BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance by Eddie Cleveland (ebook reader macos .txt) 📕

I struggle to walk in my flat-bottomed canvas sneakers. At no point would I think, “you know what would make this more fun? If there were butter knives welded to the bottom of my shoes, and I was trying not to fall on my face. On ice.”

I shouldn’t watch. Especially not him. Still, when it comes to bad decisions involving Blaze, lingering a little too long is nothing compared to that night a few years back when our clothes were a tangle of promises being kept on the bed. Heat rises up in me, and I remember the heat that rose between us then. It burned in my belly, how much I wanted him.

I can’t believe I was so naive when I took this job. I knew Blaze slept with a lot of women, but a stubborn sliver of my ego made me worry he’d remember me. A quiet voice kept nagging me. What if…?

All that worry for nothing. There wasn’t even a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. As far as Blaze is concerned, I’ve never set foot in his life until I got this job. Honestly, it might have been the final nail in the coffin that was my ego, but it’s for the best.  He’s distractingly attractive. That blank stare in his eyes helps me pretend that night never happened.

Blaze has always had a lot of swagger, but now he’s perfected it. All the attention he gets has given him a big head, so big it could float in a Macy’s parade. Imagining Blaze’s head as a giant, inflated Thanksgiving Day float… well, I hate how that naturally brings up the memory of his weird, homemade porn. Where’s the reset button on my brain?

Unfortunately, that night-vision-green footage of his tight, tattooed body topped with the mascot head… it isn’t something you’ll soon forget. It even has a way of popping into your head when you don’t even mean for it to, like when I’ve got my favorite vibrator buzzing me so close.

Heat zooms over my skin just as Blaze looks up and catches me staring. I can’t read the look in his eyes from up here because I’m too busy rushing away. I know he caught me watching him. Blushing. Staring.

My pace quickens, but I can’t out power walk my shame. I don’t stop until I’m in my office. I close the door, like I need another barricade since I can’t trust the one inside. My heart beats harder than I’m comfortable with. The Witch’s Tit doesn’t feel so cold anymore. I unzip my coat, sit at my desk and force myself to focus.

Thinking about Blaze isn’t a problem. It’s literally a requirement of my job. It’s how I’m thinking about him that’s the problem.

The waitress at Foxies was right. Guys like Blaze don’t change. Why would they? If insanity is doing the same thing over and over a bunch of times and expecting different results, then Blaze is actually the sanest of everyone. He knows exactly what results he’ll get. He’s like those rats that make it through the maze to collect some cheese. Replace the cheese with drunk sex and the rat with Blaze. Although they’re pretty much one in the same, aren’t they? Life keeps rewarding Blaze for getting drunk and exploiting his natural skills with big ol’ chunks of cheese.

“I just need to change how I look at him,” I mumble. It’s time to get that boy out of my head. I open my favorite dating app and start swiping until I find a profile that looks like it might help change my perspective.

Sending messages back and forth kills some time. I’m not hiding out. I don't need a distraction. I just deserve a night out with someone who lets me forget about Blaze for a while. Tomorrow night, to be exact. With my date set, I already feel my focus shift.

I lay my phone down, searching my desk for something to do, but this isn’t a real paperwork-heavy job. Being a nagging nanny and trying to stop Blaze from stepping in dog crap are pretty much my entire job description. The downtime I get when Blaze is in his playgroup gives me a good opportunity to beef up my resume.

This job is an amazing opportunity. Unfortunately, that opportunity is very temporary. When the hockey season is over, Westbury stops worrying about Blaze and his antics. It’s not like I follow him home. When the season is over, he’s a free man, and I’m unemployed.

Another skill this job is providing me is creative writing. It’s not like I can write the truth. Instead of “excellent at publicly protesting men from strip clubs,” I’ll put “convincing public speaking skills”.

Once that’s updated and saved, there’s not much more I can do here. It’s probably getting close to the end of practice. I should find Coach Wilson and see if there’s anything he wants me to do. I don’t let myself pause in the breezeway this time. I rush through it and down the stairs, not stopping until I get in the arena seating. Before I can walk down the concrete steps to join Coach Wilson by the ice, Kaylee and Etta spot me and call me over.

“Hey, I saw your car outside.” Kaylee’s eyes look big behind her glasses. It makes it impossible not to make eye contact with her.

“Yep, another day in daycare.”

Etta laughs. “That’s a good name for it.”

“I didn’t mean all the guys.” I really didn’t. But with Kaylee dating Player and Etta being with Gucci, I want to make that extra clear.

“No, don’t worry about it. We’ve said much worse,” Kaylee agrees.

“I was talking specifically about Blaze.” I know they don’t care, but I clarify just in case.

“Yeah, well, he is a handful,” Kaylee sympathizes.

“That’s what Player says. He’s pretty normal, if you ask me.” Etta shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want your job. I wouldn’t last a day, not with all the crazy, stupid stuff Blaze does. I’m not