that made it sound terrible. I would have 100 percent stayed friends with Bailey even if nothing had happened between us.

I would have had to deal with the insane attraction part somehow, sure. But I would have wanted her in my life.

“Do they?” She frowned.

“If they don’t, they’re too stupid to matter in the first place.”

Bailey fell quiet again.

There were times when I swore I could see straight into her brain. Some of those times were good, but other times, it gutted me a little. Like right now.

I sighed. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re a talented writer, a video game playing goddess, loyal to a fault, and so beautiful that sometimes it hurts a little.”

“Do you really think that?” she whispered.

“Of course.”

While Bailey packed up her bedding, I ran the last few loads of boxes out to the truck, ignoring Amelia and Jillian’s glares as I went back and forth. Couldn’t they have vacated the place for one goddamn day? It was like they’d purposely hung around so they could be relocation spectators.

Literal worst.

Vultures.

Returning to her room, I picked up one of the last boxes, but this one felt like it was full of bricks. “Holy shit, James. What’s in here? A set of kettlebells or something?”

“No, some books. Mostly hardcovers…” She turned to look at me and trailed off, eyes turning a little glassy.

I knew that look.

I was a big fan of that look.

“Are you checking me out right now?” Chase set down the box, a smug grin playing on his lips.

I was. I totally was. I was biting my bottom lip in full-on thirst mode.

Busted.

“What? It’s just…you know.” I gestured with an outstretched arm, heat flooding my cheeks. “You’re being all manly. Lifting heavy stuff. Muscles.”

Apparently, my brain had decided to take a coffee break while other parts of my body seized control.

But, I mean, look at the guy. Black joggers slung low on his hips, white tee hanging perfectly off his athletic frame, sinewy muscle covered with smooth, taut skin…

He closed the door and took a few steps in my direction, grin intensifying as he drew closer. “So you want me for my body.”

“It’s definitely a selling point.” I fought a sheepish smile.

Obviously, there were lots of other things I liked about him. But the view was pretty nice.

“Now who’s got the dirty mind?”

“Too much time with you, I guess.” I laughed softly, turning away from him to face the desk.

I attempted to look over my checklist again, but Chase’s proximity made focusing on anything but him impossible. He was close enough that I could smell the intoxicating combination of him and his cologne, and my brain shut off completely.

An aura of warmth surrounded me as he pressed against me from behind, broad hands landing on my waist. He gathered up my hair and moved it to the opposite shoulder. Soft lips skirted along the arch of my neck, drawing a line of light kisses. Desire pooled between my legs, and a familiar throb pulsed in my core.

One hand tugged at the button of my jeans, nimbly unfastening it and tugging the zipper down.

“Speaking of dirty minds. I’ve been thinking about you.” He slid his hand lower, past the waistband of my lacy white underwear. “How’s the toy, baby?” His skilled fingers moved against me, sending off a shockwave of pleasure.

“Um…” I arched my back, drawing in a ragged inhale in response to his touch. “It’s good.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, lips pressing against my neck. “Think of me when you’re using it?”

“Maybe,” I breathed.

His voice rumbled in his chest. “That’s not an answer.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His other hand slipped beneath my black T-shirt, his rough palm grazing the side of my ribcage. He squeezed overtop of the thin fabric of my bra. When he rolled my nipple between his thumb and finger, I couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped my lips.

Desire from moments before had surged into all-out need. Nothing else existed besides his body pressed up against mine and his hands coaxing my desire.

“Gonna let me watch you sometime?”

“If you want to.” Then again, in the moment, I would have agreed to anything.

“Very badly,” said Chase. “That falls into my top five fantasies.”

He stroked me again, teasing. Heat flooded my body, and I drew in a soft gasp. “What are the other four?”

He didn’t even miss a beat. “Tying you up, you in a skirt without underwear, truck sex, getting you to talk really dirty to me, and teasing you until you beg me to fuck you.”

“Isn’t that five?” Maybe it wasn’t. Not sure I could count to three, let alone five, with what he was doing to me right now.

He slipped beneath my bra, palming the bare skin. “The last two are interrelated, so I’m counting them as one.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“Sure have.” His hand beneath my underwear wandered even lower, one finger sliding inside, followed by another.

My knees went soft, and I drew in a breath, steadying myself against him. “The walls are paper thin in this place, remember?”

“So? That didn’t stop us before.”

From downstairs, the doorbell rang.

Well, that sure would.

We froze, then broke apart.

Chase sighed. “That’ll be Ward, half an hour early, which means he’s right on cue to cockblock me. I swear he has the worst timing.”

“I guess we’ll have to make up for it in the new place.”

“Later?” He grinned. “Absolutely. I meant what I said yesterday.”

Oh my.

I quickly refastened my jeans, straightened my T-shirt, and smoothed down my hair. But I still worried that what we’d been doing was obvious.

Chase grabbed the heavy box from earlier. “I’ll run this out while we let him in.”

We descended the stairs, and halfway down, made the unpleasant discovery that it wasn’t Dallas at the door—it was Paul. Here to either visit Amelia or simply to stir up shit.

I lingered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs while Chase ignored Paul completely, making his way past him toward the front door.

He jutted his chin, his tone taking on an edge. “Heard you were shooting off your mouth about me, Carter.”

Chase stopped and turned to face him with the box still in his arms. He smirked. “I said you can’t fucking skate, in case your girlfriend failed to relay the entire message.”

Paul paused like he had expected Chase to deny it.

“Fuck you.”

He must have stolen this sad excuse for a comeback from Luke.

“Fuck you for talking shit to Bailey.” Chase stepped closer, dark brow drawn into a harsh line.

“Nothing that wasn’t true.”

Chase’s jaw tightened, and he glared at him, shaking his head. Pretty sure he was going to clobber his ass next time he was anywhere near the puck.

Or possibly now.

“Chase.” I stepped closer, touching his arm.

“Brave words,” Chase said. “Stupid, but brave. See how that plays out for you on the ice in a couple weeks.”

Paul scoffed. “You didn’t even hit me last game. I’m not scared of you.” He probably should have been, but no one ever accused him of being smart.

“That’s right.” Chase snorted. “Why would I bother when you did such a good job of taking yourself out?”

Dallas strolled up to the open door then, giving me a friendly smile. It faded when he caught sight of Chase and Paul standing face to face. His hands fisted, square jaw tensing.

“What’s up, Carter?” Dallas asked sharply. “Is there a problem?”

Chase glanced over at him and rolled his shoulders back. “Nothing worth your time. Let’s get James moved the fuck out of here, shall we?”