Chapter 30
Lily
Men.
What was that old adage? You couldn’t live with them, but you couldn’t kill them. Well, here was the real kick in the pants. Maybe shifters could live forever. Well, I guess if that was true, where was my great-great-grandfather now? Ogling some cute young female wolf in the Caribbean?
The thoughts that had been running through my mind were insane. Stark images flowing through my brain constantly, enough I was fearful all that brain matter would soon be pickled.
And the images were very colorful.
As I closed my car door, I sucked in my breath. None of this might matter any longer if I was fired. I hadn’t been by my father, but that didn’t mean the client, and in this case the coach and the Wild Dogs’ attorney wouldn’t do the deed. Then I’d be forced to tell my father I was to blame. Again.
Maybe he’d be lenient with me since he’d left out the part I was a freaking werewolf! No, a she-wolf. A she-monster. Oh, hell, whatever I was called.
“You ready?” Saint asked after he crawled out of his Jeep. He’d obviously returned to his house against my orders. Whatever. The man could do what he wanted. I certainly wasn’t his keeper.
Or his anything.
He’d made that perfectly clear. The way he’d popped the question had been so romantic. Maybe not in a traditional way, but our relationship was pretty rocky. And strange.
Then he’d gone and ruined it by acting nonchalant.
That’s exactly what I’d done to him. Tit for tat.
“I’m ready. Just keep your cool and maybe I can convince them to allow you to start.
The last thing your team needs is to back down on offense in playing the Tampa Bay Gators.
Rufus Jackson is a damn good left defenseman and, in my opinion, a man who could slap you down with one hand, skim you around the ice, and make you the puck for their team. ”
I felt his grin before I noticed it. “You’ve been studying up.”
I adjusted my sunglasses and started walking toward the entrance. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
He woofed behind me.
I stopped short, turned around, and peered over the top of my shades. “Was that a howl?”
“It sure was.”
“Don’t. Just don’t do that again.”
“Why, yes, ma’am.” He laughed as he trailed behind me. As soon as we were inside, he threw his arm around my waist, crowding me closer to his body.
His overheated body.
I suddenly had a heat flash instigating from deep in my core. How was it possible the man could do that to me?
My heels, which were now currently covered in grass, clipped on the tile as we headed to the coach’s office. I was much more nervous than before because I felt as if I’d failed to live up to anyone’s expectations.
Nervous, I kept my mouth shut, stopping in front of Coach Cavanaugh’s door briefly so I could flick my hair over my shoulders.
I didn’t need to knock. The door was flung open and Assistant Coach Edmonds burst into a huge grin.
“You two are right on time. Come on in.”
I quickly glanced at Saint. The man’s chirpy attitude certainly wasn’t what either one of us had expected.
“Glad you’re both here,” Coach Cavanaugh stated, less lilt in his tone.
“Thank you.” I couldn’t read the men at all. We walked in and I finally had to give Saint yet another much harsher look since he still had his arm wrapped around me as if I truly was his possession.
Between the three men in the room, I couldn’t detect much anger. Maybe a little dissatisfaction, but certainly not the kind of rage I’d expected.
Or that I’d felt.
Saint had a way of doing that do a person.
“First of all, I wanted to apologize about the lurid photograph. We were making dinner and we got into an argument. One thing led to another and the photograph isn’t what you think.” Open mouth, insert both feet. I hated when I wasn’t on top of my game.
“She’s right,” Saint jumped in. “I was disagreeing with something she was telling me and she was just trying to make a point. Who knew she was such a gymnast on top of her fabulous public relations skills.”
With another quick glance, but even harsher this time, I told him in no uncertain terms to shut up. The coach eyed us carefully, his narrowed eyes shifting back and forth. “Are you under the impression we’re angry with you?”
“Well, yes, sir,” I answered, even pressing the back of my hand against Saint to keep him quiet. “Between the fight with Rocco and the recent scandalous photographs, I’m certain you’re questioning if I’m right for the job.”
“Well, other than some grandstanding you continue doing on the ice, Saint, quite the opposite. I can tell your effect on the Savage is working, Ms. Weathers.”
I knew I was leaning forward waiting for the bad news to fall. With his words, the only thing that would hit the floor was my shocked body. Was he kidding me? “My influence? The photographs are horrendous.”
“If you mean the one where you look like a giant bear grafted with Big Foot, well, that is ridiculous, but enough so people are laughing hysterically. Readers think it’s a hoot and a great stunt.
