Chapter 41
March
Winter bleeds away. And on an ice rink somewhere outside Vancouver, I watch Chase stumble through one of our snazzier footwork passages. “That was almost it!” I cheer, shutting off the music. “So close!”
He looks less enthused. “This is what you get when you make me skate before I’ve had coffee.”
“Uh-huh. If you’d gotten up earlier, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” I point out.
Chase gives me a guilty smile, reminding me why he didn’t get out of his hotel bed earlier.
Yesterday, I flew out here to watch a junior hockey showcase, joining the team in the middle of their West Coast road trip.
As soon as I landed, Chase informed me that veteran players don’t have roommates at the team hotel.
So, with Darcy snickering at me, I slipped out of our shared room just after curfew and snuck upstairs to sleep with Chase in his king-sized bed.
Or, well, sleep isn’t exactly the right word for it. Which might be why he’s a little tired right now. Caffeine has been critical for both of us these past few weeks, as we make up for lost time together.
In the cool light of morning, though, I’m all business. I had to ask Coach Fairweather’s permission for this ice time, and I don’t want to waste it.
Which brings us back to Chase’s footwork failures. The passage is a series of side-by-side chassés and rocker turns. It’s not that complicated, it’s not dangerous, and I know he can do it. “Come on. Twice more and you’ll have it.”
“Fine, fine.” He gestures tiredly toward my phone. “Rewind the music.”
I cue up the right section, and we join hands at center ice. This time he nails the footwork, and we advance to my toe loop combination. Since Chase isn’t allowed to jump, he takes a couple of simple turns instead. We hit it in sync, and I land cleanly.
Suddenly there’s a cheer from the bench—other players arriving early for practice.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Ignore them.” He shrugs. “Let’s go once more and link it to the death spiral.”
“Just don’t drop me, or you’ll never live it down.”
“I would never.” He grins.
I restart the music and take his hand, which makes the bench snicker. Ignoring them, we pick up speed and then segue into the footwork. The whoops and hollers from the bench grow louder as we twirl in unison.
After I land my jumps, Chase beckons with a little smile that makes my heart flutter.
His expression says We got this. I take his hand again and ease into the death spiral, leaning back into a one-footed position, trusting him to hold me off the surface as I lean way back, carving an arc across the ice.
“Holy shit! Be careful, Coach Carson!” someone shouts from the bench. “Don’t fumble, Merry!”
But he doesn’t, and when I rise at the end of the death spiral, the cheering is loud. “Okay, boys! Who else wants a turn?” I call.
There aren’t any takers. And as we leave the ice, the hockey players glide out to warm up. Chase and I sit down on the bench side by side and unlace our skates. “Come over later?” he asks under his breath.
“You bet,” I whisper. “I have costume options to show you.”
He laughs. “Do they sparkle?”
“Like Vegas after dark,” I tease. “Want me to find you a cup of coffee for real?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “That was just some gratuitous whining. Go write up your scouting reports. See you at lunch?”
“You know it.” Chase glides off in his hockey skates a couple of minutes later before I break down and kiss him goodbye. But that’s a good thing. Chase’s secret girlfriend has to be careful.
On one hand, being with him is so easy again. Every time I walk into a room where he is, I feel happy. But secrecy is tricky, and I’m not sure I’m good at it.
Meanwhile, the uncertainty of where we’ll both be next year is weighing on me.
My rapport with the Legends is on an upswing, and I’m desperate for Mr. Sharp to notice.
Every player on the roster has spent time with me, some of them frequently.
I’ve even got Moreau skating better. But the clock is winding down on the season, and Sharp hasn’t said a peep about extending my contract.
Which makes me think he’s interviewing other candidates.
Don’t think about it, I remind myself. It’s just that I’m so damn good at worrying.
My scouting reports are complete by early afternoon. So I print them out in the hotel’s business center, then text Darcy to ask where I can find Mr. Sharp.
She directs me to the twelfth floor, where Sharp is renting a conference room.
I find her seated at a makeshift command post outside.
Her laptop, phone, and files are spread out on a small desk.
“Perfect timing,” she whispers when she spots me.
“My bladder is about to burst. Could you watch my stuff for literally two minutes? Sharp’s on a call. ”
“Sure.” I slide into her vacant chair as she darts off.
The conference room door is ajar, and I can hear Sharp’s voice droning on to someone about various roster options.
“… Yeah, I know. The goalies in Manitoba are hot garbage. Don’t waste my time with Larsson—I wouldn’t take a blow job from him, let alone a player.
