Page 10 of Charming Crosschecks

Seriously?

This was an olive branch?

“GET OFF THE ICE IN THOSE SNEAKERS!” Gerry’s snarl jolted her back, his voice ricocheting off the empty stands. His temper flared, his grip tightening just slightly before he abruptly pulled her off the ice, nearly dragging her to the boards. Molly stumbled, the smooth surface of the ice beneath her feet betraying her shaky balance.

“You could get hurt,” Gerry continued his voice a low growl. “Do you have any idea how sharp skates are? This isn’t a game, Molly.” He gestured toward his own blades, their edges gleaming menacingly under the lights. “One wrong move, and it’s like a knife slicing through skin. You need to take this seriously.”

Her cheeks burned, shame prickling under her skin.

“I wasn’t going to—” she began, but his glare silenced her.

“Not smart,” he shot back, his voice hot with exasperation. He yanked off one of her gloves, holding it up like evidence in a courtroom. “These? Useless. They don’t protect anything.”

“Gerry…” she started, softer this time, but her words faltered under the weight of his stare. She tried again, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve done this before, and?—”

“Not here,” he cut her off, his tone hoarse but unwavering. “Not with me, not with my team, and not on my ice. You don’t step out here without the right gear. Got it?”

She hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue, but his glare left no room for argument. “I can’t ice skate,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. The confession hung in the air between them, vulnerable and raw.

Gerry stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a bark of laughter escaped him. It wasn’t cruel, but it stung nonetheless. “That’s not my problem,” he said, flinging his hands up as he skated away, his stick clattering to the ice. “Figure it out.”

Her stomach twisted, the weight of humiliation pressing down on her chest. She wanted to sink into the floor, to be anywhere but here, but instead, she stood frozen in place.

A shadow approached, and she glanced up to see Lafreniere skating toward her. He stopped just short of her, his eyes kind but tinged with curiosity. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than Gerry’s had been.

“I—” She faltered, unsure how to explain, but he gave her an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Thierry has a way of making his voice carry. Everyone already knows.” He chuckled, lightening the tension. “You’re not the first to need a little help out here. We all start somewhere. But he is right – you need to have proper protection. Everyone does, and that’s the rules. You can’t have little Timmy losing a finger at a media event – and we can’t have an employee do the same.”

Molly bit her lip, her insecurities bubbling to the surface. “But they’ll all think?—”

“They’ll think you’re trying,” he interrupted gently. “And that’s more than most. Now, go get some skates and gloves. I’ll grab something to help you balance.”

She hesitated, but his reassuring tone nudged her forward. “Okay,” she murmured, finally turning toward the locker room.

As she walked away, her head high despite the lingering sting of embarrassment, she resolved thatthis wouldn’t be the end of her story on the ice. If she wanted to belong here, with them, she’d have to find her footing—literally and figuratively. And maybe, just maybe, Gerry Thierry wasn’t as immovable as he seemed.

CHAPTER 5

THIERRY

“Guys?”

Gerry looked up from where he was sitting on the bench in the locker room, unlacing his skates only to see Coach Mike walking in – followed by a blonde haired woman. She was shapely and awfully pretty, but there was something in her expression as she looked at the coach, causing him and the other guys to hesitate as they all got quiet.

“Fellas – I’d like you guys to meet Brandi,” the coach began and looked at the woman with a look that made a smile touch Gerry’s face.Aww, that’s kinda cute seeing the big guy fall for someone. “And we’re getting married.”

Say what?

“Hi-Ho-Silver is getting hitched?” Gerry yelped in excitement as a few of the guys gasped in shock. Coach rarely dated, spent a lot of time at the arena or in his office, doing press junkets and other events – but never had the man even hinted at getting married. “Do we call her Mrs. Coach? Silver-A-Doe? Get it? Eh? Silverado but Silver-A-Doe?”

“She doesn’t have gray hair, you dork,” Giroux laughed, slapping him on the shoulder.

“I’d be nice if I were you, or you’ll be doing drills again.”

“Coach is getting married?” Boucher echoed, his grin so wide it looked like it might stick that way.

“Oh man, this is great!” Coeur shouted, pumping his fist. A ripple of chuckles spread through the locker room as they considered how it might change the man that they all admired. “Maybe he’ll be in a better mood…”

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