Behind the Net (Vancouver Storm, #1)

by Stephanie Archer

He stares at me, and I flatten my mouth so I don’t laugh. It feels like he wants to smile, and my heart is bouncing around in my chest like a ping-pong ball. If I had seen this version of Jamie in high school, I’d have been a full-out stalker.

“Jamie?” He waits, watching me intently. “You should go out with the team. I bet it would be fun.” His gaze roams my face, and it feels like he wants to say something, but he just nods once. “I’ll think about it.”

Watching Jamie Streicher play a game is a totally different experience than sitting in on a practice. When he blocks the puck, the crowd around us cheers for him, although it doesn’t even seem like he notices or cares. Just like in practice, he’s faster than I can follow, but now, there are five guys trying to sink the puck in while another five fight them off. Jamie’s body bends and contorts in the net in sharp motions, but he makes it look easy. It’s fast-paced, brutal, and charged with energy. I love it.

If Jamie says you’re good, you must be.”

“I’m really glad he has you to help out. He takes on too much.”

Some people are meant to pursue their dreams, but I’m not one of them.

“I’m okay,” she says, nodding with closed eyes. “I’m so sorry.” My eyes go wide. “Donna, don’t apologize. Please. This is just…” I shrug. “This is just life.” The corner of her mouth turns up as she offers me a grateful smile. “You’re amazing, do you know that?” I shake my head, laughing. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” She laughs. “Me neither.”

God, he’s so freaking gorgeous, even when he’s furious. Jamie meets my gaze, and the flashing anger in his eyes drains away.

“I’ll see you soon,” she tells me, and she has this way of saying it like we’re old friends. When she hugs Jamie, she tilts her head in my direction. “Don’t let her get away.” My face heats. I know she means as his assistant, because I make his life easier, but I can’t help but hear it the other way. The romantic way.

He looks down at me with a set jaw. “No, Pippa.” The way he says my name, all stern and demanding like that, sends a shiver down my spine.

None of it is fair. It’s not fair that Donna gets panic attacks, and it’s not fair that Jamie feels the need to fix it for her. I understand that’s how family works—you take care of your loved ones. Still, I wish Jamie left more space for himself. Who takes care of him?

I’m frozen, locked in place, as he glares at my mouth like it offends him.

That’s how I would take care of Jamie.

I’m also thinking about Pippa and the sweet curve of her mouth. It’s been like this all week. I can’t get one particular thought out of my head.

“Good morning.” Her eyes linger on my damp hair before she gestures at a mug on the counter. “There’s coffee for you here.” My eyebrows snap together. Pippa does this—makes me coffee—and I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m not used to someone doing these things for me. A funny warmth spreads through my stomach, and I jerk a quick nod at her. “Thanks.”

When she offers me a shy smile in the elevator, the warning feeling goes silent. Maybe she wants to spend more time with me, too.

Jamie Streicher’s body is perfect.

“Focus,” she murmurs as she passes. I’m focused, alright. Focused on the shirtless hockey player who’s miles out of my league.

She stares at him. “I thought you were supposed to be an asshole.” Jamie looks at me, and something glints in his eyes. “Did you tell her that?” “Um.” I blink. “No?” Very convincing, Pippa. I wince, but I’m smiling. “I mean, you did fire me.”

Our eyes lock, and my stomach does a slow, warm roll. There’s that fascinating twitch at the corner of his mouth. I have the urge to reach out and brush my finger over it. Hazel’s glancing between us with a funny look on her face. Our gazes meet, and her eyebrows bob up and down once.

She’s really trying not to like him, but between his thoughtful questions, his interest in her profession, and how little ego he has, she doesn’t stand a chance. I don’t know if I do, either. Who is this version of ...

Her eyes narrow at me. “He likes you.” I flush with happy, buzzy feelings. “He can hardly stand me.” She chokes. “Are you kidding?” “Hazel, the guy fired me. He only rehired me because he felt bad for me. And then he saw me crying, and that made it ten times worse.” I lower my voice. “He pities me. I’m just the dog walker, basically. He doesn’t like me.” She holds my gaze with a knowing look. “He likes you.” I hate the flurry of butterflies in my stomach at her words.

Something occurs to me, and I turn to him with narrowed eyes. “You knew going to Hazel’s class would help her.” He shrugs, but the corner of his mouth lifts. My heart swells. “Oooooh.” I nod, smiling at him. “Okay. I see it now.” “What?” His expression is concerned. I just continue smiling at him. “You’re nice.” He looks at me like I’ve grown another head. I nod. “Yeah. You are. You take care of your mom, you took in a stray dog that needed a home, and you made me move in.” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder in the direction we came from. “You bought us lunch. Jamie, you’re nice.” He beeps his key fob at the entrance of our building and opens the door for me, not meeting my gaze. “It’s not a big deal.” “I told you Hazel’s coworkers were bitchy, so you came with me to help her out.” His eyes rest on me as we wait for the elevator, and there’s something warm in his gaze. “Maybe I just wanted to hang out with you.” I chuckle. “Mhm. I’m sure. You probably have supermodels on speed dial, so it makes perfect sense that you’d spend your day off with me.” We step into the elevator. Amusement twitches on his lips. “Speed dial?” “I said what I said.” My chest shakes with laughter. Something about the way he’s pinning me with his gaze, and how maybe I’m amusing him, is making my stomach do excited backflips. Our gazes hold, and there’s a drop in my stomach that I’m going to attribute to the elevator ascending. His eyes glitter, and I can smell his fresh, sharp scent. Oh, wow.

He isn’t smiling, but his gaze is warm. Delight sparkles in my chest, and I fight the urge to rub my sternum. This feeling is new.