Now Koszlowski… the kid’s quick but needs seasoning. Maybe in two years…”
I feel sorry for whoever is on the other end of that call.
“… Yeah, let’s go over that. Hang on, let me check something. DARCY! YOU THERE?”
I freeze. If I announce myself, Sharp will rope me into a bullshit task. But if I stay quiet, Darcy might get in trouble for leaving her post.
Before I can decide what to do, he returns to his call.
“Okay, I gotta talk fast. The Merritt deal isn’t signed yet.
He’s dragging his feet, because Montreal is showing him fuck me eyes.
And I can’t afford to sweeten again—not if I want to manage the budget, yeah?
But don’t panic—I got a sweet little trick up my sleeve.
Won’t cost us a penny in salary cap. Dude is definitely coming back. ”
A sweet little trick?
“Everything okay?” Darcy whispers, appearing beside me.
“Uh, yup!” I spring out of her chair. Then I thrust my report in her direction. “Do you mind giving these to him? I don’t feel like waiting.”
“Sure!” She takes the folder. “Coffee later?”
“You bet!” I say, already backing away from the desk. My mind is racing with what I just heard.
A sweet little trick. Knowing Sharp, it’s something evil.
I spend the rest of the day—including during the four p.m. game—worrying about what I overheard. Even while Darcy and I cheer from the hotel lounge, with its giant TV screen and tasty snacks, I feel anxious.
The problem is that I don’t really know much about player contracts. There are various ways to entice players to sign, like no-trade clauses and bonus money. So it’s possible that Sharp’s “sweet little trick” is something normal and not at all shady. Maybe I’m overreacting.
When the players return to the hotel, it’s only eight p.m. I can’t wait to show Chase the purchases I’ve made with Veena’s costume budget.
I hope he doesn’t hate them all on sight.
Zoe: Tell me when the coast is clear so I can come upstairs.
Chase: Why aren’t you here already? Checking out the room service menu now.
Of course he is.
Five minutes later, I ride the elevator up to the tenth floor. When the doors part, I step out and look in both directions.
Phew. No hockey players.
I start down the long hallway, but then a door opens and DeLuca steps out. “Hey, Zoe! What’s shaking?”
“I’m…” A terrible liar. “Looking for the ice machine?”
He smirks. Then he looks me up and down, taking in my gym bag. “That so? Where’s your ice bucket?”
“Um… I don’t need ice yet, but I might later.”
He just laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “Tell Chase he owes me fifty bucks from poker night, okay?”
“If I see him,” I agree, and he walks off shaking his head.
Great. If Sharp doesn’t give me a contract, I can only blame myself. I obviously have the poker face of a Doberman watching someone unwrap a sandwich.
I knock on 1010, and Chase opens the door immediately. “Why, look who it is!”
You’d think I’d be used to seeing him by now, but I light up inside every time. “Hi, handsome.”
He winks. “Bess is here,” he says as he ushers me in.
“Oh.” Oops. I give her a quick wave. “Hey, Bess. I was just stopping by with, um, some costume choices. Should I come back later?”
She rolls her eyes in much the same way that DeLuca did a minute ago. “Sure, buddy. If you want. But if you’re trying to keep your thing with Chase a secret, better ask him to tone down the joy a little. Anyone can track to the hour when you guys started dating again. Anyone with eyes.”
I sigh.
Chase shrugs, then kisses me on the cheekbone. “Sit down. Bess was just telling me about Sharp’s latest offer.”
I tense immediately. “Is it bad?”
“It’s not bad,” she says thoughtfully. “But I thought he would’ve come up more than this already. And I’m starting to think this might be his real price point.”
Chase rubs his chin. “We know of at least two other players in negotiations. And it’s a zero-sum game. Any dollar he gives me, he can’t spend on someone else.”
“He should spend them all on you,” I say grumpily.
Bess grins. “Agreed, except we don’t want Merritt out there playing the whole game by himself.
So he’ll have to think hard about what he wants.
” She gets up and squeezes him on the shoulder.
“Money. Lifestyle. Stability. You mull it over, and it probably makes sense to see what Montreal offers this summer.”
“Got it, Bess,” he says, not looking too worried. “Now let’s see these costumes.”
“Ooh, text me with the winner?” she says. “I’m on my way out to dinner with one of my Vancouver clients, where I will casually suggest that trash-talking referees on Xitter is not a great life strategy.”
“Ouch.” Chase winces. “Bye, Bessie!”
“Bye, kids! Make good choices!”
