by Denise Bower
“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”
Alex raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Instead he returned his focus to his Bingo card and when Matt shooed another puck bunny away from his table, Alex Bingo-ed and won our small pot of eleven dollars and fifty-nine cents.
“What are you two doing?” Cam asked as he tried to snatch my Bingo card.
“Playing a game,” I said. “Can we go home now?”
Alex yawned dramatically and laid his head on the table.
“I suppose, but only since Murph will be showing his ugly mug tomorrow afternoon around one. You should be well rested or, quite possibly, drunk. Sleep well, Vika.”
I flipped him off and raced for the door.
Armed with the knowledge of exactly when Carter was going to invade my world, I spent the morning preparing for Armageddon by tailoring a special workout for him that would either kill him or make him bow at my feet and beg for mercy. I wasn’t sure which scenario appealed the most.
Hank and I were stationed at the rear entrance, unanimously elected to greet the newest member of the team. Ten minutes before Carter was due to make his appearance, a group of squealing ladies showed up at the door, shivering with anticipation. Apparently he came with an entourage. I knew there were women who followed hockey players around, and I’d witnessed a little of it when our guys hit the bars, but this was crazy and slightly unsettling.
“What the hell?” Hank muttered as we watched the women reapplying lipstick, freshening their mascara, and adjusting their short skirts.
I was suddenly aware that I was the opposite of stylish. In fact I was bordering on gross. My hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and I had no makeup on because practice had just ended. Sweat trickled down my back, and no matter how much I tried to smooth out my shirt, it remained wrinkled.
“Maybe I should’ve showered,” I said.
Hank laughed. “Did you want to impress someone?”
My horrified grumble was interrupted by a loud shriek from the women when a bright red Porsche roared into the parking lot and squealed to a stop.
“Jesus,” Hank answered. “I almost feel like I should go out there and play bodyguard for the guy.”
“Maybe he’s expecting us to roll out a red carpet.”
“Would you like to do it?”
I shuddered. “No.”
“Is it true you won’t walk on a red carpet?”
“Who told you that?”
“The internet. Plus you made Cam give you a piggyback ride when we had ours.”
I groaned. “I didn’t make Cam do anything, but yes, I suppose it’s true. And before you say anything, I know it’s weird and silly.”
Hank laughed again. “Hockey players have all sorts of strange superstitions. A goalie I knew talked to the goal posts before the game started. If we won, he thanked them after the game.”
Movement in the parking lot drew our attention. We watched the women surround Carter’s car, squealing and bouncing when he opened the door. Carter brushed them off with a wave, shouldered his bag, and trudged toward the door. The gaggle of women shuffled after him.
“Well, he made it here. I think I’ll go to my office,” I said.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Hank said, blocking my path. “You’re required to stay here. I’m pretty sure it’s in your job description.”
He pushed open the door, holding it for Carter.
“Sorry, ladies. I’d invite you inside, but I don’t think management would allow it. You’d be too distracting anyway,” Carter said and smiled broadly for the group. The women swooned. I tried not to gag.
Hank started to introduce himself but Carter ignored him, not even saying hello. Instead he shoved his skates into Hank’s arms and demanded he sharpen them. Next he thrust his smelly hockey bag into my midsection, sending me crashing into the wall. The bag dropped to the ground, landing on my foot.
“I have a meeting with the coach. Make sure my gear is ready, and keep those crazy chicks away from me.”
He left Hank and me standing in the corridor, gaping after him, both of us seriously pissed off.
“What the hell?” I said, kicking at his bag.
“What an asshole. He’s certainly living up to his reputation. I don’t envy Johan or you. I may even feel a bit sorry for myself.” Hank sighed and grabbed Carter’s bag, toting it down the hall and swearing up a storm.
This conditioning stint couldn’t end soon enough.
I retreated to my office to await the assault from Carter. To pass the time, I buried myself in paperwork. When I completed what needed to be done, I scribbled down some stuff to discuss with Shelby and Alex.
I’d looked online for skating competitions in the area and was pleased and nervous to find that the Midwest Sectionals were soon. She had qualified earlier, and if she was serious about competing, this was one competition she couldn’t miss. Shelby knocked on my door a few minutes later.
“I was just coming down,” I said as I shoved a pile of papers into my desk drawer.
“There’s a guy on the ice who yelled at me when I tried to warm up. He said this was no place for figure skaters. I told him I had a lesson. He told me to get lost,” she said, pursing her lips.
I shook my head and stood, then took a few deep breaths and braced myself for what was about to happen. As I walked, I tried to come up with something smart to say to Carter, but when we arrived rinkside, he was gone and we had the place to ourselves.
Shelby shrugged and stepped onto the ice, skating slowly and stretching with each lap. While she warmed up, I headed to my dressing room to grab my skates. Just as I was about to close the door, I heard shouting coming from the top of the stairs. I slipped into the room but kept the door open a crack and listened to Johan rip Carter’s head off.
“It’s about the team, Carter. You need to figure that out or the only hockey you’re going to be playing is in the beer leagues. They will void your contract for your one million violations of team rules.”
