Exes and Goals: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 1)

by Heather C. Myers

  Chapter 11

  Harper didn’t want to admit it, but the minute she got home from her impromptu date with Zach, she did a happy dance after ensuring the door was closed and locked. He had come from nowhere, and perhaps a part of her would still be in denial about this growing thing that was happening between them. She didn’t want to say it was feelings because she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the star center, but she also could not deny that she was attracted to him. He was tall, muscled, and primal – there were times she noticed him staring at her like she was already his, even though they had barely been on a date. Which should have scared her, that he was already territorial over her and they weren’t even dating. But maybe he was just protective over all the women in his life. Maybe he was like this with all the women he dated.

  The thought was like an icy bucket of water was thrown onto her. He had dated many women. Rumors followed him even here, about messing with the wife of a former teammate. Regardless of the validity of those rumors, there had to be a kernel of truth buried somewhere in there.

  Maybe Harper should still be on her guard. She didn’t know what he was thinking, what he felt, and it wouldn’t be wise to allow herself to get swept off of her feet so soon. Not until she had her head on straight. Not until she knew his intentions.

  And who knew? Perhaps he wasn’t exactly the sort of guy she would even want to be with. First and foremost, he was a professional athlete, which was akin to being a high-paid jock in high school. The type of women they were supposed to end up with was not who Harper was and she wouldn’t sacrifice her identity to be with a guy who might very well cheat on her.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair. Not all professional athletes were cheaters. And just because Bryan turned out to be a dick didn’t mean Zach was. Even if rumors said otherwise. Maybe she was just trying to protect herself. Maybe she wanted to ensure she didn’t get hurt again, and as much as she wanted to try this out with Zach, she knew it would end in heartbreak. And Zach was someone she worked with, someone she would see at work every day unless she quit, got fired, or he was traded.

  This wasn’t a good idea. No matter how good it felt.

  She shook her head. She needed a shower and to change. She had a meeting with Seraphina, and considering they just had their first exhibition game and Harper had written about it meant she was going to get her first official feedback from her boss. Maybe she could focus her nervous energy into that rather than in Zach. Lord knew he already had a big head. She didn’t need to make it bigger, whether he knew it or not.

  Seraphina looked as though she had been in her office since the early morning, but somehow, she still appeared fresh-faced and beautiful. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were bright – only made up by the black mascara lengthening her lashes – and her lips were glossed pink. She wore a navy blue dress that tied at the waist and reached her knee in soft, plated strips. On her feet was a pair of nude heels. Harper wished she was as fashionable as Seraphina was, but her dark jeans and white collared shirt were nothing in comparison.

  “Harper,” Seraphina said with a warm smile and a sparkle in her eyes. “It’s so good to see you. Come in, come in.” She used her fingers to beckon Harper in the office before gesturing at one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Thanks so much for coming in today. Your blazer is super cute.”

  “Oh.” Harper glanced down at the black blazer, a light flush touching her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” she said. “So, I wanted to talk to you about your travel assignments but first, I want to get your feedback. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” Harper asked.

  Did Seraphina know about the date she and Zach went on earlier? No, there was no way. It just happened. Right? But Seraphina was powerful; it wouldn’t surprise her to know that she somehow found out. Maybe Harper should tell her. Maybe she had done something wrong. She didn’t want to compromise her job or her friendship with Seraphina. If she wasn’t allowed to date Zach, she wouldn’t.

  “That’s great, I’m glad to hear that.” Seraphina was still smiling, a genuine gesture that made Harper feel guilty about something even though she didn’t do anything wrong. “How’s the writing coming along? Can I be honest with you – I have no idea how you do it. Coming up with new, fresh ideas every week. I am so lucky to have you as our blogger and social media expert.”

  “It’s nothing big,” Harper said.

