Scoring at Love
Table of Contents
Title Page
Scoring at Love (Men of the Ice, #4)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Author’s Note and Acknowledgements
Michele Shriver
SMC Publishing
Scoring at Love: A Men of the Ice Novella
By Michele Shriver
Copyright 2016 Michele Shriver
Published by SMC Publishing
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. All characters, locales and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
"There is no position in sport as noble as goaltending." ~ Vladislav Tretiak
Chapter One
The temperature outside topped the century mark, typical of Texas in June, but the inside of the Alamo Ice Rink was a cool, temperature-controlled fifty-seven degrees. Becker Lawson watched the people filing into the rink and wondered if they were all truly interested in the opening day of the Young Generals hockey camp, or if some of them merely wanted to find a way to beat the San Antonio heat by spending the day in a cool environment. Either way, it appeared that the camp would be well-attended.
There were forty children signed up for the camp, which would allow them to hone their hockey skills with a handful of San Antonio Generals players serving as their coaches. The enrollment numbers for this inaugural camp exceeded everyone’s expectation. Hopefully a few would be budding goaltenders who could benefit from Becker’s tutelage. He knew one of the kids already, a young boy named Bryson Crawford, who was the son of the host family that Becker’s Russian teammate, Nikolai Brantov, had stayed with this season. Bryson had attended a few team practices, so Beck was already familiar with his passion for the sport, and particularly the goalie position.
Beck waited as Meryl Johnson, the director of the camp and the daughter of the Generals’ owner, introduced the coaches and gave them each a chance to tell the kids a little about themselves and the position they played. Finally, after Nik, team captain and star center, Colton Tremblay, right wingers Trevor Collison and Ryder Carrigan, and defenseman Noah Mann had spoken, it was Beck’s turn. Yeah, typical to save the goalie until the very end. It wasn’t the position of glory and glamour. After all, goalies didn’t score, or at least not very often, and too many times they were the goat, shouldering the blame for giving up the goal that might cost their team the game.
Becker first started playing goalie at the age of ten, and never looked back. He couldn’t imagine playing any other position, and he looked forward to teaching his skills to these boys and girls. “Hi there,” he said, taking the microphone from Meryl after she’d introduced him. “I’m Becker Lawson, and I’m the starting goaltender for the Generals. To me, goalie is the most important position on a hockey team. It combines physical skills, mental skills, and emotional skills.” He went on to explain about the importance of each before asking, “How many of you here have played goalie before, or think you might be interested in playing goalie?”
Six hands went up, including Bryson, as expected, and one girl, which pleased Beck. The NWHL had opened up professional hockey to women, and he wanted the sport, and the position, to be inclusive to everyone. “Great. Anyone else?”
There was a boy in the front that caught Beck’s eye. He raised his hand a little ways, then pulled it down, as if he couldn’t make up his mind.
Beck moved closer to him. “What’s your name?”
“Tristan,” the boy said. “Tristan Myers.”
“Hi, Tristan. You seem a little uncertain, like maybe you’re not sure who want to be a goalie. Do you have any questions for me, maybe help you decide?”
“Oh, no. My mind’s made up,” Tristan said. “I already know I want to play goalie. It’s just my mom...” His voice trailed off as he looked down at the ice.
“Your mom doesn’t want you to?” Beck asked.
“Yeah. She says it’s too dangerous for me.”
A common concern, but not an accurate one. “Is your mom here? Maybe I can talk with her for a minute, change her mind.”
“Could you?” Tristan smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “That’d be great.” He turned around and pointed. “That’s her over there. First row. Blue sweater.”
Beck’s eyes followed Tristan’s finger to a stunning woman with auburn hair that cascaded to her shoulders in soft waves. She wore jeans, the blue sweater Tristan mentioned, and a black leather jacket. She was, quite simply, one of the most beautiful women Beck had ever seen. She also quite likely married, and thus completely off limits. He could still talk a little hockey with her, though, just nothing else. “Great. Let me go see what I can do, buddy.”
***
Kendall was glad she’d worn a coat. It might be hotter than Hades outside, but it was plenty chilly inside the rink. Her close friend and fellow hockey mom hadn’t been as smart, and now Lori rubbed her arms as she complained about the cold temperature.
“Hopefully watching all these hot guys in action will warm me up quickly,” she declared.
Kendall raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Aren’t you married?”
“Yes,” Lori said. “Married, not dead. I’m still allowed to appreciate a good-looking man, and this hockey team is full of them. Seriously, they ought to make a calendar. I don’t know why they haven’t.”
“Whatever.” Kendall did her best to sound as if she hadn’t even noticed. The last thing she wanted was her friend to get any ideas that one of the players might be a good match for Kendall.
“Yeah, ‘whatever,’ yourself,” Lori chided. “It’s time for you to get back in the game.”
“Can we quit with the sports references, please? Oh, and the divorce has only been final for three weeks.” Kendall wanted a chance to enjoy being single, which sounded good in theory. The reality was all she’d done so far was feel sorry for herself. Even the day the decree was approved by the judge, when Lori showed up at the house with several bottles of high-priced sparkling wine in an attempt to celebrate Kendall’s newfound singlehood, she’d ended up a blubbering mess.
