Page 9 of Puck You Very Much

“You don’t understand,” Dax replied tonelessly. “I don’t give a shit about the press or West, but I actually believe all the rest of it is very important.”

Gray sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair. “Shit, Dax, you have to get it together. You and West, you’re both grown men. Set aside your feud. And honestly, when you’re on the same team, there’s no reason to beef anymore."

Oh, he was wrong.

"Dax, the team is loyal to you," Gray whispered urgently, taking a step toward him. “They only hate West because you do. So…give it a try. I don’t want to see you two at each other’s throats during practice. Save that for the opponents! As for this article,” Dax clearly saw a muscle bulge in Gray’s jaw, “it’s not the first of its kind. The last three months have been disastrous.”

“So? I was on break.”

“The press wasn’t, Dax. It can’t go on like this. Your jersey sales are in the crapper and ticket purchases have plummeted. You broadcast bad vibes, and your image has never been so shitty. Everyone likes the charming, funny devil. But the devil who advises children to drop out of school and shows more middle fingers than sense? Not so much. You arrive at your press conferences late and unprepared. You drink too much. You ignore calls from the marketing department. You don’t want to do interviews…I’ll be honest; you’re a certified PR nightmare. You make marketing angels cry.”

Dax narrowed his eyes. “Were those Lucy’s words?”

“It doesn’t matter whose words they are, they’re true.”

Fuck, yeah, they had to be Lucy’s. Only she used such fantastical comparisons.

“What do you want to hear, Gray?" he asked hostilely. “That I’ll be a good boy? That I’ll bow to Leslie’s PR regime and only allow myself to be photographed with a Coke in my hand?”

Gray looked at him in abject resignation. “Honestly, there’s nothing left you can say. It was just too much. And now that West’s coming…Let’s just say PR and Marketing are worried that you’re going to make life difficult.”

Yup. Those were valid concerns.

“Bullshit. I’m fitter than ever and it won’t affect my game.”

“No, but it will affect the damn ticket sales and the goodwill of our sponsors!”

"Fine," he murmured darkly. “I promise to pull myself together.”

Parker Gray shook his head and scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I’m afraid that’s not enough for us anymore, Dax. We’ve come up with…another solution.”

Confused, he frowned. “What solution?”

Chapter 2

“Over my dead body."

“Lucy…”

“No!” she said louder. “Forget it, Leslie. I’m not going to babysit Dax Temple! That’s not in my job description.”

“Your job description covers everything that has to do with the team’s PR issues,” her boss reminded her matter-of-factly, tucking a strand of gray hair behind her ear. “Dax Temple is a PR issue.”

“No, Dax Temple is unbearable,” she protested, putting her hands on the table and standing. “Leslie, I’m begging you. You can’t waste my talent on snatching beer bottles out of Dax Temple’s hands and telling the press he’s a nice guy. Nobody will believe us!”

“It’s because of your talents that I’m putting you on this,” the marketing director insisted. “And I’m afraid your tasks will be a little more extensive than snatching beer from Dax.”

“What does that mean?” The unrest raging in her stomach turned to panic. “Oh, never mind. I don’t want to know because the answer is still no.”

It didn’t matter what themore extensivetasks would be. There was no way she could face this arrogant idiot every day for the next few weeks. That wouldn’t be good for her blood pressure at all, not to mention the punching bag she bought a month after starting, the day Dax asked her in front of the entire team if she was already with sex partner number twelve or still hanging out with number eleven. Her face had flared so incredibly red, fire engines all over the world had turned green with envy.

Lucy loved almost everything about her job. She loved writing press releases, being paid to watch hockey games, and being in the locker room explaining to the players which journalists’ questions they should avoid and how vague their answers should be. She loved traveling and the variety of her tasks. She even loved being awoken at night by one of the players so she could sort out a problem for him that he didn’t want to bother Leslie with because he was too afraid of her.

Yes, Lucy loved everything about the Hawks organization—except Dax Temple and his smug grin and his seeming inability to ever wear a shirt. Whenever she needed to talk to him, he was always half-naked, as if he was purposefully trying to disable her language skills. God, that guy drove hercrazy!

“No,” she repeated. “No, no. Anything but that, Leslie.”

The stern-looking woman folded her hands on the table and raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I haven’t made myself clear. It wasn’t a question, Lucy, it was an order. You have a special connection to Temple that no one else on our team has. You’re the only logical choice.”

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