Chapter 9
9
DUNCAN
K nowing Miranda continued to sleep somewhere overhead narrowed my focus. I’d give my left leg for the right to run up the stairs and kiss her good morning. I’d made myself leave when Patrick and Charlie finished their breakfast, said goodbye to Austin and Samantha, and headed toward the front door.
We kept quiet the entire drive, through changing into our gear, and even as we skated onto the ice. Had I shot myself in the foot by partying with Miranda last night? We all did it. Memories of the late night spent with Miranda pummeled me into rushing past Patrick, out into the ice where I belonged. What kind of first impression had I made? Not a good one. How could I do that to myself when my reputation was already in the dirt? Easy. I’d never felt this way about a woman.
“Take it easy, Duncan.” Charlie yelled at my back, his own skates slashing the ice with a fury that matched mine.
My wicked attraction to Miranda needed to stop. Though I’d love to pursue the feelings beating up my heart with the kind of power I used to crush the opposition, I agreed with Charlie. It was a bad move to have sex with Miranda.
I swung my hockey stick, picking up a puck and smacking it toward Charlie. “Shut up and skate.”
The rest of the team filed onto the ice. I locked my jaw around all the emotions and buried them deep, using them to fuel every action. The puck I’d smacked whizzed past Charlie and into the goal. I swung my body into an arc, skating around the perimeter and flashing past Coach.
He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Head in the game, Duncan.”
I fisted my hands around the stick and concentrated. Out here, nothing mattered except the people in my way. We formed up teams, and I put my body to work. Ice sprayed. Bodies slammed into each other. I ducked beneath a wild shot that lifted the puck into the air and sent it flying toward the plexiglass that protected the bystanders.
“Cut the shit, Murphy.” Coach pounded on the glass. “Keep your head down, eyes on the puck. Do that again and you’ll eat ice for dinner.”
Murphy spun past me, his face red and sweaty beneath his helmet. I’d lost my capacity for sympathy a long time ago, but I smacked his back with a gloved hand to show I understood.
With Coach watching, and my ass on the line, I put my all into practice. Nothing mattered except showing him that he’d made the right decision to take me on. I’d never cared much about disappointing others, until now.
Sweat ran down my face despite the icy temperature. And by the time we ended practice, I’d skated harder than ever. Hard enough that my fingers ached from gripping the stick and I probably had a blister forming on my left foot from compensating as I leaned into the tight turns while trying to watch Patrick’s back as he practiced his slap shot.
Coach blew his whistle, the sound slicing through the air and stopping us in our tracks. “Good practice. Hit the showers.” I started to turn away, but the crook of Coach’s finger beckoned me closer. “Just a minute, Duncan.”
I tore off my helmet and gulped air while swiping a gloved hand over my face.
Coach met me at the edge of the rink where the rest of the team filed past on their way to the locker room.
“Sorry to hold you up again.”
I shrugged. “Not a problem.” It wasn’t too hard to smile at the man who’d given me a chance. “Least this way I get the best shower.”
He chuckled and smacked his chewing gum. “You did good today. Probably the best practice I’ve seen from you.”
I smirked and tested my luck. “Guess you might’ve made a brilliant decision giving me a chance, yeah?” As long as I behaved myself. No more little side quests like last night. No more spending time with Miranda outside of business. The thought resonated with warning of last night’s misstep with Miranda.
“Maybe so.” Coach clapped me on the back. “Miss Lake has asked to see you. She’s in her new office. Straight across the hall from mine.”
“Can I shower first?” I sank onto the bench and clipped my skate guards in place. “Or at least take off my gear?”
“Sure. Make it quick.” Coach headed between the benches, his long strides taking him around the corner and into the hallway within seconds.
I used the time alone to roll my head from side to side. Wearing the gear into Miranda’s office didn’t bother me. In fact, it might be a good idea. The more layers I wore, the less likely I’d be tempted to repeat last night’s activities. Decision made, I stood and clomped my way toward the underground corridor where all the offices, our locker room, and the storage room were tucked away.
