Shot on Goal: Seattle Sockeyes Hockey (Game On in Seattle Book 11)

by Jami Davenport

  * * * *

  Marina peeked in Coach Gorst’s office, and he motioned her inside. Lauren and Ethan were seated in two small chairs in front of the coach’s desk.

  “That went well,” said Gorst.

  “Better than I expected,” added Ethan.

  “They’re like little boys. They just want praise.” Lauren laughed. “They were putty in your hands, Marina.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I was pleased with their progress. There are a few who might need some extra sessions.”

  “No joke,” Gorst agreed.

  “I’ll write up some notes and send you my thoughts on each. The most challenging skaters are Jason Wilder and Gage Ziegler.”

  “Of course. Those boys would rather fight than increase their skating skills.”

  “Cooper, Isaac, and Cedric are incredibly good, smooth skaters with a great grasp of the basics.” She avoided saying anything about Drew, who was the best skater on the team in terms of raw talent and great instincts.”

  “And Drew?” Lauren asked, as director of player personnel, she had a special stake in her players’ abilities.

  “He’s insanely talented. His basics are solid.”

  “I’ve haven’t seen him enjoy practice this much in a long time,” Gorst noted.

  “You haven’t?”

  “No. In fact, he isn’t enjoying much of anything these days. Working with you might be good for him.”

  “Just doing my job.” She hadn’t felt this good about her life in a long time, either. Regardless of what the team might think of her, the guys had been real troopers and given her their full attention and effort. She was grateful for their professionalism. She hardly slept last night worrying about the reception she’d get, and things had gone far better than expected.

  “You did an incredible job.” Lauren smiled at her much like a big sister would. “I saw a slight improvement in every one of them.”

  “And all we need is that one percent to have an edge,” Gorst said. “I want you to pay close attention to Delacorte.”

  “He has the best skating skills on the team. He doesn’t need much help from me.”

  The three exchanged glances, and Lauren spoke next. “He may not need the skill training, but his attitude toward the game needs serious adjustment. He enjoyed those drills today. We’ll utilize any method to help him regain his drive and ambition for the game. You did that today.”

  Marina racked her brain for some excuse not to work with Drew, but anything she said might call attention to the undeniable chemistry between them. She clenched her jaw and adopted a pose of professional interest, deciding a partial truth was best. “It’s complicated with Drew and me because of my previous relationship with his mother.”

  “Oh, that’s ancient history. I’m sure Cassandra Delacorte doesn’t hold that against you. Drew hasn’t smiled like that in months,” Ethan agreed. “Anything you need, all you have to do is ask.” Ethan squeezed Lauren’s hand and grinned at each person in the room. He was a man living a dream, and he was ecstatic.

  Lauren turned to Ethan. “I have an idea, but I need to run it past marketing first. It’s crazy, but I think we could pull it off.”

  Ethan narrowed his eyes, still smiling. “When you look like that, I get scared.”

  “You should. All of you should,” Lauren said.

  Ethan seemed to know better than ask additional questions. “Well, if that’s all, then Lauren and I will be off.”

  They both stood, said their goodbyes, and exited the room.

  “I should go, too.” Marina rose from her chair.

  “Thanks for your hard work.” Coach Gorst nodded briskly at her and focused his attention on the big-screen TV in his office where he’d be most likely analyzing the minutest details of the team’s last performance and next opponent.

  She let herself out and closed the door after her. The long hallway to the parking area was deserted, though she guessed the more dedicated guys were in the workout or film room getting ready for their first playoff game in a few days.

  Melancholy washed over her as she recalled those moments of utter and total dedication to her sport. Unfortunately, they’d been tainted by one moment of utter and total irresponsibility. She’d lost more than a gold medal. She’d lost her own self-respect.

  She shook her head to clear it, squeezing her eyes closed to shut out the pain.

  Bam!

