Page 23 of Daddies on Ice
“You sound pretty damn sure of yourself,” I murmur.
Her lips twitch, almost a smirk. “Well, isn’t that why you hired me?”
The words are light, professional, but they land heavier than they should.
I clear my throat, realizing I’ve been staring too long. “Right. Draft the plan, and we’ll go from there.”
Her smile lingers for a beat before she bends back over her notes, and I shift in my chair, silently cursing myself.
First day on the job, and I’m already fighting to keep my head where it belongs.
After quickly jotting down her notes, Trisha thanks me quietly and walks out, and I watch her go.
My eyes hungrily eat up every sway of her hips as if daring me to follow her.
The door shuts. I curse under my breath and rake a hand through my hair. “Get it together, Carl. She’s off-limits.”
My phone rings, yanking me back. It’s the board.
“Carl,” the voice on the other end says, “until we find a replacement, you’re stepping in as general manager. Effective immediately.”
I grip the receiver, a bitter laugh catching in my throat.
As if I didn’t have enough on my plate—now it isn’t just the team’s reputation Trisha has to fix. It’s me, too.
9
TISH
I stand at the back of the Little Learners room with a smile spreading across my face.
It smells like washable markers and apple juice in here, the comforting perfume of childhood and sticky fingers.
The county library’s kids’ wing is all light and color: a mural of clouds and kites, cubbies labeled with cartoon owls, and a green carpet printed with storybook characters.
The Little Learners room itself is bigger than I expected, almost like a community hall with its own unique world.
The front section dips down a step into a wide, soft square where the kids sit cross-legged, shoulder to shoulder, and the back half is for grown-ups and strollers and camera tripods.
My Thunderwolves banner is taped to the far wall—blue and gold, the silver wolf mid-howl with lightning behind it:
Thunderwolves Story Time—Hear the Howl, Share a Story. All proceeds benefit the County Library.
I pulled this off in three days. Three. Days.
I keep repeating that to myself, in awe of my own accomplishment. Because tomorrow the team leaves on tour, and if we were going to do something public and wholesome and unmistakablynota scandal, it had to be now.
Half the city has an opinion about the Thunderwolves at the moment, and I’m shameless enough to use that to our benefit—hopefully.
“Tish, you’re a magician.” Ms. Harper, the head librarian, whispers at my elbow.
She’s tiny, with pin-straight gray hair and a never-ending supply of energy. “We sold out the first hour you posted. We had to add a second slot. I can’t remember the last time we had a waitlist for story time that wasn’t dinosaur-themed.”
I swallow a laugh. “You did the work. We just brought the wolf pack.”
“And the media.” Her eyes sparkle as she nods toward the back, where a local morning show set up a small camera on a tripod.
That’s the point. The media is here to report on something good about the hockey team, for a nice change.
