He’s Not My Type

“I half expected Holmes to be a little more . . . homey with his place,” Penny says, glancing around his apartment. “I mean, not even a picture on the walls.”

“Can you hang pictures on concrete walls?”

“I have no idea.” She runs her hands over them. “I’ve never seen them before unless I was in a basement, but we’re not in the basement. We’re in a high-rise. Frankly, the whole thing is confusing.”

“I know, but I also kind of like it,” I say, examining his space. “It’s simple. I would have pictured a rug for him at least, but the clean lines and simplicity of it all make sense for the kind of man Halsey is.”

Holden stirs in his car seat but remains asleep as Penny walks over to the large sliding glass door that opens to the balcony.

“No furniture? This is an amazing balcony, and he doesn’t have any furniture?”

“He said he would get some, but I don’t think it’s necessary, especially since I won’t be here that long. He doesn’t need to get it for me.”

“He needs something out here. What a wasted space.” She walks around, taking in the view. “You could fit an outdoor dining table out here, a few planters, an L couch. It’s the perfect place for him to read his books. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t take advantage of it.”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like he . . . does much outside of hockey. You know?”

Penny pauses, then nods. “Yeah, I should have thought of that. Eli always talks about how different Halsey is from how he used to be. Makes me sad.” She turns toward me. “I still can’t believe you said yes to living here.”

“Now that I’m here, I can’t believe it either.” I sit on the edge of his couch and look around at the plain gray walls, the matching floors, and the empty space. It could be warmer if Halsey allowed warmth in his life.

I don’t know much about him, but I do know he’s been through a lot. He’s shut down, and not even his friends can bring him back to the guy he used to be.

Penny takes a seat next to me. “Want to talk about Perry?”

“Not really,” I answer.

“Too bad, because I do. Do you miss him?”

Should have seen that coming.

I sigh and lean back on the couch. “Not really. I don’t know . . . the whole thing feels so weird. I still can’t believe he just left and didn’t even look back. Here I thought there was actually something special between us, but boy, was I wrong.”

“If he decided he made a mistake and returned, would you take him back?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.” And that is what’s so strange. But every time I’ve stopped and thought about Perry, it hasn’t been feelings of sadness that I’ve felt. In some senses, I dodged a bullet. Perhaps this sounds wrong, but I want to be someone’s world. Not someone who’s easy to leave. “I think he showed his true colors by leaving, Pen. If I’m honest, I don’t want to be with a man who can walk away from me so easily. So I can’t see why I’d take him back.”

“That makes sense. In my humble opinion, he’s a fool to let you go.” I smile. Penny would say that. She’s such a loving person.

“So does that mean you’re going to move on?” There’s no other choice.

“Move on with my life, yes. If you’re implying moving on with dating, I’m pretty sure I’m done for now.”

“Such a shame.” She smirks at me. “I bet Halsey would be a lot of fun to mess around with.”

“Don’t even start with that,” I say, pointing at her in warning.

She innocently shrugs. “What? I’m just saying . . . might be a good time to get to know him. And you have to admit, he’s really hot.”

My mind brings me back to Halsey in his black Agitators shirt, standing in my new room, apologizing for the non-matching nightstands and wrinkled curtains. Despite looking morose, the pull in his brow and the clench in his jaw gave him a broody, almost bad boy look, but the apology coming out of his mouth completely contradicted that notion. And then there was the way his shirt clung to his body. Tight around his arms, his chest . . . but it flowed around his tapered waist. And every time he stuck his hands in his pockets, his triceps flexed, tugging even more tightly on the sleeves. He had a boyish charm with a devil’s body.

Really hot . . . not sure I’d describe him like that. It’s too simple of a word. He’s more than hot. He’s handsome with an edge. Attractive with a heart. A combination of both, which I know would be devastating to anyone willing to place their heart in his standoffish hands.

“You’ve been thinking for a while there,” Penny says with a nudge.

“Oh sorry.” I chuckle. “Just thinking about Halsey.”

“Oh, are you . . .” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Not like that.” I mean, sort of like that, but she doesn’t need to know exactly what I was thinking. “He’s hot, but there’s nothing between us, so don’t even start. This is a simple arrangement that will help me with my housing needs. That’s it.”

