Page 22 of King

“You’re good. Is this a bad time to talk?”

Willa laughs. “Actually, it’s a great time to talk as long as I have coverage. I’m driving over to Clairton. Today’s my travel day. We rotate around some of the more economically depressed areas and do free medical clinics.”

Jesus… the woman might actually be a saint. “That’s really impressive.”

“A calling, I guess,” she says lightly. “But I was saying we do indeed have a practice tonight at six.”

“And you’re ready to accept my offer to help coach, right?”

There’s a long pause. “It’s really sweet, but I can’t impose. It’s a thankless job, as you can see, and I know how busy you must be.”

“No busier than you,” I assure her. “And like I said… I’ll have times where my job will interfere, but I can give you some lesson guidance. Tonight… I’m free. Why don’t you let me come help, I can get you going on the right path, and I’ll also make sure Mr. McVey behaves.”

Willa giggles and it doesn’t sound girlie or childish, but rather buoyant, as if the thought of me handling the man delights her. “He was a real jerk to Theo.” She pauses, presumably to consider, and my pulse makes an erratic skip when she says, “You know what? Yes. I accept. I’d be a fool not to.”

“Perfect,” I exclaim. “I’ll see you at the rink at six, then.”

“Sounds great. Thank you so much, King. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure,” I assure her, and no truer words have ever been spoken.

It’s just… I’m not sure if the pleasure is in helping her coach kids, which is rewarding, or rather in the fact that she’s an intriguing, beautiful woman who’s caught my interest. An event that rarely happens, and even more rarely does it turn into anything.

“See you tonight,” she murmurs.

“See you.”

CHAPTER 6

Willa

Standing nervously bythe edge of the rink, I watch as the kids skate around in chaotic circles to warm up. They’re trickling in as there’s still ten minutes until practice starts. Theo McVey has a broad smile on his face and I wonder if that’s because his mother brought him tonight so he won’t have the pressure his father puts on him. Izzy alternates between skating and cutting up with two little girls she’s befriended.

I glance at my watch, wondering if King is actually going to show. I had a long day working at the Clairton clinic and I came straight to the rink without being able to stop at home for a shower and food. I met Brittany and Izzy here and my sister is currently in the stands, flirting with one of the dads. My eyes drop to his left hand and I don’t see a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything these days.

I remind myself that Brittany is a grown woman and can handle herself. She and I learned hard lessons and we’re both far more cautious in our dating escapades. My current philosophy is casual dating is fine, but anything resembling a long-term commitment is not. Brittany is pretty much the same and it’s working well for both of us.

My experience with Scott didn’t leave me jaded—just determined to be different. I embrace being a single, independent woman who can be completely happy with a no-strings-attached relationship. I’ve been out on a handful of great dates that led to nothing and a handful of others that lasted for satisfying, short-term connections—mostly revolving around sexand fun—and they didn’t cause a single bit of angst when we parted ways.

I stifle a yawn as I watch the kids, chastising myself to perk up. I’m determined to make this practice better than the last but honestly… I’ll be leaning on King to do that. While I can read the rules and watch all the YouTube videos I want, I don’t have the faintest idea on how to teach hockey skills in a way that imparts correct form, and my biggest fear is teaching them how to do it wrong.

Izzy skates up to the edge of the boards, her cheeks flush with excitement. “Aunt Willa, did you see that? I almost didn’t fall while racing Max!”

It’s a struggle not to laugh at such a silly moment of pride but I concentrate on how her enthusiasm overrides everything. Brittany and I are flummoxed as to where this interest in ice hockey comes from, but we’re rolling with it. “I saw, sweetie. You’re getting better every day.”

A commotion to the right catches my attention and I see King walking through the building. His tall frame is easily recognizable, even in a crowd. He carries a duffel bag over one shoulder and wears a friendly, confident smile that unfortunately encourages people to approach him. He willingly stops to sign autographs and pose for pictures, but I note that his mesmerizing eyes scan the area as if he’s looking… for me.

Those warm golden globes find their presumed target and he waves a hand in greeting just before sidling up next to a woman and a man for a selfie. I smile and wave back.

“Coach Willa.” I turn to find Max, an adorable six-year-old with curly brown hair and two dimples that had to be inherited from a parent, although I haven’t matched him up to an adult yet. That’s something I suppose we need to do and perhaps a social get-together is the way to do it. But that’s something I’mgoing to make Brittany handle because she promised to help and so far, she’s just interested in flirting.

“What’s up, Max?” I ask, leaning my forearms on the rink’s edge.

“My skate feels funny.”

“Okay, come on down to the gate.” I walk the length of the boards, Max following along unsteadily, his left hand on the rail to guide him. I haven’t put on my skates yet as I didn’t know what type of practice King had planned.

I’m wearing a good pair of tennis shoes—what I wore to the clinic today—and so I step carefully onto the slick ice. I squat so as not to get my pants wet and manage to tighten his laces. “Feel better?”

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