  “Don’t be humble,” Seraphina said. “Own what you do. You are great at a job that could easily have fallen flat. You aren’t easily replaceable, Harper. Don’t take that for granted.” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m not trying to lecture you, Harper. I’m just trying to make you realize how amazing you are. I feel like people in this profession treat it just like it’s a business. I get it. It works. It is a business. My grandfather did the same thing. But once I inherited the team, after my grandfather…” She swallowed, her eyes on the surface of her desk rather than on Harper. Harper couldn’t blame her. “I wanted to be taken seriously in this business. So I went back to school and got my Masters. My favorite class was Outside Business Practices, which talked about different business tracks to get the most out of your consumer and out of your employees. Positive reinforcement, genuine tokens of appreciation, were rarely used in the business industry even though it’s common sense: you encourage your employees, they’re going to want to work for you, right? So that’s what I’m trying to do with you, Harper. With everyone I see. You are a stellar writer. You could be a sports journalist if you wanted. I just wanted to take the time to remind you how important you are to us.”

  Harper wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She felt her face take flame and couldn’t help but drop her eyes to her lap. With that, however, came pride. Pride in her work and her passion, but also pride in working for someone like Seraphina Hanson.

  “How are you?” Harper asked, quirking a brow and finally picking her eyes up to meet Seraphina’s. “I know you’re good about checking in on us but who checks in on you?”

  Seraphina shot Harper a knowing smile. “Touché,” she agreed. “I will admit, it has been difficult maintaining friendships through this transitional phase for me. I’m handling it as best as I can.”

  Harper gave Seraphina a look. “Seraphina, I know you’re my boss and I appreciate the dedication to professionalism you maintain,” she said, “but I want you to feel you can confide in me if you need to. Maybe it’s still too early to call each other friends but I’d like to try. I mean, I did pick up your sister from a club the other night.”

  Seraphina shook her head. “Can you believe Kat?” she asked, her eyes going wide. “Oh my God, when I heard she was actually partying with everyone…” She let her voice trail off and crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, I can’t imagine what she’s going through. Star center breaks up with her and we trade him and there’s a chance we might get him again. I also know she’s trying to be strong for my sake, to take one for the team, literally. But I just wish she’d be more honest with her feelings. Like when Peters and she were over, she couldn’t just tell me she missed him. I knew she did, obviously, but she would never admit it. Her pride is going to be her downfall, let me tell you.” She pushed her brow up. “I am so sorry, I’m babbling.”

  Harper laughed. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving Seraphina’s apology away. “I do that when I’m nervous. Look, I can’t imagine what you went through after your grandfather was murdered.” Her eyes widened when she realized how callous that sounded. “I’m sorry, that was harsh. I’m a good writer but I can’t seem to speak to save my life.”

  “No,” Seraphina said, shaking her head. “I appreciate the directness. It’s been three years and people still tiptoe around it like it didn’t happen, which pisses me off because people don’t think I can handle it, even now.” She clenches her jaw. “The sexism” – she cut herself off and shook her head once more. “I can’t even get into this right now. I’ll work myself up.�
�� She forced a smile. “Thank you. For speaking to me like a human.”

  Harper smiled and nodded once. “Of course,” she said. “If there’s anything you need, anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  “I will,” she said, her eyes flitting over to the windows in her office.

  Seraphina’s office was rare in that nearly every crevice of it was glass. Her grandfather created the designs himself, wanting to have a good view of the Pacific Ocean crashing into the shore. It was hard to be stressed in the office. The only touch of darkness was the stain of blood on the carpet underneath Harper’s chair. Rumor had it that Katella wanted Seraphina to tear up the carpet and put in wood flooring to get rid of the blood, but Seraphina refused. She kept it there, as a reminder to her and to everyone else that her grandfather had died for this team and his death would not be in vain.

