Page 3 of Face Off
“Twenty minutes. That’s a new record,” my father states, looking up from his newspaper. “All that time just for you to look like you belong in a Bass Pro Shop catalog.”
My wild hair is piled high on my head in a messy bun, while I’m dressed in a pair of high-waisted jeans with a red flannel opened in the front, showing off a gray, loose-fitting tank that’s been tucked into the top of my jeans. I look at him with a bewildered look on my face. “Well, at least I put on some makeup. God forbid you’re seen in public with a tired doctor and mom.”
Camden chuckles at my response, while my father sits unamused. Grabbing my to-go mug, I make my way to the frontdoor and throw on my favorite pair of Sperry’s. “Well, are you coming or am I going to this thing alone?”
The car ride is spent listening to Cam go on and on about his favorite players and who he hopes to train with. When we walk into the arena, I can’t remember the last time I was here, but everything still feels the same. The team colors of teal, purple, white, and black line the entire stadium, while championship banners hang from the ceiling.
“You two go ahead.” My father’s voice carries throughout the arena as we make our way toward the ice.
It’s been years since I’ve last stepped foot in this arena. Camden had just turned two and my father, despite how disappointed he was at first about having a grandson, was nonetheless proud and couldn’t wait to show him off. It was also the last time I had laid eyes on Camden’s father Boyce Cameron. He was in his second season with the New York Edge. And when I walked to the ice with Camden in my arms to show him the teams warming up, he didn’t even bat an eye or look in our direction.
Yeah, it hurt big time. It hurt even more as Cam grew and fell in love with hockey, his all-time favorite player being none other than Boyce. How he idolized the very man who abandoned him before he was even born. I know.Ishould let it go considering Cam has no clue who Boyce actually is, but how can someone forget a thing like that? He was Camden’s own flesh and blood, and he wanted nothing to do with him in the end.
The past consumes my mind as Camden’s voice brings me back. “Mom, can you tighten my skates for me? I always have trouble getting them tight.” I smile as I drop his bag to the side of his seat.
“Sure, buddy,” I say with a smile.
A few of the guys from the team and clinic kids take the ice. I stand at the glass and watch Cam skate with a smile on his face when a few of the guys walk by.
“Man, I love when we have clinic. All the hot hockey moms and desperate housewives come out to play.” He looks my way and winks.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. Just as I turn to walk away, I run into a hard wall, large hands gripping my arms to steady me on my feet. I tilt my head back, taking in the sight of the man before me. He’s tall, maybe about six-foot-three but taller in his skates. His hair is wet and disheveled as if he just had shower sex, and his beard is neatly maintained. It’s almost like he stepped off the cover of GQ Magazine with his perfect lips and piercing blue eyes that have me frozen in my tracks, with my voice suddenly evading me.
Snap out of it, Hayley,I inwardly scold myself.
My heart rate increases, and my breath hitches at the sound of his voice. “Chill out, Halloway. You wouldn’t know what to do with that if it smacked you in the ass.” He looks down at me with a smirk and a wink.
He releases my arms before moving around me and entering the ice. Cocky and rude, should have known he was anything but the typically playboy. And God knows there’s no way he’d bless someone as hot as him with manners.
“Could have at least said sorry,” I mumble under my breath as I make my way back toward my father.
He’s in his power stance, so I know he means business. Not even looking at me, he says, “Monroe has.”
I cut him off before he can finish. “Five rookies starting Monday who all need physicals and two vets that need to becleared.” He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Cassidy sent over the files right after our little chat this morning. So, I’ve already looked over them. In fact, I plan on working on them while I’m here.”
He nods while continuing his focus on the rink below. Pulling my I pad from my bag, I thumb through the roster to familiarize myself with the team. Some of the guys I’ve known for years, but there’s been a few additions I’ve missed since med school and the ER became my life the last six years. I make my way back down toward the rink, matching each face to the team picture and name on my list.
“Miller,” Coach Stevens shouts, and I watch as the mysterious man with dangerous blue eyes skates past.
I quickly scroll to his player file. Five-year veteran on the team. Top goal scorer, not as good as Alex Ovechkin though, and captain. As I scroll toward the bottom, two bold words jump out at me.
Injured reserve. Seriously? He hasn’t even been cleared, and he’s trying to skate on the ice. Putting down my iPad, I approach the entrance to the ice doing something I know I probably shouldn’t do.
Walking cautiously on the ice, I head toward him. “Brooks Miller.” My tone comes out harsher than intended.
“Hayley.” Coach Stevens’ voice echoes behind me. “You can’t be walking on the ice with those shoes.”
“Brooks Miller,” I repeat again, slightly slipping before stopping behind him.
Looking over his shoulder, his eyes pin me to my spot. My heart pounding slightly in my chest. “Can I help you?” he says with a cocky smirk plastered across his face.
For a moment, I lose all train of thought, as his clear blue eyes lure me in. But I quickly bring myself back to reality. “Off the ice,” I say, my tone firm.
“Excuse me?” His cocky grin slowly fades.
I say it again, this time slower as I take a step forward showing him I’m serious. “Off. The. Ice.”
He lets out a chuckle as if I can’t be serious or my authority means nothing to him. “And you are… That’s right, you’re one of the hockey moms. What? You wanna discuss one-on-one sessions for your son. Or yourself?” His cocky smirk returning.
