Shot on Goal: Seattle Sockeyes Hockey (Game On in Seattle Book 11) Read online

  He jerked back as if she’d hit him. He’d gotten her message loud and clear. He knew as well as she did her professional skating career had tanked four years ago when she’d been an arrogant, entitled twenty-two-year-old and destroyed her career in a few short hours.

  Digging in the toe of her skate, she sprinted away, but he was beside her in a matter of seconds.

  She put on the brakes, spraying ice, and forcing him to make a loop and come back to her. She regarded him suspiciously as he approached, ready to rip him a new one. She’d had enough of his kind. Sure, she’d messed up, but she was older and wiser now. Everyone deserved a second chance, even someone who’d humiliated her country, betrayed those who cared most, and threw away a gold medal in the process.

  The contrite expression on Drew’s face caught her off guard. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and kicked at the ice with the toe of one skate. “I’m sorry. That was a dickhead thing to say. I took my bad mood out on you.”

  She wasn’t ready to let him off so easily. “What does a guy like you have to be unhappy about? You’ve got the world in the palm of your hand.”

  He raised his head and studied her with narrowed eyes. “So did you.”

  “Touché,” she conceded. He was right about that.

  “But we both know it’s not that simple. The person we are on the surface isn’t who we are underneath. I’m guessing you know all about how deceiving appearances can be.”

  “I do.”

  He managed a smile but didn’t say anything further.

  Marina had to ask the obvious question since he seemed amenable. “Why are you here tonight? I mean, I’m here for obvious reasons. I don’t want the press hounding me or starting ridiculous rumors. But you? Why are you skating alone past ten o’clock on a Friday night?”

  “I’m not skating alone. You’re here.” Another smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He had a great smile, even had all his teeth, though she suspected more than a few were implants.

  Drew leaned against the boards, and she did the same, keeping a good five feet between them. He was silent for a long time, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and biting on it. God, that was hot. She resisted fanning herself and stared at his shoulder instead, hoping that body part would be less sexy. She was wrong. There wasn’t an un-sexy body part on him.

  They were getting a little too cozy for her comfort. “I really need to skate.”

  “Are you practicing for anything in particular?”

  “For me.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze with defiance she couldn’t hold back, even if he was the wrong target. “These days I skate for me and me alone. For the pure joy of skating.”

  His mouth tightened into a thin line, indicating she’d hit a nerve, though she couldn’t imagine why. “Like when we were kids?”

  “Yeah, just like that.”

  Sadness clouded his expression. “I want to feel that way again.” He’d said the words so quietly she had to lean forward to hear them.

  “You don’t feel that way now?”

  He shook his head, staring once again at his feet. “Nah, I haven’t for a long time.”

  “Competition has a way of doing that. Making us forget our roots, why we started doing this in the first place.”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced, as if there were more to it than that.

  “Come on, I’ll race you once around the ice.” She didn’t wait for his response but sprinted off as hard as she could go, damn certain he’d be on her in a few strides. Drew was the whole package when it came to hockey, and she was built for a different kind of skating, where grace and finesse won out over quickness and athleticism, though both did help.

  By the time she reached the first corner, he was beside her. Instead of pulling ahead, he skated next to her until they were in the final stretch run then the showoff flipped around and skated backwards, easily beating her.

  She bent down with hands on her knees and caught her breath. He was hardly breathing. When she straightened, he was smirking at her.

  “Damn, we should’ve sweetened the pot with a bet. Wanna go for best two out of three?”

  “Only if you do jumps and spins.”

  His smirk deepened to a frown. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, then, it’s not really fair to only bet on the things you’re good at, instead of the ones I’m good at.”

  “I’m not interested in learning how to figure skate.”

  “You might like it.” She looked him up and down, tapping a finger on her lips. “You’re athletic enough. We’d have to work on your skating skills.”

  “There’s not a damn thing wrong with my skating skills. I’m one of the best skaters in the NHL.”

