“And why do I need to know the difference?” she asks. I’m pleased her voice is huskier than usual.
My lips curve in a wicked grin. “In case you want proof of what I’m saying.”
I watch in fascination as her eyes go from sizzling in contemplation to icing back over to the multibillionaire owner of an empire. “Not interested.” Her tone is bland… dispassionate as she glances over her guests.
“Oh, you’re interested,” I say knowingly, and her eyes fly back to me.
I’m most certainly flirting now.
Not with Brienne but with danger, because I’m quite sure I’m violating about a dozen sexual harassment rules.
And still… zero fucks given.
Any good psychologist would tell you I’m smacking back at the establishment that betrayed me. I’m lashing out and testing my limits. I might even be punishing the league, and she’s merely a representative of it.
You could probably say I’ve got residual issues, and I guess I’m taking them out on Brienne.
Not that I’m trying to hurt her because this woman, with her balls of brass and spine of steel, wouldn’t be hurt or offended by my assholery. She’s too strong for that.
To my surprise, Brienne’s teeth sink into her lower lip, as if she’s considering something about me. I half expect her to slap me or at the very least, lay into me for my audacity.
Instead, she seems pensive.
Almost wistful, and it causes a tightening in my groin that baffles the fuck out of me.
But she does nothing more than tip her head with a polite smile. “It was good seeing you, Drake. I expect great things from you out on the ice.”
She turns on those sexy-as-fuck heels and walks away without a second glance.
I take a moment, study the curves of her ass, and tell myself I’m not just messing with fire, I’m messing with dynamite.
And yeah, I think to myself, I have less than zero fucks to give about the danger that presents.
CHAPTER 3
Drake
The team meeting room is called The Bowl because it’s shaped like one. Its center is circular, covered in dark, polished wood, and sits at basement level. It’s the same level as the locker room, coaches’ offices, therapy rooms, and the players’ lounge. It’s also the same level as the ice.
From the center of the room, rows of seating rise upward and outward. Five rings of seating split by three staircases. Surrounding the highest row is a walkway and railing, and on the walls are eighty-inch TVs spaced roughly ten feet apart around the entire circumference for us to watch game film.
I enter from the basement level, lifting my chin Baden’s way. He’s sitting in the front row with our new head coach, Cannon West, as well as our newest assistant coach, Gage Heyward. Gage transitioned from player to coaching staff this season, and I think it’s a ballsy move. Frankly, he played so well last season, I’d have tried to keep him on the ice for one more year, but I learned at the party last night he was just done with it.
If anyone knows what it’s like to just feel “done” with something, it’s me, so I respect his path. In addition to Gage, the team has two associate coaches, Sam Thatcher and Maurice Dupont. I met both last night, and they seem cool, but you never know until you get out there. I do know that Cannon West will be good for this group. He’s pretty young to be given a head coaching position for a professional team, but he’s apparently got a talent for connecting with people that can’t be ignored. At least that’s what Gage said last night.
Glancing around, I spot Coen Highsmith and Stone Dumelin sitting together. I met Stone last night, but Coen had already left by the time I’d arrived. We’ve met a few times over the years at games and such. I did watch with interest as he publicly fell apart this past season, and I’m equally interested to see if he’s gotten his shit together. He’s a skilled player and will be essential to this team’s success.
Sitting with Coen and Stone are three more players I met last night. All were down in the minors prior to the crash, so I don’t know them at all, but I do remember names.
Boone Rivers is a talented center who moved up to take Coen’s position last season after Coen’s suspension. Boone played incredibly well, so we’ll wait and see if those two will battle it out for that spot on the first line. The other two are the first-line defensemen, Kirill Zucker and Nolan Carrier.
Again, their spots are always subject to change based on how they perform in training camp. Some new players will be added this week since trades were made over the summer.
I know I’ve got a good shot at the primary goalie slot. I’ve got the most experience and the best record. Jesper Keane shows great promise, but a groin injury last season is slow to heal. Patrik Stenlund is too inconsistent to hold the primary slot, and I doubt at the end of training camp he’ll even have secondary. I saw Kace Elliott was invited as a goalie prospect, and he’s damn good, but not as good as me. I’ll still need to earn any spot I get.
I trot up to the third row and plop down next to Stone. The seats are big and wide to accommodate our frames and covered in buttery-soft leather. Each seat has a flip table that can be positioned across the lap, but we’re not here to take notes. This is merely a welcome meeting before the physiological testing starts. That will consist of on- and off-ice drills to test our strength and endurance.
I’m not worried about it as I’ve worked out more since leaving the league than I did when I was in it.
“You meet everyone?” Stone asks, indicating the players sitting in the immediate vicinity.
“Yeah,” I say, glancing down the line and giving the group a chin lift. I specifically lean forward and reach across Stone to extend my hand to Coen. “Good to see you back.”
Coen smiles as we shake. “Good to be back.”
The room falls silent, and I look down to see that Brienne and Callum have walked in. I expect they’re here to give traditional welcome remarks, but I’m still skeptical and distrusting of management. Granted, Brienne looks all kinds of hot today in a formfitting navy-blue dress with matching pumps. That hair is once again pulled back from her face, her lipstick cherry red.
There might have been a fantasy or two of ways in which I could mess up the coloring on her mouth, but I’m sure I’m not the first guy to think that about her—only the guy who might act on an opportunity because I don’t care if I offend anyone. No one gave two fucks about me when I was ostracized for something I didn’t do.
Brienne bypasses the podium off to the side and steps to the middle of the floor with Callum at her side. She turns slowly to look at everyone and holds out her arms. “Welcome, gentlemen. It’s our first day of training camp, and I can feel the energy in this room. I know you’re all excited to get started, so I’ll keep my comments brief.
“First, let me just commend the returning players once again for an amazing effort last year. Rebuilding this team and carrying on Adam’s work has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s also been the most rewarding, so thank you for that.”
Unexpectedly, the room erupts into thunderous applause. I look around in surprise and join in. I wasn’t part of last year, but it’s apparent these men have tremendous respect for Brienne. She had no experience and did far better than anyone expected.