Page 95 of Thrown for a Loop
“It’s on my to-do list,” I assure her.If he ever shows up for a session.He’d better turn up for my master class the day after tomorrow, or I may not be responsible for my actions.
“Oh, here we go!” Darcy shouts at the TV. “Come on, hottie!”
Tremaine has the puck back, and the Pittsburgh defense is caught off guard. He and Chase make a series of quick passes that has their opponents scrambling.
We both hold our breath as Chase weaves around a D-man and Tremaine passes again.
It happens almost too fast to see—the puck kisses Chase’s stick and then shoots toward the goal.
The lamp lights, and we both shout with victory.
“Job done!” Darcy announces.
And that’s exactly what I text to Chase the next evening.Job done! Great goal in the 3rd!
He replies immediately.Felt good. See you in class tomorrow. Check your inbox for messages about our music and my measurements.
You are my favorite student, I tease him.
Except it’s not really teasing. He is my favorite, and I don’t know how to make it stop.
I don’t even know if I want to.
Chapter 33
February
The night before my master class, I stay up past my bedtime experimenting with the camera’s online software and feeling anxious about my clinic.
My biggest fear is that nobody will show. They’re tired from the road trip. When their alarms go off in the morning, they’ll roll over and shut them off.
I finally fall asleep at two a.m., which means I’m the one having trouble getting out of bed the next morning. I shower in a hurry and dress even faster.
I give myself a pep talk as I speed walk toward the facility, which glints in the morning sunlight at the end of Twenty-First Street, like a gaudy jewel. “This had better go well,” I tell the cold February air. “It needs to be the most insightful ninety minutes of these players’ careers. A clinic wise enough to make hockey angels weep.”
“Are hockey angels a thing?” someone asks from behind me. “Wait up, Coach Zoe.”
I slow down only enough to give DeLuca a wave. “No time for chitchat. Consider this your warm-up.”
“Yes, Coach.” He falls into step beside me.
“Where are your two sidekicks this morning?” It’s not too late to worry that nobody will show up for my class.
“They’re right behind us. Tremaine was arguing hockey statswith the concierge. Hey—I hope you noticed—I finally signed up for my one-on-one.”
“You get a gold star, DeLuca.”
“Thanks. You should have come over for beers the other night. It was a good game, and you could have helped us trash-talk Brooklyn’s skating.”
“That does sound like fun,” I agree.
“Your boy would have been happy to see you there. Just saying.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I say primly.
“If that’s how you want to play it,” he says with a grin.
We’ve only made it a few more paces when I hear the sound of feet running hard behind us. As a small, single woman in a big city, that sound might be alarming. But not with DeLuca at my side, especially when he shouts, “Keep up, boys! Our girl wants to get there early.”
