Page 98 of Man Advantage

I leaned over to Hoes. “Fingers crossed the refs don’t fuck us.”

“Right?” He rolled his eyes. “If we take another penalty for someone tripping over nothing, I swear to God…”

I scowled and nodded. Three nights ago, Tremblay had taken a tripping penalty after someone had pretty much tripped over his own damn feet. We’d managed to kill that penalty, at least. The same couldn’t be said for the one Bells took in Boston. We’d ended up down a goal because they got a power play after the refs called Bells for interference… after the other player crashed intohim.

Such bullshit.

Gavin moved on from special teams to one of Anaheim’s other deadly weapons: odd man rushes. “This includes,” he groused, “one-on-zero rushes.” He looked pointedly at a section of chairs. I couldn’t see who he was glaring at, but I suspected it was the second and third defensive pairs, who’d let a few too many people squeak behind them recently. Nothing made the D pairs look worse than a single player leaving them in the dust and attacking the goal unchallenged. The goalies did the best they could in those situations, but they didn’t appreciate being left completely on their own.

And apparently Anaheim really,reallyliked doing that. On the screen, one of their forwards broke away, whipped past a startled defenseman, and started sprinting up the ice with three people on his heels and nobody in front of him but the goalie.

In a cartoonishly high-pitched voice, Hoes narrated, “After him! He’s getting away!”

Snickers rippled through the room.

As the player on the screen whipped left, then right, trying to fake out the goalie, Hoes shrieked, “Oh God! What do we do? What do we do?” The player fired the puck into the net, and Hoes’s melodramatic howl of despair had us all doubling over with laughter.

“Hoes,” Gavin warned, but the grin in his voice kind of killed the sternness.

“Sorry, Coach,” Hoes said. The devilish glint in his eyes said he was anything but.

He wasn’t done, either. During a video of a board battle, he muttered, “Goddammit, Carl, you’re stepping on my—I just polished my skate, you dick! Look at it! Look, you’ve scuffed?—”

“Hoes.”

“Wait! Wait! That’smypuck! Where are you going? Come back here at once!”

Gavin just facepalmed, and he didn’t succeed in hiding his own amusement.

As the player onscreen passed the puck, Hoes said, “Here—you thinkyoucan do better? You take it. Maybe you can—oh, hey, you got a goal.”

All around him, our teammates were vibrating with laughter. How Hoes managed to keep a straight face when he did this, I’d never know.

We wrapped up not long after that, and I doubted anyone was more relieved than Gavin. Film review was a necessary part of the process, but it could be seriously boring, especially for a bunch of hockey players who weren’t wired to sit still.

It ended eventually, though, and the coaches dismissed us. We had the rest of the day to chill now, since our game wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon. Some of the guys were heading out to play golf. Others were chilling in their rooms or going out in search of food. I had dinner plans with Hoes and Bells, but not for a couple of hours yet.

I thought I heard some of my teammates making noise about going to a go-cart track, but that might’ve been just to antagonize Coach. Though he hadn’t banned us from going to places like that, he hated it when we did. Apparently a couple of his teammates during his playing days had gone to a less than reputable track, and though I wasn’t exactly sure what happened, three of them had ended up missing that night’s game. So… he preferred if we didn’t tempt fate.

Go-carts did sound kind of fun, though, and as long as it was a reputable place, then we could?—

“—don’t you, Trev?”

The sound of my name turned me around a half-second before I registered that it was Chats. “What?”

He smirked. “I was just saying, if Bryan keeps working me as hard as he does, I might end up on LTIR. You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

There was a time very recently when that would’ve set my teeth on edge and made me see red. This time, I just chuckled, rolled my eyes, and turned back around to keep walking. His taunts about being with my ex-husband weren’t nearly as effective anymore. Not when I’d be FaceTiming naked with Cam later tonight. The thought made me shiver and?—

“Hey, don’t be jealous,” Chats called after me. “Not my fault you downgraded from him to the hired help.”

That stopped me in my tracks a split second before I could tell myself not to take the bait. Several of our teammates halted too. Some were glaring at Chats. Others were watching me like they thought I might drop gloves with him right here in this hallway.

His shit-eating grin got bigger. “What’s wrong, Trev? Did I hit a nerve? Is that?—”

“Chats.” Spaulding put a hand on Chats’ chest and tried to herd him away. “Don’t. That’s not?—”

“No, no,” I said through my teeth. “Let him talk. The fuck did you say, Chats?”

---