Page 60 of Conrad

He just didn’t like to fail.

Aw,maybe that was the problem—he’d seen it as a personal goal to get her to trust him.

“Okay, three minutes are up,” said Ethan, and Conrad pushed himself out of the plunge and grabbed the towel the trainer offered.

He ran it over his chest, his shorts, and then draped it around his neck.

Coach Jacobsen walked into the room. He gestured with his head, and Conrad followed him out into the locker-room area. Most of the guys were still around, some of them changing after showers, a few in the massage room—Conrad might have preferred that. He spied Justin on the exercise bike, cooling down, his EarPods in.

Jace folded his arms. “Time-out is over. You ready to get back in the game on Sunday?”

“Always.”

Coach nodded. “You saw the last game.”

“Disaster.”

“Justin doesn’t have your instincts yet. He hesitates at crucial moments, second-guesses himself. Thankfully the Idaho games weren’t ranking, but we need to win against the Omaha Outlaws.”

“I’ll bring it home, Coach.”

Jace nodded again. “How’s it going with EmPowerPlay?”

“Good. We have that tournament tomorrow. Got the kids new equipment. They were crazy excited.” The memory of the kids opening the boxes, suiting up in their gear, pressed a smile to his mouth. “We might not win, but we’ll look good losing.”

“Great job. After this weekend, I need your focus back on the Blue Ox. We have a cup run, and I want to look goodandwin.”

“You got it.” Conrad had started to shiver under his towel.

“Go get warm. See you Sunday.”

Conrad headed to the showers, his body still numb, and stood under the spray, his hands braced on the tile for a long time, his muscles loosening.Date’s over, Conrad.

Aw.

He turned off the water, got out, and headed with his towel to the locker room. The problem was he didn’t know what he’d done. Maybe it’d been his conversation with her father. Except Oscar Pepper seemed like a nice guy, and sure, he wanted the man to like him—had nearly stepped over his personal boundaries to taste the whiskey the man had poured. But he’d circled that conversation through his head over and over and couldn’t figure out what he’d said that had turned her cold.

Maybe he’d been too verbally impressed with her parents’ house. Sure, the Pepper estate was magnificent, and he’d been a little knocked over at her family’s wealth, but he’d been around money, and frankly, it only caused headaches.

And stress, thank you. Because he had lost a painful chunk of investments last year. And Oscar Pepper’s words had prompted him to come home and check his stocks, even slide some over into an S&P 500 account.

He got dressed almost on autopilot, threw his towel and soiled clothes into the hamper, then headed out to his truck. Practice had gone late—the sun was already down, the stars blinking overhead. The crisp air filled his lungs.

“I’m not saying don’t try. I saw the pictures—you made her smile. That’s a start.”

He shook Harper’s words away. He was done trying. Penelope Pepper was just too . . . mysterious. Complicated. Maybe even high-maintenance.

Too much relationship math to keep track of in his brain. Besides, she hadn’t texted him. And he wasn’t going to text her. He recognized the boot end of a goodbye.

No more Pepper in his brain.

He went home, fried up a ribeye with butter, garlic, and fresh rosemary, added some baby smashed golden potatoes, and watched the latest Outlaws game. Took a few mental notes on the signals the center dropped to his team right before a face-off. Their starting center also tended to stay high in the zone to cut off the passing lane. And he was aggressive.

He also kept the puck longer than he should, maybe.

Conrad paused and rewound a couple of the goalie snatches—the man was strong on his glove side, but had given up two goals on his stick side.

He could use that.

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