Page 13 of Mile High Coach

“Look, man,” Ki laughs, releasing my arm like I might swing on him. “I know you’re not on board with this whole thing, but you haven’t seen her successes. She’s turned around a lot of start-ups just about to go under, reversed bankruptcies…”

Despite how much I want to go after her, I can’t stop myself from taking the bait, crossing my arms and giving Ki a droll stare. “You’re talking about business, Park. This is hockey.”

“The business of hockey. All I’m asking is that you go in with an open mind.”

“Sure.” I toss the word out with the level of commitment he probably expects from me, just wanting to escape this discussion with him and get to the hallway. I can see Lovie in a discussion with Jared Davis, the slimy asshole.

There’s not a single new hire that he hasn’t tried to fuck. He takes public relations as a personal responsibility, apparently.

Until now, it’s never bothered me. But as Park says something about giving Love a season to work her magic, I hear her laughing beyond the door, that sharp, curt sound making goosebumps rise on my arms.

“Sounds good, man,” I say, clapping Ki on the shoulder and turning, stepping out into the hallway and not seeing her.

Muttering under my breath, I turn toward the administration offices, wondering if she’s headed there to set up her space, but something tells me that’s not the way she’s gone.

Instead, I about-face and go the opposite direction, not stopping until I’m pushing through a large glass door and onto an outdoor patio.

Just as I thought, Lovie is standing at the railing, leaning over slightly. When she hears the door, she turns around andstands straight, and I notice her suit doesn’t have a single wrinkle.

“What are you doing?” she snaps, the moment I get close enough to hear her. I stop, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“We can’t be seen out here together!” she says, the words hissing out through her teeth. God help me, she’s fucking hot when she’s pissed off.

“And why not?” I ask, leaning against the railing with one arm and shooting her a confused look. “It’s not like anyone here knows?—”

“Do not say it out loud,” she insists, cutting me off and moving toward the railing, turning so she’s facing me. “And they probably suspect, considering the way you ogled me during that entire meeting.”

“If anyone was ogling, it was fucking Davis.”

“He was just being nice. you know what? It doesn’t matter! The most important thing here is that absolutely nobody can know about what happened between us.”

I bite my tongue to keep from blurting out something I might regret. At the moment, I’m torn. One half of me wants to keep this going, to tease her and see just how much I can work her up, just how wild she might get. I’m already thinking about the sound those buttons on her suit might make when they come undone.

Another part of me sees something in her expression—something more than worry. Something bordering on panic that says this isn’t a joke. Not to her.

So, instead of doing any of the things I want to do, I raise my hands, nodding and drawing a hand across my lips like a zipper, “Not a word, Waters, or should I call you Willow?”

Her face flushes further, cheeks glowing under her makeup. “It’s my middle name. You were a stranger on a plane. It’s not like I was going to give you my full name.”

“You gave me a lot more than your full name, if I remember right.”

“This—” she pauses, takes a deep breath, and runs a hand over her hair, then gestures between us with it. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. No jokes like that. No insinuations. Someone could overhear it and get the wrong idea.”

“Fine,” I relent. She nods once and turns to leave, but I clear my throat, drawing her attention again. “Since you’re ruining my fun, maybe you could do something for me?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, that blush traveling down to her neck, and I realize what she’s thinking. It makes me laugh.

“Now who’s the one insinuating things?” I laugh, shake my head. “No, Park is making me get approval from the new consultant for my program. Turns out that’s you. Maybe you make quick work of it for me, give it the stamp of approval, so we can get it ready for next summer?”

Her brow wrinkles, then relaxes, and when she meets my eyes, there’s a newfound understanding there. “The camp for kids?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” I can taste the victory—her saying of course she’ll approve it. Only a monster wouldn’t.

“I’ll have to look it over more,” she says, tilting her head. “My job is to make sure the players—and the team as a whole—are performing at the top of their game. I’m not sure something like that will work. Especially if we’re not sure about player time and ice time.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to help disadvantaged kids?”

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