  She ran into something solid and fell backwards a few steps, only to have strong arms reach out to steady her. Marina raised her gaze from a broad chest to a set of hazel eyes. She was so close she could see his eyes were the most intriguing mixture of brown and green. Her breath caught in her throat, and she gasped for air.

  He grimaced at her, as if in pain. “You OK?”

  “I’m fine. I, uh, wasn’t watching where I was going.” She backed away and tripped over her feet. Drew grasped her arms before she fell. His expression alternated between grim and amused.

  “Obviously. Good thing you’re more graceful on skates.” His expression was closed off and disapproving, common when people saw her. She was used to it, and he hadn’t exactly been friendly the other night, though he’d cooperated during practice.

  He checked the phone clutched in his hand. “Well, good luck with the guys. They can be tough nuts to crack.”

  No tougher than you. She kept that thought to herself. She had an opportunity, and she wasn’t going to fail, even if it meant working too closely with him.

  “Have a good day.” Without another word, he strode away, his back rigid and his stride stiff. There went one unhappy guy. No wonder the coaches were thrilled she’d managed to squeeze a smile from him. He was an enigma, loads of talent and lots of attitude.

  Shrugging, she turned back down the hall only to stop mid-stride when she heard her name.

  “She’s poison, I tell you. Can you imagine getting to the Games and fucking it up like she did?” one voice said. She didn’t recognize who it was. She didn’t know the guys well enough, and the voice was muffled, as if the speaker was behind a barrier. She glanced around noting an unmarked door slightly ajar at the end of short alcove.

  “It’s one thing to be stupid and only damage yourself but to drag down your teammates with you? That’s plain selfish. She doesn’t deserve a second chance, at least not with this team.” The other voice was also unrecognizable, other than being male.

  “Mr. Parker thrives on second chances. He won’t get rid of her.”

  “He will if she doesn’t produce the desired results.”

  “You aren’t suggesting we purposely lose a playoff game?”

  “Fuck, no!” the second man said. “Let me think on it.”

  “I’m in as long as it doesn’t jeopardize our Cup run.”

  “Let’s get out of here. Get a beer.”

  Panicked, Marina hurried down the hall and out the end door and into the parking garage attached to the practice facility. They were going to try to sabotage her? All her good feelings from earlier evaporated into a chilly, overcast Seattle day. She should’ve known this wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing ever came easy for her, even before SkateGate, even before her parents—

  She pushed both sorrowful thoughts from her mind and sighed.

  She’d have to try that much harder. She’d show them. Marina Sanders was no quitter.

  Chapter 3—Thin Ice

  That evening, Marina sipped a glass of wine with her friend, Kaley Gonzales, at a bar down the street from the SHAC.

  Kaley had been with the team as an admin when they were in Florida, and Ethan had kept her on when they’d moved. At her request, she’d been promoted to player assessment and scouting, where she assisted with the salary cap and did research on prospective players.

  Kaley was at her best when juggling a ton of balls. Marina’s Aunt Mina had introduced them a month ago when Marina had moved back to the States. They both had long, dark hair and brown eyes, causing people to mistake them for sisters, as
suming they didn’t recognize Marina. They’d bonded over being petite and having to bear the brunt of short jokes and been fast friends ever since. Kaley was one of the few people unaffected by Marina’s tarnished reputation. If anything, she embraced it.

  “How’d it go today?” Kaley asked as her gaze followed a tall, buff man across the restaurant. She had an eye for good-looking men and a knack for picking out jerks, or so she told Marina.

  “Better than expected. Some of the guys soaked it up like a sponge. Most gave it a try. A few hated it.”

  “Do you think it’ll work into a full-time job next season?”

  “I hope so. It’s not outside the realm of possibilities. Other teams have hired figure skaters as skating coaches.”

  “But you’d be giving up your dream of competing again?”

  “That’s all it is. A dream. An impossible dream. I’m too old.” Marina refused to be dragged down by one stupid mistake bolstered by arrogance and immaturity. She wasn’t that person anymore. “But I really enjoyed this work. I think I could see myself doing this type of thing for a long time. I love helping others. Granted, I saw myself as a coach to figure skaters, not hockey players, but this could work out.”

