Page 122 of Ice Wolf
“First of all, I wanted to apologize about the lurid photograph. We were making dinner and we got into an argument. One thing led to another and the photograph isn’t what you think.” Open mouth, insert both feet. I hated when I wasn’t on top of my game.
“She’s right,” Saint jumped in. “I was disagreeing with something she was telling me and she was just trying to make a point. Who knew she was such a gymnast on top of her fabulous public relations skills.”
With another quick glance, but even harsher this time, I told him in no uncertain terms to shut up. The coach eyed us carefully, his narrowed eyes shifting back and forth. “Are you under the impression we’re angry with you?”
“Well, yes, sir,” I answered, even pressing the back of my hand against Saint to keep him quiet. “Between the fight with Rocco and the recent scandalous photographs, I’m certain you’re questioning if I’m right for the job.”
“Well, other than some grandstanding you continue doing on the ice, Saint, quite the opposite. I can tell your effect on the Savage is working, Ms. Weathers.”
I knew I was leaning forward waiting for the bad news to fall. With his words, the only thing that would hit the floor was my shocked body. Was he kidding me? “My influence? The photographs are horrendous.”
“If you mean the one where you look like a giant bear grafted with Big Foot, well, that is ridiculous, but enough so peopleare laughing hysterically. Readers think it’s a hoot and a great stunt. Now, I can tell you the other coaches of the teams in the playoffs are none too happy since you’ve ceremoniously grabbed the headlines. Every one of them.”
On cue, Coach Edmonds headed to the table near us. He had a huge stack of papers in his hand, which he tossed down one by one from various cities. Toronto. Tampa Bay. Denver. Detroit. Richmond. Phoenix. Vancouver. Charlotte.
How he’d managed to snag so many copies was beyond me, but the teams in the respective cities had to be pissed.
The front page had the Wild Dogs’ last win next to two other photos. One where the team had Saint in the air after the win and the second was the ugly photograph in theSungazerpiece. And lastly was a picture of the two of us. Whoever had captured the photograph had certainly managed to make it appear as if we were in love.
Our eyes were locked together. Our lips were pursed. His head was down and his hands were touching me in a seductive yet classy way. With my arms strung around his neck and the man in his hockey uniform, the photo would make a perfect hockey romance cover.
Well, my goodness.
“Yeah, I know the optics on the photo in your kitchen aren’t great, but I can tell you this, the shit about your relationship being fake stopped. If anyone posts your love isn’t real, you wouldn’t believe the number of people who jump on the comment with disclaimers. It’s insane. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but there’s little mention of the wolf thing. Old news. Everyone is looking forward to the playoffs.”
No, I hadn’t noticed before. I’d been too busy wallowing in the fact I was a wolf shifter. My pulse ticked up into high gear. I guess I had to be grateful I still had a job.
I walked closer, tracing my finger over the photo on Chicago’s paper.
“The ring is a nice touch,” Coach Cavanaugh added. “Real classy. Where’d you get that?”
“It’s his grandmother’s,” I answered. “Much more special than any bauble he could purchase.” While I meant what I said, I instantly regretted doing so. The silence in the room was unnerving.
“As far as the crap Rocco pulled, he’s been sanctioned. While allowed to play in the finals, one additional incident and he’ll be tossed for the season,” the coach continued.
I cleared my throat to try to pull my mind away from a fantasy that would never turn real. “So you’re not firing me.”
“Firing you?” Coach Cavanaugh asked with a snort. “Ms. Weathers, if we are lucky enough to take the Stanley Cup, I plan on hiring you on a permanent basis. You’re good for the team.”
My mouth was wide open, but for the first time in a very long period of my life, I had no idea what to say. None.
“What about me, Coach?” Saint just had to ask.
“You just need to keep your head out of your… Your head in the game, son. We have work to do. The odds are on the Denver Devils winning the whole damn thing. I don’t want that to happen. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir. That’s not going to happen.” At least Saint was enthusiastic.
Meanwhile, I was hoping my drool faded into the tile at some point.
This was not what I’d expected in the least. The whole thing had been another clusterfuck. I needed stiff drinks and I needed them right now.
“Now that we have that cleared up, Saint, let’s go over a few offensive maneuvers. You’ve got practice first thing in the morning. The flight leaves at two so we can get to Tampa in time. For both of you, don’t be late. You know there’ll be tons of reporters waiting at the airport.”
“Yeah,” Coach Edmonds added. “Show of that ring of yours. And if you’ve selected a date for the wedding, you might want to toss that in. Great press.”
I took a deep breath, looking between the three men before slowly turning my head toward Saint. His expression was completely blank.
Other than the twinkle in his eyes from the thought of winning another Stanley Cup.
