Page 39 of Offside Attraction

“Coach—”

“I’m letting you know, not asking for your opinion.” Voices filled the entryway, and Jordan turned to see Snowballs players filtering in through the front doors. Curtis Reeder locked onto them and left the group. So. That was his dad. Jordan didn’t remember if they’d had a run in specifically, but with the Snowballs, there weren’t many altercation virgins left.

Curtis walked over and ruffled his son’s hair. “How was practice?”

“Dad.” Jace scowled and put his white boy fluff back into place. “It was good. This is one of my coaches.”

Curtis turned, appraising him. “Wheatfill.”

Jordan nodded. Curtis was an inch taller than him, but not as thick. It was difficult not to be a bit of an asshole given the circumstances. He cleared his throat and ditched his player hat for his coaching one. “Can I bend your ear for a sec?”

Curtis’s brow furrowed. He stepped away from Jace and followed Jordan over to the opposite wall.

“Jace has gotten into a couple of scuffles with another kid in our group. Ethan. They don’t want to talk about it, but I can’t have behaviour like that on the ice.”

Curtis blew out a breath. “Ironic.”

Jordan tensed.Coach, not player.“Our priority is the safety of these kids. He can’t be instigating?—”

“Instigating?” Curtis’s jaw tightened. "I thought they didn’t want to talk about it. How do you know he instigated?”

Jordan ground his teeth. “Jace seems to be the one who?—”

"I appreciate the heads-up, but I know my kid. He's not one to start things.” Curtis kept his voice low.

Jordan grunted. If he had a loonie for every parent that thought their kid wasn’t at fault, he’d have enough for the lunch combo at Tim’s. "Right. Well, if it happens again, both boys will be suspended for the week."

“Do we have a problem?” Sean walked up and stopped next to Curtis, his arms crossed over his chest.

Jordan wanted to tell him to walk his ass down to the locker room and leave the conversation to the men, but he didn’t. “Youth hockey. It has nothing to do with you.”

Curtis planted a hand on Sean’s shoulder, and they both turned back to the stairwell. Jordan walked back to his gear, irritation itching under his skin. His eyes flicked back to Jace, who was now engrossed in whatever was on his screen.

Jordan pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. He still had a solid hour and a half until his Pucks Deep practice. It was a pain to twiddle his thumbs and kill time, but by the time he got home in rush hour traffic, he’d have to turn around and head back.

He swiped over to the messages between Rhonda and her friends. At least he had that to keep him company.

Jordan tapped Jace on the shoulder, then waited for him to take out his headphones. “I’m going to order food. You want anything?”

Chapter

Eleven

Rhonda

Rhonda droppedher suitcase on the floor and let out a low whistle. This place was swankier than she’d expected. Over the years, she'd stayed in a lot of bougie hotels, but this one was definitely in the top five. Maybe even top three. In Edmonton of all places.

She slipped off her shoes and sank her toes into the plush carpet. It was like walking on a cloud. The lobby had been an elegant mix of dark wood and marble, and the room followed suit with its understated luxury. No tacky floral bedspreads or peeling wallpaper here. Even the air smelled better, like fresh flowers instead of the usual faint whiff of industrial cleaner.

The bed linens looked like they defied the laws of matter and were both crisp and soft. She had to resist the urge to strip down, flop onto the mattress, and take a quick cat nap. She had work to do. A whole routine to go through before her presentation that night.

She pulled her toiletries from her suitcase and set them on the sink, then extracted her garment bag and hung it in the closet. The presentation was at six, so she had plenty of time to prepare.

She'd already picked out her outfit, a tailored dress with clean lines. It was professional but had just enough of a dip in the neckline to keep every doctor in the room on their toes. Not that she needed help with that. Being a mixed-race woman in a room full of mostly old white men was usually enough of a hook.

Rhonda leaned against the counter and stared at herself in the mirror. She ran a hand through her curls, then pulled them back into a low bun. It was a fine line to walk. She couldn't be too pretty, or they thought she was a bimbo. But be unpolished? They’d settle into the stereotypes they already held about women who looked like her. It was a delicate balance, and one she was getting damn good at navigating.

Rhonda opened her makeup bag and started her application. She’d learned to go for a natural look that highlighted her features without being too flashy. A bit of blush to accentuate her cheekbones, a swipe of mascara to make her eyes pop. Red lips were too much, but soft, nearly translucent pink worked well. It reminded them of their mothers.

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