He hangs his head as though ashamed, “Oh, you caught me. . . . It’s a huge bet, too,” he says. “It’s really going to cost me if you don’t at least call me and make one date.”
“Date?” she asks as though hearing the word for the first time. “Oh, no, no, no. Absolutely not.” Why is he making this so hard?
“Come on. What’s one date?” he begs.
“Hey, Slick!” a voice yells out. “There are groupie girls out back waiting for you. Nice looking too.” Theo rounds the corner.
Eileen’s eyebrows narrow and she looks at Ty for an explanation.
“Easy pickin’s,” Defenseman, Theo Anderson says and he disappears down the hall toward the exit.
Ty ignores the interruption and faces Eileen. “Come on, what’s there to think about?”
She clenches her jaw, not wanting to give in. “We can meet, but it’s not a date,” she finally says. “No wine-and-dine procedure, just a meet and greet.”
“You really are all business, aren’t you?” he asks. “So I guess, how ’bout a meeting then?”
“I’m free tonight at six,” she says, reminding him that she has other important commitments.
“Okay then. Tell me the place and time and I will be there.”
Eileen says good-bye to Ty and walks to her car, anticipating another note. Her heart races as she stares ahead, looking for paper under the windshield wiper. Getting closer, she squints, her eyes focused on her windshield. Eileen takes her keys out of her purse just as she reaches her car. There’s no note. Relieved the threats have stopped at least for today, she lets out a breath. As she opens the car door, something catches her eye. There are wave-like scratches all over the metallic blue paint. It’s been keyed. She throws her head back in frustration. A cold tingle runs down her spine and her heart races. She looks around the parking lot and can’t see anybody suspicious. Why is this happening? Who would do this? Is this a coincidence or does someone really hate her?
Chapter 7
Eileen leaves the rink angry. Who is doing this? What’s the big deal that she’s a woman coaching the guys? Is this what it’s about? She’s a good teacher and a good supporter of athletes. The past three weeks have been tough and it seems things will only get tougher. How long will she put up with this for? Should she go to the police? Should she tell Uncle Gary? Tell Ty? What will happen? Will she lose her job because she’s causing too much grief for the team?
Eileen drives home to have a quick shower and then she’s off to the local ice rink to teach six-year-olds their skating lesson and to have a brief meeting with Oliver, the rink coordinator. By the end of the day, she’s tired. It’s no wonder she feels like staying at home; she has a lot on her mind, especially adding Ty Caldwell to the mix. Does she actually believe he wants a harmless date with her? There has to be more to it than that, like bragging rights to his teammates. She won’t allow him to get close to her. Not even a good-night kiss. Nope. This meeting is strictly business.
Eileen stands up from the spare desk, organizing loose papers and placing them into the appropriate folders when she sees Robyn, the receptionist, staring down at her.
“Hi,” Robyn says and takes a sideways step toward the desk uneasily, standing beside a framed picture of Jarome Iginla and Sidney Crosby. “I haven’t chatted with you in a while.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy.”
“How are you?” Robyn asks, holding a rolled-up newspaper in one hand.
“Okay . . .” Eileen says casually, hoping she will get to the point and be on her way. Unfortunately, Robyn loves to talk, even when one is obviously busy.
“Finnne,” Robyn answers and then hesitates. “Haven’t seen you much these days. You don’t stop in as often as you used to. I know you’re busy with your other job.” She bobs her head. “It must be hard trying to keep up with work and teaching the Warriors.... I’m sure you must be on a natural high all the time.... I mean who wouldn’t want your job, right? Even if it is for a short time,” she says enthusiastically. “You must love it.... It must be a dream come true.”
Eileen shrugs it off as though it were no big deal. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Really?” Robyn asks, her green eyes wide with amazement, the same color and brightness as Eileen’s the day she got her dream job. “What woman wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, working with all those men—hot men, might I add? Have you gone into the locker room, yet? You have to tell me,” she shrieks. “Do the guys walk around in their underwear and without their shirts?” She fans her face with the newspaper. “They’re all attractive.”
Eileen looks at her. “Really? Some have missing teeth.”
“It’s for the love of the game,” she says. “Is Brandon Keller single? Or how about Theo Anderson?”
“Robyn?” Eileen asks, annoyed. She has better things to do than answer Robyn’s lame questions. But she knows these guys are celebrities in Vancouver and she is fortunate enough to skate with them twice a week. “Anderson is married, and anyway, is this really what you came to talk to me about?”
“No, but I’d love to meet Brandon. Do you think you could introduce me to him if it’s not too much trouble?”
“I don’t talk to all the guys on a personal level, you know. I coach them when they’re on the ice and I leave the rink to come here,” she says.
Robyn swallows and asks, “Did you see today’s newspaper?”
“No, I haven’t. Anything I should know?”
“There’s a small article about you working with the Warriors and it has your picture too!” she exclaims. “Do you wanna see?” She walks over to her desk, unrolls the newspaper, and hands over the crumpled pages.
Eileen briefly skims the article and studies the picture of her instructing with players standing in a semicircle, listening. Impressive picture, she thinks, handing the newspaper back to Robyn. The team looks serious and into what she’s telling them. If only they were like that all of the time.
