Page 19 of Lucky Shot
“Oh no, he did,” I say. I glance back at the kids on the ice. They look adorable out there, all padded up like Randy inA Christmas Story. They’re only missing the long scarf covering their head and face.
What I wouldn’t give for a scarf right about now. If I had realized how cold it was going to be (which I absolutely should have since ice tends to be, well, cold), I would have dressedwarmer. I’m not sure I’ve been good and truly warm since I stepped onto the plane in Arizona.
“Then, why are you here?”
It’s not a perfect opening to launch into my well-rehearsed speech that ended with me somehow convincing him to help me, but here goes nothing.
“I know that you said no to being interviewed, but I was wondering?—”
“No.” He doesn’t say the word unkindly, but it’s unyielding.
“At least let me finish asking the question before you shoot it down. What if I was going to offer to shine your skates or something?” I wave my hand toward his feet.
“You came here to ask me if you could shine my skates?” One dark brow rises in challenge.
“Well, no, but…” I feel eyes on us and glance over to see a group of women, moms of kids on the ice I’d bet, staring in our direction. I’m aware they’re probably staring at him because—why wouldn’t they? He’s nice to look at…from far away where he can’t glare directly at you.
“I need to get back to the kids,” Nick says. “So if you want to ask me something else, do it fast.”
“Are you coaching some kind of camp?”
He looks at me like he knows I’m stalling and finds it…yep, you guessed it, annoying. “Yeah. The team holds a couple of these every summer for local kids.”
“That’s really cool and you seem like a good coach.”
“You got that in the two seconds you saw me on the ice?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I have no idea, but you weren’t glaring at them, so it was a definite improvement.”
His lips twitch with amusement. “They were invited.”
“Ooooh, burn,” I mock, laughing lightly.
He crosses his arms over his chest, which—woah—the pose really does something for his biceps.
“What do you want, Red?” His eyes are a dark green that really pop when he’s grinning.
He’s purposely goading me so I’ll leave, but instead, it fires me up.
Focus, Ruby. You can think about how hot the grumpy hockey player is later.
I square my shoulders and stand taller. “I am sorry about yesterday. You weren’t expecting me and I’m sure it was a lot to take in.”
Silence. He doesn’t confirm or deny, but he also doesn’t stop giving me his attention.
“I have just a few questions?—”
“I don’t do interviews,” he clips.
He’s said that twice now. I thought it was an offhand comment the first time, but now I suspect there’s something there. “Why not?”
“I don’t like people in my business.”
A laugh bubbles in my chest and slips free. It’s a mixture of exhaustion from the past two days and honestly the past two years, disbelief that this man is so insufferable, and anger because yet another thing in my career is teetering toward disaster and I am sick of it. This is supposed to be my chance to turn things around. A summer to save my career and my life. And no one is getting in the way of it. Not even this hot, grumpy hockey player.
“I don’t care about your business!” I say, exasperated and too loudly. “I just need to understand the basic rules of hockey so I can fix my book, reboot my career, and prove the whole world wrong.”
My outburst catches him by surprise, judging by his lack of reply. I take a deep breath.