  She quirked a brow. “And humble, too.”

  “Well, I am a good skater.”

  “You get it done with sheer talent.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  He was clearly insulted, and she was thoroughly amused.

  “I have a routine I run through. Enough distractions for the night. I need to get to it,” she said.

  “I need to do what I came to do, also,” he said tersely.

  They spent the next hour avoiding each other and pretending to be in their own worlds. Too bad it was a pretense. Marina caught him looking at her multiple times, and she wasn’t about to admit to how times she glanced at him.

  There was something about the man—and not just that he was a royal pain in the ass.

  Chapter 2—Skating Chances

  The Sockeyes had played their last regular season game the night before, securing a spot in the playoffs.

  Since this was Sunday, Drew had expected a day off or an optional practice before they started their first playoff game on Wednesday. Today was neither.

  He stepped onto the ice and skated a few slow strides before realizing something was up. Coop, Smooth, and Matt were leaning against the boards, arms crossed over chests and scowling as Coach Gorst spoke to them. With his usual enthusiasm for all things hockey, Coach put his entire body and soul into the message he was delivering to his team leaders.

  Only this was different. Normally, the captains went along with his crazy ideas because as odd as they might seem at first, they almost always had the intended effect. Most of the guys, Drew included, couldn’t decide if the coach was a genius ahead of his time or a crazy wizard with a lucky streak. So far this year, they’d been lucky. After missing the playoffs last season, the Sockeyes had re-dedicated themselves to winning—and they were winning.

  The other different thing about Gorst’s latest speech to his team leaders was the presence of team majority owner Ethan Parker and his wife, Lauren.

  Coop shook his head vigorously, and his jaw was set in a firm, uncompromising line. Not good for the coach. Coop wasn’t known for backing down or compromising. Matt scratched his head and frowned. Smooth threw back his head and laughed, causing the others to glare at him with murderous intent.

  Drew skated slow, lazy warm-up circles near the action, oddly curious about what had everyone so worked up. Maybe one of the rookies had been thrown in jail or pissed off Mina. The thought of Ethan’s assistant brought a smile to Drew’s face as he recalled Friday night and Marina Sanders. She was hot, and it’d been a long time since a woman ticked all his boxes like she did. In fact, so long that his teammates assumed he was gay, and Drew let them keep assuming. Most of them knew nothing about Stacy. He had to answer less questions that way. Too bad she was off limits in more ways than one. Through her reckless and selfish behavior, she’d deeply hurt the two women closest to him four years ago, and a guy doesn’t easily forget or forgive something like that.

  Shit, he had to quit thinking about her. He glanced at the gathering near the boards, using it as a distraction from his distraction.

  Coop threw his hands in the air and stomped his blade on the ice. He stared down his coach and his boss. They glared right bac
k, unblinking and unyielding. Coop’s chest rose and fell in a deep sigh. After which he did something so un-Coop-like, Drew almost wiped out on his skates. He fought to stay on his feet but couldn’t help another glance. Coop was shaking Coach’s hand and smiling, if not a little grimly. The others nodded agreement. Smooth was amused. Matt looked pensive, as if he wasn’t sure what he’d signed up for, or, even worse in Drew’s estimation, what he’d signed the team up for.

  Drew didn’t wait long to find out. Coop called the team to center ice where some stood and others knelt as they gathered around him in a circle. Several sets of curious eyes watched Coop’s every move. Their captain planted his stick in the ice like a conquering warrior and took his time locking gazes with every one of them. Drew forced himself not to look away for fear Coop would realize his intensity didn’t come close to matching Coop’s.

  Coop cleared his throat while his two alternate captains flanked him. The coaches and owner had conveniently disappeared, leaving the team to sort out whatever this was.

  “We’re heading to the playoffs. We’ve said all year, this is our year. Our time. Many of you have been on this team with me since we were in Florida. We’re hungry. Only a couple guys on the ice right now have had the privilege of hoisting the Cup. I want to so badly, I can taste it, and I’ll bet I’m not alone.”