“Okay, but don’t you think it would be so cool if you two, I don’t know, fell for each other and got married and had a baby, and your baby could marry my baby, and we would be in-laws? Wouldn’t that be great?”

“You need to come back to the office. That imagination is working hard.”

She laughs. “Just one more week, and I’m back.”

“Are you going to miss staying home with Holden?”

“Yes and no. Eli and I sort of got into a bit of a fight the other night because I told him I felt sad about leaving Holden, so he suggested I not go back to work since I didn’t need to work.”

I wince. “What a moron.”

“Exactly. He went off about how he makes more money than we will ever need, and my working doesn’t matter.”

“Please tell me you set him in his place,” I say.

“Oh, I did. I told him working isn’t just about money. I like what I do. I enjoy working with the players and the team. That I love being a mom more than anything, but I also want to have something that’s for me, and that’s my job.”

“Please tell me he understood.”

“Not at first, but once I told him he was sleeping on the couch, he sat and listened some more. You know Eli; he’s really protective and wants to provide for me, for the family. He wants to be the stupid alpha who does everything for his woman.”

“Too bad for him, he fell for the wrong girl.”

“Yup.” Penny smirks. “Speaking of work, how is everything going?”

“Good.” I shift so I’m facing her and lean my side against the back of the couch. “I have a meeting tomorrow with a high-profile donor.”

“Why are you working with donors?” Penny asks.

“He came through the VIP relations to grab seats in our center ice suite and loved working with me, apparently. I’ll loop in Wills once I find out what’s going on, but I’ve researched him, and he’s pretty impressive.”

“What’s his name?” Penny asks.

“Huxley Cane. Have you heard of him?”

Penny shakes her head. “No.”

“Well, he has a business with his two brothers, and they’ve made some impressive moves. They’re investors in The Jock Report.”

“Oh wait, I do know about them. Didn’t Ollie go to one of them for a job?”

“Yes, she went to JP Cane, who connected her with Ryot Bisley. Anyway, they run a few charities, and being that they’re now friends with Silas, I’m trying to pull all the connections together. And to be honest, I’m slightly intimidated.”

“Why?” Penny asks.

“During my research, I learned very quickly that Huxley Cane is the type of man who doesn’t take shit from anyone. He’s very cutthroat in the boardroom. He’s made moves to benefit his company and his brothers, and he did it at such a young age. Not to mention . . . he’s very good-looking.”

“Is he married?”

I nod. “Yes, recently, and I believe his wife just had a baby. I swear I’ve seen his wife before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw a picture of her, and she looked so familiar. I couldn’t place her, and it’s still driving me nuts.” I shake my head. “Anyway, it should be interesting. I want to get settled in here and prepare for tomorrow’s meeting.”

Penny glances around. “Well, then let’s get you set up and unpacked. Maybe run to the store and grab a few things to liven this space up a bit.”

“No, I don’t want to disturb his peace. He probably has it empty for a reason.”

“Does he?” Penny stands and moves around the living room. “Or maybe he needs someone to come into his life to brighten things up because he’d never do it himself.”

“Either way, I’m not going to be that girl. This arrangement is purely so I have a place to stay. I have no intention of trying to help Halsey with whatever is going on in his head. I doubt I’ll even see him that much.”

“You say that now . . . until he starts walking around the apartment without a shirt on.”

“Doubtful,” I say, standing as well. “Halsey doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. Anytime I’ve spoken to him, he’s either really quiet, stumbles over his words, or is soft spoken. He’s not like Eli who would walk around without his shirt on because he’s a conceited idiot who thinks everyone will fall to their feet over the placement of his nipples.”

Penny chuckles, and in a swoony voice, she says, “Eli does have great nipples.”

I roll my eyes and move toward my bedroom. “Please don’t start on those again.”

She follows me. “You’re the one who mentioned them!”

I STARE into the full-length mirror on the back of the door of my new bedroom, grateful there was one here. I feel like that’s not something you think about until you don’t have one.

I smooth my hands over my long navy skirt that flows down to my ankles. I paired the skirt with a white sleeveless bodysuit that I’ve left unattached at the crotch because my torso is too long to snap comfortably. No one likes a frontal wedgie, not even the kinkiest of ladies. Self-induced camel toe is never comfortable.

