Page 4 of Rookie Move

“Be right there,” he said, lacing up his skates. He’d wanted to be dressed and on the ice before the rest of the guys. He was here to prove that he deserved this spot and that was all he would focus on.

Well, all he should focus on.

He stood up and made his way to the ice, shaking out his shoulders and rolling his head to clear his mind. He hadn’t been on the ice in at least a week and he’d missed it. Hockey was everything to him—now more than ever—and he was going to be on his game as soon as he touched the ice with the edge of his skate blade.

“Laps,” Seibs, the assistant coach, called out when all the guys were on the ice. “Get your legs under you.”

The rush of air as Desmond took off was pure bliss. The summer had been so damn long, and while he’d enjoyed his time off—since early April due to Minnesota not making the playoffs, again—he was ready. Not that he hadn’t stepped foot on the ice since then. After spending May in Scotland visiting family, he had done what a lot of the guys do and played in a summer pro league. But it wasn’t the same. He’d spent most of his summer on edge, wondering if he was going to be traded, and discussing a future and wedding that were never going to happen.

Another thing he refused to think about right now. There was plenty of time to wallow about his ex. Hell, that’s what had led him to hook up with Rylie.

And here she was again.

“Alright, Bugs finally showed up,” Seibs called out, immediately pulling Desmond from his thoughts.

Desmond turned and spotted the father of his one-night stand. Fucking hell. He could not think of his coach that way or he’d end up tripping all over himself all season.

“It’s Bugsy, asshat,” the man teased his assistant coach, then swatted Seibs on the back of his legs with his stick. It was nice to see the camaraderie extended to the coaching staff.

Seibs rattled off a list of drills to start and they broke into groups. Lucky Desmond, he was with Bugsy. He could do this. It’s not like the coach would find out about Desmond hooking up with Rylie.

“Two-on-ones, start with Finn, then Lachley. Dom, Westie, Finn, you’re up,” Bugsy said, stopping next to Desmond. “How’s it going? We’re really happy to have you here, Lachley.”

Desmond rested his arm on the butt of his stick, totally calm. “It’s great to be here. Things are great,” he said.

“You settled in?”

“Yep, thanks.”

“Good. Your game is solid, and I think you’ll be an asset to us, so show us what you got.” Bugsy reached up and patted Desmond on the shoulder. “You’re up.”

Desmond took his position facing Dom and Westie. Dom was the team’s youngest hotshot, but the Strikers were stacked with amazing forwards. He’d watched a lot of tape over the years of these guys, figuring out any weaknesses or tells. It was weird to be on the other side now, but that was the game. He’d played in Carolina during his first season with Baz, and with a few of the other guys during international play and on other teams.

They moved through their drills with a couple hiccups, but that was normal for the first day of training camp. A few of the guys here today wouldn’t end up on the final roster, but Desmond’s position was set, for the most part. As a top-four defenseman, he’d be paired up with Finn. Baz and Crow made up the top pair, and Desmond and Finn were second. It was a solid spot to be in, one that Desmond had worked his way up to over the years.

They finished up their on-ice practice with a quick scrimmage. He felt like Bugsy’s eyes were trained on him. Judging him. Assessing him.

Which of course he was—as Desmond’s coach.

Then Desmond whiffed on a pass from Finn.

“Lachley, what the hell was that?” Bugsy called out.

“Won’t happen again,” he said. He needed to get a handle on his damn nerves around the man or this was going to be a disaster.

Chapter 2

She would notgo down to the ice.

She. Would. Not.

“Want to chat about those ideas yet?” Brenda asked, standing at the entrance to Rylie’s cube.

“Absolutely,” Rylie said, grabbing her notebook. She’d always loved jotting things down on paper instead of putting everything on the computer. It helped her gather her thoughts.

Something she desperately needed to do after this morning.

It’d been a few hours since she’d run into Desmond. Why did he have to be so damn hot? She had always been a sucker for an accent, add to that how good he was in bed, and it had the potential to wreck everything she was trying to achieve.

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