  “I’m happy for you.” Kaley raised her beer, and they clinked their glasses together.

  “I hope so, too.” The smile fell from Marina’s face.

  She had Kaley’s full attention now, the gorgeous guy all but forgotten. “But what? I heard a but.”

  Marina sighed and wondered how someone she’d only known a month could read her so well. Maybe she was just that bad at hiding her emotions. She spilled the entire conversation she’d heard discussed.

  “That’s brutal. And you have no idea who they were?”

  “None whatsoever. They could’ve been players or coaches. Hell, they could’ve been staff.”

  “Did you tell Coach G or Ethan?”

  Marina shook her head. “I’m determined not to cause drama, especially since they’re expecting me to.”

  Kaley nodded and looked to the ceiling for a moment, as if pondering what to say. “You don’t cause the drama. It’s the press that causes it.”

  “I know, but I’m still paying for that one screw-up. Now I have to prove myself, which will be doubly hard.”

  “It’s easy to fall in a hole and bury yourself but not so easy to dig your way out.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Kaley waved her hand in the air, dismissing the current subject. “Let’s drop it for now. So, any guy on the team catch your eye?”

  “I’m a coach. I might be temporary, but I want to keep this job. They’re waiting for me to screw up, and the last thing I need to do is start an affair with a player on a team bound for the playoffs.”

  “We can both look but not touch. For myself, I’d love to get Jasper in the showers, his naked body all glistening with sweat and watch the warm water run down his chest to his abs to his dick. He is one hot guy. Imagine that boundless energy focused on you.”

  “I try not to.”

  “Oh, come on. One of those hot pieces of sugar had to appeal to your sweet tooth. Even if it never goes further.” Kaley leaned forward, a wicked gleam in her brown eyes. “Just between us. Who would it be?”

  Marina rolled her eyes. She didn’t need a man right now. She had enough going on without the complications of a relationship.

  “Well, the last guy on earth would be Drew Delacorte,” Marina admitted, regretting the words as soon as she spilled them. She’d waved the red flag in front of the bull.

  Kaley’s eyes lit up, and a sly grin crossed her face. “Really? Drew? I’d have never guessed that one. He’s cute and appealing if you like to fix broken men.”

  “Broken? Him?”

  “Oh, yeah. You’ve never seen him with his father, have you? Though his mother is a sweetheart.”

  “His mother hates me.”

  “Because of SkateGate?”

  Marina nodded glumly. “Leaving her after my first Olympic games, corrupting her star pupil in the second, and ruining her career.”

  “You ruined her career? Now that’s a stretch.”

  “I’m sure she feels that way.”

  Kaley sat up straight and glared at Marina. “Don’t take on other people’s issues. Her career spiral had nothing to do with you.”

  Marina stared downward. She gripped her wineglass stem so tightly it should’ve broken. “I think it does.” She lifted her gaze to meet Kaley’s concerned one. “I really do, Kay.”

  “I say it doesn’t. We’re all responsible to play the cards we’re dealt, good or bad hand. You do what you can. Sometimes you bluff, sometimes you fold.”

  “Never knew you to be a poker player.”

  “Trust me. I’m not.”

  “So, what did you mean about his father? Drew’s a big boy, on his own. What can his dad do to him?” As a skating coach, anything that might affect her players was important information. Her interest was purely professional.

  “Telling you about Stafford won’t do him justice. You’ll have to see for yourself. And you will. Just hang out near the locker room before the next game.”

  Marina could tell by the set of Kaley’s jaw she wasn’t going to spill any more dirt on former hockey legend Stafford Delacorte, but she’d Google him tonight to see what she could dig up online. Not that it mattered. Drew’s relationship with his father was none of her business unless it affected his play.