I spent a good portion of my night working on my fake tan. After washing it off last night, this morning has left me with the perfect golden bronze glow. It’s taken me a few years and a lot of tutorials online to master my fake tanning routine, but now I have it down to a science, and it’s looking good, giving me the confidence I need for this meeting today.

And to top everything off, I slicked my hair back into a low ponytail, leaving it parted in the middle, and added some dangling blue earrings that pull the whole outfit together. I think I’m as ready as ready can be.

Nerves bloom in my stomach, but I push them down as I grab my neon-green bag with a thin gold chain strap and cross it over my body.

I didn’t see Halsey last night because he got home late, and I decided to hide away in my room, working on my tan. But as I open my bedroom door, I smell coffee, indicating he’s awake and, for some reason, seeing him this morning makes me nervous. Maybe because I haven’t really hung out with this man, and I’m about to see him in a vulnerable state, fresh and early in the morning.

But as I move into the main living space and spot him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, staring ahead with a cup of coffee in hand, I realize that maybe this won’t be as awkward as I’m anticipating.

He seems . . . relaxed, lost in his own thoughts.

And just like I thought, he’s wearing a shirt. I’d have been shocked if he had been standing there without a shirt. It’s such a shame. I’m curious about what he’s hiding under that gray T-shirt. I mean, professional athlete, so his body is probably insane. And not that I’m staring, but not only is the man wearing a pair of black athletic shorts that hit him just above the knees, but his feet are also bare.

Yup. Bare.

In my opinion, revealing a man’s bare feet is as scandalous as a brief glimpse of a woman’s ankle back in the 1800s.

Since we’re, you know, here and examining, I’d hate to leave out his sandy-brown hair that’s sticking up in the front but flat in the back. Clearly, he sleeps on his back. And the grand finale, the thing that will make all ovaries join fallopian tubes in a collective weep, the thick layer of morning scruff that lines his square jaw.

Ooof, yup, that is . . . nice.

Okay, sure, the man is incredibly handsome. I’ll give him that. But he’s also extremely closed off and quiet, so I doubt I’d ever consider dating him. I need someone who can match my energy. Not that I’m looking for someone to date.

I move toward the kitchen and say in a cheery voice, “Good morning.”

Startled, he glances to the side and straightens up. “Good, uh . . . good morning.” He pats his hair, trying to straighten it out, but has zero control over it with his dry palm. It’s cute.

Who would have thought such a giant man—six foot four, to be exact—would be such a cinnamon roll.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” I ask.

“No, you’re fine.” His eyes briefly scan me before moving back up to my face. The brief glance gives me a touch of satisfaction that I shouldn’t be happy about because, like I said, I’m not interested. “Are you heading out?”

“Yeah, early morning,” I say as I reach into my purse and grab my phone. “Have a big meeting that I want to prepare for in the office.”

“Cool. Yeah, well, good luck with your meeting.”

“Thank you. It should be—” My phone slips out of my hand and, in grand fashion, falls straight to the hard concrete floor with an agonizing smash. “Nooo,” I say as I bend down.

At the same time, Halsey rushes over to help. I reach for it while he does as well, but I beat him to it.

The screen is completely cracked and black.

“Is it broken?” he asks, very concerned.

I try to turn it on, but the screen remains black, and I know there is no way it survived the fall.

Damn these concrete floors.

“Shit,” I mutter. “Yeah, I think it is.” I sigh and stare down at my lifeline. “I’m going to have to get a new one after work. I don’t have time to do it this morning.”

“I can run and get one for you.”

I look up at him, surprised by his offer. “Oh, thanks, but it’s okay. I appreciate it, though.” I’m not sure if it’s the mixture of hazel in his eyes, the balance of gold and green, or the concern in his expression, but for a moment, it makes me lose my balance, and while bending, I step forward, nearly falling into him.

He quickly reaches out to steady me with his hand on my arm.

“Whoa, you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer. “Sorry about that.” I push up to stand. “These shoes are hard to bend over in.” I lift completely, unaware that my foot is stepping on the front of my skirt, so as I straighten myself out, my elastic-waisted skirt doesn’t straighten out with me.