“That is so cool to have a write-up about you! Isn’t it cool?”
“It’s just for a short time,” Eileen says softly, studying the picture again.
“Yeah, but still . . . it’s pretty neat.”
Eileen nods her head. “Yeah, I guess. Do you mind if I keep this?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Eileen closes the pages.
Robyn sucks in a breath. “Right. Well . . .” She fiddles with her fingers. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I figured you’d have some juicy stories to tell.”
“I don’t have any stories to tell,” Eileen says. “I’ve got some paperwork to do and then Oliver wants to meet with me.”
Robyn swings her dark hair around her neck. “Is everything okay with you? I mean, you’ve been preoccupied lately.”
“Busy,” she assures Robyn with a couple of quick nods. “I’ve been working mostly from home.”
“You just don’t seem yourself.”
Eileen looks at her and softens her eyes. “Everything is fine,” she says. “I’ve been busy, that’s all.... You know how it is.” She isn’t about to tell her how difficult it’s been juggling her career and stressing about which instruction to go over with the guys and how Ty Caldwell is pressuring her for a date.
“You’re burning yourself out!” Robyn says. “Look at you. . . .”
Eileen’s bottom lip curls up, and she looks down at herself, trying to figure out what is so wrong with the outfit she has on. “What about me?”
“Your hair is all over the place. You have bags under your eyes—”
“I just taught a class!” Eileen corrects.
“I’m not used to seeing you this way.”
“I’m having a bit of an off day,” Eileen admits.
“I can tell, but I think it’s more like an off month. People are noticing.”
“Like who?”
“Oliver, Laura . . . they’ve all asked me what’s wrong with you.”
“They’re just nosey.”
“The
y’re concerned.”
“They are not concerned! Believe me, they just want gossip and there’s no gossip to tell.” Eileen shuffles a folder to another pile. “Speaking of Oliver, where is he?”
Robyn takes a step back. “I’ll go get him for you.”
“Thanks,” Eileen says and opens the desk drawer in search for a fluorescent pen.
“If you’re up for wings and three-fifty pints, a few of us are going out tonight.”
“Thanks, maybe another time?”
“Sure.” Robyn pauses before leaving. “Any chance of getting an autograph?”
“From who?”
“Brandon or Ty? Any of them really.” She grits her teeth like she’s asking for a lot.
“I can see what I can do,” Eileen says, and Robyn turns on her toes, at the same time Oliver walks in.
“Hi, Elle! Sorry I’m late. I got cornered by a mom who didn’t agree with the refs call on her son.” He shakes his head. “So! I have some good news!”
She folds her elbows on the desk, watching him swivel a chair over to sit in front of her.
“I spoke to our rink managers up north and they want to open a hockey school with your name on it for next year. They can use a branded name to attract business.”
“Wow, like a franchise?”
Oliver nods. His full head of orangey-red hair doesn’t move. “I’ll send you the guys’ contact info. You’ll have to talk to them and hire someone to teach, but they can go through that with you. The main thing is, it’s up to you how you want to run your lessons.”
“That’s great,” she says, surprised. “Thanks. Really, this means a lot.”
“I’ve had a couple of inquiries asking if you taught private lessons.”
Eileen shakes her head and bites her bottom lip. “I wish I had the time.”
“I told them to email you and ask.”
“I appreciate all the new business you’re bringing in. It’s funny—you work for the NHL and everyone wants you.”
Oliver pats the desk with his hands. “That’s how it goes, especially in this city.” His crow’s feet are evident when he smiles. “How is it going?”
“Great!”
“Well, if there’s any woman who can teach guys, it’s you, Elle.”
“Aw, thanks.”
“You have a mind of your own and you know your stuff.” He swings a pointed finger at her.
“I’m glad it’s working out,” she says, softening her voice. “I better get going.” She pushes herself away from the desk and stands up.
“Before you go,” Oliver says, getting to his feet, “I’ve got an idea for your classes. Any chance you can talk a player into dropping by? We could do some promotion to get new sign-ups for our fall programs.”
“I don’t know. I’m still the newbie.” She laughs.
“If there is a chance, keep it in mind.”
Caldwell comes to mind, but there’s no way she would ask him to please Oliver.
Eileen rushes home to freshen up, deciding on a cute light pink top she wore once for a dinner date and a pair of jean capris.
“I’m glad you agreed to a date,” Ty says, watching her slide into the seat in front of him.
“This is hardly a date—it’s more like a meeting,” Eileen reminds him, making herself comfortable in the large booth.
“Oh yeah?” Ty asks in disbelief. “So, if this is not a date, what are we meeting about?”
She relaxes her shoulders. Her chin pops up and her eyes adjust to his. They stare at each other, transfixed in wonder. Did he have more on his mind than just dinner? Maybe he wants to tell her in person who her biggest threat is and will give her an idea who is causing trouble.
“I don’t know. You called it.”
“All right,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. His hair is gelled in place, his face is clean-shaven, and he’s wearing a polo shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders. “It’s about you, then.”
“Me?” she asks with surprise, and out comes a small laugh.
