Page 3 of Hooked On Them

Shit. They’d heard the whole Axe body spray thing, hadn’t they?

“How’s practice going?” Coach Lovell crossed his arms, staring down his nose at Dominic.

Dominic’s grin widened, a touch of delight dancing in his eyes. “Great. Coach Hastings was just explaining how my skating’s holding me back from being elite.” He dragged out the last word like it physically pained him to say it, each syllable dripping with the kind of condescension that made me want to demonstrate exactly how sharp my skate blades were.

Coach Lovell’s brow lifted, creating deep furrows in his forehead. “That so?” His gaze shifted to me.

I could have played it safe and backpedaled, sugarcoated, or smoothed things over. My career would certainly be easier if I just nodded and smiled. But I hadn’t worked this hard to get to where I was by taking the path of least resistance.

“Yes,” I said firmly, squaring my shoulders and meeting Coach’s gaze. “Wilson’s skating is inefficient. He’s relying too much on upper body movement and losing power in his transitions. If he wants to be faster, he needs to clean up his technique.”

For a long moment, no one said a word. The only sound was the soft scrape of idle skates on ice as the other players pretended not to eavesdrop. I braced myself for the lecture and the reminder that my job wasn’t to ruffle feathers or bruise egos, especially not those attached to multi-million-dollar contracts.

Instead, Coach Lovell snorted softly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Sounds like you’ve got some work to do, Wilson.”

Dominic’s grin faltered and his shoulders stiffened. “What?”

Richard Kessler, one of the owners, finally spoke, adjusting his tie. “I’d listen to your coach if I were you. There’s a reason I made her the highest-paid skating skills coach in the league.”

With that, they both turned and walked away, leaving Dominic standing there like someone had told him his new puppy wasn’t his. I allowed myself a small victory smile, savoring the way his perfect jawline clenched in frustration. Sometimes the best wins were the quiet ones.

“Five minutes,” I called out to Dominic as I skated away, my blades cutting clean, efficient lines into the ice. “Then we get back to work.”And this time, I added silently,you’re going to do it my way.

Chapter2

Puck to the Head

Dominic

Istormed into the locker room, pulling off my helmet and slamming it into my stall with enough force to make the whole row shudder. It did absolutely nothing to ease the white-hot ball of rage churning inside me. My father’s voice telling me I wasn’t good enough echoed in my head, which only made me want to break something even more.

“Fucking figure skater.” I ran a hand down my face and dropped onto the bench, attacking my skate laces like they’d been the ones to embarrass me.

The other guys let me be; a smart move considering the mood I was in. Everyone except Miles, who slid onto the bench beside me with his usual complete disregard for self-preservation. Typical Collins, always trying to talk me down when I was ready to explode.

“You should ice that ego. It’s looking pretty swollen.” His casual tone grated against my nerves more than usual when I was in a shitty mood.

I shot him a glare that would have sent smarter men running. “Not in the mood, Collins.”

“When are you ever in the mood for constructive criticism?” He pulled off his practice jersey, completely unfazed by the daggers I was staring at him. “She’s right, you know.”

“Oh, is she?” I wrestled off a skate. “Tell me more about how I should be taking skating advice from someone who couldn’t hack it in the twirl-and-sparkle league.”

Miles’s expression hardened, his usual easygoing demeanor cracking. “That’s low, even for you.”

“What? It’s true.” I yanked off my practice jersey, my movements sharp and aggressive enough to nearly tear the fabric. “She’s not even a real coach. She’s a glorified skating instructor they hired because of her last name.” I knew I was being an ass but couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“Jesus, Dom.” Miles’s voice was quieter but sharper. “Don’t be one of those fucking guys. She was the youngest female national champion and would have been the youngest to go to the Olympics. She knows more about edge work than you’ll ever know.” The disappointment in his voice should have made me feel guilty.

I forced a shrug like I didn’t care. “Doesn’t matter. Now she’s just another suit telling me how to do my job.” I focused on my gear, refusing to acknowledge the small voice in the back of my head suggesting that I was being unreasonable.

Rookie defenseman Kyle Hensley let out a low whistle from two stalls over. “Hastings really got under your skin, huh, Wilson?”

“Shut it, Hensley.” I peeled off my socks, refusing to acknowledge the accuracy of his statement.

“If you spent less time fighting her, you wouldn’t have looked like an ass out there.” Jensen smirked.

The locker room erupted in poorly concealed laughs, and I shot up from the bench, balling my fists at my sides. “Real supportive teammates I’ve got. Glad to see you’re all enjoying the roast.”

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