  “So,” Seraphina said, snapping her eyes back to Harper. “Let’s talk travel. As usual, the Gulls have a crappy travel schedule, even during the preseason. Anytime they travel, I want you to go with them, so you can write an article on something – whether it’s a character article on the player, an article on the city, or a technical article on the game. It’ll be tough when we have the back-to-back games – and it looks like we’ll have quite a few of those – and I wanted to bring you in just to make sure it’s something you feel you can handle. Not that I don’t think you can, I just think it’s important that I get your feedback as well.”

  Harper nodded. “I can handle it, for sure,” she said. “It will be overwhelming but as long as I plan out potential articles in advanced, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Seraphina smiled brightly. “Great,” she said. “Well, that’s what I wanted to call you in for. Unless there was something else you wanted to discuss.”

  Was it Harper’s imagination, or did Seraphina seem like she knew where Harper had been this morning, and who Harper had been with? Her mouth dried up and she hoped she didn’t look like a deer caught in headlights because that was exactly the way she felt.

  Part of her wanted to talk to Seraphina about Zach, but it was too new and Harper didn’t even know what she wanted. She didn’t want to bring up an issue when there was no issue. Not yet, at least. And by talking about it, addressing it, gave it a seriousness she didn’t think it possessed just yet. Who knew if she and Zach were going to go out again? Harper didn’t want to start planning things for it to wind up biting her in the ass.

  “No,” she managed to say, hoping her voice didn’t come out as shrill as it sounded and that she was being paranoid. “I think we’re good.”

  Seraphina nodded. If she didn’t believe Harper, it didn’t show. “Good,” she said. “Thanks for coming in. I’ll get you your flight information out to you tonight.”

  Harper smiled and left. She didn’t want to think about the utter desire she had to share everything about Zach with Seraphina just so she could get excited about it with someone.

  Chapter 12

  Zachary Ryan loved exhibition games. He knew they didn’t count and he knew a lot of his teammates used them as warm-up games, not playing their hardest, making sure to take it easy lest they get an injury before the actual season. Zach did not have that same mentality. Even though he would be the Gulls’ first line center regardless of his performance during these games, the rookies and the draft picks would be fighting hard to get noticed. They pushed harder, shot with power, and played dirty.

  He fed off of that. Especially these punk kids who thought they knew everything just because they won some trophy down with their U17 and U18 teams, just because they got drafted by a national hockey team, just because they were still and vital, just because girls started to throw themselves at them, just in case they turned out to be the next big thing in hockey. He liked knocking them down by a peg. He liked putting them in their place. And more than anything, he liked reminding them that with age came experience, wisdom, and strength.

  He got to the Ice Palace an hour before call time. He liked to walk up and down each staircase in the terrace portion of the rink. He would clear his mind and just count each and every step. His legs burned by the time he would finish, but he was warmed up and ready to skate. The exercise – superstition, if he was being honest – calmed him so his muscles were relaxed and his mind was clear from everything – nerves, problems in his professional and personal lives, even Harper was temporarily removed from the forefront of his mind.

  By the time his teammates trickled in, he was already lacing up his skates. They were the first pieces of equipment he put on, besides black tights, even though it would be difficult to pull on his shorts and the official Gulls’ shells that went over the shorts. It was how he dressed himself for every practice, every game, every tournament. He didn’t want anyone helping him, especially not his parents’.

  Regardless, they would trickle into the locker room and impart sage advice to him before his game.

  “Get the hard part over with,” his mother would tell him, looking him in the eye. His own eyes, reflected back at him. “Then everything is easy-peasey.”

  He took his time getting dressed. There was a lot of equipment, a lot of Velcro and clear tape to hold up his socks. When he was a teenager, he was so skinny, he’d have to use some tape around his shorts, just to ensure they were tight at the waist. Shin guards, elbow pads, shoulder and chest pads over a t-shirt – a grey shirt with a green Superman logo – and then his official Gulls home jersey. It was a sleek navy blue with off-white lettering. On the front was a silver anchor, on the back was his last name above his number: 15. Fifteen out of respect for Stevenson. Fifty-one since he was six and his mother scrawled a list of potential numbers and they randomly assigned him fifty-one. His helmet – no shield – was on his head but left unbuckled, and his black gloves were on even though they didn’t need to be. Not yet.

