DEKKER

 

THE SUBTLE SORENESS BETWEEN MY thighs is the first thing I notice when I snuggle deeper beneath the covers to hide from the sun streaming through the window.

Last night is more than a distant memory. It’s more like an in-the-face reminder of a pickle I need to figure my way out of.

I slept with a potential client. A current client all but caught me in the act. And then I had a moment of panic.

A huge moment of panic that only took some tossing and turning in bed when I couldn’t fall asleep to figure out.

What I felt for Hunter—the reasons I pushed him away the last time we were together—came back clearly last night.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. How can I purport to be this strong, independent female who puts up with no one’s shit, and after I spend one night with a man, I still have those same feelings? How can I be proud of myself when he was an ass to me at the club and I turned around and did what we did? How can I do any of this when I haven’t been up front with him about why I’m here?

I’m a chicken.

Isn’t that what this comes down to? I’m an overthinking, nervous-nelly chicken who doesn’t have the guts to admit that I not only screwed up by sleeping with him for professional reasons, but also because I know I’m not gutsy enough to tell Hunter being fuck buddies isn’t good enough for me anymore.

I’m not the same person.

Three years does a lot to mature a person and after Chad, maybe I want something more.

Maybe, my dad was right—not that I’ll ever tell him.

Hunter Maddox. Complicated and multi-layered, incredibly gifted, a god in the sack, yet troubled by something significant.

I’d ask myself what I want from him but I already know. Just sex won’t be enough. Just being a client might never work.

Oh what a tangled web I’ve woven.

But at least I’m sexually satisfied for what feels like the first time in forever. There’s always that very shallow tidbit to fall back on as the sky falls and more clients leave KSM, because one of their lead agents sleeps with clients and presumably gives them better treatment than all her other clients.

Even worse, they’ll start thinking that sleeping with my clients is part of the KSM package.

Shit. The more I think the worse this gets.

I groan and flop onto my back, trapping myself in the comforter when I do.

“Woman up, Kincade,” I mutter. Tell him the truth. Explain why this can’t happen again. March up to him and say, yes, he’s the player I’m here to recruit. And yes, we slept together. Christ, Dekker, he already knows that part. But maybe tell him it happened once, I own it, but I can’t let it happen again because I want to win his trust as a client. And once he’s a client I can’t cross that line.

I take a deep breath and fight the urge to slide back into sleep like only a person whose body feels satisfied knows, when it hits me.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

I fling the covers off me and scramble to grab my laptop like a madwoman. I’m logged in within seconds, the connection accepting about the same time I’m patting down my hair and pretending I don’t look like I just woke up.

“So glad you could join us,” my father says through the connection as it goes from pixelated to clear where I can see him and my three sisters sitting at the conference table at the offices.

“Sorry. Late night.”

Brexton’s chuckle fills the room. “I hope he was worth it,” she teases and has no idea how true that statement is.

“Funny,” I feign. “I went with a few of the Jacks to a jazz club and then came back here to find a pipe had burst in the hallway. Late night,” I overexplain when I need to just stop.

“Ha. Dare we ask whose pipe burst, exactly?” Lennox asks, staring at me through the screen.

There’s absolute silence and then my sisters and I break out into laughter.

“Ladies,” my dad says as he tries not to chuckle. “That’s enough. We’ve already run through the status of all of our clients . . . your tardiness allowed you to miss that part, so you’re up, kid. That status report remains blank so I’m beginning to get worried here.”

“I’ll update, but did we talk about what clients they’re going after yet? Because I’m still miffed at my urgency and not theirs to pick up and leave.”

“Considering Maddox is the one tearing up the charts and making scenes, I agree with Dad that it was important for you to be there now. Get him on the upswing so you can show him why you’ll prevent him from falling,” Chase says in her clipped, professional tone as if she has no stake in any of this.

“Always the pet,” I mutter, knowing that’s what they say about me.

“And she finally admits it.” Lennox laughs, to which I hold my hand up to the lens and flip her off.

“So has Hunter been receptive to your advances?” he asks, and I cough in response to fight the smile on my lips.

“We haven’t gotten to that part yet.” I bite my bottom lip as they all stare at me.

“Hence the blank status report,” Chase mutters under her breath.

“And why not?” Lennox prompts.

“It hasn’t been the right time.”

“In two-plus weeks’ time, you haven’t found a measly moment to corner him and ask if he’s happy with his representation?” Chase asks.

“Look, I’m here because you guys feel like he’s a ticking timebomb you want me to manage. I have to use caution. His game is stellar, but he’s a disaster off the ice, so I’m trying to be the one to be there to fix his fuck-ups right now. He’s burned out, and I’m trying to help him see that. Trying to help him see what he fell in love with again.”

There’s a snort in the conference room and they all glance to Brexton, and I can only imagine what she said.

I clear my throat and continue. “I’m trying to show him I’m the one there when Sanderson’s not or is too busy with his other clients. I’m trying to make it be me who Hunter calls when he needs something. When he needs someone to understand him,” I say, knowing it’s so much more than that. To them, this is our career and business, but to me, it’s wanting to see him get over this. “I’m at the games with the praise, but it’s the off of the ice part that will win him to my side.”

“Smart. Let him get comfortable—umm . . . more comfortable with you,” Chase says.

“Knock it off, you guys. Hunter and I happened over three years ago. We’re both mature adults who’ve moved on,” I lie.

“I hear Sanderson was there,” my dad says before a fight can start.

“He was.” I nod. “His warning was delivered and ignored.” Their chuckles fill the room.

“And you?” my dad asks. “How are you holding up?”

How do I answer that with the four people who know me best? How do I mask my expression so they don’t see I’m kind of a mess this morning, torn by emotions I can’t even name myself?

Because now that he’s asked, it’s ten times harder to pretend it’s not there.

Now that he’s brought it up, all I want to do is crawl into his arms and get a fatherly hug that tells me it’s going to all work out in the end.

“I’m good. Fine,” I reiterate. “My goal is to get Hunter alone this week between the next set of games and pitch our case.”

“Rumor is Finn’s not happy with him,” Lennox says.

“Rumor is a lot of people aren’t.” I pull my hair up in a clip, suddenly more aware than ever what I probably look like to them. “And I intend to exploit that to my advantage.”

My father nods, his hands steepled in front of him, and lips pursed. “He’s our in to Sanderson, Dekk. He’s the influencer or whatever term you young kids use these days. He’s the one who sets the bar. Get him over and it’ll be easier to pull more hockey players who want to be him.” He leans back in his chair and, as he looks me directly in the eyes, I feel both his challenge and confidence in me. “I know you can do it.”