Gloves Off: a marriage of convenience hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 4)

“Don’t bite me,” Alexei warns to the kitchen floor as I walk in after work a few days later. There’s a game on TV in the other room so he hasn’t noticed me. “Don’t believe anything she’s said about me.”

I peer around the island. The bunnies are on the floor, going to town on two plates of neatly chopped-up veggies. Alexei crouches between them, stroking a strong hand across Damon’s fur. His wedding ring glints, and my stupid, stupid little heart gives an erratic thump.

“Hi.”

He goes very still before he stands and folds his arm across his chest like he wasn’t just talking to my bunnies. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for tumors.”

I press my lips together. I need to get ready for soccer, but there’s no way I can drag myself away without teasing him. “It looked like you were petting Damon.”

“Demon, more like. You’ve been gone for hours.” He shrugs. “They need attention.”

“Svetta gives them tons of attention during the day.” A sparkling, fizzy feeling goes off in my chest. Teasing him is like a drug. “I think you like them.”

“I don’t. I hate them. They stink.”

“Mhm. Did you julienne those carrots? How do you even know how to do that?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t just play hockey. I can cook.”

For the first time, I notice the chef’s block of knives on the counter. The professional-grade pots and pans hanging from the ceiling rack.

The other night, when I came home late, it smelled incredible in here, like tomatoes and basil. Like someone had been cooking.

Him. Not Svetta. Alexei cooks. Why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot.

“Prove it,” I say with an arched brow, even though I believe him.

His gaze sharpens with challenge. “Next time you leave work at a reasonable hour, I will.”

My stomach dips. A meal together? Unforced, and not for show? We would never.

I’m holding his gaze, trying to think of something sharp and witty, when my phone buzzes.

At the reminder on-screen, though, my heart stops.

“Shit,” I whisper.

He straightens, frowning. “What?”

“I have a work dinner.” My mind starts to race. “There’s a neurologist we’re trying to woo to the program.” We’ve been trying to arrange a visit with Dr. Emilio Reyes for months. “I don’t know how I missed this in my calendar.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I have soccer.” I glance at the time on the microwave. “I double-booked myself. Heather’s out of town at a conference. She and I have been the main contacts for Dr. Reyes. It would look rude and dismissive if I had another doctor take him out, like we didn’t care. And I can’t cancel soccer. That’s my rule; I don’t cancel on the girls.”

I could, but even the idea makes my stomach sink. Soccer isn’t just a chance to exercise under medical supervision. It’s a social thing. They’re all friends. And whether I want the responsibility or not, I’m a role model to them.

I need to be consistent and reliable for them.noveldrama

I blow out a heavy breath, thinking. I don’t know what to do.

“I’ll do it,” he says.

I stare at Alexei for ten long seconds. “Do what?”

He leans against the counter, arms still folded across his chest. “Coach soccer.”

A slow blink. “You’re going to coach soccer for me?”

“Sure.” He says it like he’s giving me a ride somewhere and not offering to take care of the thing that’s most important to me. He pulls out his phone and taps out a text.

“You don’t have training or something?”

He slips his phone back into his pocket. “I just cancelled it.”

I blink at him. “Are you okay?”

He’s not smiling, but his features soften into something amused. “I can take one night off.”

“Do you even know how to play soccer?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of? What was your second sport?”

He gives me a confused look.

“Ninety-eight percent of professional hockey players competed in a second sport when they were teenagers.”

“Oh. Baseball.”

I’m really not sure about this. “So not soccer.”

“Hockey is winter and baseball is spring. I couldn’t play two winter sports. Besides, soccer’s boring.”

“Soccer isn’t boring.” My jaw drops at the blatant insult to my sport, and he looks away, mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

“No contact. No fighting.”

A laugh slips out of me. “I’m not letting you tell my girls their sport is boring.”

“I won’t. We’ll work on technical skills. I’ll run different drills with them than they’re used to. Cross-training is good for player development.”

He actually looks sincere, and if I know one thing about Alexei, it’s that when he does something, he gives it everything. All these hockey players do.

“Or I’ll just do whatever you want,” he adds.

“You’ll be mean to them,” I toss out.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?” I bite my bottom lip and his eyes drop to it before he pulls his gaze away, fast.

“I promise.” He gives me a flat look. “What other option do you have?”

He’s got a point. Is Alexei going in my place better than canceling? Two months ago, I would have said, hell no.

Now I’m not so sure.

Besides, he cancelled training. I doubt he does that often.

“Fine. Deal.” My mouth slides into a smile and he looks at my lips again. “Good luck, Coach Volkov.”