“Yes, but the marriage was over long before that,” her friend said, before softening her tone. “Look, Kendall, I know it stings. Carter was an ass. Actually, Carter is still an ass. But it doesn’t mean all men are. There are plenty of good ones in the world.”
Kendall was about to offer another ‘whatever,’ which had become her new favorite word, when Lori said, “Oh my. Hello. Hottie alert. And he’s coming this way.”
Sure enough, Kendall turned her head and spotted one of the Generals players, whom she recognized as the starting goalie, heading toward them. Lori wasn’t exaggerating. He was definitely hot, with dark hair and piercing brown eyes.
He approached the railings that separated the spectator seating from the ice rink. “Excuse me, are you Mrs. Myers?”
It sounded weird to be addressed that way. She was no longer Carter Myers’ wife, and for that she was glad, but she wanted to have the same last name as her children, so she’d kept the Myers name, even after her attorney had advised her she could take her maiden name back. “Yes.”
“I’m Becker Law
son, Generals goaltender.” He smiled, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth, and Kendall wondered if they were real. Hadn’t most hockey players lost their teeth?
“Yes, I know who you are.” After all, her son had his poster on his bedroom wall.
“Great,” he said. “I’m going to be coaching the goalies in camp, and your boy, Tristan, tells me it’s the position he most wants to play, but you won’t let him.”
Wonderful. Now I sound like the mean, horrible mother. Kendall wondered if Carter had been putting ideas in their son’s head, or talking bad about her. She wouldn’t put it past him. “I never said I wouldn’t let him,” Kendall corrected. “Just that it scares me because it’s so dangerous.”
Becker nodded. “A common enough misconception, but goalie is actually probably the safest position in hockey.”
“How so?” Kendall had a hard-time believing it.
“Well, most serious jockey injuries are the result of collisions with other players, or along the boards,” he explained. “The kinds of things that occur more often when you’re skating out, not playing back in goal. The most serious injury I’ve had in my career is a groin strain. Otherwise, it’s just been a bunch of bruises, and I think of those as a badge of honor. It takes someone brave to play goalie. You should be very proud of Tristan.”
“I am proud of him.” Kendall seethed. Was this guy seriously telling her how to raise her son? She’d had enough of arrogant assholes who thought they knew everything after being married to Carter for ten years. “I just don’t want him to get killed.”
“And I assure you, Mrs. Myers, that all of the drills I will work on with him will be with his safety in mind.”
Kendall sighed. This conversation was already going nowhere, and she sensed he’d have a retort for every argument she tried to raise. She also needed to score some ‘Cool Mom’ points with Tristan if she expected to keep pace with his dad in that race. Carter liked to make everything a competition. “If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”
“Yes, ma’am, I sure will.” Becker grinned. “It’s been a pleasure meeting with you. I better get to work and give Tristan the good news,” he said before skating off.
“My God, he’s gorgeous,” Lori said. “He seems nice, too.”
“He’s an arrogant jerk,” Kendall muttered, even if she couldn’t deny her friend was right. Becker might be an arrogant jerk, but he was a damn gorgeous one.
Chapter Two
Prickly, Becker decided. She was a bit on the prickly side. And for some reason, it made her even more attractive. He’d have to get over that kind of thinking in a big hurry, though. Beck had a code of conduct that he lived by, making some women off-limits. Married women were definitely at the top of the list. In addition to the married thing, she didn’t like goalies and she didn’t much seem to like him. Nope, Beck would have to forget about her luscious auburn air and hazel eyes, and he’d have to do it quickly. Hockey. He needed to concentrate on coaching hockey. That’s what he was here for. Not to check out the moms of the kids in the camp.
He made his way back to his group of future young goalies, where Tristan Myers stood, holding his hands together under his chin. Becker gave him a thumbs up. “You’re in, buddy. I talked to your mom. We’re good.”
“Really?” The boy’s eyes—the same color as his mom’s—grew wide as saucers. “Thanks, Mr. Lawson.”
“Call me Beck. And the best way to thank me is by working hard, but also by working smart and staying safe,” he said. “Your mom doesn’t want you to get hurt.”
“She doesn’t want me to be here at all,” Tristan said. “It’s my dad who signed me up for the camp.”
“Then you must have a cool dad.” Becker knew he was fishing for information. That was the great thing about kids. They liked to talk, and sometimes revealed things without even thinking about it.
“No. He just feels guilty because I only see him on weekends now, and every other Wednesday.”
Aha! Were his parents divorced? At the very least, they were separated. Bad news for Tristan, perhaps, but Beck certainly didn’t mind hearing that Hot Hockey Mom might be single. “It was nice of him to sign you up, though,” he said. “We’re going to have a great summer. So come on, let’s go see if you have what it takes to be a great goalie.”
Beck took his charges over to where a goal had been set up on the ice. The kids wouldn’t see any pucks flying their way on this first day, and probably wouldn’t for a while. He intended to work with them on skating and movement drills to start out. “You guys know what this area in front of the goal is called, right?”