My heart rose into my throat, my stomach tangling itself into knots. What was this feeling? My steps echoed along the empty space.
Miranda stepped out of her office and leaned against the narrow frame with her arms crossed. She wore another sleek pantsuit, blue this time, and she’d twisted her hair into some kind of complicated braid. She smiled, alleviating the bite of fear that strangled my pulse. “Hello, Duncan.”
“Miss Lake.” I dipped my head in a smooth nod. “Coach said you wanted to see me.” There was a question in my words that she answered with a soft smile.
“It’s nothing bad.” She motioned me into the room ahead of her. “The chair won’t be very comfortable with you in your gear. Feel free to stand.” She rounded the edge of the room, keeping her distance from me and stepping behind the desk. With the solid piece of furniture between us, she put her palms on the glass top and leaned her weight into her palms. “How are you feeling about our discussion yesterday?” The surprising gentleness in her tone and the softness in her eyes removed the last of my tension.
“Good.” I removed my gloves and bent to take off my skates.
Coach had given her a small space that barely held the desk, a single filing cabinet, and three chairs. A cardboard box sat in the corner, the edge of a picture frame poking out the top. I recognized her and Austin, though the city skyline behind them remained unfamiliar.
“Any concerns?” She kept her distance, but I felt her gaze on me and raised my head to meet her eyes. The slate gray transformed to molten silver in an instant, reminding me of how she’d looked up at me last night in the throes of passion.
“I’m sorry for what happened last night.” The words rushed out of me. “I know my behavior needs to stop. That. Last night.” I ducked my head. “It won’t happen again.”
“I appreciate that, Duncan.” She cut my name into two sharp syllables that I expected to hold censure but were wrapped up in gentleness. “We all got a little carried away.” A bright smile illuminated her eyes. “Considering it didn’t end in a bar brawl, I think we can call it a success.”
“Really?” I tipped my head, watching her expression closely.
“Of course.” Her arms locked over her stomach again, and she perched on the edge of the desk. “We’ll keep it between us. How’s that sound? Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”
“I thought that was exactly what we were doing.” I held up a hand. “Not what I meant. Changing my reputation. Making me more presentable to the US populace.”
“Well said.” She stood and paced, her steps quick and short in the small office. “I’m not trying to change you, Duncan. You understand that, right? People love a morally gray character in books, and a bad boy in real life. But we have to be careful how we curate your image going forward.”
“I understand.” And I did. I came from a different country, and I had to assimilate to what that meant. “I’m on board with whatever you need me to do. Just keep me in the game. I’m grateful for your help.” I meant it. Coach would not keep putting up with my antics. I had to change, to do whatever it took to keep skates on my feet and a stick in my hands. I lived for hockey, had since I put on my first pair of skates. Losing it was like losing my identity. At thirty-one years old, my days on a professional team were drawing to a close. I’d already outskated the careers of all the men I started with. No way I’d let myself get thrown out of the game on a technicality.
“Stick with me.” She thumbed her chest. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m counting on it.” I tucked my gloves under my left elbow and clamped them against my ribs.
“We’ll get started soon, but I wanted to check with you this morning to make sure we were still on the same page.” A strand of dark hair escaped her braid and trailed across her cheek.
I remembered the feel of it between my hands, the way the silky strands haloed around her head on the couch.
“To be perfectly clear, our relationship will remain platonic. We work together. Nothing more.” Her words snapped me from my reverie.
I had no choice but to agree. “Absolutely.” I held out a hand.
Small, delicate fingers snagged on the roughened calluses that dimpled my palms. The touch sparked deep inside me, fighting against the cage where I stored my feelings, slamming a battering ram against the bars in a desperate attempt to gain freedom. My fingers curled around hers, and her breathing hitched. We remained locked in that hold far longer than a handshake, my head and my heart battling for dominance. The urge to kiss her bombarded me, to feel her lips on mine and enjoy the way she melted with a touch.