“They want everything updated as soon as possible, especially for the new players.” Hartman had the perfect captain personality. In control, calm, and reasonable. I respected him already, and not just for his experience on the ice.
I followed them into the locker room, undressed, and showered on autopilot. I was getting dressed in my new black and red jersey when Hartman sat next to my locker.
“We’re going out tonight. Team bonding and all that. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys then.”
The last thing I wanted to do was go out tonight. I wanted an ice bath and my bed. Nothing else.
My disinterest must have shown. He stood up and patted my back. “It’s just dinner. It won’t kill you.”
No getting out of it. That was left unsaid.
I followed Hartman into the elevator and stood back while a few others joined us. They fell into a conversation about their favorite restaurant and whether or not one pizza was better than the other.
“Murray, you’ve got to come with us tonight. We always kick off the season there.”
I nodded. I’d figure out a way to bail later.
We got off on the third floor and I followed the black and red jerseys, feeling completely out of my element, into a conference room. The photographer had set up a plain white background and a line had formed behind him. Each time I was forced to do this it reminded me of grade school. My mom would love to purchase a set of my pictures for the wall, but thankfully they weren’t for sale.
“Patric, at least attempt a smile!” A tall brunette was standing behind the shoulder of the photographer yelling at the blond defenseman.
“No.” He stood there stone-faced.
“We get it, you’re intimidating. We’ll use that for the site, but we need some pictures of you that won’t scare children.”
He shot daggers at her before lifting one side of his mouth a few millimeters.
“Fine. That’s what we’re going to get.” She patted the shoulder of the photographer and turned around. She eyed the line, smiling a few times before walking toward the back where I was.
“Erik, you look like a mess. Could you have at least combed your hair?”
Schultz gave the woman a glance and shrugged. “Nope.”
She pulled a comb and a small jar out of the pocket of her hoodie and pulled on his sleeve to turn him around.
“Don’t do this.”
She ignored him, opening the jar and swiping at the white pomade with her finger. “Down.”
To my surprise, he bent down until she could easily reach his hair. In under a minute she rubbed the product into his hair and styled it to her liking.
Who was this woman? The team stylist?
“Don’t mess it up.” She shot him a nasty look and continued looking down the line. She was beautiful. Her long brown hair was nearly to her thin waist. Maybe not a stylist. I’d guess cheerleader if they existed for hockey.
She passed a few of the guys with a smile before stopping. “Adam, right?”
The young, blond kid nodded enthusiastically.
“You broke a rule.”
He froze, and I could feel his nerves from a few people back.
“I did?”
She nodded calmly. “You know better than to invite random women to closed practices.”
The back of his neck turned red. “I..uh…” He looked around as if someone was going to jump in and held him.
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do it again.”
He nodded, and she walked past him.
She was a few feet away when her eyes met mine and her eyebrow rose. Crap. I didn’t know who this crazy chick was, but I didn’t want her attention on me. She marched to me and stuck out her hand. “I’m Chloe.”
I looked down at her hand for a beat before extending mine. “Reese.”
“You aren’t going to cause any problems, are you?”
“Chloe, go easy on him. He’s been here for a day.”
I glanced at Hartman, who was smiling at her like she wasn’t insane.
I looked back to her and forced a smile. “No, I don’t intend to.”
“They never do.” She sized me up. “Wife?”
Huh? I coughed. “No.”
“Girlfriend?”
Was she coming onto me? Who was this direct? And what right did she have asking me these questions? The expression on her face told me I didn’t have a choice in answering.
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
“Chloe, you can’t tell him—.” She held up a hand to Hartman.
“Don’t cause drama, don’t cause problems, win games, and we won’t have a problem.”
I swallowed and nodded while she kept walking, probably looking for her next victim.
“Don’t mind her. Chloe is a bit intense, but she means well.”
“Who is she?” Probably in public relations.
“She’s the digital marketing director and the head of the Fury Pride.”
That didn’t make sense.
“The what?”
“The Pride is the group of wives and serious girlfriends that come to practice, help run fundraisers, and organize different activities.”
I nodded. Boston had a group like that, but they didn’t come to photoshoots.
“But why is she here?”
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “To monitor the photoshoot?”
“Why would a marketing director care?”
He smirked. “She’s here to make sure we all stay in line.”
This still wasn’t making sense, and he didn’t seem to realize that.
“She’s a babysitter?” What had the team done to deserve that?
He barked out a laugh. “A little bit. She keeps us in check, keeps the crazies away from us, and makes sure we stay the number one team in the league.”
Now he was the idiot. “Is she the one winning games?”
“Not directly, but without her we wouldn’t.”
“Bryan! Why are you wearing the away jersey! Get back down to the locker room and change!”
I cringed. She wasn’t a babysitter, she was the team mom. A young, hot one. But still a mom.
Erik Schultz was in front of the camera and threw up an arm. “Chloe, get over here.”
