Page 61 of Slap Shot Scandal
“Bennett should be fine here. Not much to do in this town, from what I’ve seen.” My gaze flicks over to him, one hand propped against a locker while he continues toflirt with Harbor. Jealousy roars through me, along with the realization that Bennett can laugh with her, joke around and be normal. While I’m trapped between wanting her and protecting the team that depends on my leadership.
He gets to sail along, carefree, while I watch from a distance and pretend my chest doesn’t tighten every time she smiles at someone else.
Nope.
I stalk across the room, Callum on my heels, hot aggravation buzzing through me.
“Hey.” I step in—closer than necessary—and wedge myself between them. Chit chat’s over. My arm’s nearly touching hers, and a pink flush climbs from her chest up her neck. Her eyes flit to mine, then away again just as quickly.
Bennett gestures toward the door the coach walked out, but doesn’t back away from Harbor. Still standing too close to her for my liking.
“Morning, boys. What did you think about the new guy?”
“Seems like he’ll be good. You?” Cal asks.
“Seems like a hard-ass to me. But I’ll give him a shot. Not like we’ve got options.” Bennett shrugs, a furrow between his brows.
“After last season, we need someone like him. He’s hungry and wants to win.” I only partially believe these words, but it feels good to contradict my brother.
Harbor’s phone buzzes in her hand and she taps out a reply.
“I’ll see you all out there.” She flashes us all a quick smile, but her gaze lingers on mine for a second longer than the others and a bolt of electricity shoots through me.
As she darts from the locker room, Bennett elbows me in the ribs. “So, did you two get cozy last night?”
“Not that it’s any of your business…” I drop my voice low so no one else can hear. “But no. I went to bed. Alone.”
“Damn, Cap. You gonna shoot your shot or what?”
“Coach made it clear—we’re here to play hockey. Focus. Keep our heads down.”
“Bor-ing…” Bennett sing-songs. “Besides, you could 100% use the stress release.”
“Shut up, I’m fine.” I straighten my jacket and stalk out of the locker room, officially dropping the subject.
Most of the team’s already lined up in the hallway, clustered in small groups. We walk toward the doors that lead out to the lobby, taking our place at the front of the line. I catch snippets of conversation, the wordcoachdropped more than once. The tight space grows louder by the minute and I’m sweating beneath my jacket. I don’t know if it’s from the heat or the stress, but at this rate, I may have to change shirts before the ESPN interview.
At exactly eleven AM, Prince, Coach Keller, and Harbor file into the hallway. Players move out of their way as they march toward the doors, shoving into the lobby swarming with media. Cameras flash as we take our place behind the team owner, new coach, and Harbor.
I’m damn glad I’m not the one in charge of this press conference.
Prince steps forward, adjusting the mic. “Good morning and thanks for being here. I’m excited to unveil my new team, the Coastal Crushers. Here to lead the team to victory is Coach Mike Keller.”
Prince pats Coach Keller’s shoulder and he steps forward as eager hands shoot into the air. One reporter doesn’t wait to be called on.
“Why’d you hire a rookie?”
Prince’s brow furrows, and Coach Keller stands up straighter.
“Coach Keller has years of experience in the AHL and OHL. He has a proven track record. More importantly, we share the same aspiration—winning the Cup.”
The reporter fires off a second question.
“So Samson from Vancouver said no?”
Prince clears his throat loudly into the mic. “Samson was never on my radar. Next question.”
“Do you have any further information about Coach Evans and your wife?” The reporter smirks at Prince and Harbor steps forward, her expression stern.
