“DONNA.” My voice is strong and firm as I step in front of her. “Look at me.”
Her gaze flicks up, terrified, as she gasps for air.
I point at my eyes. “Right here.”
She nods frantically.
“We’re going to breathe together.” I scramble to remember what Hazel does in her yoga classes. “In, two, three, four,” I say, slow and steady, holding eye contact with her. “Out, two, three, four, five, six. Great. Nice job. In, two, three, four.”
She’s shaking, trying to drag in breaths with my slow timing. She’s slumping over more on the wall, and I’m worried she’ll slip, so I help her to a seated position on the floor and take the spot beside her.
“You’re doing great.” I launch into another counted breath.
“This never happens,” she says, shaking her head.
I nod with understanding. “No problem. We’re just going to breathe through it.”
Her eyes lock on mine, full of fear. “It’s the smell of bourbon. It just makes me lose it.”
“It’s okay.” My voice is calm, and I count her through another breath.
The door opens, and a woman takes one look at us sitting on the floor and walks back out. I lead Donna through more breathing exercises. I don’t know what I’m doing, but this seems to be helping. After five minutes, it seems like she’s okay. Shaky, but she can breathe on her own. Her breaths are deep and strong.
“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.”
We’re quiet for a moment. I can hear people chatting in the hallway, heading home. My mind flicks to how often Jamie visits his mom. She said this never happens, but she headed to the ladies’ room fast enough to tell me otherwise.
“Does Jamie know you get panic attacks?”
She sighs. “Yes.” She glances at me with a pleading look. “Please don’t tell him about this. He has enough to worry about with hockey.”
I grimace with discomfort. He’s my boss. I can’t keep secrets from him. Then, I think about Zach arranging to have me sent to the airport. I know what it’s like to be embarrassed by something that isn’t your fault.
“Okay.” My mouth twists. “But I think you should tell him.”
She snorts. “He’ll try to move in with me again.”
There’s a commotion in the hallway. Raised voices.
“Where is she?” Jamie’s voice booms.
My pulse skyrockets, and I jump up, exchanging a look with Donna before opening the door. Jamie’s standing outside the door to the box, arms folded and jaw set, while the woman who walked into the bathroom gestures down the hall toward the washroom. Jamie’s face is flushed from exertion and his eyes are bright, and there’s a shift in my chest. God, he’s so freaking gorgeous, even when he’s furious. Jamie meets my gaze, and the flashing anger in his eyes drains away. His shoulders inch down.
“Hi,” I say brightly. “We just had to use the washroom,” I lie.
He storms over, staring at Donna, who appears behind me in the hallway outside the washroom. “Someone said there was a woman in the bathroom having a panic attack.”
Donna blows out a breath and rolls her eyes at me. “So much for that.”
“Mom.” His tone is sharp, worry written all over his face.
She waves him off. “So I got a little excited.”
“What happened?” Jamie demands. When his mom just blows out another frustrated breath, he turns to me. “What. Happened?”
“The server accidentally spilled booze on me,” Donna admits. “Pippa helped me collect myself, and now I’m just ready to go home and read my book. I’m booking an Uber.”
He’s already shaking his head. “I’m driving you.”
Her phone is out, and she’s tapping away on the app. “No.”
I see where he gets his stubbornness from.
“Yes.”
She glares up at him with the corner of her mouth curling up. “No. I’m perfectly alright now, thanks to Pippa.” She shoots me a warm smile, and this time, her eyes sparkle.
I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe the breathing exercises helped. “It was nothing.”
She shakes her head. “No, it wasn’t.” She winks at me.
After Donna promises to text him the second she’s home, Jamie relents, and we all head downstairs to wait for her car. When it pulls up, she wraps me in a warm hug.
“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.
No, I tell myself. We’re not going there. The last thing Jamie Streicher is thinking about is dating his assistant, and I’m not getting any ideas about dating another famous guy.
“Text me when you’re home,” he reminds her as she gets into the car, waving at us.
We watch the car drive away before his eyes settle on my face. They don’t have the hard edge they usually do.
“Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there. Last time, she was driving, and—” His eyebrows pull down. “She crashed her car.”
“Shit.” My mouth falls open.
“She was okay,” he adds quickly, crossing his arms. His jaw ticks, and pain stabs in my gut for him. He looks so worried.
“She’s okay,” I tell him with what I hope is a reassuring smile.
“Yeah.” His eyes trace my face, my hair, which is loose around my shoulders tonight.
The way he’s looking at me is making a warm weight settle in my stomach.
He gestures at the parking garage. “Let’s go.”
“Oh. I was just going to walk.”
His eyebrow arches. “Why? We’re going to the same place. Besides,” he says, glancing around us, “it’s not safe for you to walk home alone.”
I let out an amused huff. “Jamie, compared to some of the places I’ve been with the tour, Vancouver is very safe.”
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.
Before I can even answer, he puts his hand on my lower back. A pulse of something warm and liquid hits me low in my belly, and my breath catches.
When we reach his car—a black luxury crossover probably worth more than my parents’ house—he holds my door open before getting in the driver’s side.
His clean, masculine scent hits my nose, and my eyes almost roll back. He smells incredible, and being in a confined space with him was a huge mistake. My gaze slides over to his hands on the steering wheel as we exit the parkade.
He has big hands.
God, Pippa. I tear my gaze away and stare out the window as he drives.
“That’s why I moved home,” he says quietly.
His eyebrows knit together, and I have a feeling he’s still worrying about his mom. I think about what Donna said during the game, how Jamie takes on everyone else’s problems.
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?
He’s quiet, watching the road. I notice how good a driver he is—confident but cautious. Like he doesn’t have anything to prove.
His gaze connects with mine before going back to the road. “Thanks for coming to the game.”
“I had fun.” The way Jamie moved on the ice replays in my head. “You’re so fast out there. You’re meant to be a hockey player.”
There’s something funny in his gaze, and it seems like he wants to say something. The car feels too small, suddenly, and there’s a warm tug in my heart.
“Thanks, Pippa,” he says, voice low.
When we get home, Daisy runs over to us, tail wagging. I say hello to her and reach for her leash to take her out one more time before bed, but Jamie’s fingers brush mine as he takes the leash from me.
“I’ll do it.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell him.
“It takes me a while to unwind after a game. I’ll be up for hours.”
An image flashes in my head—him unwinding in a different way. Standing in the shower, late at night, one hand on the shower tiles as water rolls down his perfect, chiseled chest and abs, the other hand fisting his cock. I bet his lips would part and he’d wear a tortured expression as he came.
“Okay.” My face is going red as I shove the image out of my head.
I can’t be thinking things like that.
“Good night.” His gaze drops to my mouth, and my pulse stutters as he frowns.
I’m frozen, locked in place, as he glares at my mouth like it offends him. Daisy’s waiting at our feet, but it doesn’t seem like he even notices. His eyes burn, and I’m more aware than ever of how big and broad this guy is.
Low in my stomach, arousal blooms.
“Good night.” My voice is a squeak as I hurry off to my room.
Later, as I’m lying in bed, I’m lost in thought, thinking about how Jamie takes care of everyone. But who takes care of him?
A dirty thought sneaks into my head. It’s Jamie and me, tangled in the sheets, him on top of me, his thick arms supporting him on either side of my head, caging me in. He’s pushing inside me. His mouth drops open and his eyes go deliciously hazy. There’s a warm thrum of pressure between my legs, and my pulse picks up.
That’s how I would take care of Jamie.
He’s totally out of my league, and I’ve been burned by guys on his level before. I shouldn’t want to fuck Jamie, but I really, really do.
