The Trouble with #9 by Piper Rayne
When I was younger, I occasionally traveled with the Gerhardts on the Fury’s road games, but we’d take their private jet. I often daydreamed about what it would be like to sit on the plane with the players. What did they do on the plane? Was it like any other plane ride and everyone kept to themselves? As I got older, I wondered if they had strippers and alcohol overfilling their glasses, a constant party.
I never would’ve thought that half of them play video games, four of them play cards, and the rest of them read or mess around on their phones.
“Fucking hell!” Ford screams, slamming his cards on the table.
I pretend to be reading a book. Maksim asked if I wanted to play, said he’d teach me, but I politely declined. Maksim and Aiden high-five and Ford shakes his head, sulking in his seat.
“You’re the worst loser ever,” Maksim says.
“I swear you guys fixed the game.”
From what I know about Ford—other than the fact that he just got some random girl pregnant, because that’s all over the media—his family is rich. Überrich. I’m fairly sure he has a trust fund, but rumors are that he can’t touch it until he’s done with hockey. Because Ford managed to get Mr. Gerhardt to excuse him from meeting with me, the only other thing I know about him is that he’s a crazy skilled skater and makes killer hard passes through the neutral zone, feeding Aiden the puck. Which says to me he’s not all about being the center of attention like people assume. Not that he does much to dissuade people from having that opinion of him.
Aiden and Maksim look at one another and crack up laughing. “Who, us?”
I bite down my smile and bury my head in my book. The last thing I need is to get pulled into their conversation. I’ve reread the same sentence five times already. A big body takes the seat next to mine. I glance over, expecting Maksim.
“Mind if I sit here?” Ford asks, signaling for the flight attendant to bring him a drink.
I shake my head and continue reading.
“Why do chicks always read on planes?” he asks.
“What the fuck are you doing, Ford?” Maksim says from across the way.
“Just talking to our good therapist here.” Ford smiles at me.
His dark golden hair gives him a beach vibe, but Ford’s smile and charisma are all privilege. As if he was born knowing how to get his way, how to get people to bend rules. I’d bet that over the years, he’s perfected that craft, assuming nothing will come hard in his life now.
“You got out of therapy, remember?” Maksim says.
I don’t dare look up because jealousy is clear in his tone.
Ford puts up his hand. “This is an A and B conversation. C yourself out.” Then he situates himself so he’s facing me. “What are you reading?”
“A nonfiction book.” I show him the cover of the book that a college friend wrote about her own journey through therapy.
“I thought it’d be some racy romance.”
“Do you read?” I tilt my head, keeping my finger as a placeholder in my book.
“I don’t know how.” His lips tip down and he gives me the biggest puppy dog eyes.
“Bullshit.”
He chuckles. “Why do you say that? Maybe I’m one of those athletes who got out of earning my grades because I was needed on the team.”
“I know of your family, Ford. I’m pretty sure it was demanded that you get a great education from top-notch schools.”
The flight attendant interrupts, bringing over a sparkling clear drink with a wedge of lemon and setting it in front of Ford.
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
“Sparkling water with a lemon. We have a game tonight.” He sips it and sets it on the table in front of us. “Let’s talk some more about what you know about me.”
“Yeah, men like you do like to talk about themselves.”
He stares at me for a beat, then a wicked smile forms. “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about you. Not anything other than what the media says, which is probably only fifty percent accurate.”
“Well, I am having a baby with a one-night stand.” He confirms the rumors surrounding his name at the moment.
“And how do you feel about that?”
It’s a question I ask all the time in my practice, and I usually wouldn’t pry as much during a regular conversation like the one we’re having, but my gut is telling me that Ford wants to talk to someone about what’s going on. Maybe that’s why he’s sitting next to me. Why he would pick me, I have no idea. The man can afford far more brilliant minds to guide him through this change in his life.
He shrugs. “Terrified. I’m not sure where I fit in. My dad’s pissed. I kind of like that he’s so mad, but now he wants me to be part of the family business even more.”
I nod and glance around, finding Maksim watching us intently. “Why is your dad mad?” I ask in a low voice.
He scoffs. “Because how cliche can I be? Not being careful and getting a girl I don’t know pregnant. Regardless, the baby is a Jacobs and that comes with a lot of responsibility. He worries about Britney not being able to deal with the spotlight. Or that’s what he says, but what he really means is she doesn’t fit the mold.”
He sips his drink again and I put the bookmark in my book and tuck it at my side. “Britney is the baby’s mother?”
He nods. “I met her after a game in New York.”
“The baby is innocent in this situation,” I say, offering advice not as a therapist but as a woman.
