Page 14 of Mile High Coach

“I’m saying I need this job,” her tone goes flat, and she crosses her arms. “And I’m not going to let anything jeopardizethat. I’ll look into the program and see what I can do, but I’m not going to make quick work of it.”

“Not even as a favor to me?”

“Not as a favor to anyone.”

Her expression has turned hard landing somewhere between pissed-off boss and frustrated librarian—but this time, instead of turning me on, it just ticks me off.

Knockout might be hot as hell, and a great fuck, but that doesn’t mean she’s any different than the other administration people with heads up their asses when it comes to the business side of hockey.

Profits, expenses, line-by-line examinations of the team. All that data and marginal gain bullshit she was talking about is just smoke and mirrors, a ploy to cover the fact that she’s trying to turn the guys on my team into dollar signs.

At least I managed to dodge a massive bullet.

“I should have known better,” I mutter, shaking my head and pushing past her, heading back into the arena. My shoes thump noisily on the cement, and a bird chirps, circling once before landing beside the door.

Lovie doesn’t call after me, and I don’t look back.

Chapter 7

Lovie

Thankfully, I don’t run into Harrison again for the remainder of the day.

Everyone in the office is friendly, coming out to greet me, shaking my hand, welcoming me to the team.

Marcus Heath, the VP, wasn’t in the meeting but drops by my office.

“I was pushing hard for you to be hired,” he says, flashing a set of shining white teeth at me as he holds out a hand. “So make me look good, please.”

I laugh and tell him I will, even as my stomach flips at the pressure. I’m good at my job, I know that, but it doesn’t stop me from being constantly reminded about the particular stakes for this one.

The skills coach for the team is a woman, and she comes to my office to introduce herself. With short, choppy black hair and an endearingly crooked smile, she seems like my exact opposite—wild, brash, loose and free.

“Not a lot of women in the NHL,” she says, also shaking my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “It’s good for us to have each other's backs.”

At midday, Ki Park comes to show me around the cafeteria, where the other admin people are eating. I make small talk and try to keep my eyes from flicking to the door every time someone walks in.

Back in my office, staring at my computer screen, I can’t get my mind off of Harrison Clark. No matter how much I will myself to sink into my spreadsheets, to get lost in my data collection, I can’t stop thinking about the look on his face when he pushed past me on the patio. It has been like he was disappointed in me.

It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

If anything, I should be glad that he maybe doesn’t like me. That might keep him from joking with me, acting like we’re old friends.

Then again, if he doesn’t like me, that might push him to tell HR about our little situation. Or about the fact that I was still studying up on both the team and hockey as a whole on the flight over.

But Harrison doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would do something like that. I can only hope my intuition is right and that I can trust what I think I know about him.

I knew coming into this position, that everyone was going to want something from me. That, with the power to approve or kill requests, there would be many people coming to me to get support for their ideas. But what I didn’t expect was to have to face the man who held me while I slept last night. And even worse, I didn’t expect his request to be something so…heartwarming.

Of course he wants to start a program for underprivileged kids. And of course I have to tell him no. At least he truly seemed like he understood the gravity of keeping my secret for me.

The moment I’m done for the day, I shut my laptop and hurry out of the complex, being careful to avoid any of the paths hemight take. Once again, I feel like the woman skirting past him on the plane, but I just won’t be able to handle seeing him again today.

Luckily, my apartment is close enough that I can walk home, swinging past a little market on the way. I grab a salad in a plastic container, start for the checkout, then circle back around for a bottle of wine.

When I push through the front door and into my apartment, the first thing I do is pick up my phone and call my sister.

Chrys answers on the first ring, “Lovie? How was your first day?”

---