Chapter 1 #2
“Yessir,” Darcy shoots back. She closes the door behind us as we leave the office, then sighs. “Sorry about all that attitude. He’s just tense about the Chicago game.”
“Is he extra spicy today?” asks a deep male voice.
I glance up to see a white guy with an attractive chestnut beard smiling at us.
“Zoe,” Darcy says, “this is Aiden Sharp. He works with the coaching staff. Aiden, this is Zoe Carson, our new skating coach.”
“Mr. Sharp,” I say, taking care to make eye contact and smile as we shake hands.
“Nice to meet you,” Aiden says. “Lucky for all of us, I don’t have the same personality as my father.”
“Oh.” I swallow my surprise. “Nice to meet you, too.”
He winks. “I heard about you. Figure skater, right?”
“Not anymore,” I say firmly. “Think of me as a skating nerd. I’m interested in the mechanics of skating faster and more efficiently, no matter the sport.” I’ll be giving this same stump speech over and over until people believe me.
“Cool,” he says with another smile. “Can’t wait to see what you can do for our guys. My job is supporting all the coaching staff, so that means you, too. Let me give you a quick tour? And we’ll meet some players.”
“Great,” I say, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice. “Lead on.”
“Don’t forget about drinks!” Darcy says as she takes her seat. “Come back up here when you’re done.”
“Will do!” I give her a friendly wave and follow Aiden onto the escalator.
He takes me down to the second level and shows me the staff lockers and the equipment room. But it’s hard to concentrate when I’m dreading a run-in with Chase Merritt at any moment.
My tour guide waves a hand toward another set of doors. “Through there you’ll find the players’ dressing room and the steam room. Also ice baths and the like. We’ll skip the tour for now, because the players will be showering.”
“Right. Of course.” I feel a drop of sweat roll down my back. “It’s better to meet them when they’re less…” My poor overwhelmed brain struggles for an ending. “Naked.”
He laughs. “Good plan.”
The panel of judges in my mind shake their collective heads. Not smooth, Carson.
I’ve got to pull it together. And I’ve got to do it soon.
Somehow I survive the tour with Aiden and a quick introduction to Max Fairweather, the Legends’ head coach. He’s another hockey star with a long career in coaching.
When I get back to my desk, Darcy has a big grin on her face.
“Look!” she says. “FedEx just dropped this off. I had to order it for you with rush delivery. I hope it fits. Try it on!”
I take the lightweight down jacket, which has sleek styling and the Legends logo splashed smartly across the back. The shoulder even has a patch that reads COACH on it. And I can’t help but smile as I pull it on.
“Look at you!” Darcy crows as the phone on her desk begins to ring. “Now you’re one of us. Oh, heck.” She dives for a blinking light on her phone console while I surreptitiously admire my new jacket, reflected in one of the many panels of glass that surround the office.
I look like a successful skating coach. At least I’ve got that going for me. Fake it ’til you make it, Zoe. That’s another thing they taught me as a child.
“DARCY!” bellows Nolan Sharp from within his office. “I need that report before I go!”
She looks up, phone pressed to her ear. With wild eyes, she glances toward the printer on a nearby wall.
“Okay, but what about Friday?” she says to whoever is on the phone, and then scribbles down their answer on a legal pad.
Meanwhile, the multiline phone starts ringing again with an urgent electronic trill.
Trying to help, I step over to the printer and grab a document off the output tray.
Thank you, she mouths, taking it from me. “Linda, this is all very helpful, but I’m going to have to call you back tomorrow,” she says. “Right. Yes. But tomorrow—”
After another moment of wrangling, she finally hangs up. “God. I need a minute. Sorry,” she says to me, aiming the report I’ve given her at the stapler and smacking the handle with great force. Then she dashes into the manager’s office, emerging two seconds later empty-handed.
“Not the adversary report!” Sharp barks. “I wanted the scouting report! And where’s the damn bus?”
She whispers a curse under her breath. “On it!” she calls back. To me she says, “The team driver was sick, there’s a storm brewing over the plains, and Mr. Bossypants is on a tear—”
The phone on her desk trills again.
Darcy squints at the caller ID and closes her eyes briefly, as if in pain.
“Hell. This is the third time she’s called today.
” Darcy grabs the phone and answers it. She negotiates with the caller for a moment and then frowns.
“If it’s really that urgent, let me see if he can be located. Hold, please.” She taps a button.
“DARCY!” bellows Sharp. “NOW! We’re leaving in five!”
“Anything I can do to help?” I offer.
She takes a deep breath. “Oh God, yes. Can you poke your head into the players’ lounge and tell Chase Merritt that he’s wanted in the GM’s office?”
“Chase Merritt?” I gulp.
“Yeah—winger? High scorer last year? Eyes like the Caribbean Sea?” She pounds on her computer keyboard like it’s on fire. “The GM doesn’t really need him, but I’m tired of answering calls for him.”
I take a step back from her desk, as if to put distance between Darcy and this unfortunate request. “Um…”
“Please? First round’s on me tonight,” she says, hitting print on a document and then running toward the printer. “I’ll be your best friend!”
Shit! Panicking, I walk slowly toward the players’ lounge. Maybe I won’t be able to find him.
No such luck, though. My gaze finds him immediately.
If picking Chase Merritt out of a crowd were an Olympic sport, I’d have the gold medal.
It’s always been like this. From the tilt of his rugged chin, to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles.
I see it all, and I can’t look away. Even from across the room, I notice the confident set of his shoulders and the way his hair—the color of darkened wheat—curls against the back of his kissable neck.
Hell.
I glance toward Darcy’s desk again. She’s watching me through the glass. And when I hesitate, she points frantically toward Chase.
So I take a breath and step forward. For years I’ve pictured the moment when I’d get one more chance to speak to him. I’ve played this like a movie in my mind—what I wanted to say and how he might respond. It never looked anything like this.
But I close the distance anyway. He’s standing with the team captain, mid-conversation, a smirk playing at his mouth.
My expression softens automatically. It doesn’t matter how nervous I am right now, because the greediest corner of my heart still craves this. I thought I’d never see Chase again, yet here we are.
Then he turns, and our gazes meet. Finally.
Except it’s worse than I expected. Because Chase Merritt stares back at me with fury burning in his deep blue eyes.
Clearly I’ve made a colossal mistake.