5. Ready for Him
Chapter Five
READY FOR HIM
Camden Hale has been a healthy scratch since he came to the Icehawks. It’s rumored he’ll finally see ice time tonight. We’re all waiting with bated breath to find out if Lewis recognized some inner greatness in Hale that’s eluded other teams for close to seven years. I’m the first person to celebrate a woman in a position of power in sports. Lewis is an unknown quantity, and I’ll be watching her. In the meantime, the Icehawks’ current resurgence keeps them on the cusp of a playoff spot, but there’s still a lot more hockey to be played. Drakos Lenkov needs to step up along with his teammates or take an early summer vacation —Aria from All Hockey News
~~Inez~~
I’m two weeks into my new position, and it’s been a whirlwind of epic proportions. So much to learn and keep track of. I don’t know how Brian does it. My organizational skills are serving me well. Without them, there’s no way I’d stay on top of the demands of this job.
The team returned yesterday from a weeklong road trip. They won two and lost one. Coach scratched Camden for all three away games while he acquainted himself with our system, though he did go on the road trip with the team.
Tonight, we play our last home game before the All-Star Break. I check the active roster for the evening with trepidation. As I scan the names, a slight smile crosses my face when I see Camden’s name on the active roster. He’s slated for the fourth line with veteran édouard Dubois, a solid two-way player, and a rookie, William Oliver. Oliver will benefit from the experience of Dubois and Camden. I’m happy to see Coach has enough faith in Camden to partner him with our prized rookie.
I make my way to the locker room area of the stadium in search of our newest player to check in on him. I’m a pushy, controlling person, and I’ll be the first to admit it. If there’s anything I can do to increase his level of play, I’ll do it. Perhaps a pep talk is in order. My initial impression was that he lacked confidence. I’ve never been the touchy-feely type, but I’ll do my best to bolster his fragile ego.
I poke my head in the locker room. Most of the guys haven’t arrived yet, and it’s essentially empty. I wander down the long hallway and into one of the offices. Coach Jeffs is sitting at a desk studying his iPad.
“Coach.”
He glances up and smiles. “Inez. What can I do for you?”
“I see Hale’s playing tonight.”
“He’s been working hard to learn our system. He’s ready.”
“What’s your opinion on how good a fit he is with this team?” I’m pushing, but if I’m to improve in my new position, I have to ask the tough questions even if I may not like the answers. Coach studies me long and hard, giving the distinct impression he’s debating how much to say.
“Not sure yet.” Coach isn’t committing, and I’m disappointed.
“You’ve seen Camden in practice for over a week, observed his interactions with the team on the road trip. Surely you have an opinion.”
Annoyance flashes briefly in Jefferson’s eyes before he tamps it down. He’s not happy with my interference. I note his brief resistance, aware I’ll have to earn his trust. He thinks I’ve overstepped. As an assistant GM, I don’t see it that way. I’m willing to butt heads with him to prove a point. I have every right to inquire about a player.
“Camden is a known quantity in this league. It’s not like he’s a rookie, and we don’t know what we have. With him, it’s pretty obvious.” He sounds prickly, and I’m prickly in return.
“And what do we have?” I counter with a hard glare and stubborn lift of my chin. Respect flashes briefly in his eyes.
“A guy who’s a solid fourth-liner. Not necessarily valuable and definitely expendable.”
“Are you saying he wouldn’t have been your choice?” I temper my voice to keep out the defensiveness.
“There were better choices.” Jeffs sits back and studies me with a piercing gaze. I see doubt etched on his face. He’s not sold on me yet, and I’ll have to earn every inch I get from him.
“I felt he meshed well with our system of play—fast, hard, and emphasizing defense.”
“Perhaps you don’t know as much as you think.” He issues an unspoken challenge I won’t back down from.
“And perhaps you don’t believe a woman who’s never played a second of hockey knows what she’s doing.”
“Do you?” His glare is almost hostile. He doesn’t like being questioned any more than I do. As Mr. B’s assistant, I’ve always had a good relationship with Coach Jeffs. But this is a different ball game, and he’s clearly made his concern known.
