Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
ADDIE
My first official week as an NHL coach coincides with my last. Never would have seen that coming.
When Jarred Kane arrives, his excitement over being called up, especially over Dirk, is something to behold.
JJ immediately takes him under his wing.
They’re together constantly, talking strategy, running plays, watching tape.
JJ works out with him. Prepares him. It’s impressive and I appreciate it.
Until I sign my deal, I’m not telling a soul, including JJ.
But I can’t lie to him, so I avoid instead.
If we’re not preparing for a game or playing, I spend most of my time in the gym.
Fortunately, since I’ve been training with the guys during practice already, it’s not tough to slip back into my regular routine.
Still, this is the NHL, and I don’t just want to play, I want to dominate.
So despite how late we got in from D.C. last night, I’m up early to use our home gym. It’s in the basement and has every piece of fitness equipment imaginable. My favorite part, though, is the long-mirrored wall and cushioned rubber floor. It’s perfect for yoga.
I’m just settling in to stretch when my phone pings. Normally I ignore it while working out, but since I haven’t officially started, I swipe it up.
Savannah: Happy Sunday. Can’t wait to see you at the game tonight. Invite Scott!
I sigh. I have zero interest in inviting the man I went on one date with to an event where my entire family and basically everyone I’ve ever met will be. Theo James does nothing without a show. Even if the cowboy boots and hat aren’t an act.
Growing up, Theo spent as much time with the horses on his dad’s property in Bristol, Rhode Island, as he did playing football.
And once he was drafted by Tennessee six years ago, he went all in.
There’s not an ounce of city boy left in him.
But he doesn’t need to be so loud about it.
Though I can appreciate his love for his sport.
And coming home to play in Boston for the night means he wants everyone he knows to come watch.
I’m pretty sure my father bought about 25 percent of the seats in the stadium. That’s about what it takes to fit all our family members—blood-related and otherwise.
It’s weird, really. Yes, my dad is over-the-top in all aspects, but he’s never really been into football. Then again, since Brooks’s sons play, he has taken more of an interest.
And he loves all his friends’ kids, and that includes Theo.
I tap the link Savannah sent, and when it opens to the next installment of the New Romantics article, which includes quotes from both Scott and me about our first date, I try not to wince.
He called me beautiful. Funny. Engaging.
And kind. I was definitely not kind when I snuck into a closet and got carried away with my…
uh, how would I even describe JJ? He’s not my ex.
That is so…well, it doesn’t encapsulate who he is to me.
Besides, we barely dated. Actually, we didn’t date at all.
We were best friends. We were teammates.
And for one perfect night, he was mine and I was his.
How does one sum that up?
“What are you reading?”
With a shriek, I drop my phone.
Chuckling, JJ saunters closer. “To be fair, I said hi when I came down. You were just so invested in whatever you were looking at.”
I huff, trying to ignore the very large, very fit man above me. He’s wearing a shirt with the sleeves torn off. The fabric is ragged, like his biceps didn’t fit into it, so the sleeves evaporated to make it easier for him to move.
More likely, he cut them so he could show off his muscles.
Either way, I’m irritated. I find myself feeling that way a lot around him.
Being in his presence is like being near chocolate when I’m on my period.
I want all of the chocolate, but I know I’ll feel worse if I have the chocolate, so instead I just drool and get hangry.
That’s what I am right now. I’m hangry for JJ freaking Hanson.
I pick up my phone, but before I can turn it off, his eyes are locked on it.
The picture above the article is one of Scott and me.
I’ve got to hand it to Savannah, her camera crew is good.
It was taken the moment I placed my palm on his chest to push him back, but the photographer made it look like I’m about to kiss Scott rather than stop him from kissing me.
A rumble rolls out of JJ, and when I tip my head up, I’m treated to a view of his throat flexing as he growls. The dusting of dark hair across his chin makes him seem gruffer. A little possessive. Dangerous. It’s…annoyingly hot.
“You were there. Nothing happened,” I remind him.
He steps in, lowering his head, his mouth an inch from mine.
I suck in a breath and lick my lips. I swear I can taste his minty mouthwash.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he says, voice rough, the sound dragging between us.
“No, I guess you don’t,” I say. I’m actually not sure what the fuck I’m even saying. All I can do is stare at his lips.
JJ drags his tongue slowly across the top of his lips before swiping against his bottom.
Before I can stop myself, I whimper. I goddamn whimper.
He smirks.
Asshole.
With both hands, I push him away by his shoulders.
He stumbles back, laughing. “Jesus, Adeline, I forgot how vicious you could be.”
I grin at him in the mirror as I lower myself to the cushioned floor. “Happy to remind you.”
“What are you doing in here anyway?” he asks, settling beside me.
I don’t turn to face him, choosing to engage with him through the mirror. “Yoga.”
“All right, I’m game.”
I blow a frustrated breath, making that childish flappy sound. “JJ,” I whine.
He chuckles. “Yes?”
“I was hoping to work out by myself.”
He shakes his head, his eyes sparkling. “Too bad. You are my coach, aren’t you?”
I glare at him.
