I’M TRYING TO NAP, but I can’t stop thinking about my pretty assistant.

Ex-assistant.

Fuck. I stare out the windows of my bedroom, where it’s pouring rain to match my mood. I’ve been thinking about her all day. Why do I care? She’ll get snapped up by someone else in a heartbeat.

An ugly feeling spikes in my chest. I hate the idea of her setting up some other guy’s apartment, smiling for him and singing in his kitchen.

There’s a knock at my front door, and I frown. I wasn’t expecting anyone. When I reach the door, Daisy is already there, sniffing under it and wagging her tail.

I open it and freeze.

Mascara runs down Pippa’s face. She’s been crying? Pain shocks my chest, but her eyes are clear and her hair is soaked, bangs sticking to her forehead, and my chest muscles ease. At the sight of me, she straightens up, nostrils flaring. In the back of my mind, I notice how cute that is.

“Hi,” she says, and the long column of her throat works. She blinks.

She’s nervous. She’s holding a plastic container. There are cupcakes inside.

I frown again. “How’d you get upstairs?” She needs a key or to be buzzed in.

She waves me off. “The guys from yesterday remembered me, and I gave them cupcakes.”

Of course they let her up. This woman could talk a cop into handing over his gun. All she’d have to do is smile and flick her ponytail, and he’d

be like, you want the bullets, too? There’s a weird, funny pressure in my chest, and for the first time in so long, I feel the urge to smile.

She shoves the container into my hands. “These are for you.”

I raise my eyebrows, staring at them through the clear plastic lid. “I haven’t had a cupcake in over a decade.”

Her eyes bug out. “What? That’s so sad.” She catches her reflection in the mirror behind me, which she must have hung yesterday. “Oh my god.” She wipes a finger under her eye to clean up the makeup. “Is this what I look like? Jesus.”

She does know that I fired her, right?

She turns back to me and takes a deep breath. “I did a good job yesterday.”

I hesitate. She’s not wrong.

“No.” Her cheeks are flushed. “A great job. I can handle everything you throw at me, no problem. And you didn’t even introduce yourself.” Her mouth tightens. “Who do you think you are, Ryan Gosling? You can just fire me like a dickhead?”

I know Ryan Gosling. I met him at some NHL party last year that the team had to go to. He’s a nice guy. Way nicer than me.

Is that her type? My jaw tenses. I don’t like that idea. “Dickhead,” I repeat.

“Sorry.” She winces. “I’m a person, you know. I deserve to be treated with respect.”

Her eyebrows pinch together and she blinks rapidly, looking like a kicked puppy. Oh, fuck. My heart sinks. I hate this feeling. I hate her feeling like this, and I especially hate knowing that I did that.

She’s right. I was an asshole yesterday. I didn’t mean to be, though. I don’t know how to be normal around her. She showed up looking like a Disney princess, and I could barely say two words to her.

She points at Daisy, who’s waiting by her feet, gazing up at Pippa with adoration. “I get along great with Daisy. I’m sorry I was still here last night. I lost track of time, and it won’t happen again. I promise you’ll never have to see me.” Her voice wavers. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my job back.”

The air thickens with tension, and we both stare at each other. Is she…? In my head, images appear of us tangled up in bed. She’s beneath me, head

tipped back, eyes closed, with an expression of pleasure on her face as I thrust into her.

I’m going to be thinking about that later with my hand around my cock, and I hate myself for that.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says quickly, cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “I said that weird. I just mean, I really need this job, so whatever I did that made you think I’m not a good fit, please let me know.”

There’s no way I can tell her the truth—that she’s the girl I was obsessed with for two years in high school. And everything she said? She’s right. I like the way she set up my apartment. She tired Daisy out yesterday more than I could have. I can already tell this dog needs a ton of mental stimulation as well as physical exercise. Deep down, I trust her with this dog.

I should let the team find me another assistant. Pippa’s problems are not my problems. I have enough on my plate.

Just like at the shelter with Daisy, I ignore that hesitation. The way Pippa’s looking at me now, with a mix of determination and worry, her head held high like that? It gets me right in the middle of my chest.

I stare at her, studying her face. Even though she looks like a drowned rat, her eyes still sparkle. Her cheeks are flushed, so full of life and vibrancy, and my chest feels weird, like I have heartburn.

I raise an eyebrow at her. “You call me a dickhead, and then you ask for your job back?”

She shifts, wincing. “Yes, I did.” She flattens her lips, looking up at me with a guilty expression, and the determination in her eyes plucks at a muscle in my chest. “Sorry.”

I like this girl. She’s scrappy. It took a lot of guts for her to show up and call me a dickhead. No one talks to me like that.

I can’t screw her over like this. I’ll find a way to focus this year. I always do. I’ve had years to practice discipline. This year, I’ll just have to practice harder.

I can’t fire her, but I can keep her at arm’s length.

I fold my arms over my chest, shifting on my feet against the doorframe. The back of my neck feels warm. “Okay.”

She lights up, and for a moment, I’m terrified she’s going to throw her arms around my neck. “Really?”

Terrified or excited. I don’t know.

“Don’t keep anything here,” I add quickly.

She claps, and that riles Daisy up. She starts zooming around the apartment. Pippa beams at me, smile stretching wide across her face, and I feel like I’m about to be sick.

“Thank you.” She clutches her hands together. “I promise, I’ll be great.” That’s not the problem.

“I have training,” I tell her. It’s not for an hour, but I’m not going to sit around the apartment, staring at her.

She’s already taking her jacket off. “No problem. I’ve got everything under control here. Need any groceries?”

I pull on my shoes and hesitate. I do need groceries.

At whatever my expression is, she nods. “I can get them. What do you like to eat?”

“Uh.” The dietician for the team has detailed meal plans for every player, but I don’t want to rely on Pippa more than I need to. “I don’t know. Stuff.”

She nods, smiling. “Great. I can totally get that.” I pull the door open. I need to get out of here.

“Wait,” she says, handing me the cupcakes. “Take these with you. You can give them to the team or whatever.”

I give her a strange look. If I show up with cupcakes, I’ll never hear the end of it. Nevertheless, I take them. I can’t see that look of disappointment on her face again.

On the street outside, I open the container and shove one into my mouth. My eyes roll back in my head as the sugar hits my tongue, and I nearly moan in ecstasy.

It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.