Chapter 16: Puck Me Secretly: Chapter 15

I WALKED OUT OF THE COACHES’ meeting feeling conflicted about what I had observed. Seven out of the eight coaches loved Max and his performance, and the head coach, Baxter, could not stand Max.

The biased negativity I heard color all of Baxter’s comments concerned me enough that I made a note to observe some player/coach meetings and to get closer to the ice for practices. I needed to know if he was professional enough to hide how he felt from Max and could remain impassive and professional.

Now I needed to find Max and ward off any impending disasters that could result with him talking to the media. I saw two players walking down the Concord.

I approached. “Have either of you seen Logan?”

“Think he’s in the weight room.”

The weight room was the one place I avoided. With dread, I made my way down to the state-of-the-art fitness center designed for our players. From the hallway, I could hear the music and the clank of metal bars. The overpowering scent of sweat, deodorant, and antibacterial cleaner assaulted my nostrils as I stood in the doorway. Huge screen televisions lined the front wall. Everywhere I laid my eyes, players in various states of undress, worked alongside our hired sports trainers to the point of dripping sweat.

Hockey players in their full gear were intimidating, but stepping into the weight room, felt like I was stepping into the wolves den. The slicked wet skin and masculine grunting felt way too intimate. It also made me feel like I was at a disadvantage.

My eyes located Max in the corner doing squats with a big weight bar. I waited until he dropped the bar before I approached. He lifted the bottom of his t-shirt up, to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and in the process revealed a wall of rippling muscles and smooth skin.

It took all my effort not to linger my gaze on his body and to focus on his face.

He instructed his trainer. “Give me a sec, Ken.”

I watched as Ken walked off.

“You look tidy.” His eyes took in my spiked black sandals, tight black cigarette pants, and a black and white striped, wrap around sweater that hugged my waist. I wasn’t sure if tidy was a compliment, but the way his eyes lingered at my waist, made it feel like one.

“Sorry to interrupt your workout.”

He shrugged.

I got distracted by a lone rivulet of sweat that trickled down the side of his face. “I wanted to let you know we’ve dropped your media ban.”

“Katrina told me.”

Of course, she had.

“Well, you have her to thank for that. She went all the way to the GM to fight on your behalf.”

His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask her to do that.”

“I know.”

“Anything else?” His eyes moved to my mouth.

“Are you sleeping with Katrina?”

“Not yet.”

My eyes widened with shock and hurt. I stumbled back a few steps before turning to flee.

“Rory.” He grabbed my wrist and stood too close. He spoke in a low voice. “That was an asshole thing to say.”

I stared at the space over his shoulder. “The question was too personal.”

“I told you. I’m not doing distractions this year, but if I was…”

Our eyes met. His gaze was so infused with heat, it made me blush.

I dropped my eyes. “Are you ready for the media?”

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle a few reporters.”

“They want to get personal.”

He smiled. “So, let them.”

“Take this seriously.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re cute when you’re worried?”

“Okay. That’s my cue to leave.”

I spun around and started towards the door. I could see him in the reflection of the wall-length mirror. He stood with his hands on his hips and his eyes watched my ass.

EXACTLY EIGHT HOURS, I stood in my PJs in my bedroom in front of my television.

I was going to kill Max.

No. I would kill Katrina first and then I’d kill Max.

Max had shoved a reporter. Eight hours after our talk, Max freaking Logan lost his cool and shoved a reporter into a cameraman.

The bite was on every syndicated sports news channel.

It had made the top five worst plays of the days.

Anchors were talking about it.

People were doing memes about it.

A strangled noise ripped out of me as I yanked on the first thing I could find. Skinny jeans, a tank top, and a hoodie.

Max Logan was a dead man walking.

“Rory.” Dad roared from his bedroom.

I walked down the long hallway and composed myself before I tapped on the bedroom door.

My dad, clad in his housecoat, stood in front of his television. We made eye contact.

“You saw the news?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he now?”

“The reporter is threatening to press charges. He’s at a police station.”

“Are our lawyers involved?”

“Brian is on his way.”

“Go fix this.”

If we’d done things my way in the first place, we wouldn’t have anything to fix, but my dad hated it when I reminded him that he was wrong and I was right.

AS I WALKED up the steps of the police station, Brian, our lawyer, caught up.

“Brian, thank you for coming.”

“Katrina also called me.” He worked to tighten his tie.

“I hope we didn’t drag you away from anything too important.”

He gave me a tight smile which meant we had. “Lead the way.”

Katrina sat in the waiting room.

“Go do your magic, Brian,” I veered toward Katrina.

She stood up when she saw me. Lord, her dress was tight. That was a date dress, not a work dress. So why did that feel like a hot knife in my gut?

Her eyes lifted up to me. “Is the lawyer here?”

“Keep your voice down,” my voice sounded harsh. “What happened?”

She glared at me. “Max and I were out for dinner. The reporter and cameraman appeared out of nowhere.”

“And?”

“And they got nosey about Max’s past and he lost his cool.”

“How did they know you’d be at that exact restaurant?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they followed us.”

Highly unlikely. I suspected there was more at play here.

“It makes no sense that a reporter would follow Max and push for an interview when we had only removed his media ban this afternoon. There are only four people who knew about that ban being lifted.”

“Are you suggesting that I tipped off the media?”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Go to hell.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Go home.”

“I came here with Max.”

“And now the Vancouver Wolves and our lawyers will take it from here. So please go home.”

“I’m not leaving here without Max.”

“After this, Max will head down to the stadium to meet with our legal team,” I lied. “When he’s finished, I’ll tell him to call you.”

“I want to be part of that meeting.”

I took a deep, uneven breath. This woman was a barracuda. Why was I the only one who saw this? “Even if Max wants you to be part of that meeting, the Vancouver Wolves do not. Go home.”

She eyeballed me. “Is there a car here?”

“No.”

She crossed her arms. “I saw you arrive in a company car. I’m taking it home. After the night I’ve had, I deserve it.”

I despised her. So much. This time my smile was real. “I’m sorry, the only car and driver that is here is my personal family car, not a company car. Would you like my driver to call you a cab?”

She shook her head at me in disgust. Like I was the problem.

I watched as she walked away.