I turned, expecting her to bite his head off for speaking to her in such a tone, but she signed and walked back to the front of the room.
She positioned him in front of the camera and told him to smile. When she nodded her approval at the pictures, he stepped forward and pulled her against him. He kissed the top of her head once before leaving the room.
“What?” I hadn’t expected that.
Hartman turned. “What’d you say?”
I shook my head. “Is that Schultz’s girl?”
He laughed. “Yeah, you could say that.”
The guy in front of him, I was pretty sure his name was David, turned too. “Yeah, you better stay away from that one.”
I held up my hands. “I had zero intention of doing anything but that.”
David and Hartman nodded.
When Coach Romney walked in and called out her name, I expected him to kick her out, but he pulled her in for brief hug before talking to her. Seconds later, they were laughing like old pals.
The photographer waved me forward, so I moved to the mark and waited.
He began snapping pictures while I glared. It wasn’t hard to fake an intimidating expression while I thought about how I should be on the other side of the country right now.
“Smile.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. I was still a player. I was still living my dream. I opened my eyes and smiled.
He took a few more before pausing. “Chloe.” He shouted and got her attention. “Take a look and let me know what you think.”
She gave Coach an air kiss and made her way through the team to where a laptop was set up on a table next to the photographer. They looked down at the screen together while
I looked around the room. I expected stares, but the guys were engaged in conversations amongst themselves.
I watched Chloe, trying to read her expression, but she gave no hints. She glanced up and caught me looking. Rather than looking away, I raised an eyebrow and waited.
“These look great. You have a cute smile.” She grinned at me while I tried to figure out if she was being sarcastic.
“Murray, you’re done. Move out.” Hartman strode toward me and I stepped away on reflex.
“Sorry.”
Chloe watched us with a smirk across her full lips. I couldn’t figure her out—and it was driving me crazy.
Chapter Three
Chloe
I sat between Emma and Sasha at the end of the table, watching the rookies compete in an impromptu food eating contest. This wasn’t even a form of hazing. Once they heard the team was footing the bill, they dug in.
“Two minutes left boys. Josh has eight slices down, Mikey has ten, and Lance has nine.” Hartman was standing up shouting so all forty or, so people could hear him.
The Pie, our favorite hole in the wall pizza place, was actually closed, so we had the place to ourselves. Someone in the main office usually called when the team wanted to come in, so they had notice. At first, I assumed they closed so the guys had privacy, but after one night I realized they did it for the safety of the other patrons. Some sort of contest happened each time we came. From an eating challenge to handstands to box jumps on the tables. Never a dull moment with twenty-three oversized children.
The best part about this place was that the guys could make a mess and it just added to the aesthetic. The walls were covered with signatures, drawings, and stickers. The floor was concrete, so spills weren’t a big deal. A few years ago, one of the guys had broken a chair in an overly aggressive game of beer pong, and they’d nailed the chair to the wall with a picture from that night next to it. They could be destructive without worrying about leaving a mess.
Erik was sitting across from me, and Sasha was sitting next to her husband, Porter. Somehow Reese ended up at our end of the table. He’d been quiet most of the night. Not that I was surprised. He’d been a man of few words at the arena, so I hadn’t expected him to change in a few hours.
We were a lot to take in, so I tried to cut him some slack. Emma and Sasha had been trying to engage him all night, but he stuck to his clipped responses.
“Time! Lance finished strong and is our winner at twelve slices!” Hartman shouted, and the group broke out in cheers.
Emma cringed. “That’s more than an entire pizza.”
I nearly gagged. They’d work it off tomorrow at practice, but it still didn’t seem normal.
“We’re getting low.” Erik grabbed two pitchers from our end of the table, but I stood and took them from him.
“I’ll get it.”
“I’ll help.” Reese stood and followed me back to the counter.
“Coke, please.” As much as the guys hated it, drinking wasn’t an option during the season. They might be able to still get away with it this week, but they’d pay for it during workouts.
“Water for this one.” Reese handed a waiter another pitcher and waited next to me.
“Thanks for grabbing that one. I would have come back for it.”
I watched him shrug and wished I could get more out of him.
“You seem to take care of a lot for the team. It’s the least I could do.”
I leaned against the counter and faced him. “It’s my job.”
“It’s your job to get refills, as the director of digital marketing?”
He had me there. I did it because it was habit. Taking care of Erik, and the team, was second nature to me.
“Not necessarily.”
He grunted and took a pitcher the waiter had just set down in front of us. Before I could take the other two, he had them in his hands and was walking back to the table.
I followed, feeling strange coming back empty-handed. I tried to help him set them down, but he gave me one look and I backed off.
What crawled up his behind?
Emma caught my eye when I sat down and smirked. “Have a problem with chivalry?”
“I was just trying to help.”
“So was he.”
She had a point. Getting help wasn’t something I was used to.