“The crease,” Bryson said.
“Right. Good job. One of the keys to good goaltending is your movement within the crease.” First, Becker planned to teach them a basic skating move called the T-push. “When you’re a goalie, you have to be able to cover a lot of ice quickly, but you have to do it while keeping a squared-up ready stance. And your eye has to be on the puck the entire time. Never lose sight of the puck. Bad things happen when a goalie loses sight of the puck.”
“Yeah, it usually ends up in the back of the net,” one of the kids said.
Great. Did he have a smart-ass among the group? Beck just hoped no one would remind him of the winning goal he’d given up in the first round of the playoffs to Dallas’ captain. It was definitely one Beck wanted back. “That’s right,” he said.
Becker got in the ready stance. “If I’m traveling from the left post to the top of the crease, I want to open my right leg, keeping my skates perpendicular to each other.” With his knees bent, he pushed off with his trailing leg, and used his lead leg to guide his path.
After demonstrating the move a few times, Beck let the kids try it out, and then worked with them on several other skating and movement drills over the course of the morning. Bryson had potential, and so did the lone girl in the group, whose name was Maddy, but Tristan impressed him the most, and that had nothing to do with his mother. The kid had some natural skill and ability, and Becker wanted to make sure his mom knew it, so he headed over to talk to her again as soon as the camp session was over, Tristan right beside him.
“This was so great, Mom,” Tristan announced. “The best day of my life.”
Beck couldn’t completely suppress the chuckle. The kid was what, eight? Maybe nine? Hopefully he’d have better moments to come, but at least he’d had fun. “You may have a natural here. Tristan has a lot of aptitude. Thank you for giving him the opportunity, Mrs. Myers.”
“My name’s Kendall,” she said. “I’m no longer married to Tristan’s father, so the whole ‘Mrs. Myers’ thing is kind of weird for me now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Except he wasn’t sorry at all. Whoever Tristan’s father was, Becker had already decided he was an idiot.
“Nothing to apologize for. Thank you for working with my son, Mr. Lawson. He’s a big fan of yours.”
Becker grinned. “It’s my pleasure. And please, call me Beck.”
“Beck. Okay.” Kendall nodded. “Take good care of my son, make sure he doesn’t get hurt, and I think I can handle this.” She rose from the bleachers, giving Beck a better look. She was petite, but with just enough curves, and her jeans perfectly hugged her hips.
As she leaned over the railing, Beck caught a slight glimpse of cleavage. Just enough of a glimpse to know he wanted to see more. He sucked in a breath. Focus, Becker, focus. And no, not on her breasts. He raised his head to meet her eyes. “I’ll take care of him. I promise.”
“Good.” She reached through the railing to tousle her son’s hair. “Glad you had fun, kiddo. Go get your gear off, and I’ll meet you out front, and we can go get some food.”
“Pizza?” Tristan wanted to know, and Kendall smiled.
“Yeah, pizza and bumper cars for my future hockey star.”
“Cool!” Tristan said, before rushing to take his skates off.
Becker laughed. “Pizza and bumper cars. Sounds like a winning combination.”
>
“It is when you’re nine.” Kendall slung a purse over her shoulder. “Thanks again for what you’re doing with this camp.”
“You’re welcome. It’s a privilege,” Beck answered. “Will you be here again tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Kendall said. “I’m a teacher, so I’m fortunate to have my summers free, which means you’ll probably be seeing a lot of me here over the next couple months.”
It was exactly what Becker wanted to hear. The Generals might not have won the Stanley Cup, but things were definitely looking up.
***
Kendall could take or leave chain restaurant pizza, and usually left it, but Tristan loved the bumper cars and arcade games and happily disappeared with Lori’s son, Coby, to play while they waited for their food. It gave Kendall a welcome opportunity to talk with her friend, even it meant a little ribbing about how she’d treated the Generals’ goaltender.
“At least you were nicer at the end,” Lori said.
“I don’t think I was exactly rude the first time.” Kendall felt the need to defend herself. “I just didn’t care for his presumptuousness, or telling me what I should think.”
“He wasn’t doing that.” Apparently Lori was now Becker Lawson’s fan club president. “He’s only trying to help the kids, and you knew how badly Tristan wanted to play goalie.”
Kendall sighed and sipped diet soda through a straw. “Yes. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I think what you really don’t like is Carter signing Tristan up for the Young Generals camp without talking about it over with you first.”
Winner, winner. Chicken dinner. “Of course I don’t like it,” Kendall said. “We’re supposed to be co-parenting. Silly me, I thought that meant discussing things and making mutual decisions about what’s best for our son. Not one person saying ‘This is how it’s going to be. Deal with it.’” Fine. Deal with it, she had. She’d taken Tristan to the camp, and would every day for the rest of its duration, because she didn’t want to lose points with her son. But that didn’t mean she had to love it. “Then again, that’s been Carter’s way for a long time.”
Scoring at Love (Men of the Ice Book 4) Page 1