“Being a good GM is more than being a former hockey player. I realize I have a lot to learn, which is why I’m here right now seeking your insights on my choice.”
“It’s a little late for that. Currently, we’re stuck with him until something better comes along.”
I bristle and try to calm myself. Jeffs has some decent points, and they’re valid.
He stands and goes to the door, indicating our conversation is over. “One more thing. This has nothing to do with your gender and everything to do with your experience level and your relationship with the Barlowes.”
“That’s fair. You’re also stuck with me, so we’re going to have to work together. I’m going to earn your trust.”
“Working together means consulting with me before you claim a player off waivers instead of charging full speed ahead.”
Touché .
“Point taken,” I respond with an apologetic smile.
Now I understand what he’s angry about. It’s not that I made the decision, but I made it without his input, yet he’s the one who has to find a way to utilize Hale’s skills or lack of.
“I’m sorry. I’ll take your opinion into consideration in the future.”
“Good. I’ll hold you to it.” He leaves and stalks down the hall. I sigh heavily.
“Whoa, what’d you do to piss off Jeffs?” Startled, I whirl around. It’s Aunt Matilda. She likes lurking in the bowels of the stadium before a game. I secretly think she’s an old-lady voyeur who loves to catch glimpses of these buff guys in little or nothing. Standing a few discreet feet away is her latest boy toy, Ramon, who’s holding her large purple purse. Aunt Matilda always has a young hot guy escorting her everywhere. I have no idea what their relationship entails, nor do I want to know.
“He’s not happy with my waiver claim.” I hadn’t planned on admitting the truth, but I need to vent to someone on my side.
“Ah, Camden. Certainly a controversial choice, but trust your instincts. You have a good eye for hockey talent. Don’t forget that, and don’t let a man tell you don’t.” She winks at me and continues down the hallway with boy toy in tow.
I smile as I watch her sashay down the hall. She’s something. One of kind. And her approval means a lot. After all, she does own a portion of this team.
The elevator dings and slides open. Camden and Drakos emerge in their game day suits. My heart surprises me by doing a little wriggle like a dog wagging its tail when it sees someone. I meet Camden’s direct gaze, and my stomach flutters, as if a thousand butterflies have been released. The sensation is unexpected and overwhelming. I look away first. I’m flustered in his presence, which rarely happens in the presence of a man.
Drakos spots me and grins. “Inez, looking as gorgeous as always.” He’s the consummate flirt. If you’re female, you’re fair game. He doesn’t discriminate based on age, appearance, or anything else. He loves chatting up women and getting his ego stroked. I’m not an ego-stroker. He’s fully aware of that, but my attitude doesn’t stop him from trying.
“Drakos. Nice suit.” I stand up straighter. My tone is devoid of emotion, and I’m grateful for the momentary distraction while I gather my wits about me.
“Thanks. It’s custom.”
Of course it is. Drakos is a sharp dresser.
Camden nods in my direction as they walk by. His dark suit looks great on him even if it’s not the quality of Drakos’s threads. He may not be the hottest guy on the team by most women’s standards, but he is to me. Something about him is alluring, and I’m appalled by my reaction. I’ve been around hot hockey players for a year and a half. Not one has piqued my interest until now. I try to dismiss this attraction as a case of wanting what I can’t have.
“Camden, a word.” I point toward the office Coach and I vacated moments ago.
He doesn’t meet my gaze but keeps his head down as he follows me. I sit on the edge of the desk, but he chooses to stand in the doorway as if needing a quick escape route. I have that effect on men. I tend to either frighten them or emasculate them or both. At least, that’s what an ex told me. It’s not intentional. It’s part of my personality. I’m not the nurturing kind, so any guy looking for me to replace their mother is in for a rude awakening. Not that I have a guy right now, and I’m not looking. My plate is full, and my work means everything to me. I’ll never be one of those women who depends on a man to give them purpose like my mother. That only leads to heartbreak or loss of self. I’ve seen it before.
