by Denise Bower
“I think you’ve killed my team.”
“That was my plan,” I said.
“Please tell me you were kidding about not being done.”
“I wasn’t kidding.”
“Did you really do this every week?”
“Yeah, and after I completed the session, I usually did another two hours on the ice. I think you’re only scheduled for an hour and a half. And you have teammates out there, so you can rest between drills. I was on the ice with my partner. There was no leaning against the boards and waiting for my turn.”
“Oh, jeesh,” he moaned and flopped on the floor.
I didn’t have the heart to tell Alex that most days, after the time on the ice, Viktor and I usually went to the dance studio to work on our synchronization where we also practiced our lifts.
Several more guys straggled into the room and collapsed on the floor. Cameron was not one of them.
“You win,” they shouted.
“Of course I did,” I said. “If you thought that was bad, wait until we try Pilates. Or maybe I’ll bring the tractor tires for a real workout.”
The players groaned and covered their heads with towels.
“You guys better go get ready for skate. I’ll meet you on the ice,” I said.
“But what about all the other stuff?” Matt asked.
“I’m applying the mercy rule because I want you to be able to play hockey.”
“Are you skating with us today?” Alex asked.
“Just a few drills,” I said.
Most of the guys complained loudly as they limped out of the room.
“Someone is going to have to tie my skates.”
“I don’t think I can tape my stick. Even my fingers are tired.”
“Someone bring my equipment to me. I can’t walk down the stairs.”
“Bunch of drama llamas,” Alex said. “I’ll see you on the ice.”
“Drama llamas?” I said under my breath. I shook my head and did a few additional stretches. More of the team poked their heads into the room, but I waved them off, telling them to get suited up to skate. The captain still hadn’t made an appearance, and I didn’t know whether to be pleased or pissed at him for blowing me off.
“Whatever,” I grumbled.
I wasn’t going to let him spoil my parade. He couldn’t dispute the fact that I destroyed him and his team. I toweled off and slipped a wind jacket over my sweaty shirt. I should have packed more clothing. But not even sweaty clothes could dampen my mood.
Beyond pleased and happy with my success, I walked down the tunnel toward the ice to lace up my skates. I fiddled with my phone and sent a text to Sawyer.
Victory!
As I neared the bench, I heard angry voices. I stopped short and stayed in the shadows out of sight.
“You can tell Campbell to fuck right off. If you don’t want me on this team, that’s fine, but I will not play this game anymore.”
I recognized the captain’s voice. His words stunned me. I knew he didn’t like me, but to run to the coach without speaking with me first was so unprofessional, and it felt like a betrayal.
“Fuck,” I said as he continued his rant.
“Victoria’s a good kid. She knows her stuff, and I think the organization should hire her. Fuck him for putting me in this position.”
“What the hell?” I mouthed. “He thinks I’m a good kid? A kid?” I was confused and outraged at the same time.
“Holy shit, Cam. I have no idea what you’re talking about?” Coach Johan said.
“Bradley Campbell called me the night before you guys brought Victoria in. He wanted me to give her a hard time with the specific idea of discouraging her from taking this job. But, hell, Johan, she’s got some great ideas, and she knows her shit. She ran the entire team into the fucking ground. Me included.”
“Why didn’t you come to me with this?” he asked.
“I thought you knew.”
“Fuck no. I think she would make a great addition to this team. God knows someone needs to whip this team into shape.”
I closed my eyes and let Cameron’s words sink in. My dad, my own father, had set me up to fail. And here I’d thought Cameron was just a miserable bastard, unhappy with finishing his career in the AHL. The guy had played at the upper level for twelve years, but injuries along with age slowed him significantly, leaving him to take on the role as mentor for the remaining year of his contract. In reality, it was my dad who was the miserable bastard.
Hiding in the shadows wasn’t going to make this go away, so I stepped around the corner into their line of view. Both men looked at me and shut their mouths. I shook my head and sat down on the bench to lace up my skates.
“Victoria,” Cameron said. “I’m—”
“Please don’t apologize. I should’ve known my dad didn’t really want me to have this job. I’ll finish out the day and get out of your hair.”
“No, you have it wrong,” Johan said. “We’d like to offer you the job.”
“But—”
“I don’t give a damn what the Hawks or Bradley Campbell has to say. I know he’s your father, but this is my team, and we want you here. We need you here, so say the word and the job is yours.”
He was probably waiting for me to answer, but I put all my effort into tying the perfect knot on my skates. I adjusted the tongue and the tendon protector on both skates, shed the guards, and stepped on the ice for the first time as a retired figure skater. I did a slow lap, then another and another, weaving through players and dodging pucks and sticks. It took me a few laps to settle on the skates and find my speed, but soon I was flying around the ice, enjoying the feeling of freedom.
The sharp sound of a whistle pierced the air, and I came to a grinding halt in front of Johan, Phil, and Cameron. Johan smiled and handed me a shiny new whistle attached to a nylon cord, along with a black jacket.
