As if appearing just because I was thinking about her, Minnie breezes in the door in a cloud of Estée Lauder perfume and sunshine.
"I'm back," she chirps happily. "Thanks so much, dear."
I grin at her. "My pleasure, Minnie."
Standing from the desk, I grab Mara's file and turn toward the couch where Alex is seated. I debate about leaving him here for a bit longer, but then decide against it. I've never been a very vengeful person. "Mr. Crossman, if you'll come this way … "
He unfolds his large body from the couch and when he reaches his full height, I hear Minnie behind me give a slight gasp and murmur, "Oh, my."
Yup, Minnie. He's definitely an oh my.
As Alex walks toward me with those longer-than-long legs, his eyes run casually down my body and slowly back up again until he's pinning me with a direct stare. Appreciation shines through loud and clear, and it makes me self-conscious as hell.
Spinning on my heel, I call out over my shoulder, "Follow me."
As I walk through the locked door to the back area, my heels clacking on the tile floor, I can feel his eyes burned onto my ass the entire way. I'm only modestly thankful he's probably ogling my body and not looking at the Sharpie-covered, scuffed heels of my shoes.
When I reach my office, I push the door open and motion for him to precede me in. He does so and I follow behind, closing the door behind me.
Walking past him, I say, "Please have a seat."
Rounding my desk, I put Mara's file over on one of my bookshelves and sit in my cheap office chair with uneven wheels that squeaks every time I move. When I finally look at him across the desk, he's gazing at me in stunned disbelief. "You're Sutton Price?"
"The one and only," I quip.
"Fuck," he mutters, sifting his hand through his long hair in a show of irritation. "I thought Sutton was a dude's name."
"Probably is," I confirm. "Also happens to be my name."
"Christ," he mutters again, and for the life of me, I can't understand why my name seems to bother him.
The more I'm getting to know Alex Crossman, the more I am definitely not liking him.
Chapter 3
Alex
Son of a bitch!
The totally smoking hot woman sitting across the desk from me-the one I was imagining going down on tonight-is the fucking counselor I have to work with over the next year to build this outreach program?
This does not amuse me, because while I can actually be devastatingly charming when I want to be, I am loathing this whole charitable deal so much that I know I will probably be nothing but an asshole to this woman. I know she doesn't deserve it, but that's just the way it is.
Yes, I know this is a worthy cause, and yes, like I said, I'm all for worthy causes. But it is chapping my ass that I'm being forced to do this as punishment and as a means to bring me to heel. The mere fact that I'll be benched if I balk at doing this enrages me beyond my normal surly attitude, and I have a feeling that this poor girl is not going to know what hit her by the time we're through here today.
If it were just a matter of walking away from a career I hate, I wouldn't be sitting here right now. I would have told Coach to blow me the other day and walked out. But unfortunately, this career that I hate so much is also very much needed, mainly because I have nothing else in life that I'm any good at. Good ol' Pops made sure that I channeled all of my energy, efforts and talent into being one of the world's best hockey players, so much so that I've never considered once what I would do when it was over.
As a result, I count every penny I earn and I sock it away for that day when this career is no longer there for me, so at least I'll have some money to live on while I figure out what the fuck to do with my life. So that's why I live in a small, two-bedroom apartment and drive a used Chevy Suburban, while my teammates live in mansions and drive luxury SUVs. Because my earnings are my ticket to freedom away from an overbearing and abusive father incapable of loving his son, and a career I'd just as soon vomit or piss on as I would anything else.
Looking at Sutton Price, I snarl inside over this unfortunate turn of events. I was hoping I'd get another crack at her before I left, fairly certain I could convince her to have dinner at my apartment. I'd even make something nice … certainly not Hamburger Helper. But no, this is essentially my jailer for the next year, which also makes her my enemy.
And I can't fuck the enemy.
At least I don't think I can.
"You're actually one of the counselors here?" I ask, my voice dripping with skepticism, because I truly am not ready to believe this woman won't be lying beneath me tonight.