“You’re on the active roster tonight. Congratulations.” I smile my most professional smile. He lifts one corner of his mouth, but that’s all. I’m once again drawn to how incredibly handsome this man is. On a team overloaded with good-looking guys, he’s one in a crowd. Yet his looks appeal to me in ways I shouldn’t even be considering. There’s just something about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there. I get the sense that he’s an open book. What you see is what you get, and it’s refreshing compared with guys hell-bent on impressing me or getting me naked. Camden has no ulterior motives.
But that’s not all there is. It’s just all there can be.
“I won’t keep you long. I want to stress what a golden opportunity this is for you. Almost every one of our guys were left unprotected by their former teams in the expansion draft. We play with chips on our shoulders because our respective teams didn’t value us. They consider every guy here a throwaway. We’re here to prove the doubters wrong. You need to understand that.”
“I do,” he says grimly. My attempt at a pep talk has had the opposite effect. I never claimed to be good at the rah-rah stuff. I need to up my game, but I don’t know where to start.
Camden looks off in the distance as if contemplating something. He appears lost, and all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and comfort him, which is all kinds of wack. I can’t do that. Along with my uncharacteristic fantasies about this guy, I’m a little off balance and probably overcompensating by being colder than ever. I might be icy on the outside, but inside I’m burning up with desire I’ve suppressed for too long.
“I believe in this team, and I believe in you. There’s a place on the Icehawks for you. Go out and prove it.” There, that sounds better, but by the tentative look on Camden’s face, he’s not feeling it. Frustrated, I tuck a stray lock of hair back into my bun.
“Is that all? I need to get ready.” He watches me with an expression that reads he’d rather be anywhere but here.
“That’s all. Good luck. I’ll be cheering for you.” He almost runs from the room. By the time I’m out the door, he’s nowhere to be seen. I sigh. Defeat weighs me down. What if I didn’t deserve this job? What if I’m in over my head?
I decide I’ve had enough demoralization for now and take the elevator to the owners’ suite. I usually sit here and enjoy the game with the Barlowes and my besties Michella and Everly.
No one’s present yet, except for staff laying out the food and drinks on the counter. My stomach growls, and I realize I haven’t eaten much today. I avail myself of the impressive spread and a glass of wine, then take my usual seat in the front row.
I sip slowly and wonder if I should be drinking at all considering my new standing with the team. When I was Mr. B’s assistant, I wasn’t really on the job at the games. Now I am. I pour my glass of wine in the bar sink and have a root beer instead.
Everly and Michella enter about a half hour later. The two of them are jabbering away about an upcoming charity gala the team is sponsoring for the homeless in Portland. I know all about this particular gala as it’s been a pet project of Mrs. Barlowe’s for years. In the past, I’ve assisted in organizing. This year that’s on Shelby.
“Hey.” My friends take seats next to me, leaving me sitting in the middle.
“You’ve been hard to pin down.” I detect some hurt in Everly’s voice.
“I’m buried with the new job.”
“I’m sure you are.” Michella pats my hand sympathetically.
“Oh, yes, I guess you would be. That has to be a pressure cooker.”
The two pepper me with questions about my new position before turning back to the subject of dresses for the gala. I stare down at the empty ice. Ever since they both became engaged to the loves of their lives, I’ve felt us drifting apart. I’ll be the first to admit, I haven’t tried as hard as I should to stay in touch. Hanging out with two women so in love makes me feel left out, even though they don’t mean to.
“Are you going? Inez? Did you hear me?”
I jump, startled. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to me.”
“Are you going?” Everly studies me with interest, and I avoid her gaze.
“I guess I should.”
“Of course you should. Want to go clothes shopping with us in Addison’s closet?” Michella rubs her hands together at the thought of getting into Everly’s older sister’s clothes closet, which is bigger than my entire apartment.
“Does Addison know about this?”
“She told us to take what we want, and the rest will go to charity.” Michella, who loves her clothes, is practically salivating. Addison recently married Jason Wilder, and they’re raising their nine-year-old son together. It’s a long, convoluted story, and I’m not sure I know all of it.
“Well, in that case, I’m in.” Addison has the most incredible suits, and I’m itching to check out her leftovers.
