Page 127 of Waiting Game

“Tell me about it. She sits rink side too.”

I rub my chin. “Wonder what she’ll do when we host the All-Star Game in February?”

“Rotate through the jerseys every ad break?”

“That’s some dedication to hatred. Wonder what that’s all about.”

“You and the entire team.” Gagné’s chuckle ends in a hiss as he leans over to drag on his pants. It’s clear the woman’s antics don’t bother him, even if some of the guys genuinely are pissed.

“Should be illegal.” McIsaac’s words cut off when he draws on a sweater.

“How is it illegal to be a pest? Ain’t that your job?” Lewis argues.

“On the ice,” he defends.

Greco, on his way out of the shower room, lobs, “She’s better at it than you?—”

“Cole!”

Drawn from the bickering, I jerk my chin at Gracie and amble toward her because I’m good to go.

Little bit definitely micromanages—that’s her all over though. Coach doesn’t like it, mind you. He squints and scowls at her throughout the junket. Her hovering tactic might be unusual, but I kinda appreciate it.

Case in point…

“Finnegan with PSN News. Was it hard coming face-to-face with the Blue Demons again?”

“Not really. This is my new home, though I appreciate everything that Jersey gave me.”

“Didn’t seem like it when you slew-foot Hammonds.”

“That’s because I didn’t. You think I’d have gotten away with that if I had?”

Pointedly, Gracie clears her throat, earning Finnegan’s scowl.

“You’ve been acting very aggressively on the ice. Isn’t this the second game you’ve spent time in the penalty box?”

“Didn’t realize that was a crime.”

“I’m not suggesting it is, but would you say there’s a reason for it?”

“For playing a killer game on the ice?” Gracie turns the attention back to her. “What you call a slew-foot, Finnegan, I call a deke. I think you need to get your eyes checked.”

Finnegan narrows said eyes at my GM while Coach huffs under his breath. “There’s nothing wrong with my prescription.”

“No? Then we’re watching different games.”

“The stats don’t lie.”

“Which stats are those? The ones that indicate we’re in the middle of a winning streak?”

Finnegan grunts. “I never said you weren’t. I was asking why Cole is playing more aggressively than usual.”

“Who says he is?”

“I do.”

When the pair of them lock horns, I hide a grin.

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