Instead . . .

It’s pulled all the way down my body to the floor, where Halsey is still bent over, leaving me exposed in my unsnapped bodysuit and thong.

Dear Jesus, what have I done?

Horrified, I take inventory of what I’m dealing with as Halsey looks up, his eyes connecting with my unsnapped bodysuit that’s acting more like a flowy loincloth than a fashionable garment.

“Oh God,” I shout as I bend back down just as Halsey stands upright, like we’re on a damn invisible seesaw. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I flashed you.”

He spins around, turning away, his hand in his hair.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t do that on purpose,” I say as I tug on my skirt, but since it’s stuck under my foot, it only throws off my balance, causing me to topple backward on the floor and right out of my platform sandals that clunk to the floor.

Halsey turns around from the ruckus and finds me lying back on the floor, hands propping me up, my now loincloth barely covering my thong-covered crotch. Thank God for laser hair removal or else Halsey would be enjoying quite the scene.

His eyes fall to me, and when his head processes the hot mess in front of him—me completely out of my skirt, sandals splayed across the floor, and major crotch exposure on full display—he closes his eyes.

Mother of God, this is not what he signed up for.

“I . . . I didn’t see anything,” he says quickly, which of course sends me into a tailspin of embarrassment because whenever someone says they didn’t see anything . . . we all know . . . they saw something.

No . . . they saw everything!

And I’m not one to get embarrassed, but this is a moment in my life that I know will sit heavily as my top core memory, never to be replaced until my very last breath.

Yup, branded in my brain forever.

“I want to, uh, help you, but I want to give you privacy.”

How about one of those Men in Black memory erasers? Does he have any of those? That would be better than privacy right now.

I take a deep breath because it can’t get worse than this and say, “Pretty sure privacy is a moot point by now.” I struggle to stand as his eyes remain closed. I shake my skirt out and step into it, being very careful not to stand on it. Once it’s slipped on, I say, “Okay, I’m no longer flashing you.”

His eyes peer open as I catch a twinge of red staining the apples of his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?” I ask. “I should be the one apologizing.” I slip my shoes on. “Not every day the random person you have staying in your spare bedroom tries to flash you with their unsnapped bodysuit. I just want to state for the record, if I had it snapped, you would have been exposed to the inner depths of my nether regions. Think wedgie but in the front. No one wants to see that kind of crevice. And I know for damn sure you didn’t think to yourself, oh, let me invite this girl to live with me, only to be flashed an unwarranted camel toe. Trust me, the loincloth was way better, and I don’t know why I just said crevice because crevice is not a great choice of wording when talking about you know . . . the crotch area—ew, I hate the word crotch. I don’t know what’s worse, crotch or cervix. Both are just awful. But, God, I just flashed you, which probably woke you up faster than the caffeine in your coffee, and I swear I didn’t do that on purpose. I didn’t think this morning, you know what? Let’s see how we can make the hairs on the back of Halsey’s neck stand straight with horror—ah yes, step on your skirt and flash him your loincloth. Not on the plan this morning. And I’m rambling, I understand that, but I’m slightly horrified that I nearly slapped you in the face with my crotch . . . Ugh, that word . . . so . . . yeah.”

If he wasn’t rethinking his decision of having me as a roommate when I whipped my loincloth at him, he’s definitely rethinking it now after that unnecessary speech that offered no value to the world in the slightest.

“It’s fine,” he says, looking so uncomfortable. I’m sure he wants to slink away and retreat into one of his books so he can forget this ever happened. “Are you okay?”

“Only mortified, but it’s nothing a heavily frosted donut and cup of coffee can’t fix,” I say as I take a deep breath. “Wow, okay, what a way to start the morning, huh?”

“Yeah.” He leaves it at that but keeps eye contact, a strong eye contact that makes my stomach jolt with nerves.

“Anyway.” I thumb toward the front door. “I should be going so I can call Penny and tell her my life is over now.”

He nods toward my phone. “It’s broken, remember?”

I glance down at it, then back at him. “Dammit. Well, I’ll call her from the office. I guess better to get my clumsiness out now rather than in my meeting. Anyway, enjoy your coffee, good luck tonight, and yeah . . . sorry.”