The moment the door closes on Bess, Chase tackles me to the bed, and I let out a little shriek. “God, warn a girl.”
“But I missed you!” he says, kissing my neck. “Did you see me eat it in the third period?”
“Yes, but it didn’t look like a hard fall. Was I wrong?”
“No, but my first thought was I hope Zoe didn’t see that.
” He rolls on top of me and grins down with playful eyes.
“It’s embarrassing to go down on your knees when you’re dating the skating coach.
Unless, of course, I’ve got a good reason to be on my knees.
” Then he makes a meow sound that causes me to snort-laugh.
Someday I might be cool. Today is not that day.
I push him off me. “Let’s look at costumes. I’m nervous that you’ll hate all my ideas, and we’re running out of time.” The jamboree is two weeks away.
“All right.” He sits up. “Let’s do this. Am I trying stuff on?”
“Of course. Drop those pants.”
“Oh, baby.” He reaches for his belt.
I pull a pair of stretchy, skinny black jeans out of my bag. “These are from a discount store, and the fabric is super cheap and thin. But they’ll move with you. And, well…” I hesitate.
“What?” he says, taking them from me.
“They’ll stick to you like a bad tattoo. The women of New York will enjoy them.”
He laughs, low and warm, and steps into the pants. “Wow, stretchy. Like a sausage casing.” He zips them up and turns around theatrically. “What do you think? They’re actually comfortable, if that matters.”
“Of course it matters! You have to be able to move,” I say.
“I can definitely move in these,” Chase replies, shaking his ass to prove it. “Do they look ridiculous?”
“Actually, they don’t. They look great.” With his body, though?
Find me some pants that wouldn’t. “Let’s move on to the more controversial choices.
I went in a couple of different directions here,” I say, reaching into the shopping bag.
The first shirt I pull out is the least interesting—a collared shirt in a blue stretch blend.
“This one is pretty traditional, but it will look great with your eyes.”
He pulls the shirt on but doesn’t button it. He paces over to a mirror on the bathroom door. “What will you be wearing? I need the whole picture.”
“A little black dress kind of thing,” I say with a shrug. “This combo would be our cocktail hour look. It’s a little basic, but classy.”
“Nice fit,” he says before taking it off. “It’s like you know me. Let’s see what else you’ve got in that bag.”
I reach in for choice number two—a silver shirt in a blend of silk and poly. “This one is a little more… disco. I think you’d unbutton an extra button at the chest,” I add, handing it over. “But I’m a little worried about the soft collar flopping around while you skate.”
“Agreed,” Chase says, trying it on. He studies his reflection, his face neutral. “Is that it?”
“Nope,” I reply, grinning. “There’s one more. And honestly, it’s my favorite.” I pull out what is effectively a tight short-sleeve T-shirt in the Legends’ signature blue. But it also has a shimmer to it that would definitely catch some comments on social media.
“Hmm,” he murmurs, running a hand over the fabric. “Interesting.”
“Just do me a favor and try it on before you judge it,” I say, practically pleading.
He takes it from me with a raised brow, and I can’t help but smile as he tugs it over his head. I watch as the slinky fabric skims over his six-pack, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
I let out a low whistle. “Swear to God a lot of Legends fans will be questioning their sexuality if you choose this one. But I realize it’s a little much.” The effect, with those tight jeans, makes my mouth water. When he turns toward the mirror, the fabric shimmers.
Chase takes a thorough look at himself in the mirror. He raises his arms and then widens them into a classic skating stance—hands outstretched, pecs taut. “It’s kind of… James Dean does Vegas.”
“Agreed.”
He turns back to me and puts his hands on his trim hips, and the movement rearranges his muscles in yet another flattering combination. “Let’s make a deal. If I wear this one, you’ll wear a tiny skating dress, which I get to peel off you afterward.”
I laugh. “Okay? You look so hot right now. That’s hardly a compromise. But if you’re going to hate the comments people leave about that shirt, it’s okay to choose another one.”
He walks over and sits down on the bed, studying me. “Screw the comments, Zoe. We agreed to put on a show for Steve. So let’s put on a motherfucking show. Let’s break the internet with a hockey player in a shiny shirt. No half measures.”
“Okay,” I whisper, serious now. “This is exactly why I love you, by the way. No half measures.”
He smiles suddenly, and it’s like the sun coming out. “Awesome. Now help me figure out the tackiest pose I can do right now, so we can make Bess laugh.”
“Um…” I think for a second. “There’s a flower arrangement by the elevator. How about a rose between your teeth?”
He snaps his fingers. “Genius! Let’s do it.”