Page 71 of On Ice

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “You been studying film, Mr. Barone?”

I grimace. “I’m no expert, but I enjoy the game. That’s why I bought the team.”

Evan shifts beside me, letting out a little disgruntled chuff.

“I love that.” Torres grins. “Having an owner that knows the sport is fantastic.”

Jackson nods. “It’s definitely a nice change. And you’re right, the Wolves goaltending has been shaky.”

I’m pleased they seem to appreciate my observations. “I’ve been watching your practices and noticed a few problems with the Ice Hawks too. Do you want to hear what they are?”

There’s an awkward silence, but then Deck says politely, “Of course.”

“Great.” I clear my throat. “You guys give up way too much space in the slot. And, Torres, you’re fast, but you overcommit on the forecheck and leave gaps behind you.”

“Yeah.” Frowning, Torres rests his chin on his hand, poking at the condensation on one of the pitchers of beer. “Coach said the same thing to me today.”

I give a smug smile. “Great minds think alike, I guess.”

A few of the guys laugh.

Leaning forward, I say, “I’ve noticed something about you too, Mills.”

Mills blanches. “Uh, is that right?”

I nod, opening my mouth to speak, when Evan kicks his leg sideways, connecting with my shin. “Ouch.” I scowl at him. “You kicked me.”

“Sorry.” He’s smiling, although it looks more like he’s baring his teeth. “But that’s probably enough criticism for one day, don’t you think? Why don’t you give it a rest?”

“Why? I’m trying to help the team.My team.” I frown and address the men at the table. “Do you guys mind if I comment on a few more things I’ve noticed?”

“Um…” Jackson gives a weak laugh. “I mean, you can weigh in… if you want.”

“See, they don’t mind.” I give Evan a triumphant look and then turn back to the table of players. “Mills, you’re getting caught puck-watching instead of tying up your man. That’s why you let in two goals against Chicago, you’re making it too easy for teams to set up in your zone.”

Murphy chokes on his sip of beer and starts coughing loudly, and one of the guys slaps his back, looking concerned.

I give a smug smile, positive I’ve dazzled them with my amazing hockey knowledge. “I may wear a fancy suit, but I notice things.”

“You’re very observant,” Torres says politely.

“Yeah. I am.” I sigh and turn toward Noah. “I’ve noticed something about you too. Your glove hand has been looking slow lately—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Evan interrupts, shifting toward me and dropping all pretense of subtlety. “Please. Stop.”

“What?” I frown. “These are just a few things I’ve noticed, that’s all.” I shrug. “But hey, what do I know? I’m just the guy who signs your paychecks.”

“Luca,”Evan says in a strained voice. “We’re here to relax, not think about anything that stresses us out.”

“You guys started talking about hockey first.” I sigh and sip my beer. It doesn’t taste that great now that it’s not as cold.

Evan grumbles, “There’s talking about hockey and then there’s dissecting everythingwrongwith the team.”

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll keep my observations to myself.”

There’s a short, awkward silence, then Torres clears his throat. “Did… did you guys see that nasty backhand Keegan pulled off last night against Buffalo? I’ve been trying to copy that move in practice but I keep messing up the release.”

Jackson hesitates, but then joins in. “Maybe work on keeping the puck on your stick first, kid. That move you tried today looked more like a baby giraffe having a seizure.”

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