“I want to know more about you.”
“You do? Like what?” She’s not sure if she should be flattered or skeptical.
“Like why you have to act standoffish and sometimes rude. I get that your job is a hard sell to the guys, but being cold doesn’t change the fact that you’re a woman.”
“Well, that’s one way to start a conversation.”
“It’s a man’s career.”
She nods. “I get that. I take this job seriously. I’m not trying to make friends.”
“Okay. I want to start off being honest with you.” His tone is apologetic. “It’s important in a relationship. Trust is huge, besides communication, of course.”
“A relationship? Look, you think I’m acting this way because I’m not letting you get your way, but in this business I need to be firm. I’d have people walk all over me if I didn’t.”
“It’s like you don’t know how to relax.”
It’s been a long time since she unwound with the opposite sex. Has she gotten so hung up with work that she has forgotten what it’s like to just relax?
“I don’t think I’m as harsh as you make me sound, but I am definitely strong minded,” she says. “I have to be.”
The waiter approaches the table and takes their drink order.
Ty flips over his hand and flicks, pointing his finger to signal Eileen to place her order.
“I’ll have a rum and Diet Coke.”
“And I’ll have another pint. So where were we?” he asks when the waiter leaves the table. “Oh, we were talking about you being strong-willed and not relaxing.”
Eileen shoots him a look. “I do what I think is best for me, and right now I’m doing what I think is best.”
“Not dating?”
“No,” she says. “I’m talking about life in general.”
“Sometimes you need to take chances or you will miss out on opportunities and it can mean missed happiness.”
“You think so?” she asks. “And you’re an expert?”
The waiter gently sets down a pint of beer in front of Ty, takes the empty glass, and sets down Eileen’s drink.
“Maybe,” Ty says, taking his cold glass of beer in hand. “You’re missing out, that’s all.”
“Just so you know, I am not missing out on anything. In fact, I am quite content with myself and with my life, thank you very much,” she says, grabbing hold of her tall glass and taking a sip from the straw.
“I guess if this is a meeting about you, tell me—what’s holding you back from relationships?” He takes another sip of his beer.
Eileen cocks her head to one side. “What do you mean? I have good relationships.”
“You’re not seeing anyone or you wouldn’t be out for dinner with me—or I assume so, as you don’t seem like a two-timing kind of girl.”
Why does he have to challenge her all the time? Can’t he be happy that he has her company?
“Why do you have to keep pushing me?” she asks with a touch of annoyance in her voice. “I just need to know—”
The waiter walks up to their table before Eileen can finish her sentence and asks to take their meal order.
“I’ll have the grilled salmon with wild rice.”
Ty makes a face. “And I’ll try the steak dinner with baked potato, loaded.”
The waiter collects the menus and walks away, and Ty turns back to her. “You were saying?”
Eileen takes a breath. “It doesn’t matter.”
Ty nods his head, still gripping his frothy beer. “Yes, it does matter.”
A smile keeps creeping to her lips and she’s trying her hardest not to crack, but the way he is looking at her, studying her face and watching her every move, it’s like he’s trying to photograph the moment. No one’s ever made her feel this way.
In a gentle voice, she responds, “I forgot. It’s okay.”
“I’m curious about your love life,” he says with excitement.
&n
bsp; “You are?” she asks, surprised and intrigued that he’d care. Still, she isn’t buying it. “Why?”
“Tell me about your relationships with guys, not that you have supportive parents because I know that you probably do by the way you are, confident in what you do and secure with yourself,” he says. “And you also have an uncle you’re close to.”
Eileen takes in a deep breath before answering. “My parents passed away five years ago.” She holds back the sudden emotion that rises up every time she thinks of them. “I have supportive friends though,” she says softly and looks down at her table settings.
“I’m sorry,” Ty says gently, leaning back against the booth so his head is against the rest and he fingers the cardboard coaster. “That wasn’t fair of me—I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“That’s okay, you didn’t know. Yes, I had very supportive parents,” she emphasizes. “In fact my dad encouraged my hockey career and drove me to early-morning practices every Saturday morning.”
Eileen looks at him, trying to hold back tears. She shouldn’t let him see the soft side of her—this is the one reason she doesn’t mix business with pleasure. She doesn’t want to show this delicate side when she has to be strong.
Ty smiles sympathetically and says, “My dad did the same. Those were some early mornings. He would tell me”—Ty lowered his voice—“ ‘When you get to be sixteen you’re on your own’ and hand me the keys and say, ‘Son, drive yourself.’ ”
Eileen grins, happy that he can lighten the mood.
“He told me he hated waking up early and how he was going to sleep in Saturdays,” Ty says.
“My uncle Gary has been my cheerleader and I’m thankful I have him.”
“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” he says. “I’m really sorry for being a jerk. I shouldn’t have pressured you about your personal life—that was really unfair of me to say.”
Eileen nods. Does Ty really care about her personal life or is he buttering her up for a nightcap? Not that she’s interested. She won’t let herself come that close. He’d never let her live it down.
“Can you accept my apology?” he asks and reaches for her hand.
His Game, Her Rules Page 6