Page 103 of Puck Princess

“And I’m the captain of that team.”

Santos is not a man who is easily intimidated. Fortunately, I’m not either. I hold his gaze.

“For now. But time served won’t save anyone. No one gets grandfathered in. Everyone has to earn their keep.”

It’s a threat. An actual threat.

Coach shakes his head subtly over Santos’ shoulder, but my adrenaline is pumping.

“I’m great at earning my keep. I have to be. I don’t have a nice daddy to buy teams for me.”

“Sharpe,” Coach warns.

Rodger waves Coach off, taking another step closer to me. “I recommend you don’t bite the hand offering, against my better judgment, to feed you.”

“And I recommend you don’t underestimate me or my team by assuming we can be charmed into following bad leadership all so you can add another prized property to your Monopoly stash.”

His smirk fades. His eyes sharpen, and he looks so much like his son. “Why were you late today, Sharpe?”

“Family emergency.”

Coach Coleman’s phone buzzes. He curses under his breath and then excuses himself to take the call.

The moment he’s gone, Rodger pounces. “You’re talking about the PT, yes? Callie Coleman?”

The motherfucker has found a crack in my poker face, and he knows it. “Leave Callie out of this. She doesn’t concern you.”

“WhenI buy the team, everyone who works under me will be reevaluated.”

“When you reevaluate her, you’ll see she’s the best PT this team has ever had.”

“Is she? Or is she just the bestyou’veever had?”

“What are you implying?” I ask, meeting his tone.

“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating facts. Callie has a reputation with the boys. She also has a tendency to blow things out of proportion—cause drama.”

Steam might as well be coming out of my ears.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I call out.

He slips back into his comfortable smile with a shrug. “Why don’t you ask her?”

Rodger and the other higher ups leave, and I rip my skates off. At this point, I see no reason to join practice. I’ll be better off hitting the gym, instead. I need to be alone and burn off some steam. It’s probably best I don’t do it by knocking Santos out with a hockey puck to the face.

After I’m back in my gym clothes, I march out of the locker room. Just before I hit the training room, Coach Coleman steps in front of me. He jabs a finger into my chest.

“You. My office. Now.”

Fucking hell.

“Listen, Coach—” I start in as soon as he slams the door behind me.

“No,youlisten, Sharpe. I know this might not seem like a big deal to you, but his offer could put us on the map. I don’t need your hot head and your loose lips fucking that up for the rest of the team!”

“It’s all about money, Coach! And no amount of money is going to make us the best on the ice. The game matters more than the screen time. What good is new paint and fancy jerseys if we lose our heart? Heart is the only reason I wanted to play hockey in the first place.”

He looks at me, hard. But at the same time, something in his expression is soft, telling me he’s the same coach I’ve followed for years. “I can’t think about heart when the actions of my players have compromised this team’s integrity.”

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