I waited for Carter’s response, but it never came. Instead I heard a door slam and I immediately felt horrible for eavesdropping. I quickly dressed and left the room feeling unsettled, but I didn’t have time to worry about Johan and Carter. I had a kid to teach.
The lesson went off uninterrupted, and I was able to escape the arena without running into Carter or Johan. Alex, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Shelby and I were enjoying a quiet meal when Alex stormed into the apartment, cursing everything in sight.
“Hi, Alex,” Shelby waved. “You seem to be in a splendid mood.”
He muttered something and tossed his keys on the table.
Shelby swallowed a laugh. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking. Sounds like you had a good day, brother dear. Care to share?”
I tried to kick her shin but she dodged my attempt.
Alex glared at her. “Of all the…. What a jerk!” He threw his jacket in the direction of the closet. “He thinks I’m his personal assistant.”
“Who?” Shelby asked.
“Carter Dickhead Murphy. He thinks he’s some sort of big shot. Bossing me around and telling me I had to move out of my stall because it was the one he wanted. Something about the location and the door. What the fuck?”
“You had a poster of him on your wall when he got drafted,” Shelby said.
He glared at Shelby with murder in his eyes. I shoved a bite of bread into my mouth so I had something to do.
“Well, you did,” she said and stuck her tongue out.
Alex sat down and filled his plate. “I swear he pissed off everyone he came in contact with. He demanded Pebbles change numbers, screamed at Hank about his lack of knowledge when it came to sharpening skates, and I’m not even going to repeat what he said to the captain. Seriously, the guy is a total jerk.”
“So did you give him your stall?” she asked.
He huffed and sawed his chicken so hard the plate squeaked in protest. “Yes.”
&nbs
p; In between bites of food, Alex continued to rant about Carter. I was almost thankful when my phone chimed. I glanced at the screen and smiled.
“I have to go,” I said. “See you at practice tomorrow. We’re doing all sorts of fun things on the ice.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Alex said gloomily and went back to complaining about Carter.
I patted Shelby on the shoulder, relaying my sympathy with an understanding nod.
“I’m used to it,” she said and pretended to listen to Alex when he shouted about how he was here to play hockey, not tote around another player’s equipment.
In the hallway I could hear Shelby’s muffled laughter. I hit redial and called Sawyer.
“Thanks for calling me back,” Sawyer said.
“Actually, you saved me,” I said.
We talked for a while, but when I asked him what his important information was, he avoided the question by telling me he missed me and he was beginning to think he made a terrible mistake when he chose this particular life path.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, doll. But something has to change.”
Chapter 8
I woke up before my alarm went off. Today was D-day, and I wasn’t going to be able to avoid Carter. Being part of the Ravens automatically made him my responsibility. I dressed and made sure my clothes were clean and wrinkle free. I wasn’t sure why my appearance was important today, but I spent more time than I cared to tell in front of the mirror putting on mascara and messing with my hair.
The drive went much too quickly. I even sat in my car for a few minutes, pretending to be very interested in my phone. I finally decided I was an idiot. He was just an annoying guy. I’d dealt with worse people in my life.
I took a deep breath and opened the door of my car. As I was walking toward the arena, a woman approached me.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“I was wondering if you could tell me how to contact Carter Murphy?”
“Uh, no,” I said. “I haven’t even met him.”
She frowned and chewed on her bottom lip. “I saw his car. Maybe you could let me into the arena.”
“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are. I can’t let you into the arena without valid credentials.”
“We’ve dated,” she said.
My eyebrows disappeared into my hairline. “Then call him.”
I sidestepped her and ran to the door, slipping inside before she could follow me.
“Jesus,” I mumbled, trying desperately to settle my already frazzled nerves. When I neared the rink, I could hear someone skating. I walked down the tunnel, staying in the shadows until I could see the ice. Carter Murphy was striding around the ice, dressed only in a T-shirt and black leggings. His dark blond hair fluttered in the breeze, his muscles flexed under the thin shirt he wore, and his skates cut a pattern into the ice, mesmerizing me. I couldn’t help but lose myself in the rhythm he created, and I inched closer to the boards so I could get a better view. He was beautiful, and I wanted to join him.
“You can shut your mouth,” Hank said, bumping me with his shoulder.
“I was observing the new player. It is my job.”
He chuckled. “You looked like you were drooling.”
I wrinkled my nose, and he squirted me with water. I shrieked, leaping at him to grab the bottle away from him.
“Just putting out the fire,” Hank said, laughing loudly.
Our scuffling caught Carter’s attention and he slammed to a stop, spraying us with snow.
“Later,” Hank said and rushed down the tunnel.
“You! You’re that chick…. Bradley Campbell’s daughter,” Carter said. “What are you doing here? You following me?”
“I work here,” I said, pointing to the logo on my jacket.
“You the office lady or something?”
“Or something,” I mumbled.
