Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
MACKENZIE
My cheek throbs as I stare into the eyes of the only fully dressed man in the locker room. And yes, I’m going to have to work very, very hard to block out the memories of those naked balls swinging dangerously close to my face.
This was not how I was planning to introduce myself to the team.
I’d read the roster as soon as I came in. Pre-season practice is supposed to start at ten. It’s seven-thirty. Nobody should be here to witness my self-guided tour of the arena.
And nobody should be here to swing their undercarriages in my face.
“It’s funny,” Mr. Fully-Dressed says, running his thumb along his darkly bearded jaw. “Because turning the team around is my job.”
“And who are you?” I ask him, ignoring the pain in my cheek. My eyes hurt, too, especially when I try to narrow them.
The naked player sniggers. I’d forgotten just how sculpted hockey players were. I look at the man in front of me, wondering if beneath his sweats and black t-shirt he has the same kind of physique.
And then I look away because hello! Who cares? Not me.
Not one bit. Nope, not even when I can see every ridge of his chest through the fabric of his t-shirt.
“Eli Salinger,” Fully-dressed says. “Head coach.”
“Great.” I force a smile. “I’d like to talk to you later. Say four o’clock in my office?”
“Where is your office, exactly?” he murmurs.
“In the administration block.” Or at least I think that’s where it is. I only dropped my things off before I came down here to explore the arena. “If you come up at four I’ll be there to meet you.”
“I’m not available at four.”
So it’s going to be like this. I expected resistance. It happens with every project. But usually I’m more resilient. Kinder, maybe.
This time I’m feeling annoyed. And it’s not this guy’s fault. He didn’t ask for me to come here the same way I don’t want to be here. But we’re going to have to work together, anyway.
“Three?” I suggest.
“Six,” he counters, like we’re bidding in an auction. “I’ll be back at the rink by then.”
I’m going to be dead on my feet by six. But I don’t want to finish my first day without speaking to everybody on the staff. And if he’s doing a power play here, I’m going to win.
“That’s fine.” I nod.
“Okay then. And can I ask a favor of you?” he says, his voice laid back and easy now that he’s taken control. He has that same casual confidence my brothers have. Maybe all hockey players have it. Wherever it comes from, it makes me bristle.
“Go ahead.”
“Don’t come into the locker room without knocking. No matter what time it is. It’s bad for the team.”
I swallow hard because he’s got me there. “I won’t.”
He winks and I feel the effects somewhere near the base of my stomach.
Okay, lower down than that.
Deciding now might be a good time to leave, I give him a nod then force my eyes over to the two team members I’ve kind of bonded with in the most ghoulish way. They wave at me as I leave. Or at least attempt to leave. The stupid door won’t move at all now.
I think it hates me.
I go to tug at it again but then I feel the warmth of a body behind me. Eli reaches around my waist, his arm brushing mine and I feel the steel of his bicep as he curls his fingers around mine on the handle.
“It’s a little temperamental,” he says softly, his breath warm against my ear. Then he pulls and it opens with ease. He’s steps to the side, and I have to remind myself to move.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“No problem.” There’s a smile in his voice. I don’t look back as I walk through. I’m halfway up the corridor when I hear sudden laughter followed by a sharp reprimand.
When I get to my new office, which is actually Gramps’ office and is absolutely covered with papers, trophies, and even some takeout cartons that give me no clue as to how long they’ve been here, I slump in his comfortable leather chair and let my head fall into my hands.
I can’t believe I walked in on two naked players. I have to work with these people. I have to make them believe in me, in the changes I want to make. I have to look them in the eye without remembering how their dicks wobble when they’re leaning over me.
I give myself one minute to internally scream, then I take a deep breath and stand up again, determined to get this room tidy so that I can actually think about how we can find the money to pay the IRS.
Because the sooner I do that, the sooner I’ll be back in New York, working in shiny lovely offices and not a hellhole like this.
And right now that’s the only thing that’s keeping me going.
ELI
“She’s kind of hot, that management woman,” Goran says as we walk across the blacktop to my car.
We’ve just spent two hours teaching kids with disabilities how to play para hockey.
The school contacted us through the foundation Wayne set up when he first created the Mavericks, and we’ve been coming every week for the last month.