“Thank you,” I said, accepting the items. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the jacket was the same team jacket Johan and his staff wore. I traced the embroidered Ravens logo with my finger before I slipped the jacket over my head and looped the whistle around my neck.
“Is that a yes?” Johan asked.
I nodded, and Johan immediately blew his whistle again. He signaled for the team to take a knee and promptly announced that I would be staying on as the strength and conditioning coach for the team.
“And for those who haven’t figured it out, Victoria is a world-class figure skater, who knows a thing or two about staying in condition. Pay attention when she speaks,” Johan said.
Cameron glanced at me and nodded. The team responded with a resounding, exhausted cheer until I explained a few of the skating drills. The cheers turned to boos and several whispered complaints about various body aches.
The trainers were going to be busy when practice ended.
I was surprised that most of the guys congratulated me and said they looked forward to the upcoming season. I promised they would conquer the stair workout in a couple months, which garnered me several nasty glares followed by loud sighs. This was the life of a strength and conditioning coach. One second your people liked you and the next minute they hated you.
Practice started, and I was able to really evaluate their skills on the ice and correct a few small skating issues. I pulled aside several players who needed more intensive help to explain why. They agreed to put in the extra work, and I told them we’d figure out a schedule once the season started and everyone was more settled.
When the coach called an end to practice, nobody looked like they wanted to assassinate me. Exhausted but incredibly pleased, I climbed into my car, only to have the happiness drain out of my body when I remembered the words Cameron had shouted at the coach. My dad had interfered with my pursuit of securing a job, and I wanted to scream at him in person. So against better judgment, I jammed the key into the ignition and headed toward the freeway.
An hour into the drive, I wanted to turn around. I thought about
calling Sawyer, but I’d already laid so much shit on him. He might decide I wasn’t worth all the drama, and I couldn’t afford to lose him as a friend. Five minutes later my phone rang.
“What’s wrong?” Sawyer asked.
“Soy Sauce! I was just thinking about you,” I said.
“I know. My ears were ringing or burning or maybe tingling. Congratulations on your victory over the hockey boys. Now what’s really happened?”
“I got the job,” I said in a singsong voice.
“Well, that’s great. Now tell me the whole story.”
I groaned. “How do you always know?”
“I’m a gifted seer. And you suck at lying, darling.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Spill your secrets, doll, and apologize. I’m not full of shit,” Sawyer said sternly. “I can hear the roar of your car, so I know you’re driving.”
“Fine, you’re only half full of shit. I’m going to see my dad so I can tell him to fuck off in person and not on the phone. I think that’s the polite thing to do.”
“Ah, and what did Bradley do this time?”
“Enlisted the help of the captain to force me back to figure skating or at least to ensure I didn’t get the job with the Ravens. And before you ask, I don’t know why he thought this was a good idea.”
“Hence the rage-fueled road trip.”
“Exactly. But I sort of want to turn around and avoid him now. I’m tired and hungry.”
“Nah, you need to yell at him in person. Let out your inner hockey player.”
I laughed and felt some of the tension slip out of my sore muscles. “My inner hockey player should have brought a stick with so I could whap him in the shins.”
“Ooh, that would sting.” I could hear the grimace in his voice. “When you’re finished, send that stick my way.”
“And what or who would you like to smack with that stick.”
“Is it my turn to whine? You are not going to believe the shit I have to put up with on this tour. Let me tell you my woes,” Sawyer said.
By the time I pulled into the parking lot of the Hawks arena, Sawyer had told me about two of his skaters who were engaging in a tawdry love affair. So far he’d walked in on them a total of nine times.
“At first I thought is was an accident. You know, a one-time thing, but holy cow, they fuck all the time. Everywhere and anywhere. Behind curtains, in the restroom. He had her bent over a sink the last time. Dressing rooms, the bus, against the wall. It’s driving me mad. I knock on doors and holler before I swing open curtains for fear of being visually assaulted.”
“Are you’re angry because they’re screwing or because you keep walking in on them?”
“I’m pissed because I’m tired of having a love affair with my hand. I want someone to bend me over a dirty sink.”
I coughed. “You do not. You want to be wined and dined and pampered. You are not a blowie-in-the-bathroom sort of guy.”
He sighed dramatically. “You know me so well, doll. Now practice your furor on me before you corner your father.”
“I’m already at the arena. I’m just going to wing it and let my anger lead me.”
“Well, good luck, and call me later. Call me anytime. I mean it.”
“Thanks, Soy.”
I closed my eyes and replayed the conversation I’d overheard between Cameron and Coach Jakobsen, letting the anger wash over me again. It helped me get out of the car and had me striding across the parking lot. By the time I yanked open the door, I was fuming. Of course, I promptly smashed into someone and almost ended up on my butt.
And, of course, it was Carter Murphy.
“What the fuck?” he shouted.
I stared at him, mesmerized by the flush on his cheeks, his bright red lips, and his blue eyes blown dark. My brain supplied images of the guy spread out on a bed, sated from an evening of—
“You again,” he said, snapping me out of my dirty dream that I really didn’t want to end.
“Uh?”
“No autographs today, honey.”
The fantasy dissipated with his rudeness.
