Page 7 of In the Defensive Zone with My Enemy

“Did you miss what I said earlier about this assignment helping you get that column you want?” His brows arch in that authoritative expression I’ve come to recognize when I’ve lost.

I drop back down into the chair. “There has to be some other way, Marty. Please. Just thinking about that locker room smell makes me want to gag.”

“You’re not thinking this through, kiddo. You want to do a column about Sarabella. Well, right now, this is the big news here. Big enough to wake up this sleepy beach town in a massive way. And your name will be on the byline. When you think about it, it’s really not that far off from what you proposed. And doing this assignment will go a long way in selling the board of directors on your column idea.”

Now he has my attention. “Okay. I think I’m beginning to see your point.”

“Good.” He gestures to his phone. “That was the new coach, Gabe Markelson. He’s expecting you in the morning.”

“That soon?! Don’t I get any time to do some preliminary research so I can compose my interview?”

“Soph, this isn’t a one-shot deal. You’re going to observe the team over the season and write a series.”

“A series?” I can’t even imagine there being enough content to warrant following a team for the entire season, but I may not be trying all that hard, either.

He nods. “The team needs positive exposure to help undo the controversy from last year.”

“That’s months, Marty. I don’t know if I can handle that.” To be around sweaty, spitting, and sometimes arrogant hockey players for that long makes the salad I had for lunch feel like nettles in my stomach. Mia’s fiancé, Ethan, is the exception—him I can stand—most of the time.

“Will I be able to work on anything else?”

“Nope. The idea is for you to follow the team. Get to know them so we can run profiles on the players and the managers and cover the home games, of course. That’s what will bring the fans back. You can even write about the renovations done on the old rink. Ms. Piedmont is giving you full access to everything.”

“Wow…” Marty could be right. If I structure this series similar to how I imagined my column, I could establish a reader following, which would back up my proposal.

But it’s hockey… And only hockey for months.

I tilt my head back, covering my face with a groan. “Somebody please wake me up from this nightmare.”

“Sophie.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

I drop my hands as I lower my chin. “What?”

“This is how it works. You pay your dues and prove you’ve got what it takes. Trust me, this is going to do great things for your career if you handle it right.” His earnest expression conveyshis belief in me.

Nothing will make me love this assignment, but I don’t want to let Marty down. He’s not only an amazing boss but one of the biggest sources of encouragement in my life. The only source, really. I drop my hands to my lap with a moan. “Fine. But I’m not changing my plans for Mia’s wedding.”

“Of course not. I’m not asking you to live at the rink twenty-four-seven. Just attend practices and games.”

“Away games, too?” I’m softening. I can feel it in my chest, and I hate it.

“Not all of them. We’ll cover your expenses for the ones you do.”

I’ve always wanted to travel, but not with a hockey team. Guess I can’t be choosy. Not yet, anyway. “And I do my own photos.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Now he’s placating me.

Still feeling somewhat petulant about the whole thing, I tuck my chin. “Can I stop in tonight to get the lay of the land?”

His grin stretches, pushing up his cheeks. Probably because he knows he’s won. “I had a hunch you might want to. The coach said no one would be there except for the construction workers. Take a look around and start envisioning your plan of action.”

Envisioning. One of Marty’s favorite words.

“Don’t get all woo-woo on me now, Marty.” I shove myself out of the chair and start to leave.

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