The players burst onto the ice for warm-ups and draw our attention to the rink. I seek out number fifty-six. He’s skating large circles on the Icehawk end, as are several other players. I study his stride and his sureness on the ice. He looks as competent as any other player out there, but then anyone who’s made it this far can skate a fast circle. It’s all the other things, including skating in traffic, speed, maneuverability, athleticism, and a superior hockey sense.
“Your guy looks good,” Michella comments, but I fret she’s only being supportive and encouraging.
“You think so?” I ask, hoping for validation.
“Doesn’t matter what we think. You must have seen something in him, and we trust you. Therefore, he’s got potential.” Everly’s wonderful when it comes to being supportive.
“Does Dash say much about him?” She’s engaged to the team captain, and perhaps she has more insider’s knowledge than I do.
“Not really. Said he was a quiet guy. A team player. Everybody likes him.”
“When I did my research, that’s one thing that stood out. He’s not selfish. On the fourth line, we need players who’re willing to sacrifice themselves and their stats for the good of the team and not make costly mistakes. He may not be flashy or a top scorer, but he won’t screw stuff up either.”
“He sounds perfect for the role he’s filling. Here’s to your first team choice.” We clink our glasses together. My attention drifts back to the ice. Camden is standing in a short line waiting for his turn to shoot the puck into the net. He skates forward and fires a hard slap shot at our goalie Roman Daniels, who has to dive for the puck. I follow his every move, analyzing and assessing, while being hyperaware of him as not just a player but a man.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t do this. I don’t have instant attractions to men, especially not those in the Icehawks organization. And why this particular guy of all the guys out there on the ice? I can’t answer that question, because my personal interest in him defies all logic.
By the time the puck drops, my heart is in my throat, and my stomach is queasy. I’m putting undue pressure on myself, but I can’t help it. Camden has to play well. He has to prove he belongs with this team. Not just for himself but for me. I desperately need him to look good out there to prove I didn’t just get this job because of connections.
“Relax.” Everly pats me on the arm. I glance at her.
“That bad?”
“You’re fidgeting and bouncing your leg. It’s okay. You have the support of Aunt Matilda and my granddad. They’ll give you time to develop into this job. No one expects you to be perfect right out of the gate.”
“Coach isn’t happy with me.” I admit one of the things I’ve been fretting about since my convo with him.
“He’ll get over it. He’s very protective of his team and doesn’t like anything going on without his knowledge.”
“He pretty much told me the same thing. He’s pretty pissed about my waiver claim.”
“It’s all up to Camden now. You did your part. You chose the best guy for the job based on what you thought we needed.” Michella jumps in.
“What if I’m wrong? What if I picked the wrong guy?”
“Do you think every player Brian’s picked has turned out the way he hoped?”
“No, but this is different. I feel pressure to prove my promotion isn’t a mistake.”
“It’s not.” Everly pats my arm before her attention diverts to the game below us. I lean forward and resist the urge to bite my nails. My gaze continually slips to Camden whether he’s on the bench or on the ice. At least my interest in him won’t be deemed unusual since I have a professional stake in his success.
It’s the personal interest that concerns me.
The Icehawks lose the game one to zero. In the end, Camden didn’t make any major mistakes, but he didn’t do anything to help the team either. I guess I should feel good he didn’t mess up. He did his job, even if his performance was somewhat unremarkable.
This is my first home game as assistant GM. I slip into the locker room and listen to the coach’s after-game speech. The place is awfully quiet. I avoid looking at Camden but wonder how he feels about his performance. Finally, I sneak a peek in his direction. He’s sitting hunched forward and staring down at his skates with his hands clasped in front of him. I can’t see his face. I’m sure that’s intentional. By his body language, he’s not happy with his performance. In fact, he appears defeated, and that won’t do. He can’t get down on himself, or he might totally unwind.
His sadness weighs on me and gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and an ache in my throat, almost as if I can feel his pain. Once more I wish I could wrap my arms around him and soothe away all his worries. But that’s not all I wish. Without warning, an image of a naked Camden lying on his back and staring up at me overwhelms me. I’m on top of him. My arms are braced on his shoulders. His eyes are heavy-lidded with lust as I bounce up and down on his cock.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
I shake my head to clear it. My face burns with embarrassment, but a quick glance around the room indicates no one’s noticed. I have to get out of here.
