Page 8 of Daddies on Ice
My cheeks heat slightly. “Not exactly,” I admit. “But I plan to open my own company some day, and marketing and publicity are my passion.”
He raises one dark eyebrow. “Then you plan to cut your teeth on the Thunderwolves?”
Yes, actually, but I don’t think that’s something he wants to hear. I meet his light blue eyes directly, and for an instant I’m struck by just how good looking he is.
Of course, I’ve seen him plenty of times when I’ve gone to games, but never up close. He’s always in the box or rushing out on the ice to yell at the referee.
I’m not usually attracted to older men, but there’s something about this coach that…well, attracts me.
He’s in his forties with long gray hair and trim beard streaked with dark red, his original color I assume.
His tan skin is amazingly unlined, except for a few small ones at the corner of his mouth.
There’s a small star-shaped scar on his left cheek, probably a result of his hockey playing days.
The coach raises his eyebrow even higher, and I realize with mortification that he’s still waiting for me to answer.
“Mr. Zoren?—”
“Carl,” he interrupts. “Or if that’s too personal for you, Coach Carl.”
I nod. “Carl. The way I see it, the Thunderwolves need help—desperately—and I don’t see anyone else brave enough to take on the challenge.”
Was that a bit too over the top calling myself brave?
“I’m familiar with the sport and the team. I am also aware of all the bad press.”
“Who wouldn’t be since the Thunderwolves airs daily.” Carl crosses his arms over his chest. He’s slender but muscular, his dark gray shirt stretching over his muscles. “And you think you can turn that around?”
“I know I can,” I say with more confidence than I feel. Like Trent and Ash told me earlier, it’s going to be one hell of a challenge.
My only concern is that they’ve damaged themselves so thoroughly, the only option might just be to stop the bleeding.
Carl sits up in his chair, his gaze taking me in—all of me.
He’s studying me so thoroughly, I feel everywhere his eyes reach as if it’s a physical touch.
I squirm slightly and sit up a little straighter.
“Okay, then. How would you handle the news that broke today,” he asks, “assuming you’ve seen or heard about it.”
“I have.” I nod. On the drive here, I thought about what I might do if I get the PR job, so my answer is quick. “You’re talking about the teammate who secretly married his brother’s fiancé. I’d arrange for a photo shoot with the three of them together, looking happy with no hard feelings. Of course, it will have to look like a candid shot, not planned.”
He scrubs at his well-trimmed beard. “And if the brother doesn’t agree?”
There’s always that possibility. Since the brother is not part of the team, he’s under no contractual obligation to do PR promotions or do what’s necessary to keep the team’s name untarnished.
“Then, I suggest we do nothing.” His eyebrows rise when I say “we.” “Not unless we’re pressed. If we have to say something, then it should be about how this is a personal family matter and has nothing to do with the organization.”
Carl leans back in his chair again, his index finger and thumb cupping his jaw.
He stares at me for so long, I start to fidget, gripping my hands together in my lap to keep them still.
“Ash told me that you’re a single mom and are not currently working.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.
“We are getting ready to go on our Christmas tour.” Carl pauses to watch me closely, as if gaging my reaction. I only sit and wait for him to continue. “That means a lot of traveling, are you prepared for that?”