  She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Maybe it did. Maybe it all played into why he was skating late at night. When she’d asked if he still loved skating, his response had been less than convincing. His coaches claimed he wasn’t enjoying much of anything lately, and when she’d checked his stats yesterday, they’d fallen off since the year before, even though he was still considered one of the NHL’s elite, up-and-coming players.

  Perhaps, there were problems.

  She’d have to keep an eye on him, keep her mind out of the gutter, and focus on the goal. Drew’s performance might be the team’s key to winning the Cup. If she unlocked what was troubling him and improved his game, she’d have a permanent job for sure.

  Somehow she’d have to get close to him without getting close to him.

  * * * *

  Drew nursed his beer and stared unseeingly at the TV on the wall of The Place, a neighborhood bar not too far from the SHAC. The Skookums were playing the Yankees, but he didn’t have a clue what the score was, and he didn’t give a shit. Seattle’s baseball team was the least of his problems.

  He glanced at the time on his phone. He should go home. He’d been hiding out here for a couple hours after working out and watching film. Hell, it was only seven p.m. He didn’t want to go home. Either he’d be alone, or even worse, Dad or Mom would be there. He’d been stupid to give them keys.

  If his teammates knew how much his parents meddled in his life, he’d have no end of grief. Worse than that, he let them control him to a point. If they hadn’t lived elsewhere, he’d have jumped off the Space Needle by now, unable to tolerate his dad’s constant badgering and his mom’s hovering. They did it because they loved him, making him feel like an ungrateful son for being resentful. There were days when the guilt weighed so heavily, his head pounded, his chest ached, and he could barely breathe. Add in his current obsession with Marina, and his guilt built to a fever pitch. She attracted him, and she shouldn’t. Damn it. Sleep had eluded him as he fantasized about having her, and he hated his inability to control his reaction to her.

  A distraction was what he needed.

  Maybe Bronson could use some help. He perked up at the thought.

  Drew threw a couple bills on the counter and headed for the door. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot next to his buddy’s PI office. It wasn’t exactly the best part of town, more like a warehouse district, but Bron didn’t care. The man was badass. He’d been Special Forces and seen stuff Drew couldn’t begin to imagine. He also taught karate a few nights a w
eek, which was how Drew met him.

  He squinted into the darkness beyond the dirty front window and made out a dim light in the back office.

  The door was locked, so he pounded on it. Finally, Bronson stalked to the door and yanked it open.

  Typical Bronson—his dark hair stood on end, and his T-shirt was rumpled and smudged with dirt. Drew suspected he slept at the office, but he’d never asked him. None of his business.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Bronson consulted his watch. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

  Drew snorted. “Nah, I have another hour before Mommy tucks me in.”

  Bronson cocked a brow and said nothing, probably because there was a little too much truth to Drew’s statement.

  “I’ll buy you a beer.”

  “Beer and a hamburger,” Bronson countered, yawning and scratching his stomach.

  “Shithead.”

  Drew followed Bronson out the door and waited for him to lock it. They walked a couple blocks to the only bar in the area, a real dive Drew wouldn’t go into by himself, but no one messed with Bronson. He had an air about him that scared the crap out of the biggest of idiots. He was as big as a bear and all muscle. His dark eyes watched everything with a perpetually menacing glare.

  In the past two years, despite his crusty exterior, Bronson had become Drew’s best friend and closest confidant.

  They’d bonded over their pasts once when they’d gotten a little too drunk. They’d suffered similar childhoods with controlling, overly critical fathers and equally critical mothers. There’d been no actual physical abuse, but emotional and mental abuse could be just as bad. They’d both been burned by women and were gun shy about a relationship, preferring casual one-nighters instead.

  Drew had already told Bronson about his late-night encounter with a female skater at the SHAC. He waited until Bronson and him were settled at a table with their beers before he filled him in on the latest development.

  “The Sockeyes have a new skating coach. A woman. The woman who was skating late at night.”

  Bronson grunted. Despite his macho persona, he had no problem with women in traditionally male jobs.