It's been pretty cool watching the students go from barely being able to move their sleds to actually racing around the school gym on them, hitting balls into the goals. We’re trying to coordinate a time to change the wheels into blades so they can come to the arena to play on the ice instead of in the gym.
I click my key fob to unlock my car. “I guess she is.”
“For an old chick,” he adds and I lift a brow at him. I don’t know how old Mackenzie is but she looked younger than me.
“Don’t call women chicks.”
“Okay, for an old woman.”
“Also, don’t call them old.” I climb into the driver’s seat.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not nice.” Goran’s picked this up from the rest of the team.
Sometimes it feels like I’m raising these kids as well as trying to shape them into a team.
The reality is they’ve lived, breathed, and slept hockey ever since they were kids.
A lot of them haven’t had the time to mature into fully grown adults.
“How long do you think she’s here for?” Goran asks as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
“No idea.”
“She said she was single though, right?”
I blink. “Don’t even think about it,” I warn him.
From the corner of my eye I see him pouting. He has these full lips that make it look particularly effective. “Rule one of being a hockey player. Don’t shit on your own doorstep.”
“I haven’t heard that one before.” He grimaces. His English is exceptional for being his second language, but he occasionally gets blindsided by idioms.
“It means that you keep work separate from your personal life. You’re twenty years old. Go out to clubs, get on Tinder, whatever. Just don’t get involved with people you work with. It always ends poorly.” I lift a brow. “Believe me.”
“You sound like you’ve had some experience with that,” Goran says perceptively.
“Yeah, well I’ve been around.”
I take a left toward the sprawling apartment building where most of the team lives. Goran shares a three bed apartment with Carter and Max. I’ve been in there once. It’s a pigsty. It reminds me of growing up with my brothers.
And makes me glad I don’t have to share my place with anybody anymore. I like my own space. I like my house not smelling of sweat and three-day-old takeout.
I pull up outside the door and Goran grabs the handle.
“Thanks for coming today,” I tell him.
“Thanks for asking me. It was fun. We’ll do it again next week, yes?”
“Yep.” After that, it’s going to take a little more scheduling because the hockey season can be blocked full and unpredictable. But we’ll make it work. “Try to get some rest,” I tell him as he climbs out of the car. “See you tomorrow at ten.”
“I got rehab,” he tells me. “I’ll be in at nine.”
“Sure thing.” He closes the door and I start the engine up, heading back to the arena, and park in the head coach spot. I climb out of the car in a good mood and put my pass against the reader to unlock the door.
It’s almost six, so I grab a bottle of water from the cooler in the kitchen and head up the stairs to the offices. I’ve heard through the grapevine that Mackenzie has taken over Wayne’s office, so that’s the one I head to.
Hers is the only light still on. Everybody else has gone home. The office staff try to work condensed hours during preseason, because once the season begins everybody is constantly busy.
I knock on the door and a moment later she calls out for me to come in. Pushing the door open I’m surprised by two things.
The first is that she’s already made some headway into Wayne’s mess. The desk is empty. So is the cabinet beside it. There are still piles on the other cabinets and shelves, but damn, it makes a difference.
It also smells good. As in not like old food and dust and whatever the hell else Wayne gets up to in here.
The second thing that surprises me is that Mackenzie’s bruise has already come out. And it’s a humdinger, red and black and gray staining her right cheek, all the way up to her eye which is swollen.
“Damn. You should get that x-rayed,” I tell her. “Are you sure you didn’t break anything?”
She touches her cheek gingerly. I notice her manicure. Pale pink nails. No chips. Nice.
“I went down to the medic’s office,” she tells me. “She did a scan and everything’s fine.”
“She tell you how to treat it?” I ask her.
“Yep. Gave me some arnica and told me to ice it every hour.”
“And have you?” I scan her face for any signs of lumps. Hematomas aren’t funny, but all I see is smooth bruised skin.
“Yes, sir.” The moment she says it she winces. I don’t think it’s from the pain.
“That’s good.” I drop into the chair in front of her desk. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
She smiles, and it looks good on her. “I had to tidy up a little bit.”
“I saw the before picture,” I tell her. “That was more than a little bit.”