Page 39 of In Too Deep
I have to swallow my protective growl, knowing damn well it’ll only make things worse if I try to do anything. Though it does settle my instincts to find Tori glaring at him when I look up.
“We were working. Tony was using the main office to film, so I went to find somewhere else to work. Logan’s one of the few people who gets to the arena as early as I do, and he doesn’t try to distract me at every possible opportunity,” she says, then steps out of Oli’s arms to stand tall on her own.
The boys look at me incredulously, which I return with a mute nod. It was actually really nice to have her close while I worked. She kept to herself on my couch, not trying to carry on inane conversations like some of my assistant coaches. Her scent lingered on the cushions and throw blankets for a while, which soothed something deep in my instinctual brain.
“So you can have her in your office, but I can’t take her out to lunch? Make it make sense,” Oli retorts.
My hackles come up at his aggressive tone, but a glance at Tori has me backing off. She’s chewing on her lower lip, not looking at any of us as guilt swims in her mismatched eyes. And despite the purely alpha urge to dig my heels in and try to explain why it’s different, that’s not going to solve anything.
“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense,” I admit, setting down my knife and leaning on the counter with straight arms.
“Then why— Wait, what?” Eli cuts off his angry words as he processes my answer.
I chuckle and shake my head. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend that today wasn’t a huge risk. We were early, but it just takes the wrong person to turn something innocent into something scandalous. Though I don’t think any of you can judge me for wanting to spend time with Tori whenever I can.”
Three unintelligible, but reluctantly affirmative, grumbles float back to me as I resume chopping the last of the root vegetables before tossing them together on a baking sheet. Two generous drizzles of oil and honey, and then I shove them in the oven before turning my attention to the chicken thighs.
“I’m sorry for this morning. But we have to keep our personal squabbles separate from our professional lives. If you have a problem with something Logan, your future packmate, does, then you need to address that with me off the ice. Changing my skate blades is a funny prank—”
“You did what? Fucking hell,” Tori scoffs, pinching the bridge of her nose even as she tries to hide an amused smile.
“—if you pull it on another player. But I’m still your coach, guys. I know I was a hard ass today, but I can’t give you any special treatment. You know good and well that if anyone else had pulled that shit, they would have been benched. My instinct is to protect you, but I can’t compromise my authority as your coach.”
They have enough decency to appear admonished when I glance up from the cutting board. I set a pan of oil on the stove to preheat, waiting for their next move. When I look around again, there’s a new sort of tension in the air. But thankfully, this one is easier to fix.
“I’m sorry for making you do peanuts today,” I say sincerely.
“And I’m sorry for not thinking about the implications of working in Logan’s office,” Tori adds.
“I’m sorry for swapping your blades,” Eli mutters, roughing up his hair and avoiding eye contact.
“I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you both.” Spencer looks between me and Tori as he speaks, an apologetic smile on his face.
I look at Oli, keeping my expression neutral. I’m not expecting an apology from him, but he surprises me when he meets my gaze and nods.
“I’m sorry for not trusting you,” he says, first to me, and then to Tori, his amber gaze lingering for much longer on the omega’s face.
Something shifts in the room, a tentative truce resting between the five of us. But, from all my years building teams, I know that this won’t last if we don’t make an effort to reinforce it. I let out a breath before picking up my beer, lifting it to my lips to drain it in a handful of long pulls. After rinsing it out in the sink, I set it carefully on its side on the island counter.
“Let’s play a team building game,” I start, looking up with an encouraging smile.
“Oooh, we’re playing spin the bottle?” Eli singsongs as he waggles his eyebrows. “I didn’t think you swung—”
I stare at him with a blank expression, trying hard to stifle a grin. “I don’t. And we’re not spinning to see who makes out. If the bottle lands on you, then you have to share something that no one else knows about you,” I say, motioning them forward to sit at the stools as I return to cooking.
Tori is the first to move, obediently sitting on the center stool and making herself comfortable. Eli follows and takes the seat on her left, with Spencer moving next to sit on her right. Oli finally sits beside Spencer, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at me the whole time. But I ignore him, reaching over the island sink to spin the bottle first, letting it peter out until it finally stops pointed at me.
“So what’s your secret, Coach?” Eli asks. Leaning forward, he rests his chin on both of his fists as he bats his eyelashes at me.
Sighing, I consider for a moment, settling on something simple for the time being. “I tell people I have the cilantro soap gene, but I actually don’t. I just hate the taste of the shit andpeople don’t give me that fucking judgy look.” I laugh as I finish, motioning to Tori’s shocked expression and giving her a playful growl.
Eli laughs with me, nudging Tori with his shoulder until she rolls her eyes. I don’t have to prompt Eli to spin the bottle, allowing me to finish prepping the chicken and transferring it into the warm oil to fry. When the bottle stops again, this time, it’s pointing to Spencer.
“Speaking of tastes, I’m 1000 percent convinced that all wine tastes the same, and the flavor “notes” that people talk about are just a marketing ploy and don’t exist.”
I can’t help but laugh as Spencer gets increasingly heated the more he talks and defends himself from Oli’s incredulous attempts to convince him that he’s wrong. We go around again while I tend to the chicken, learning that Oli is a staunch Bigfoot believer, and Eli’s retirement dream is to set up a breeding facility-slash-rescue for Swedish Valhunds, a dog breed native to his home country that looks like the perfect cross between a husky and a corgi. When the bottle lands on Tori next, she thinks for a while before settling on something.
“When I was young, like younger than ten, I was dead set on marrying Mr. Darcy,” she says, slumping her shoulders slightly as she gives us an embarrassed smile.