Page 21 of Rookie Move

Desmond didn’t miss how she emphasizedDad. It wasn’t the first time she did it, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know who the hell her father was.

After Rylie turned to walk away, Baz’s hand came down on Desmond’s shoulder.

“Something going on between you two?” he asked.

Desmond scoffed. “Of course not. Only an idiot would hook up with the coach’s daughter.”

Baz’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything else.

Shit. He was an idiot.

***

Forty minutes later,Desmond skated backward, his eyes darting between the Calgary forward’s face and the puck the man currently had on his stick. They were tied one to one at ten minutes into the first period, and he refused to be the reason they gave up a goal. It was like a choreographed dance. Every movement matched. After endless hours spent watching video of the other team, he was focused, waiting for the guy to make his move.

The forward’s eyes darted across the ice, his head barely moving, but Desmond noticed. The guy cradled the puck against his stick, most likely waiting for his teammate to have an opening. Desmond stretched out his stick to try to snag the puck, but the Calgary player took that opportunity to fire the puck over to his teammate.

Desmond moved closer to Finn to protect Gally in the net, but he made sure to avoid the blue paint so Gally could have a clear view of their opponent.

When the winger tried to slip the puck between Desmond and Finn, Desmond finally snagged the puck and fired it toward Dom, who was waiting to the side. Dom took off down the ice with Westie and Sully, while Desmond and Finn quickly skated to the bench for a change.

They’d been tied up in the Strikers’ end for a few minutes, and he was grateful for the breather.

“Nice shift,” Seibs said, slapping Desmond and Finn on the back.

Then the goal horn sounded and they were on their feet as Dom did a celly and hugged his linemates on the ice.

Chapter 6

Rylie’s puppy dutiesfor the night had ended after the puck dropped and everyone cheered for Biscuit, and now she was polishing off some delicious nachos as the second period started. The fans had loved Biscuit, and tomorrow she would send out a few emails to their contest winners for free tickets. She was thrilled at how well her suggestion had been received—by management and the fans.

She was also thrilled the dog hadn’t peed again, this time on the ice during the puck drop. Her dad had shaken his head when she handed Biscuit’s leash to Edwin after they got off the ice and said,see, pee-free ice.

She hadn’t expected to enjoy working in the front office as much as she had. She’d feared that she would get bored or that her coworkers would hold her father over her head and judge her solely based on that, but she hadn’t noticed any weird looks or gossip. Brenda had listed her as Rylie, Marketing Assistant, and not Rylie Malone, in their press release detailing why they were bringing a dog on board.

Rylie had readily agreed. She wanted to be judged on her own merit and Brenda supported that. She couldn’t ask for a better boss.

But now work was done for the day and she could focus on the game and the excellent snacks available. The Strikers were up two to one and the energy in the air was amazing. She’d been to a handful of games in the last few years, but since the official season started with her as part of the team, she wanted them to win even more.

And she would not focus on Desmond, or the fact that she’d put his number54 t-shirt in her online shopping cart from the pro-shop. She still wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking when she’d done that the other day. Maybe because he’d been so sweet asking if she was okay over text when he was at the office.

Ugh. Stop it.

“Come on, Lachley,” someone shouted from behind her as the object of her misguided fascination collided with one of the Calgary players into the plexiglass in front of her. She almost jumped in her seat at the noise. The glass shook, knocking someone’s beer off the ledge. The man cursed and Rylie tried not to laugh.

Who was stupid enough to put their beer there? Had they never watched a game?

“Get it out,” the man behind her yelled, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Desmond.

Which was pretty much how most of the game had gone.

Pop a nacho in her mouth. Look at Desmond. Take a sip of her soda. Look at Desmond. Polish off a bag of M&M’s. Look at Desmond.

Desmond dropped his shoulder, shoving the other guy away and breaking free, with the puck on his stick. He passed it to Sully from behind the Strikers’ net. The puck landed on Sully’s stick, but Rylie turned her attention back to Desmond just as he got slammed into the boards, his face pressed against the glass by another Calgary forward.

Rylie tried not to wince. Instead, she was yelling at the ref for a penalty. She’d learned a lot about hockey over the last few years and that was a clear cross-check. She almost jumped up from her seat in irritation when no whistle was blown.

At least the other fans around her agreed with her outrage as they yelled about the missed call. But Desmond just pushed back from the glass and paused, then skated toward center ice, ready for Calgary’s next shot.

---