  A cheer rose from the group, and Drew stared guiltily at his feet. He should want this, too, but all he felt was a big empty hole where his passion for all things hockey should be.

  “One thing about playoff hockey is every team wants it as badly as we do. This is a game of percentages. If we can get a one percent edge over the rest, that’s enough to carry us through the playoffs. I want that edge, and I’m willing to do anything for it, no matter how unorthodox.”

  Here it comes.

  Drew held his breath. He was sure the rest of the guys were, too. After all, they’d seen Coop arguing with Coach.

  “I won’t lie to you. I wasn’t a supporter at first, but Coach and Ethan convinced me of the error of my ways.”

  A few guys chuckled, but most remained quiet.

  “Coach insists what he’s planned will give us that all-important one percent, and I know every one of you will give this endeavor one hundred percent.”

  As if on cue, Coop turned as Ethan and Coach Gorst emerged from the tunnel with—

  What the fuck?

  Marina Sanders stepped onto the ice with them. She wore a navy-blue warm-up suit with a Sockeyes emblem and black hockey skates. He glanced around at his brethren. They were gaping open-mouthed at her. At least, the single guys were. The married and attached guys regarded her with varying mixtures of surprise, curiosity, and suspicion.

  Drew knew what was coming. He’d read about teams and individual players upping their game by increasing their skating skills through figure skating.

  Coop cast one last meaningful and threatening glare at his guys. He stepped out of the center of the circle. He skated a few strides to the boards and indicated the team follow him. They gathered in a semi-circle around Coach Gorst, Ethan, Lauren, and Marina.

  “Gentlemen,” Gorst said with a wicked smile. “Meet our new skating coach, Marina Sanders.”

  There were murmurs among the group as it dawned on them who she was. Gorst held up a hand to silence them. Some grumbled, others stood stoically silent with angry expressions, while the rest were confused.

  “As you know, Marina is a world-class figure skater known for her perfect technique and flawless performances.”

  Jasper Flint snorted from beside Drew and was rewarded with a murderous glare from Coop. He immediately wiped the smirk from his face. They’d probably all seen her disastrous performance in the Olympics four years ago where she’d gotten the lowest score on record.

  Gorst had an even more intimidating glare than Coop, and he leveled it on every last one of them. “We’re going to work on our skating technique, and Marina’s going to help us. We’re going to find every edge we can to be the best team on ice every single night. You’re going to give Marina your respect and your full attention as you would any coach on this team. Do I make myself clear?”

  Several heads nodded in unison.

  “If you don’t, you’ll answer to me and your captains. I don’t care if it’s the playoffs or not, I’ll bench any man who shows disrespect.”

  Guys stared at their skates and shuffled their feet across the ice like little boys being punished for teasing the girl next door.

  Ethan stepped forward, grinning broadly. “We’re lucky to have a skater of Marina’s caliber willing to help us. Thanks to Mina, her great-aunt, we were able to grab her the second she became available. We’re pulling out all the stops, leaving nothing uncovered that will help us in our quest. Marina is part of our team now. She’s here to help you, and I know as professionals, you’ll give her your full attention. Any questions?”

  Rush held up his hand.

  “Rush?” Ethan said.

  “Can ve get private lezzons?”

  Coop rolled his eyes, and some of the guys snickered.

  “We can arrange them with a male colleague of Marina’s if you need extra instruction.” Coach was fighting hard not to laugh.

  “No, I be fine.” Rush sighed. He loved women and loved to party. Based on Marina’s past rep, he most likely saw an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. Meanwhile, Marina stood in dignified silence. Her beautiful face was void of any emotion. Drew had to hand it to her, she was tough, a prerequisite for survival with this crew.

  “Any other questions?”

  “Yeah, we aren’t going to have to do jumps, are we?” Jacques Frontier, their backup goalie, asked grumpily.