I am the kind of girl who gets turned on in an elevator. It’s too late. It’s happening. We’re there. I’m horny for my hockey player boss in an elevator. I really can’t be doing this. Jamie is totally off-limits. He’s too hot, too nice, and he smells way too good. Letting my crush balloon into something more will only end in heartbreak for me.

Yes, you can, he said, and he sounded so certain. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I can.

I wanted to kiss her so fucking badly. I still do.

The fear in her eyes when I asked her to play a song for me made me sick. Her ex fucked with her head, and now she can’t do the thing she loves. I want more for her. I don’t want her to live with this fear. I want her to crush it and feel proud. Pippa’s strong—I saw it when she helped my mom with her panic attack. I rub the bridge of my nose. I want more for her? I’m no one to her. She works for me. She doesn’t remember me. A twinge of guilt gets me in the gut. Maybe telling her to play for me was over the line.

Is it appropriate for me to be standing in front of her in my underwear? Probably not. Do I care? I watch as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, tracing my abs with her gaze. No. No, I do not. My blood hums with satisfaction as her eyes linger on my body.

“Jamie.” She rolls her eyes at me, smiling. I love the way she says my name in that teasing way.

My mind wanders to a couple nights ago, after I got home from a game. When I turned on the TV, it was already on the sports channel. Was she watching my game? Pride bursts in my chest at the thought of it.

“The last time I played for someone, they laughed at me.” Her voice is quiet. Rage surges through my veins. I’ll kill them. “Who?” I demand in a low, lethal voice. “Tell me. Names. Now.” She rolls her eyes. “Jamie.” “Now.” “It was Zach.” Her face is going red, a patch of pink on each cheek, and my fists clench while folded over my chest. “And his manager.” She blinks like she’s reliving it before she blinks again and she’s back here in the kitchen with me. Just when I think this guy can’t get worse, he does. I nod once. “That’s the song I want to hear.” I’m such a fucking asshole. Her eyes go wide. “What? No.” “Yes.” My voice is firm and demanding. I’m a pushy, arrogant dick, but I don’t care.

Her eyebrows pull together, and the way she looks at me makes me want to scoop her up into a hug and never put her down. I’d never let her go. The way she’s looking at me makes me want to protect her from the world and assholes like her ex.

This moment in my kitchen feels like we’re the only people on the planet. In the back of my mind, a warning bell rings, but I ignore it. I’ll deal with that later. Right now, Pippa needs me.

“You can do it. I got back on the ice, and it was okay. Remember when my mom had a panic attack? You nailed it, songbird. You did everything right. You’re tough as nails deep down, I know it.” Her brow rises. “Songbird?” I didn’t mean to call her that—it just slipped out. It’s perfect for her, though. “Mhm.”

Let her look all she wants.

“Alright, Jamie Streicher. Your smile makes me feel like playing.” She takes a deep breath and strums. The opening notes ring out. She starts to sing, and something in my chest locks into place.

Jamie Streicher’s smile captivates me. Even after his mouth is back to the normal cruel slash, the warm glint remains in his eyes.

You’re tough as nails, deep down. I know it. That’s what Jamie said. He also called me songbird.

God, he’s fucking gorgeous.

Zach wasn’t the one for me, but the way Jamie’s making me feel right now, so safe and special and supported… maybe I’ll find that feeling again. Not with Jamie, of course. Even if he did date, he’d go for someone in his league. We’ve always been on two different levels, even back in high school. I’m not naive. I know better. But that doesn’t mean I won’t find it with someone. Maybe. One day.

“That guy was never good enough for you. Not in high school and not now. I hope you fucking see that.”

“Wait.” My eyebrows snap together, and I tilt my head, replaying it. “I didn’t tell you Zach and I went to high school together.” Jamie’s eyes widen a fraction, and my lips part in surprise. Is it possible that he remembers me from high school? No. No way. A guilty look passes over his face, and my jaw drops. “Jamie.” My tone is accusing, and I wear a curious smile. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. His expression is sheepish, and it’s adorable. “You probably don’t remember, but we went to the same high school.” A laugh bursts out of me. Don’t remember him? How could anyone not? “I’m a couple years older, and I missed a lot of school for hockey,” he goes on, and his embarrassed expression sobers me immediately. Oh. He’s serious. He actually thinks I don’t remember him. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before,” he goes on, and his knee bobs up and down in a distracting way. “You took me by surprise when I saw you the first time, and then I just…” He trails off, and his eyes meet mine. “I didn’t want to make it weird.” I could go on pretending, but why? It’s exhausting. And the fact that he remembers me is making my heart do Daisy’s excited tippy-taps against the front wall of my chest. “I remember you,” I admit. “Of course I remember you.” His expression stills. “You do?” I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Jamie. Come on. You were on your way to the NHL. You were one of the popular kids. All the girls swooned over you. You were gorgeous, even back th...

Our eyes are locked, and there’s a zing of tension between us. My stomach rolls, and for a moment, I want Jamie to be that guy, the one who makes me forget Zach ever existed.

It feels like we’re about to kiss.

He’ll devastate me. After Zach, I’m full of cracks. I can’t have feelings for Jamie, because if it ends like it did with Zach—which it will—I’ll smash.

Ward runs through the drills we practiced this week, but my mind is elsewhere. My mind is on my pretty assistant, sitting in her tiny sleep top and shorts, smooth legs tucked beneath her as she played the guitar in the middle of the night, looking like an angel sent from heaven. Or maybe she was sent from the devil, because Pippa is tempting as hell. Gorgeous, even back then. Something pleased floods my chest. She remembers me, and she thinks I’m hot.

After she played guitar for me, I wanted to kiss her so fucking badly.

I can’t remember the last time I was so attracted to a woman. I am so fucked.

Keeping my distance from Pippa—my high school crush, the girl I can’t seem to say no to—is proving to be a challenge.