10. Ariella
TEN
ARIELLA
HOE, YOU KNOW WHERE THIS IS HEADED. AND YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T WAIT TO SEE IT ALL GO DOWN…
I should have brought a bag suitable for throwing up into.
Or maybe I should’ve kept my ass in San Jose and been fine living with my parents until a man came around to save me.
That thought only made my nausea worse, but it was exactly the push I needed to move through the front doors of my new place of work.
Langley Ice Rink, home of the Dallas Desperados.
The crisp air cooled my flushed skin. The temperature inside was a stark contrast to the weather outside and another not-so-subtle reminder of what I’d managed to get myself into. My lids fluttered close, blocking out the white wall with the team logo plastered across.
I needed a minute to shove down the nerves.
It wasn’t like I was some clueless hockey newbie. I’d spent years working with hockey players, starting as an intern with San Jose State’s hockey team in college .
After graduation, they offered me a job as their strength and conditioning coach, and I stuck with them until I got the call from Dallas. I was damn proud of the work I did there. Several of the guys had hired me outside of the season to prepare them for pursuing their NHL dreams.
I could have applied for the San Jose Stars, but part of me knew I needed an excuse to leave home, to start fresh somewhere that didn’t hold all my family’s expectations.
But that meant I only had one option—Texas.
My older brother Ricky would have lost his mind if I told him I was moving to a new city with no family around. I loved him, but god, was he nosy.
The thing was, in our culture, being the older brother basically made you a second father to your siblings. Asking him to stay out of my shit was practically a foreign concept and two weeks into my move I was expectantly waiting for him to randomly show up.
“Hello, ma’am. Can I help you?”
The receptionist’s sweet voice reminded me I was standing in the middle of a lobby on my first day of work—not the time or place to space out and mull over my life choices.
“Yes, sorry. I’m supposed to be meeting with…Josh Monroe,” I said, checking the email on my phone. “I’m the new hire on the coaching staff.”
Her eyes widened.
I wanted to chuckle, her face giving away exactly what she was thinking.
“This five-foot-three woman in spandex shorts, scrunchy white socks, and Converse is on the coaching staff?”
Sure, my outfit wasn’t traditionally the picture of professionalism, but squatting in a three-piece suit wasn’t practical. I had worn the Dallas Desperados tee shirt they’d sent me. She recovered quickly, flipping through her papers with a polite smile.
“Welcome! I’m Jasmine. You’re the new strength and conditioning coach?”
“That’s correct. Ariella Contreras.”
“You’re early,” a gruff voice said from behind me, and I turned.
A large man in athletic shorts and a sweatshirt with the team logo walked toward me from a hallway I’d missed. Walked wasn’t quite the right description—it was more intense than that. Everything about him seemed serious, from the subtle scowl to the neatly styled hair and sharp jawline covered in a five o’clock shadow.
“Is the company culture here to be late? If that’s the case, these guys are in for a rude awakening when they walk into my weight room,” I said, keeping my attitude in check. Professional Ariella was in the house, but that didn’t mean I’d let people walk all over me.
Professionalism and respect were a balancing act.
I’d learned early on that respect needed to be demanded from day one. Otherwise, you’d be fighting an uphill battle. I’d spent enough time around players to know that some people—men and women alike—assumed that boobs somehow meant “unqualified.”
I was here to show them I knew exactly what I was doing.
The man stopped in front of me, and I swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Not a problem at all. I’m pleasantly surprised at the initiative. Last guy who had the job sucked.” He held out his hand out for a shake. “Josh Monroe, head coach. I’m the one who hired you, so you’ll report directly to me. Understood?”
It felt like a coded instruction, but I shook his hand firmly. “Understood. You’re my boss.”
He watched me for a few seconds, then gave a curt nod before turning to the receptionist. “Jasmine, you have that new hire packet ready? I’ll take it and make sure Ms. Contreras gets it to you by the end of the week. Right now, she’s got a workout to lead.”
Excitement snaked up my spine.
“You ready for that?” he asked, turning back to me.
I schooled my smile, wanting him to see I was all business. “Absolutely. I know what I’m doing.”
“Good. I wouldn’t have hired you if I thought otherwise. San Jose won three NCAA Championships while you worked for them,” he said, leading us down the hallway he’d come from.
“They did, but it wasn’t because of me.” I gave a modest shrug, not used to compliments. “I wasn’t coaching the game itself.”
Monroe glanced over, a hint of respect in his gaze. “Right, but the improvements were hard to miss. Under your training, the players’ explosiveness, speed, and agility saw a serious boost, and the team experienced fewer injuries overall. Your former employers all said the same thing—your priority was always the players’ health.
I chuckled, remembering what I used to tell Randy. “ Yeah, I’d tell them my job wasn’t to win games, that was theirs. Mine was making sure the players’ bodies were ready.”
“Which is exactly what we need,” he replied with a firm nod.
I followed behind, looking at the wall of player photos hanging on the wall as silence stretched between us. I should have left it that way. Instead, I had to open my big mouth.
Gracie was rubbing off on me.
“No offense, Coach, but you seem kind of young for a head coach.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me, slowing just enough so we were side by side. “And you seem kind of…female for a strength and conditioning coach.”
I winced at the quip. “Touché. I should have known better.”
The ghost of a smile appeared again, or maybe it was a grimace.
“Figured you’d understand,” he said, pushing open a large metal door, revealing the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” I murmured, stepping past Josh.
I looked around in awe, unsure of where to focus first. I was so enthralled I didn’t even care that I’d made the grumpy head coach laugh—or laugh-ish.
“Heaven to you is a room that smells like sweat and is full of gym equipment?”
The space was massive. There was a literal wall of squat racks, Olympic lifting platforms, bumper plates, turf, weighted sleds, boxes, and kettlebells—it was a playground of equipment.
“It’s full of Rogue gym equipment,” I corrected. “There are like six full squat racks in here.” I turned to him and pointed to a machine I had only dreamed about owning. “You have a belt squat machine.”
Honestly, they didn’t even need to pay me. If they just let me live in this gym, I’d be happy. Hell, I’d pay them to use it.
Monroe smirked. “Looks like you don’t need me to walk you through any of this. The far wall rolls up for access to tires and other gear outside. And over there,” he pointed to a door tucked in the corner, “is your office. I’ll go get the guys.”
“Wait.” My nerves spiked as he mentioned bringing in the players. I’d gone over my plans and routines for hours, but this was my first day—my trial period. First impressions would matter, and if I didn’t prove myself, my ass was back on a plane headed to California and my pale pink childhood bedroom.
Monroe paused in the doorway, a foot already in the hallway. He raised a brow as if to say, “What else could you possibly need?”
“I’d like to meet and discuss specifics of what you’re looking for with the players,” I said, keeping my tone professional. “That way, I can tailor my programming to their needs. Sure, we’ll focus on power and explosiveness, but I like to incorporate a focus on core strength.” I fought the urge to bite my lip, instead standing tall. “Sometimes by using means players aren’t used to.”
“I knew you were the right choice. Do whatever you want, Ariella, you don’t need my permission for how you run your domain.” Then he disappeared down the hall.
I blinked. Okay, that went better than I’d thought.