He nods again. “I know, but how do I parent a child when I’ve got my own issues with my father I’ve never been able to figure out? I don’t want to be like him with my child, but at the same time, that’s all I know.”
I suck in my lips to stop myself from smiling. Ford Jacobs is worried about what kind of father he’ll be, that he could end up being a replica of his own father and that terrifies him. There’s more to this man than you see at first glance.
My hand lands on his forearm and he looks at me. It’s not hard to see why women find him so attractive. He’s got that Ralph Lauren model thing going for him. As though he belongs in khakis on a mega yacht. But mixed with that are layers that makes a woman want to peel them away. Not this woman, but I have no doubt many have tried.
“The decision of what kind of father you want to be to your child is completely up to you. There’s no gene that determines that, Ford. If you don’t want to be with your child the way your father was with you, then don’t be. It’s that simple and that hard. It’s not uncommon for new parents to struggle with their new roles, but you can do this. You just have to decide to do it and then put the work in to make it happen.”
A long, deep breath leaves his mouth and his eyes turn soft. “Thank you. Now can you help me beat the shit out of them at Oh Hell?”
I laugh and he laughs harder. A big shadow appears over us, and we both look up to see Maksim standing in the aisle of the plane.
Ford grabs his drink and stands, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Relax, big guy, just talking.” Ford winks at me and takes the magazine out of Aiden’s hands, to which Aiden mutters his displeasure.
Maksim sits down next to me without asking. “Aiden usually likes to explore the cities we travel to, so why don’t you come to my room for our therapy session?” His voice is low, so no one else hears him.
“Okay.” That will be our second session, which means we’ll be done with the therapy requirements put forth by Mr. Gerhardt after one more.
“Cool. See you then.”
Just when I think he’ll stay seated next to me and try to flirt and make me blush like always, he walks back to his seat. I guess he did take it to heart when I told him at Carmelo’s that I need to remain professional. Although it warms my heart that he heard me, my body yearns for the man who didn’t accept the barriers I erected. Where did that guy go?
After the plane lands, we go to the hotel, check in, and thankfully I don’t have to stay on the same floor as the players.
I take the elevator down to the players’ floor and find security standing guard at the end of the hall. He nods to me, and I walk down the long hallway to the room Maksim texted me earlier.
With my laptop bag at my side and my hair still up in a semi-messy bun after the flight, I look professional, so there’s no reason anyone should think anything is going on except me counseling one of the players. Still, I’d rather none of them caught me outside Maksim’s door. I knock and no one answers, so I knock again.
Aiden answers the door with the phone at his ear. “I told you to come.”
He signals with his hand to come in, and I step into the room. There are two queen beds, an open suitcase on the chair in the corner, and the suit jacket Maksim was wearing has been thrown on the bed, his shoes at the foot of the bed.
“Paisley just got here. I’ll FaceTime you. Love you.” Aiden hangs up the phone. “Saige says hello.”
I smile. “Tell her hello next time you speak to her.”
He laughs. “That will be in literally five minutes. She used to travel with me, but she had to stay back this time. She’s not happy about it.” He sits on the edge of the bed and puts on his sneakers. “I think she might actually be a little worried.” His smile says he kind of likes the idea of her being jealous. “Hopefully she’ll get used to being with a professional hockey player and not worry all the time.”
“I’m sure she will.” I look around, unsure where to sit.
Aiden laughs. “Maybe you can teach him how to be less of a slob.” He picks up the giant suitcase and dumps it on the floor, waving his hand for me to take a seat. “He’ll be out in a second.”
As he says it, the bathroom door opens. With steam billowing out, Maksim steps out in only a towel as though it’s happening in a dream. A very erotic dream.
“See you two later.”
I blink to get out of my daydream.
Aiden is talking to Maksim, then he turns to me. “See you, Paisley.”
I wave, my vocal cords unable to function. Maksim Petrov is built as though he was carved from granite. My body sighs at the thought of him hovering over me and my fingers itch to know how the ripples of his stomach feel.
“Sorry, but I hate airplanes and I felt like I needed to shower for you.”
“Maybe I should come back.” I stand to leave. This is hardly professional.
“Don’t be silly. I meant to grab my clothes before, I just forgot them.” He comes closer to me.
My breath hitches in my throat when I see droplets of water trickle down his body. My mouth waters, begging me to stick out my tongue and swipe off a few. Just as I think he’s going to corner me in the chair, he bends down, keeping his hand secure on where the sides of the towel come together. He picks up some clothes, then I see his ass in the towel while he walks back to the bathroom.
“I’ll just be a second.” The bathroom door shuts.
My body slides down the chair from all my muscles turning to mush. How will I ever keep this guy in the client category when I’m on the cusp of begging him to make me come every time he’s around? I’m in deeper than I think.