  Coach Cherney walked in at that moment, no-nonsense and business-oriented. He wasn’t the typical sort of hockey coach – he was small and slight, bald head and bushy mustache, but in the short amount of time Zach had known him, he knew Cherney didn’t bullshit, was direct, and if a player needed it, had no problem calling him out for whatever he screwed up on. He didn’t coddle but he didn’t crack the whip unless it was deserved.

  Cherney walked in the center of the locker room, careful not to step over or walk across the anchor logo stitched into the center of the floor. “All right, boys,” he said in a deep voice, “it’s our second exhibition game as a team. Some of you won’t dress because you’re assigned to various places across the Palace. Have fun interacting with the public.” A couple of chuckles from the guys in suits rather than sweaters. “For those of you who are playing, stay focused but remember that you are more than the intensity of the game. I’m not going to tell you these games don’t mean anything but if I see any one of you do something selfish, you’ll be benched for however long I see fit. Got it?”

  There were nods in assent, but nothing vocal. They were getting in the game, getting ready for that buzzer.

  Cherney left to take his position on the bench, leaving the team alone in silence for the next few moments. Then, Thorpe stood, dressed in all the padding and equipment that made up being a goalie, and the guys followed him from the locker room down a short hallway and to the mouth of the rink.

  Zach felt his heart start to pound like a drum in a rock song, steady and hard, over and over again. He could hear the booing of the crowd as the referees skated onto the ice, could hear the booing increase as the opposing team – the Los Angeles Stars – skated out there.

  Then, the announcement. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for your Newport Beach Seagulls!”

  Thorpe was out first, and the rest of the team followed. The minute Zach’s skates touched the ice, he felt the adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream. He didn’t look at the fans – the building was considerably empty, considering it was only an exhibition game – and instead, looked ah
ead, at what was in front of him.

  Zach also wouldn’t look at the opposing team. It was one of the two rivalries the Gulls had so he knew that despite the fact that it didn’t count, there was a measure of pride on the line, especially for the fans. It was his second game these people saw him play in a Gulls’ sweater. He would make sure he took the rivalry seriously.

  When the team finished their welcome skate around their half of the rink, the starting line up – three shooters, two defensemen, and one goalie – lined up on the blue line as the announcer raised the singing of the national anthem. Zach was used to two anthems being sung due to the fact that his former team had been Canadian, and anytime a Canadian team played an American team, both anthems were sung. Though he wasn’t a citizen, he respected the anthem and what it represented. He had no problem standing and remaining silent during it. It reminded him to focus. Besides him, he noticed Kyle Underwood jump up and down, swinging his arm out while holding his stick with the other before switching.

  Kyle Underwood, his line mate and one of the few remaining members of the Gulls pre-Seraphina. The guy was his age, maybe a few months younger than Zach. He was tall, blond, with clear blue eyes. He looked lean but Zach knew Underwood had solid muscle underneath the padding he wore. He had to, with the beating he took every game by standing in the goalie crease, trying to get his stick on a stray puck or a rebound. Plus, the guy was just a prick and opponents liked to take shots at him. Zach knew they would try to trip him up or crosscheck him.

  Not that Underwood didn’t deserve it. Kyle was known as an instigator. Everyone hated him unless he was on their team. He was skilled and had no problem answering if he was ever called to fight. He rarely if ever smiled on the ice, instead choosing to focus on the game. Zach respected him and was glad he could call him teammate now.

  When the anthem was over, Zach jumped once, twice, shaking out any loose nerves and started skating around his side of the ice, just to loosen his muscles. When the refs blew their whistles, he leaned forward, his hands holding his stick horizontally as he skated to center ice. He refused to look at Drew Browning, didn’t want the guy to have any chance of getting in his head.