My Billionaire Hockey Trainer

Chapter Three

I used to love watching hockey games but after Julian's accident that made him quit hockey, it became an abomination for us to go to one. I even stopped watching on TV so he didn't get mad.

But hearing the name “Bustin Broods”, I remembered, and it all made sense. When Julian was in school, before everything happened, he used to play for Bustin Broods. There was a player two years ahead that Julian absolutely worshipped. He even joined their team because of him.

When that player graduated and started playing in the NHL with the Chicago Cheetahs, Julian and I would watch them play. Julian would point at the screen and tell me that he'd get there soon. All dreams shattered after the accident.

That player was right in front of me. Connor Adams.

The agreement was finalized, he signed the contract and went around shaking hands. I could help but notice his hands when he got to me. They felt nothing like the rough, calloused hands of the hockey players I’d met, Julian included. They were warm, and utterly disconcerting.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hale,” he greeted before they walked out.

Just as I got back to my office, Simone burst in, her eyes wide. “I know where the guy's from! He attended Bustin College, same as–”

“Same as Julian, yeah, I remembered,” I cut her off softly. “Julian kind of idolized him, you know? They were in the same team for a bit.”

Simone's excited expression deflated into a pout. “Oh,” she said, disappointed she hadn't delivered new information.

“By the way, your dad has gotten them to take all the videos down and that jerk wouldn't be trying such rubbish anymore,” she told me, plopping onto the couch.

“Oh, thank goodness!” I exclaimed in relief.

I turned on my phone, and my face fell. The message I had drafted to Julian, the one I had not meant to send, had been delivered. My finger must have clicked send by accident.

He had read it and didn't respond.

“What? What is it? Is there another video?” Simone asked, rushing toward me as she noticed my expression.

Before I could flip my phone over, she had seen my screen: Julian's familiar profile picture, a text sent from me. She pulled away from me, disappointment etched onto her features. “You texted him?”

“I shouldn't have,” I whispered, the shame a familiar, bitter taste.

“Damn right, you shouldn't have,” she said through gritted teeth. "I can't have him thinking you're still stuck on him after he humiliated you like that."

Simone was right. Julian had made zero attempts to reach out since everything happened. He even went as far as dragging my reputation through the mud.

I nodded my head, feeling the familiar sting behind my eyes. “You’re right. I need to move on for real this time. He doesn’t deserve me.”

Simone’s lips quivered. I could tell she was going to break into tears soon as she pulled me into a fierce hug. “I’m so proud of you, Bri. Whatever you need, I'll be here.”

She was the real definition of a ride-or-die friend, and I clung to her, allowing the hug to anchor me against the current of my emotional mess.

——

“Actually Ma'am, you don't have to go to the rink like your father used to do,” Dera told me the next day when I asked what time Adams was due for his first day.

I knew that. But I went anyway. I told myself it was to see what he had planned for the younger Bantam players, but a deeper, more compelling reason pulled me. I wanted to see Connor Adams again. Something about the man intrigued me. It was new, temporary and strangely easier to focus on than my old, crushing sorrow.

I found my way to the rink halfway through the day's training. I watched Connor crouched down, helping a boy tie his skates. He had a patience and focus I hadn't expected from the imposing figure in the boardroom.

I watched the rest of the training, maintaining an open conversation with my assistant and taking notes on my iPad. Work had gotten busy. I needed to ensure the agency ran smoothly, and I had thrown myself into the strategic planning to distract my mind.

“Here to make sure I'm working for your money's worth?” A familiar voice asked, making my neck snap towards it. Connor took a seat beside me in the seating area.

“Well, yeah, I can't risk you not coaching my boys the right way,” I said with a playful shrug.

“Oh yeah?” He gave me a boyish grin. “You watch a lot of hockey?”

“I don't know so much about hockey,” I lied easily. The truth, that I used to live and breathe the sport for Julian, was too complicated to share, or the deeper truth.

He kissed his teeth. “The CEO of a hockey recruitment agency doesn't know much about the game? Blasphemy!”

I chuckled. Talking to him was surprisingly easy, I felt a lightness I hadn't felt in a long while. I guessed the atmosphere in the rink was still contagious.

We chatted a bit before he had to leave when the boys completed their laps around the ice.

It was the weekend, so that evening, I got dressed up and drove to a sophisticated restaurant downtown.

What I did not expect to see was…

“It’s you!” I exclaimed, surprised to see Connor Adams passing by my table.

“Hello there, Miss Hale.” My name rolled off his lips with a rich, velvety texture.

“What are you doing in these ends?”

“I just had a brief meeting at a coffee shop nearby and thought I should have dinner here,” he replied, slipping one hand smoothly into his pocket.

I raised a brow in question. “Meeting at a coffee shop at 7:56 PM? Must have been a very fun meeting,” I said, putting the last word in air quotes.

He chuckled. “And you, are you stalking me by any chance, Miss Hale?”

I scoffed. Sure, he was handsome, built like a Greek god even. I'll give him that. But also very pompous.

“You wish. I'm here waiting for my friend. We're having a girls' dinner tonight,” I said, but a notification from my phone cut me off and I groaned. “The said friend just asked for a rain check.”

“Well then, mind if I join you?” He asked, gesturing to the chair.

I hesitated. My mind immediately gave me a sharp internal warning. I considered how it might look to anyone. It was prohibited to have romantic relationships within the office, and two of us, having dinner in a restaurant like this could be easily misinterpreted.

“Actually, I think I'll just grab some take out instead,” I replied, giving him an apologetic smile as I rose to my feet.

“That's fine,” he said, flashing a flirtatious smile. He paused, his gaze locking with mine, and his voice dropped to a mischievous whisper. “Yours or mine?”