Page 6 of Love of the Game
Now all three were looking at me, all dubiously. Ella spoke first. “Jon, do you think getting into that boy’s pants is going to help him be a better hockey player?”
I shrugged again, and Red Dog sighed. “Jonny…”
I held up my hands. “I’m not out to fuck him.” Not really. It wasn’t a good idea. Not good at all. “And yes, I think I can help. He’d got a chip on his shoulder.”
“Your dick’s not gonna knock that off,” Merrick muttered.
“Oh, it might, you never know.” I held up my hands when Red Dog gave me his withering look.
“Lord,” Ella said. “Save me from this fool of a man.”
“God’s not that kind,” Red Dog said.
“Hey, it’s not like I go out of my way to sleep with teammates.”
Ella scoffed and threw her rag down on the counter. “That fool Adam accidentally fell on your dick then?”
I winced. You’d think after three years, people would forget about that, but alas. “Adam was a—mistake. Pretty—but a mistake.” Adam Darelo, a sandy-haired left-shooting defenseman with lovely hazel eyes, had lasted three-quarters of a season on the Otters before he’d been traded. Playing-wise, he’d had sparks of—something—on occasion, but was mediocre otherwise. He’d been so fun in bed, though. Just—vibrant and enthusiastic. The Adam whirlwind had been great, right up until I’d discovered he’d also railed his way through the less-than-straight part of the team. Not so great for the married guys, or those with partners. Half the team ended up a snarling mess. Cleaning up after that disaster had been something.
“That’s why I have the dating rule,” I said. “And tonight doesn’t count as a date.”
“Sureit doesn’t,” Merrick said.
“It doesn’t.” I think the lack of mirth in my voice might have finally convinced them I was being serious, because all three watched me carefully. “I won’t lie and say I’m not attracted to him or that I don’t want him, but Drake’s got to get whatever’s in his head worked out. While a good roll in the sheetsmighthelp with that, I have the team to think about.”
Red Dog nodded. “You have to consider what’s best for the club.” The Night Bones could be a hell of a lot more selective about their members, and the buck stopped with Red Dog. Not so with me. I might be captain, but the buck stopped hell of a lot higher up on the food-chain.
“I don’t make the personnel decisions. But the team is still mine.”
“And now Drake William is an Otter,” Ella said.
Which meant he, too, was mine, at least as far as that went. The Lions would call him up eventually, if he unfucked his head. There was time to see what the best approach would be in helping with that. Flirting tonight hadn’t hurt that. And yeah, Drake would probably be mad, but what happened after that would tell me more than anything else would.
But as I told my friends—I wanted him. That, I couldn’t deny. More than that—I really did want to help Drake.
He was a hell of a better player than me, but the stress and sadness and frustration in that man… I shook my head. “Well, tomorrow’s another day, yeah?” I beamed at the two bikers and my bartender. “If nothing else, it’ll be interesting!”
Alas,overnight, the weather turned to cold rain from the brisk but dry late fall, so I pulled my old truck into the players lot at the arena. None of the other players were here yet, which wasn’t unusual. Coach Macintosh’s truck was, along with the SUVs of some of the other training staff.
Mac caught up with me in the locker room as he breezed through. “Hey, Jonny. That kid from the Lions is arriving today. You good with taking him under your wing?”
“Absolutely. You know I’m always willing to help.”
Mac grunted. “I’ve been studying film. No idea what the issue is. He’s talented. Played his ass off for two years.And now…” He shrugged and jawed his gum. “Got any ideas?”
“Some,” I said, and beamed at Mac. Though I bet pissing Drake off inadvertently was not what Mac had in mind.
He rolled his eyes. “You behave yourself, Jonny boy. This kid’s gonna be a star if he can get it turned around.”
Mac was usually right about his talent estimations. Drakehadbeen burning it up before this season. I headed over to the fitness room so I could warm my legs up on the bike. “I promise I’ll be good.”
“Jon.” Mac said my name with a gruffness I recognized, so I halted in the doorway and met his gaze. “Yeah, Coach?”
He gave me one of those knowing looks, and I wondered what I’d given away. I swear, Mac could read our minds. “You got something you want to tell me?” he asked.
After a couple years being coached by Mac, I knew better than to shrug his concern off. “He stopped by the bar last night but didn’t recognize me, that’s all.”
Mac groaned. “Don’t tell me you hit on him.”