I quietly leave the room. Several WAGs loiter in the hallway and wait in clusters for their guys to come out. I’d prefer to slip past all of them and compose myself in private, but Addison waves me over, preventing my escape.
I greet her and her son Leo. After making small talk with them for a few minutes, I come to the realization that I have no idea what was said. I’m that off-balance. The players and coaches begin to trickle out of the locker room.
I move on, craving the sanctity of the bathroom, but I don’t get far. Everly, Aspen, Heidi, Michella, and Gardenia pull me into their circle. They’re all friends and all dating Icehawks. I’m the odd woman out, and it’ll stay that way. As assistant GM, I ethically can’t date a player. Technically, I have the ability to hire and fire an Icehawk, which means any personal dalliance with one of them would open the team up to sexual harassment lawsuits among others.
Even as I’m telling myself this, my gaze stays trained on the locker room door. As my first waiver claim, I’m obligated to check up on him. My interest must remain purely professional. Nothing more. Tell that to the butterflies that are currently battering my stomach as I wait for him to exit the locker room.
One by one my friends leave with their guys until there are only a few of us left. I battle a surge of FOMO because thinking about my single status only drives home how alone I am in this world.
I hear raised voices and whirl around. Drakos is arguing loudly with—of all people—Aria. She’s not backing down, despite how formidable Drakos can be because of his size and menacing presence. She’s every bit his match. If I weren’t in my current position, their altercation would be amusing. In this situation, where all can see and hear their exchange, it’s not. Brian and Coach are nowhere to be found, and a small group of onlookers comprised of staff, reporters, and players are witnessing this mess. Dash and Everly have left, or I’m pretty sure Dash would deal with Drakos.
Before things get further out of control, I step forward and between the two verbal combatants. They continue to yell over my head.
“You’re nothing but a fucking hack who makes up sensational stories for personal and financial gain.”
“You’re full of shit. I check my sources. Everything I report is accurate and properly researched. Your debauchery gives me plenty of fodder for new stories. Not my fault you’re a gigolo.”
“I’m not a gigolo.” Drakos raises his voice even louder. He’s close to losing all control as he slips into his native Ukrainian. I have no doubt whatever he’s saying isn’t flattering.
“STOP!” I shout to be heard over these two, but they only yell louder. “That’s enough.” My involvement captures the attention of a couple of Icehawks who step forward and pull Drakos away from Aria. She attempts to dart past me to continue her verbal assault, but I block her path.
“Stop. Leave my player alone.”
“He started it.”
“You purposely ask inflammatory questions in an attempt to incite scenes like this and create drama to get more clicks on your socials. You need to leave. Now. Or I’ll see to it that your press credentials are revoked.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Oh, but I can.” Out of the corner of my vision, I see the guys drag Drakos down the hall and into the dressing room. He’s tossing more Ukrainian insults over his shoulder until the door closes firmly behind him.
I stare down Aria. She might have a lot of the staff cowed, as they don’t want to be the next subject of her particular brand of news reporting, but I’m not one of them.
“As assistant GM, you might want to familiarize yourself with freedom of the press.” She’s a ballsy woman. I consider myself formidable, but I’ve never witnessed Aria intimidated by anyone.
“You can say what you want about me, but leave my players alone.”
She opens her mouth for a retort and surprises me when she snaps it shut. “You haven’t heard the end of this.” Her threats don’t bother me. I say nothing, and she stomps away.
“Hey, thanks. I was about to step in, but you had it handled.” Trent smiles as he approaches.
I nod and force a stiff grin. “Yes, I can handle her.”
“I know you can.” Trent eyes me with respect, and his approval relieves some of my burden. I return to the small gathering of women who’re still waiting for their guys. Trent and Heidi walk off hand in hand. The talk turns back to the game.
“Why’s he skulking about?” Michella’s eyes narrow, and our small group turns to see who she’s talking about. I should’ve known.
