Page 40 of Home Ice

"As long as there's Nutella French toast, I won't object."

"I'm filing that away because I will use it against you if I have to. Now, let's introduce you to everyone." He reaches out with his right hand, and like a fool, I think he wants to hold my hand. Instead, he grabs me lightly around my arm and walks me to where the rest of the team and their partners are standing in a loose circle. Everyone looks at us as we walk up.

"I brought a complete stranger this year," Brant tells them. "Since none of you know her, let me introduce her. Her name is Lily, and she's a trainer for one of the sports teams here in Salt Lake. Not sure which one. I didn't bother asking."

"Basketball," I say. "I work with a lot of real athletes there. Unlike you guys."

Kayden raises his hand to his forehead and sighs with more drama than a teenager could even dream of. "You smart asses are perfect for each other."

He might as well have dumped an entire ice bath on my head for the jolt the words send through me. "No. Not like that." I shake my head. "Just friends. Right? Right?" I look toward Brant, waiting for him to offer his confirmation, but his eyes are wide and he looks more shocked than I am. Of course he's shocked at Kayden's suggestion.

"I know I shouldn't say this," the man standing next to Nikita looks to his left and right like he's about to utter a secret he doesn't want anyone to overhear. "But I'm glad you don't have her this year."

A couple other WHAGs nod their heads. So do Kayden and Nikita. I look around, searching for someone to clue me in, but no one does. "Who's her?" I finally ask.

"First things first," Brant says, "Lily, this is Zachary, Poppy's husband."

"It's good to meet you," I tell him. "Is Nikita as quiet at home as he is at work?" Zachary laughs like the thought of Nikita ever being quiet is ludicrous.

"And the woman Zachary was talking about," Brant continues, "is Serenity. My ex."

Oh.

"She was a bitch," Zachary stage whispers. "Brant didn't see it at first, but the rest of us knew exactly what she was from the very beginning."

I want to ask what exactly she was, but Brant already looks uncomfortable enough. And it's not my business. It's not like I'm dating the man. "Well, I hope I'll be a little better than her. But I still want to crush all of you today."

"You think you can?" Kayden asks. "Maybe we should get this started, so you can see exactly why I'm the defending champion." Kayden does a stupid dance that looks like it's either something from the 1930s or a children's show. The others shake their heads and start walking into the park. When everyone is past him, he stops dancing and leans in close to my ear. "You're way better than Serenity. You're good for him." He dances again as he takes his partner's hand and they weave through the others to the front.

"What did he say?" Brant appears so suddenly on my other side that I jump.

"Uh, you know how Kayden is." He stares at me for a moment, and I think he'll force me to say more. But when he puts his arm around my shoulders, I couldn't say anything more if I wanted to.

"Come on, let's kick his ass."

The competition starts out easy enough. Two timed laps around a track. I wonder if Brant has been exaggerating about the events. This is just like a normal gym class in high school. At least, it's what I assume a normal gym class would be. I was never allowed to participate in those. If that's all this is, though, I'll never be able to compete. There's no way I can move faster than a group of professional athletes. All I can hope for is that I don't slow Brant down too much.

But the next event is completely different. We move to a group of ten small tables set up in a small paved area on the other side of the track. Each one has a Jenga game, and standing next to each table is a member of the Sting support staff. Brant and I are assigned to the table worked by Monique. She's in the advertising department. I've only talked to her a couple of times, but we give each other friendly smiles as we come up to the table.

We start in right away. Monique asks Brant a list of hockey trivia questions. If he gets the answer correct, I have to remove one block from the tower. If he gets an answer wrong, I have to remove three. Right or wrong, we get a time bonus for every question that he answers before the tower tumbles down.

The first questions are so simple I could answer them. They're just about the rules of the game. But then she asks him who scored the most goals in a single season, what year the league was founded, even which team won the championship in 1983. I'm a sports fan, but these questions leave me clueless. Brant, though, answers them like she's asking what he ate for breakfast. We make it through 27 questions before my tower collapses, and he didn't have a single wrong answer.

"You are fucking amazing." I don't even try to hide how impressed I am. "That's literally genius, savant-level stuff, Brant."

He shrugs. "Hockey's my life. When I love something, I learn everything about it."

The way his voice deepens as he says it makes my chest tighten, and I need to change the subject before my body gets any stupid ideas. "I thought it was maybe a secret Canadian superpower.

"You think we're born knowing everything there is to know about hockey, curling, and maple syrup?"

"And those geese."

"God no. Those geese are so evil, I swear they have to be American." He smirks. "Ready?"

We're back to the track for the next event. One of the assistant coaches hands Brant and I each a toy bow and eight foam arrows. We'll run the same two laps, but this time we have to stop every one hundred meters and fire at the targets. Four targets per lap, and we only get one shot at each. Every time we miss, we get a ten second penalty.

As soon as the coach starts his stopwatch, I sprint to the first shooting station. I took an archery class in college and loved it so much I joined the intramural team. This event is mine. I give Brant a confident nod as we stop side by side. My arrow is nocked and my bowstring drawn back before Brant even has his arrow in the right hand. I release and my arrow hits just outside the bullseye. Not perfect, but good enough. Brant gapes at me.

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