“Screw you,” I said and tried pushing past him, but it was like trying to move a brick wall.
“You need to get your shit together, or I swear to god, you will be riding the bench,” a voice boomed.
Over Carter’s shoulder, I spotted my dad with his arms folded across his chest and a very red face. Steam may have been shooting out of his ears. He was definitely pissed. I sucked in a deep breath and elbowed Carter in the ribs. He grunted and backed into the doorjamb.
“Get the hell out of my way,” I snarled. “Hello, Bradley. I’d like a word.”
Carter snorted and stifled a laugh. I felt him trailing close behind me as I strode toward my dad. Just what I needed, a goddamn audience.
“Victoria. What a nice surprise. How are you?” my dad said, schooling his face and trying for a lame smile. I almost gagged.
“Seriously? You have exactly two minutes to explain your actions. Not that I give a shit, but I want to know why you decided it was a good idea to interfere in my pursuit of a new career?”
“Did you accept the position?”
“Of course I did. This wasn’t some sort of joke to me. I worked hard and earned it.”
“Victoria!” Disappointment dripped from his voice. “You should be on the ice. You are a world-class figure skater. You don’t belong with a bunch of hockey players.”
“I belong where I say. Not you. Stay out of my business. I’m not a helpless human being.”
“Victoria,” he said, pleading. “I’m sorry for what I did, but I don’t think you should throw it all away.”
“I didn’t throw anything away. Talk to Viktor. He’s the freaking garbage man.”
Rage spilled out of me, accompanied by a long litany of swear words that had Carter gaping at me and my dad stunned into silence until he apologized again.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Not accepted,” I said.
I spun around and smashed into Carter again. He grunted, and I waited for him to say something stupid. Instead, he held the door open for me and bowed, of all things.
“That was inspiring,” he said as he followed me across the parking lot.
“Do you need something?” I asked, whirling around to face him.
“Dinner? How about you and me, baby?”
“What?” I stared at him, trying not to focus on the fact that a few minutes ago I had been thinking about him spread out on a bed. My cheeks heated, and I quickly flipped the collar of my jacket up to hopefully hide my embarrassment.
“Dinner. I’m hungry, and you look like you could use a drink.”
“I’m driving.”
“So just dinner? Or you could always call a taxi.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“Do you want to know me? I feel like I know you, that there’s a connection here,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I’m Carter Murphy.”
“Victoria Campbell,” I answered automatically.
He sucked in a quick breath. “Christ. Are you his wife? Ex-wife? Coincidence?”
“Wife? Whose wife?”
He gestured toward the arena. “Coach. Same last name. Er, you said your name was Victoria Campbell.”
A light popped on in my head. He thought my dad was my husband. “Oh my god, no. I’m the daughter. Seriously pissed off daughter. Maybe ex-daughter.”
“I got the pissed off part,” he said.
“I gotta go,” I said. “I have a long drive, and I work tomorrow.”
“A quick snack, then?” He stepped in front of me so I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His nearness jumbled my brainwaves for a few seconds.
“Hey.” He poked me in the shoulder. “Burgers? Fries?”
“Is that on your diet?”
“Ah, shit. Are you one of those people?”
“One what?” I ask
ed and narrowed my eyes.
“Pushing the healthy lifestyle because I’m an athlete.”
“I’m not pushing anything, but from what I’ve heard, you could use a good dose of healthy living.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t charge you,” I snapped as I stepped around him and headed toward my car. My neck felt hot, which meant my anger was getting ready to bubble over again.
“I rescind my offer of dinner,” Carter said.
“Ooh, big word. And I never accepted your offer, so there’s nothing to rescind.”
“What is wrong with you?” he asked.
“You’re what’s wrong with me. I’m surrounded by hockey players, and I’m tired of dealing with all of you freaking drama llamas. Get away from me. I’ve had a shitty day, and now I have to drive two and half hours to the end of the earth before I get back to my crappy hotel room.”
“Drama llamas? What the hell is a drama llama?” He burst out laughing.
“Shut up,” I said as I ripped open my car door. I quickly climbed inside and slammed the door, locking it just in case he tried to follow me.
“Have a nice drive. I hope I never see you again,” he shouted.
“The feeling is mutual,” I grumbled and pushed a little too hard on the accelerator. The tires spun and squealed as I whipped out of the parking lot. A quick check of my rearview mirror showed Carter flipping me off. At least I didn’t run him over.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “I can’t believe I called him a drama llama. I’m going to kill Alex.”
Chapter 4
Two and a half hours later I was still angry, but it was nice to see the familiar, glowing sign of my hotel. I stomped into the lobby and immediately spotted Alex sound asleep in a chair.
The desk clerk smiled at me. “Are you Victoria?”
“Yes.”
“He’s been waiting for a few hours. He said he’s a friend.”
Curled up and sound asleep, Alex didn’t look like a professional hockey player. If there had been a book bag leaning against his chair with pencils scattered on the floor, I’d have thought he was a high school student, pulling an all-nighter. I resisted the urge to smooth his bangs off his face.