“Oh, no. Not him. Haven’t we had enough drama for one night?” Muri, our social admin, blows out a frustrated breath.
Addison has already left with Wild and their son. Normally, she handles that guy. In fact, she’s encouraged Shelby more than once to leave him. We all have. Yet, like most abused women, she refuses to listen. He seems to know how far to push her and when to back off and play the nice guy to reel her back in. I saw this situation so many times with my mother. It’s achingly familiar.
“How’d he get down here without a pass?” Michella’s disapproval is as palpable as mine. None of us like this dickwad.
“Where’s Shelby?” Muri surveys the area with concern.
“I think she’s still with Mr. B. He’s showing her the ropes as far as what he expects from her at home games. Dickwad will just have to wait.” I send my most penetrating glare in his direction, but the jerk only sneers. I debate whether or not to inform him that he must wait for Shelby elsewhere and decide maybe I’ve had enough drama for one night.
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“Tracy. Trace. Something like that.” Michella waves her hand in the air as if his name is of little importance.
Our little group disperses as the last of the players exit the locker room. Camden is either still inside, or I missed him during the Aria-Drakos drama. I consider what to do next. I could enter the locker room, but I’d hoped for this little talk to appear spontaneous, rather than planned.
The elevator dings, and Shelby appears. Mr. B isn’t with her. The hall is now deserted except for her, Dickwad, and me.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Dickwad roars as Shelby approaches him. She visibly shrinks in response to his fury. He grabs her arm and jerks her close to him.
“I’m sorry. Mr. Barlowe had?—”
“Mr. Fucking Barlowe. I’m fucking sick and tired of hearing about Mr. Barlowe this, Mr. Barlowe that. Blah. Blah. Blah. Are you sucking off that old goat? Is that how you got that job?”
Shelby makes herself smaller and stares at the floor. He gives her a shake.
“Don’t disrespect me. Look me in the eye. If I find out you’re cheating on me, you’ll pay for it.”
“I’m not.” She speaks in such a low tone I barely catch her response.
Before I know what I’m doing, I close the distance between us. I stop a few feet from this asshole. I straighten my shoulders and steel myself for another altercation. This one will be even more unpleasant. After gracing him with a scathing glare, I temper myself and look at Shelby.
“Are you okay? You don’t have to go home with this guy if you don’t want to.”
“I—I’m fine.” She won’t look me in the eye.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She raises her head and meets my gaze. I see annoyance and embarrassment reflected there. She doesn’t like me interfering, and she’s embarrassed by her husband’s behavior. I want to ask her if she’s safe, but doing so might set him off even more, and she’ll pay for it later.
“You have my number. If you need anything call me night or day. Understand?”
She nods yet moves closer to Dickwad, showing quite clearly that she’s picking him over her freedom and well-being. Frustrated, I long to do more, but I can’t if she won’t cooperate. But there is one thing I can do.
“Tracy, in the future, you’ll have to wait upstairs or in the parking garage.”
“The name is Trace. I’ll fucking wait where I want. She’s my wife. My property. Butt out.”
I step closer, even though I know I’m tempting fate. There’s no one around to rescue me if he goes too far. “She’s not your property. And you have no right to tell me to butt out regarding this team.” My fury is palpable, and he notices. For a brief moment, his bravado slips before he regains his courage.
He gives Shelby a push. “Wait in the car. Ms. Lewis and I have something to discuss—privately.”
Shelby looks from one of us to the other. She’s alarmed and most likely concerned, and rightfully so. She knows more than anyone how far this asshole is willing to go to prove his point.
I nod in her direction. “Go. I’ll handle this.”
“Trace, please, don’t make any trouble.”
“What do you think I am? An idiot?” His open hostility sends her scurrying off like a scared rabbit.
Trace and I are alone. I glance up and down the empty corridor and see no one. My purse is swung over one shoulder. I slip a hand inside and wrap my fingers around my mace.
“What do you have in there? A gun?”
I snort. “Hopefully you won’t find out.”
We size each other up. I can tell his brain is working overtime as he figures out his next move.
I’m ready for him.
I hope.