He grins. “So teach me, Coach, I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”
The space between my legs tightens in response. Dammit. I glare down at the offending body part. Traitorous hussy. She’s been hanging out with Josie and Savannah too much lately.
Head dropping back, JJ lets out a laugh that ricochets around the room. “Did you just tell your pussy to stand down?”
“JJ.” I hiss between my teeth. “You can’t talk like that to me.”
Focus fixed on my reflection, he pinches his thumb and index finger and drags them across his lips like he’s zipping them. Then he pretends to throw away a key. All the while, his eyes dance with amusement. Shit. I can practically hear him promising to be a good boy again.
And dammit, I grin. Thank god I’m only his coach for a little while longer. This is fucking torture.
While JJ’s in the shower, I sneak out of the house and head to Langfield Corp, where I’m set to meet with the GM.
The Bolts’ general manager also happens to be my uncle. Noah married my dad’s sister Sienna when I was young. He also played for the Bolts back then, and he might be the most down-to-earth of my uncles.
“We’ve talked to Sidney.”
I’m seated across from him at his desk with Brooks on my left and Gavin on my right. Like this, I feel like I’m part of the mafia.
“How’s he doing?” I ask. We’ve been traveling, so I haven’t had a chance to visit him.
Noah frowns. “He’s unlikely to come back this season. That means he’ll be on the LTIR, which gives us room in the cap to negotiate. You should have your agent review our offer.” He slides a piece of paper across the desk.
I stare at it, awkwardness taking over. “Uncle Noah—”
“In here,” he says, scanning the office that once belonged to my father, “I’m only your GM. I can’t look out for you like I would if you were going to play with any other team, Adeline. My loyalty is to the Bolts.”
“Mine isn’t.” Brooks heaves himself forward and snatches the paper from the desk.
Gavin groans. “We shouldn’t be in here.”
“Oh, will you stop it?” I say to them. “Whatever you offer, I’m sure it’ll be fair. I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’d play for my PWHL salary.”
Noah coughs. “Adeline, we’re offering you more than the PWHL has in their annual salary cap.”
Eyes bugging out, I tug the paper out of Brooks’s hands. “Two million dollars?” I gasp. “You’re offering me two million dollars to suit up as goalie for my favorite team?”
Brooks sighs and tilts my way. “Ask for two point five.”
“Three,” Gavin demands.
Noah rolls his neck and pulls the black frames from his face, then squeezes his eyes shut.
I can’t imagine how exhausting it is to work with the Langfield brothers like this. Every one of them is a master at steamrolling. Then again, he can probably handle it. He married their baby sister, and Sienna is definitely not a pushover.
“Like I said,” he grinds out, “I think an agent would be a good resource right now.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Three sounds good to me.”
Noah laughs. “I didn’t offer three.”
The men on either side of me glare. One pair of green eyes and one pair of brown narrow on him.
Shifting closer, he takes the paper from me and crosses off the two.
In one quick movement, he draws a big three, then pushes the sheet back at me.
“Fine. Three million dollars for one season. We can only offer you a one-year contract for now. We still have two goalies under contract for next year, both with very high salaries.” He zeroes in on Gavin when he says it.
Gavin just glowers back.
“How much does JJ make?” I ask Brooks.
He smirks. “Thatta girl.”
I laugh. “I’m not asking because I expect to make the same.”
“Why not?” Gavin prods. “You telling me he’s better than you?”
My natural instinct is to say yes, but that’s not true. He may be more experienced in the NHL, but better? That remains to be seen, I suppose.
“JJ makes more than Sidney. We don’t have the cap to match their salaries,” Noah explains.
Gavin grunts. “Make room.”
I shake my head. “Three million is good. Grand, actually. I was making forty-five thousand in the PWHL.”
Brooks drops his head back and growls. “Motherfuckers. Does Beckett know that?”
Gavin yanks out his phone. “I’m texting him now.”
“Guys,” I grit out.
All three look at me.
“He can’t change the cap in the PWHL.”
All three let out incredulous noises.
“Have you met your father?” Brooks asks.
Eyes falling shut, I sigh. They’re right. Where there’s a will, Beckett Langfield will find a way. And in this case, it isn’t a bad thing. Female players deserve more, and if getting my father hot under the collar gets that done, then that’s better for everyone, I suppose.
“Can I sign now?” I ask, my knee bouncing. I want to make this official before they take it back.
Noah straightens. “Are you sure you don’t want to have your agent look this over?”
“I trust you guys.” I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
“Still, the boss will want this all done in a press conference. This is a big moment,” he reminds me. “You’re the first female goalie ever in the NHL.”
“The boss, as in his wife.” I hitch a thumb at Brooks.
Brooks shakes his head, the look on his face half exasperation and half affection.
It’s the look he most often wears when Aunt Sara is involved.
“She’ll be pissed if we don’t make it happen.
And I don’t want to hear about it. Take the contract home.
Share it with your agent. Negotiate if you must, and then we’ll schedule the presser. ”
“Ugh, you sound like such a suit,” I tease him.
He groans. “I know. But don’t worry, I’ll kick your ass during practice this week.”
A thrill courses through me. “I can’t wait.”