I head toward the front door as he says, “It’s fine.”

But I don’t stay to hear him say bye because I just flashed Halsey Holmes—and I’m sure his little, innocent heart has been traumatized forever.

“THANK YOU FOR MEETING WITH ME,” Huxley Cane says as he unbuttons his suit jacket and takes a seat across from me.

When I say this man is on another level, I’m dead serious.

There is an air about him. His commanding presence consumes your attention the minute he enters the room with his powerful stride, the deep, fixed expression in his eyes, and the way he subtly moves through the space with the knowledge that everything he glances at he owns.

Literally owns.

The walls.

The air.

He owns it all with one simple look.

And his suit, the fabric screams thousands of dollars. Stitching pristine, buttons sharply polished. His hair so perfectly styled, while his controlling eyes offer both a sense of welcome and the threat not to fuck with him.

He’s intimidating, poised, and so handsome that I can’t imagine what it would be like to be in a bedroom with him.

“Not a problem,” I say as I fold my hands in front of me and try not to shiver from the way he so casually props his arm up on the armrest of his chair.

When I got to the office, I was so shaken from flashing Halsey that it took me a solid half hour to calm my racing heart. By the time I had my breathing under control, I only had twenty minutes before Huxley arrived, so I powered through my preparations, leaving me more frazzled than I care for.

“How was your trip up here?”

“Good,” he says, his voice softening. “Lottie, my wife, and our baby joined me as well as my brothers and their wives. Lottie’s cousin too. I appreciate tonight’s tickets, by the way.”

“Oh, not a problem at all. We put you in one of our best suites, right on center ice. It has a quiet area for the baby and a private bathroom, everything you need.”

“Thank you.” His eyes remain on mine as he speaks. Man, he’s intimidating. “My wife’s cousin is actually on the team.”

“Really?” I ask. “I didn’t know that. May I ask who it is?”

He nods. “Oden O’Connor.”

“OC?” I ask. “That’s so great. He’s been an amazing addition to the team, especially with Rivers being out injured right now.”

“We were excited to see him on the West Coast. He’s close with his sister, so she’s happy to have him an easy flight away.”

“I get that. I have a sister who has kids, and they live farther away. It’s sad not to be able to spend as much time with her as I’d like. You’re lucky to have your family so close.”

“I am.” He clears his throat. “Well, do you mind if I switch this to business? I have some meetings after this, but I don’t want to be rude.”

“Not at all,” I say. “I don’t want to keep you longer than you can afford. I know your time is very valuable.”

“I appreciate it.” His expression gentles, only a touch. “Are you aware that we invested in The Jock Report?”

“Yes,” I answer, marveling at the way he can go from a light conversation to business in seconds. His entire body changes from relaxed and easygoing to commanding and in charge. Yeah . . . he’s really hot—not something I should be thinking about. Not even close.

“We’re attempting to start a division from The Jock Report that helps the athletes with their individual charities and offering them a chance to have an option on their profile to donate. We’re trying to figure out a lot behind it, like logistics and rewards for those who contribute, but we’re looking to launch with a large kickoff party.”

“Oh, that sounds really cool.” I wince, not wanting to sound rude. “But where do I fit into all of this?”

“I want you to help head up the VIP relations for the Pacific division.”

Uhhh . . . what?

Is he offering me a job?

I shift on my chair and try to find my words.

“You . . . you want me to work for you?”

“I do,” he says. “Not only have I been convinced by the relationship we’ve developed over the past month, but I’ve also been thoroughly impressed with your attention to detail, accommodating personality, and people skills. You’re exactly what we’re looking for with this position.” He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a business card. Sliding it across the desk, he says, “This is my email. I know this is a lot to consider, but I’ll send you more information about the position when I return to the office.” He stands from his chair, and I do as well. While he buttons his suit jacket, he says, “I pay extremely well and offer unmatched benefits. Think about it.”

“O-okay,” I say as I round my desk.

He holds his hand out to me, and I take it. He grips it softly and says, “I look forward to working with you, Blakely.”

With that, he leaves my office and heads down the hallway, leaving me in a state of confusion.

Huxley Cane wants me to work for him?

How the hell did I manage that?

And how did I go from loincloth exposure to a job interview in a matter of hours?