Page 30 of Puck Me Secretly

He glanced at me. “To what?”

“He loves kids. So, with my approval, most of his volunteer work is with disadvantaged kids in the form of hockey camps and mentorships.”

My dad failed to keep the surprise off his face. “And he’s been doing his hours?”

“Yes. According to Katrina both the kids and the parents love him.”

“How’s the media behaving?”

“Seventeen calls this week alone. Everyone wants to discuss Max and his past.”

My dad made a short noise in his throat.

“Do you have any reservations?” I asked, dreading his answer.

My dad crossed his arms and watched as Max made a remarkable shot on the net during the drill. He was thinking. “I don’t know. There’s something about him.”

I could feel my heart pound in my throat. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “He reminds me of someone.”

“Who?”

His eyes followed Max down the ice. “Someone I didn’t like.”

“Dad, you can’t dismiss Max because he reminds you of someone.”

“Yes, I can. It’s called intuition.”

I rolled my eyes at Dad’s back. “He’s doing what we’ve asked him to do.”

“We’ll see.”

Those two words terrified me. My dad ruthlessly protected his team. I made a mental note to remind Katrina to follow up with Max before our first pre-season game about Max avoiding the media.

It wasthe first game of the preseason and Dad had filled our executive viewing box with his friends and colleagues. It was a boisterous affair with plenty of food and booze. I wasn’t in the mood. Before the game started, I glad-handed with his guests before slipping down to the family seats we always had reserved at ice level.

I’d never admit this to anyone, but I wanted to watch the game in peace. I didn’t want to make small talk with business executives while trying to concentrate on the game.

This was a big night for our players. We still hadn’t cut the roster, and a lot was riding on the game for several of the players. Not that I cared about most of those players. I was only worried about one.

Max.

It shocked me that Katrina was sitting in one of our eight private family seats that were off limits to everyone, including staff.

“Hi.” I sat down beside her.

Her delicate features were marred with shock at my arrival. Her beauty always stunned me.

At least she was a married woman.

She gave me a cold glance but didn’t say a word. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Katrina didn’t like me, but from day one, she had remained reserved around me. Perhaps this was an opportunity to warm up our professional relationship.

I waved over one of the personal attendants that stood off to the side.

“Could you please bring me a lager beer,” I glanced at Katrina. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

She didn't glance at me. “I’ll have a white wine.”

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