Now, I can tell you the other coaches of the teams in the playoffs are none too happy since you’ve ceremoniously grabbed the headlines. Every one of them.”
On cue, Coach Edmonds headed to the table near us. He had a huge stack of papers in his hand, which he tossed down one by one from various cities. Toronto. Tampa Bay. Denver. Detroit. Richmond. Phoenix. Vancouver. Charlotte.
How he’d managed to snag so many copies was beyond me, but the teams in the respective cities had to be pissed.
The front page had the Wild Dogs’ last win next to two other photos.
One where the team had Saint in the air after the win and the second was the ugly photograph in the Sungazer piece.
And lastly was a picture of the two of us.
Whoever had captured the photograph had certainly managed to make it appear as if we were in love.
Our eyes were locked together. Our lips were pursed. His head was down and his hands were touching me in a seductive yet classy way. With my arms strung around his neck and the man in his hockey uniform, the photo would make a perfect hockey romance cover.
Well, my goodness.
“Yeah, I know the optics on the photo in your kitchen aren’t great, but I can tell you this, the shit about your relationship being fake stopped.
If anyone posts your love isn’t real, you wouldn’t believe the number of people who jump on the comment with disclaimers.
It’s insane. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but there’s little mention of the wolf thing.
Old news. Everyone is looking forward to the playoffs. ”
No, I hadn’t noticed before. I’d been too busy wallowing in the fact I was a wolf shifter. My pulse ticked up into high gear. I guess I had to be grateful I still had a job.
I walked closer, tracing my finger over the photo on Chicago’s paper.
“The ring is a nice touch,” Coach Cavanaugh added. “Real classy. Where’d you get that?”
“It’s his grandmother’s,” I answered. “Much more special than any bauble he could purchase.” While I meant what I said, I instantly regretted doing so. The silence in the room was unnerving.
“As far as the crap Rocco pulled, he’s been sanctioned. While allowed to play in the finals, one additional incident and he’ll be tossed for the season,” the coach continued.
I cleared my throat to try to pull my mind away from a fantasy that would never turn real. “So you’re not firing me.”
“Firing you?” Coach Cavanaugh asked with a snort. “Ms. Weathers, if we are lucky enough to take the Stanley Cup, I plan on hiring you on a permanent basis. You’re good for the team.”
My mouth was wide open, but for the first time in a very long period of my life, I had no idea what to say. None.
“What about me, Coach?” Saint just had to ask.
“You just need to keep your head out of your… Your head in the game, son. We have work to do. The odds are on the Denver Devils winning the whole damn thing. I don’t want that to happen. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir. That’s not going to happen.” At least Saint was enthusiastic.
Meanwhile, I was hoping my drool faded into the tile at some point.
This was not what I’d expected in the least. The whole thing had been another clusterfuck. I needed stiff drinks and I needed them right now.
“Now that we have that cleared up, Saint, let’s go over a few offensive maneuvers. You’ve got practice first thing in the morning. The flight leaves at two so we can get to Tampa in time. For both of you, don’t be late. You know there’ll be tons of reporters waiting at the airport.”
“Yeah,” Coach Edmonds added. “Show of that ring of yours. And if you’ve selected a date for the wedding, you might want to toss that in. Great press.”
I took a deep breath, looking between the three men before slowly turning my head toward Saint. His expression was completely blank.
Other than the twinkle in his eyes from the thought of winning another Stanley Cup.
While they started talking, I slipped from the room, closing the door with a soft click.
The nightmare was real. Demons would soon be coming to drag me straight to hell where all good little she-wolves belonged.
“Would you not look at me that way? Please?” Vicky was frozen as if she’d stepped into a dry ice machine.
I was afraid to touch her for fear she’d crack into a thousand pieces.
I’d begged her to meet me at a bar. I’d worn sunglasses inside, had yanked my hair into a knot on my head, and was wearing baggy clothes. Just to try to disguise who I was.
What was there in life if you couldn’t tell your best friend the most horrible secret in the world?
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to picture you in fur and not mink.” Vicky’s reply wasn’t meant to be comical.
“I don’t shift. I don’t growl at your door in the middle of the night. Oh, please. Let me in. I’m so cold. Don’t worry, I won’t eat you.” I changed my voice to that of an old hag, which finally made Vicky laugh.
But I could tell the woman thought I was nuts or had grown terrified of what I was capable of.