Page 41 of Puck Me Secretly

I chose my words with care. “I don’t have an official title, since I’m learning the ropes. My name is Rory Ashford.”

His eyes widened as he realized who I was. “This is still a closed-door meeting.”

I hated this. Why was everything such a battle around here? I didn’t lift my eyes as I opened my portfolio and clicked on my pen. “If you have an issue with my attendance, please take it up with the GM.”

He tossed his papers on the table and stomped out of the room. The rest of us sat there in uncomfortable silence, waiting for hisreturn. Don leaned forward and passed me his meeting agenda. He pointed at a name on the top. “That’s the admin for the coaches. You can ask her to put you on the mailing list for meeting minutes and the agenda.”

“Thanks.”

Baxter returned, and without addressing my attendance, he instructed, “Let’s get this meeting started.”

Our eyes met, and I almost drew back at the level of resentment and loathing in his expression. I steeled myself against his unmasked fury.

One year. I can survive anything for one year, can’t I?

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, andantibacterial cleaner assaulted my nostrils as I stood in the doorway. Huge 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.

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