Chapter 8
Zoe
“I brought muffins! Meet me over by the bleachers.”
That sent the Puffins players scrambling across the ice, their energy suddenly renewed, even though they’d just played one hell of a season opener. Their parents awaited them at the exit of the rink, applauding and cheering for their win.
The pride had to be written all over my face, because my body was buzzing with it.
That magical feeling when all the hard work pays off.
The kids had given it their all—they’d given me their all—and I was beyond honored to be their coach.
I could see why Uncle Cal had coached for so long and been so reluctant to give it up.
This was a feeling I could definitely get used to.
I grabbed my bag and followed after the team at a more leisurely pace.
While my boots had decent traction, I didn’t fully relax until I’d safely made it out of the rink and onto the concrete.
A few parents stopped me to congratulate me as well, which just warmed my heart even further.
It had been no secret that many of the parents were skeptical of me being the new coach—some more than others—but I liked to think that I was proving to them just how capable I was.
I’d barely set my bag down to retrieve the Tupperware of chocolate-banana muffins I’d made last night before I was swarmed once more by the kids.
The muffins were packed full of protein with Greek yogurt, oats, and eggs.
Add in a little potassium to help avoid muscle cramps, and they were the perfect postgame treat. And what kid didn’t love a muffin?
“Thank you, Coach Zo!”
“Ooh! Muffins!”
“Chocolate? Yes!”
I made sure every player had one before I addressed their families. “I made plenty, so feel free to grab one if you’d like.”
The players’ siblings didn’t hesitate to snag one, and a few parents ambled over, murmuring thank yous when I handed them a muffin as well.
“There aren’t any pickles in them, are there?”
I looked up to see the amber eyes of Jeremiah, and my stomach did a little flip at the sight of his crooked grin.
“No.” I laughed softly, shaking my head. “No pickles. I get that not everyone is a fan.”
I handed him a muffin and bit the inside of my cheek when his fingers brushed against mine.
Ever since the hockey game and our awkward Kiss Cam experience, I’d caught myself wondering what it would be like to actually kiss him.
And that was one hundred percent not a thought I should be having about one of my kids’ parents.
Even if he was single.
And had this endearing, gentle giant thing going for him.
And was sexy when he got competitive.
But no. He’d lost his wife not even five years ago. Dating was probably the last thing on his mind, especially with Charlie. She was his priority.
Jeremiah peeled back the wrapper and popped the entire muffin into his mouth.
I watched as his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down his thick throat.
The soft moan that left him had my cheeks burning.
God, he was not making this easy. I averted my gaze and tugged down on the brim of my hat in a feeble attempt to hide my blush.
“Cupcakes, muffins…” he listed. “Is there anything you can’t make?”
“Uh, macarons,” I answered, snapping the lid back onto the Tupperware. “They are extremely picky. Measurements, oven temp, humidity. Anything slightly off, and they’re messed up.”
With no other choice, I returned the empty container to my bag and then turned to face him, strictly keeping my eyes on his. Damn it, he had such beautiful eyes. The color of golden honey.
“Coach Zo.” Keira’s mom, Jane, joined us. “Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?”
Jeremiah turned his charming smile on her. “Not at all. We were just talking about how good her muffins are.”
His eyes widened at the inadvertent innuendo, and I hid a snort behind my hand, disguising it as a cough.
“Daddy, help!” Charlie cried out behind us. “My braid is stuck in the Velcro!”
Saved by Charlie. Again.
“Excuse me.” He sent us each one more smile before darting off to help get Charlie out of her pads.
If Jane noticed his embarrassment, she didn’t give any sign, instead diving into her original reason for approaching me.
“I just wanted to say thank you. Keira adores you, and she’s grown so much in the last month under your coaching. It means a lot to have a female coach.”
She smiled warmly at me and I feared that my cheeks may end up permanently pink.
“Maybe I would have stuck with hockey as a kid if I’d had role models like you to look up to,” she said.
“You played hockey?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it was nothing. Mostly pond hockey with my brothers and their friends.”
“Pond hockey players are still hockey players,” I insisted. “Do you still play with Keira?”
“When we visit my parents, yes. She’ll get me out there on the ice.” She let out a wistful sigh. “I’ll admit, I miss it. If there was any opportunity for me to play now, I’d take it.”
“There’s rec leagues, isn’t there?”
“Yes, but they only offer co-ed teams. I don’t need a big guy whining at me, because I checked him into the boards too hard. I’d rather be in a women’s league where they can give it right back, you know?” She winked at me.
I laughed with her, but the gears were already turning in my head. We chatted a little longer about her experiences trying to find a place to play before Keira and her father joined us.
“I think these two are ready to get home.” Jane reached out to place her hand on my arm. “It was so lovely getting to talk to you.”
“You, too! It’s always nice to connect with another female player. Pond hockey or not,” I said, my smile warm.
They all waved goodbye, and a quick glance around showed that they were the last of the Puffins team to leave. Except Charlie and Jeremiah.
Even though Charlie had been stripped out of her gear and it’d been packed away, they’d settled in to watch the next game. It looked to be two of the fourteen-and-under teams. Jeremiah looked up and smiled as I slid onto the bleachers next to him.
“Sooo… I might have a kind of crazy idea,” I said.
His brows lifted just a hint, and I took that as my green light.
“Have you ever considered starting a women’s rec league?”
Now his eyebrows pinched together. “I’d thought of having rec leagues here, but”—he waved his hand around—“practically every rink in Denver has them.”
“But they don’t have women’s leagues.”
His mouth opened and closed.
I continued on. “Keira’s mom was just talking to me about how the only way she can play rec is on a co-ed team. And these co-ed teams have these stupid”—I glanced at Charlie—“I mean, ridiculous rules. Like requiring a woman to touch the puck before it can be scored.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Charlie commented from Jeremiah’s other side.
Jeremiah smiled affectionately down at her as he draped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her to his side. “You’re right, Tot. It doesn’t.”
He pursed his lips as he stared off at the game in front of us, but I could tell he was rolling the idea around in his head.
“If I do start one, would you help me?”
I wanted to say yes, but the logical part of my brain kicked in. If I was going to be able to make payments on my medical bill and also afford the basic costs of living, I needed to spend what free time I did have finding ways to make money. Possibly another part-time job.
“I’d love to, but I… I don’t really have the time.”
“I’d pay you.”
My mouth dropped in shock. Had he read my mind?
“If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it properly.
Which means I need the guidance of a female hockey player to make sure this league is one where women feel comfortable and seen.
” He glanced down at Charlie, and she grinned up at him.
Then he looked back at me. “Your input would be invaluable, Zoe. And it was your idea to begin with. You deserve the credit.”
I still didn’t know what to say. I’d taken the coaching position because Uncle Cal had asked me to, and I could never say no to him.
The fact that it paid, even just a little, was also a factor.
But if I was being honest with myself, it was because it gave me the opportunity to dip my toes back into the hockey world with the safety net of being a coach and not a player.
Helping Jeremiah plan and run a women’s hockey league would be another step. I’d be providing an opportunity for women like me who still wanted to strap on a pair of skates and sink a puck into the net every now and then. And I would get paid, too.
“I’ll do it.”
His face brightened, and he graced me with that beautiful smile of his that reached all the way up to his eyes. That’s when it hit me: I had just agreed to spend more time around a man that I was becoming increasingly attracted to and shouldn’t be.