Page 27 of Drop the Mitts

André listed them off. “Mikhail Volkov from the Edmonton Titans. Colin Fraser from Toronto. Cade Bishop out of Vancouver.”

She nearly choked. “Cade Bishop?”

André grinned. “Big fan?”

She worked to keep her eyes from rolling. Cade Bishop was hot, yes. She wasn’t going to pretend she wasn’t aware of his Calvin Klein underwear ad, though she also wasn’t going to admit that she’d been tempted to save a picture of it on her phone. She cleared her throat, officially putting on her lawyer hat. “He’s under a massive contract extension right now. His team might have concerns about injury risk. Do you know if his agent signed off?”

“You know a lot about him for someone who isn’t a hockey fan.” André twisted the cap of the pen that sat on the table in front of him.

Grace scoffed. “Who says I’m not a hockey fan?”

“You didn’t seem to be. At the game the other night.”

She shot him a look. “What is a fan supposed to look like? Did I not put on enough body paint?” Devin coughed, and Grace glanced up, a flush jumping to her cheeks. “Sorry. Just a joke.” She straightened in her seat.What the hell was that?Totally unprofessional.

Devin waved her off. “We haven’t spoken with Bishop’s people. We assumed since it’s a charity game, it wouldn’t cause any problems.”

Grace tapped her fingers on the table, forcing herself not to look at André even though his eyes seemed to be heat seeking missiles. “That depends. NHL contracts have clauses that prohibit certain activities outside of official league games. If a player gets hurt in an unsanctioned event, his team could claim he violated his contract.”

Devin paled slightly.

André nodded. “It will be sanctioned. We’ll have every participating player sign a liability waiver.”

“Ideally, they should run it past their agents first,” Grace added. “Otherwise, if someone gets injured, the team could come after both them and the charity.”

Devin nodded. “We can get that in place. Anything else?”

Grace glanced at André, who was still watching her. She cleared her throat. “Just make sure all agreements are written, not verbal. Otherwise, things can get messy fast.”

André smirked. “Dammit, I was going off handshake deals.”

That time, she did roll her eyes. “Hilarious.”

His grin widened. “That’s all very helpful.” He paused, his gaze wandering over her face, stopping on her lips before dragging back to her eyes. “Thanks for coming, Grace.”

Her blood heated. “You’re welcome.”

Michael planted his hands on the table. “Well, I love this plan. What do you need from us?”

André broke their connection and turned, launching into ideas for marketing and hype. Grace felt like she was underwater for thirty seconds, and when she tuned back in, she heard, “I’m not sure if he’d be on board, but I think sharing your story could make this personal. In a good way. Hockey is all about getting back on the ice, but we need players and fans to know how imperative it is to take player safety seriously.” Michael watched André, his eyes kind as he waited for a response.

André ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I could ask him. I don’t think he’s opposed to it, but travelling here wouldn’t be an option.”

“No, of course. But maybe a video or something? The two of you together?” Michael suggested.

André considered this, and Grace held her breath. What were they talking about? She used context to piece things together, but it was all assumption. Someone André knew had experienced a traumatic brain injury? Was that why he was so passionate about this event and this charity in particular?

“I’ll work on it.” The grin was gone from André’s face, and the muscle in his jaw jumped as he stood. “I’ll be in touch.”

Chapter

Eleven

André

The sharp scent of sweat,rubber mats, and menthol filled the Snowballs’ locker room as André pulled his jersey over his head, shaking out his shoulders. The team was in good spirits, but their conversation had an edge tonight. That always happened this time of year. A buzz at the edge of their game and their celly’s at the pub. All of them were too superstitious to say anything out loud, but they were winning. And they wanted that damn Rose Cup.

The past three years, they’d come close without taking home the prize. After everything that happened with Pucks Deep over the past six months, they only wanted it harder. There wasn’t outright animosity between them like there had been—Rhonda’s smackdown at the pub had put them all in their place where that was concerned—but on the ice, they still wanted revenge.

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