I could hear Hank laughing in the background. Carter frowned at me, grabbed the water bottle Hank had set on the boards, and drank. I focused on his throat, watching him swallow.
“I’m the conditioning coach for the Ravens,” I said.
He choked and some water dribbled down his chin. “Holy shit. I thought they were kidding when they said some chick was going to whip me into shape.”
I imitated the sound of a cracking whip and sneered at him. “That’s me.”
“In your dreams, sweetheart … unless you’re one of those women who reads about red rooms and getting tied up,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Know what I mean?”
The heat roared up my face, surely staining my cheeks a bright crimson.
“No,” I managed to croak out as he stepped off the ice and shouldered me to the side. He shook his head and droplets of sweat flew everywhere.
“Gross,” I shouted and jumped away from him.
He laughed and strode down the hall toward the dressing room, cracking an invisible whip and leaving me thinking about red rooms.
“Jesus,” I muttered and tried not to stare at his ass. The guy might be a total dick, but there was no disputing he had a great body. He definitely didn’t look like he was out of shape.
By the time I made it to the weight room, the guys were already stretching and working hard on their flexibility. My gaze flicked to Carter, and I was immediately entranced. His flexibility rivaled our goalies’ stretch. Something my mind probably didn’t need to know.
I unrolled my mat and began with a few minutes of meditation, then guided the boys through a series of challenging stretches and poses. Carter was the only one who could match me. When I led them out to the stairs, Carter not only perfected the sequence I laid out, he stayed on my heels all the way around the arena.
He left no doubt in my mind that he was in great shape and didn’t need me to crack an imaginary or real whip. When we finished the dry-land workout, I joined the team on the ice.
While the rest of the guys gave me shit and chirped each other, Carter stayed back, not talking to anyone. He completed all the skating drills and only left the ice once to get something adjusted on his skate. When the team launched into a drill working on moving the puck out of the neutral zone, I left to help Hank with the drinks.
“How did it go?” Hank asked.
“He’s really good. He’s definitely not out of shape. Why is he here?”
“I think it’s more of a behavior problem with him.”
“So the Hawks think we can change him? The guy is twenty-four. He’s older than me. What the hell do they expect us to do? If he doesn’t want to conform to the rules of the team, I can’t force him. I’m not a shrink.”
“I think this is his last chance before management decides he’s not worth the trouble. He’s given them enough reason. And I really don’t know if another team would take a chance on him.”
“Nice,” I grumbled. “I have to go. As soon as the team is done, I have a private with Shelby and some extra ice time with Carter. Johan wants me to evaluate his skating skills. Total waste of my time because the guy has a beautiful stride.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” He rolled his eyes and stifled a chuckle.
“Oh my god. I should make you get on the ice with them.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
I left Hank fussing with a pile of skate blades. I could still hear the team on the ice, so I went upstairs to bother Margo. I wanted to pick her brain about Carter. She might have more of an insight into the guy.
“The kid has no manners,” she huffed. “But he and I had a little discussion and came to an agreement.”
She wouldn’t elaborate, but her grin made me shudder. “You can be quite scary,” I said.
By the time I made it back to the rink, Shelby and Carter were standing at center ice, arguing loudly. I considered bringing Margo down to referee them.
I blew my whistle, and the quarreling immediately ceased.
“What’s going on?” I shouted.
“He’s trying to te
ll me how to skate,” Shelby said.
I rubbed my temples. “Shelby, go over to that side of the rink and warm up for me.”
She glared at Carter, flipped her ponytail off her shoulder, and skated to the farthest point from him.
“Is there a reason you’re arguing with a fourteen-year-old girl?” I asked Carter.
“No. Yes. She’s bothering me. Wait? She’s only fourteen? She talks like she’s a know-it-all twentysomething.” He glanced at her before focusing on me again. “She’s dropping her right shoulder when she’s going into her jumps.”
I watched as Shelby attempted a triple loop. Carter was correct; she was dropping her shoulder.
“I’ll fix it.”
He sneered at me and skated to his end of the ice.
“You’re not bending your knees enough,” I shouted at him. My comment earned me a gloved finger.
“Shelby, don’t let your shoulder drop. That’s why you’re falling. And you definitely won’t be able to crank out a triple if your form is not perfect.”
She gaped at me. I waited for her to accuse me of siding with Carter. Instead she clenched her jaw and followed my suggestion. After a few attempts, we were able to correct her problem, and she was easily completing all of her double jumps.
Her triples were not consistent and her triple Lutz was still an issue, mainly because she insisted on taking off from an inside edge. It was a bad habit, and if she did it in competition, she wouldn’t get credit for the jump.
“Get a drink and then back on the circle. I want to see backward-to-forward crossovers.”
“Shelby snorted, but did as I instructed.
“And you,” I shouted at Carter. “Same thing. Drink first, then backward-to-forward crossovers on the circles.”
They both groaned but didn’t argue with me. I wanted to go through some of the basics so I could see where they needed improvement. Shelby held her arms too low, and sometimes she didn’t bend her knees or point her toes. Carter’s technique was nearly perfect.