“Chloe, I have two suits at the cleaners. Can you pick those up tomorrow?” Erik looked at me with puppy dog eyes as if he needed to beg.
“Sure, just give me the tickets. Last time they threatened to hold your clothes hostage without it.”
“They’re on the counter.”
I nodded and refilled my glass with soda, then picked up Erik’s, Hartman’s, Emma’s, and reached for Reese’s, but his hand shot out and brushed mine away.
“I can do it myself.”
I raised a brow but kept my tone cool. “I’m sure you can, big boy. I was just trying to be nice.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t need you, or anyone, to take care of me.”
I backed off and bit my lip to keep some saying anything I’d regret later.
“Just let her, Murray. It’s what she loves to do.” I smiled at Erik’s words, but deep down I appreciated that Reese didn’t expect me to do things for him like the rest of the team. I didn’t mind helping them, but it was refreshing, and odd, to be told no.
I’d been taking care of Erik practically our whole lives. When we were kids, I made sure he knew when practice was and double checked his bag to make sure he remembered his skates and his favorite tape. When he moved to play in the major junior league, I sent him care packages and made sure he was staying on top of his school work.
Our parents had called me his second mom, but it was because he would forget to do things himself. As we got older, I was the one that reminded him of events he had to attend and when his assignments were due. It got worse after our parents died. Things changed from me being the second mom to the only one taking care of him. He’d always had our parents, his coaches, and then his agent doing things for him. He swore he wouldn’t survive a day without me, but a small part of me regretted enabling him and allowing myself to become his crutch.
Not that I had much to complain about. His career supported me too. With his signing bonus he paid off my student debt and bought our penthouse apartment. He didn’t just take from me. He made sure to take care of me the only way he knew how. The team had caught onto this, and I became the sister to everyone. It was a great feeling to be a part of the Fury family, but it killed my dating life.
I’d been on only a handful of dates since we moved to Salt Lake City. Guys tend to get intimidated when they pick me up and find half a dozen professional hockey players eyeing them and threatening to cause damage if they hurt me.
It was inconvenient, but nice. What girl wouldn’t love having them on their side? But it meant my life revolved around my brother and his teammates.
“She’s not here to take care of me.” Reese hadn’t yet learned about the team dynamics, but Erik didn’t look like he was going to cut him slack.
“Back off, Murray.”
“I just don’t get why you let your girlfriend wait on you and your teammates. It’s demeaning.”
I nearly broke out laughing at how mixed up he was, until I heard the last word. He thought it was demeaning to refill a pitcher?
“Excuse me. Doing nice things for other people isn’t demeaning. It’s courteous.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why hasn’t anyone else here been courteous? No one has to lift a finger when you’re around cause they know you’ll do it for them.”
Erik ignored us and continued glaring at Reese. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”
A vein in Reese’s neck was bulging under the skin. I looked away, hating that I noticed. “You shouldn’t treat her likes she’s here to serve you. What kind of relationship is that?”
Erik rolled his eyes. “Dude, she’s my sister.”
A
flash of confusion shown across his face. His eyes went to Hartman, who shrugged. “I said she was his girl. You weren’t specific.”
The rest of the guys around us laughed and began making unnecessary comments. Most of them knew our story. They knew how close we were because of what happened to our parents. We were the only family we had left.
“That’s almost worse. You let your sister do everything for you?”
“You know what, Murray? You’ve been on the team for one day and all you’ve done is brood and judge like you’re so much better than anyone else here. You’re a great player, I won’t deny that, but so are the rest of us. We’re the back to back champions, remember? You don’t know the dynamics of our team. You don’t know each of our histories. Maybe stop sulking for a minute and get to know who we are and you wouldn’t feel the need to look down on each of us.”
I’d never seen the guys so quiet. No one moved. No one spoke. I didn’t take my eyes of Reese. He leaned back in his chair and after a moment he nodded once.
He didn’t say anything, but I could see in his face that at least some of what Erik said sunk in. Erik had been a bit harsh, but he’d been right to call Reese out early. The last thing the team needed was discord this early in the season, especially since they would be on the first line together. They needed to trust and respect each other in order to perform well together on the ice.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. I said goodbye to everyone, although Reese avoided me, and got into Erik’s car.
We drove in silence for a few blocks before I had to break the silence.
“How do you feel about this year?” We made predictions for each season, a tradition we started his very first year. I always tried to be optimistic, saying we’d win the championship, but Erik had a much more realistic perspective and was usually more accurate. Although, the last two years he said he felt like the team was going to make it.
With the trades and new recruits, I was interested in how he felt.
“As long as we can find our groove we should be fine.”
That wasn’t the response I’d been expecting. Fine wasn’t a championship. Fine wasn’t what Erik ever wanted.
“There will be some growing pains with the new guys, but you looked great at practice.” Erik shrugged and pulled into the parking garage of our building.
Puck Drop: Utah Fury Page 2