  Coach looked to Marina, who smiled. “No, we’re going to work on your basics when it comes to skating, try to increase your speed and maneuverability. We’ll make sure you’re utilizing all your skate edges. Most hockey players spend their time on stick handling, shooting, passing, scoring, that kind of thing. Changes in the rules have emphasized skating skills over hard hits and physical dominance.”

  Drew watched the guys watch her. Some looked bored, while others looked interested, too interested, and still others frowned with uncertainty.

  “I’d like to watch all of you skate, to assess your strengths and weaknesses. Please space yourselves around the ice near the boards and skate on my command. This isn’t a competition or a race. Just skate at a brisk, not breakneck, pace. That’s all I ask.”

  She waited expectantly, but no one moved. They looked at each other, waiting for what, Drew didn’t know. He wasn’t moving an inch until someone else did.

  Without a word, Coop glided away from the group and took a spot on the opposite side. Smooth, Matt, and Ice did the same. Like the dutiful little boys they sure as hell weren’t, the remainder of the team followed their lead and moved to the boards. Drew skated by Marina, pausing near her.

  “You didn’t tell me we’d be working together.”

  She smiled back, but her smile was businesslike. “There was no need.”

  “Nah, I guess not.”

  For the next hour, they skated, did stops, fast starts, turns of direction, sped down one side of the rink and tried to maintain that speed in the corners. Then she had them skate backwards and repeat everything. She worked with them on small things, like using all the edges of their skates and stopping on both sides rather than one.

  Drew’s forte was his skating, and she rarely had much to say to him. She took a few guys aside who were the lumbering variety to work with them individually, while the coaches ran the rest through their usual hockey practice.

  For the first time in longer than Drew could remember he enjoyed practice. He followed his teammates into the locker room with a rare grin on his face. He ignored Coop’s assessing gaze and Smooth’s wink. His smile had nothing to do with Marina. He was on a playoff-bound team, had just had a good practice, and had fun skating for once. Things were looking up.

  Gage “Zigg
y” Ziegler, a twenty-two-year old second-year winger, sat next to him in the locker room. “Our new coach is hot. Too bad she’s one of the most hated women in sports.”

  Drew ignored him even as his hackles raised. He resisted the urge to defend Marina. Nothing Ziggy said was false, and Drew would know.

  Jasper “Caveman” Flint sat on the opposite of Drew and leaned forward. “She is hot, but, fuck, she’s not someone I’m going to mess with. It’s bad enough we have to do these skating improvement drills.”

  Jasper needed the work; he was like a grizzly bear on skates.

  Ziggy threw back his head and roared. “You dumbass, you need this more than anybody on this team.”

  “You aren’t exactly medals material yourself, fuckhead,” Cave shot back.

  “At least I can skate using all my edges and stop on both sides without crashing on my ass.”

  Walking by, Rush raised a hand and smacked palms with Ziggy, while Cave pouted like a baby in the corner.

  Shaking his head and chuckling, Drew stood and stripped off his clothes, heading to the showers. He felt good, and he desperately wanted to hold onto that feeling. But it was fleeting. Once he arrived home, which was his private hell rather than a haven, all the good feelings would be replaced by inadequacy and failure.

  The warm water ran down his body, and he gave himself a moment to just be, something he rarely did, or was allowed to do.

  He’d enjoyed today all because of her. She’d lifted a weight off his shoulders, and he wouldn’t bear that weight again any sooner than was necessary. He allowed himself to sink into blissful thoughts of what Marina would feel like, taste like, smell like if she were naked in his arms. Yeah, she was his coach, but right now, she was his sanity and his savior.

  He so needed a savior, but why did it have to be her? She’d destroyed his girlfriend’s career four years ago, and the fallout had affected him, too, along with his mother. If his parents knew he had contact with Marina, there’d be hell to pay.

  It was only a matter of time.