Page 4 of Not Your Pucking Girl

I look up at Sophie, who is watching me intently from the back of the room, before begrudgingly making my way back to her. “Well?” she prompts.

“We’ve got the Dragons. The ice hockey team.”

Chapter 2

Miller

“Comeon.Quitskatinglike a bunch of pussies and show me what you’ve got,” Coach Harris yells from the barriers, his face turning a nasty shade of red. “You’ve had a few months off and you all come back looking like this. I may as well replace the lot of you with the Figure Fairies. Get. Your. Asses. Moving.”

I push myself harder. I’ve got to be my absolute best and show the team what a great captain I’ll be this season. After all, it’s the only way to win us the championship this year and get a one-way ticket into the NHL. But that isn’t going to happen without a shitload of hard work and dedication. Not just from me, but from the whole goddamn team.

My blades cut into the ice as I continue my sprints. Up. Down. Up. Down. Spraying an avalanche of ice shavings as I stop at each end before pushing myself even harder. The ice beneath my blades numbs my feet inside my skates, a welcome feeling I’ve long since gotten used to, and I use it as fuel to push myself harder. No achievement was ever made without self-sacrifice.

I glance down the line, noticing a few of the boys lacking, and I slot myself between them. “Come on, Bobby,” I encourage, giving the newbie junior a slap on the shoulder and smirking as he picks up his pace. Now that’s more like it.

We complete our sprints and move on to the next set, doing what I can to push these guys to their absolute limit. After last season’s shit show, they really could use the win. We haven’t won the championship for the past three years. Each season we’ve made it to the finals, only to let it slip right through our fingers. But that shit isn’t going to fly this year. Not on my watch. I’m going to bring it home for us. I’m going to show these new guys what hockey is all about and repair our reputation if it’s the last thing I do. Especially after last year’s fuck up.

It’s our first session back, and to say the guys look like shit would be an understatement. They’ve spent their time off partying and fucking around, probably with the same bunch of whores they recycle between them. Me? I’ve spent my break on the ice and in the gym. I know where I’m going and there’s no way in hell I’m letting it out of sight.

“Cain,” Coach bellows. I turn and make my way over to the man who’s become so much more than just a coach. He’s my mentor, friend, and an all-out ball-buster.

“Yeah, Coach?”

“Looking good out there,” he grunts, barely sparing me a glance, but I don’t expect anything more from a guy like Harris. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him show an ounce of emotion. “Get the goals out and run some drills.”

“Yes, Coach.” Heading back into the center of the ice, I call for them to stop their sprints before giving a few simple orders, and the team splits into groups. A few freshmen grab the goals while others scoop up the box of pucks and empty them onto the ice, letting them spill in every direction. We skate around, each collecting a puck and getting straight into our drills.

We’re a good half hour into training when two girls walk into our closed session and take a seat up in the grandstands. They’re probably one of the guys’ current hook-ups wanting to see us mighty Dragons in action. I ignore them as best I can until a bright flash draws my attention. I glance up at the grandstand to see one girl standing with a camera raised to her face and the other scribbling furiously in a notepad.

What the hell? Who are these girls? We couldn’t be getting reporters sneaking in already. Usually that only happens toward the end of the season, or if one of the guys has fucked up real bad. Considering it’s only the first day back, I can’t imagine that one of my guys would’ve been idiotic enough to fuck up already.

I skate over to Coach Harris, who has his back to the grandstand. “Have we got an interview today?”

His brows pinch together in confusion. “No. What are you talking about?”

I indicate with a nod up toward the grandstand and Coach turns around, following my gaze. He zones in on them, taking in the notepad and camera, and his face darkens with frustration. If there’s one thing this man despises, it’s reporters. Though, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s booked an interview and then completely forgotten about it. “Hey,” he hollers, gaining their attention along with the rest of the teams’. “Get down here.”

“Shit,” I hear my best friend, Tank, grumble under his breath as he comes up behind me while watching the girls make their way down the grandstand. “Wouldn’t want to be them right now.”

The other boys gather around to see what’s going on as the girls get closer. “Fuck,” Tank laughs a moment later, indicating the taller girl as they clear the bottom step. “That’s the chick from the gym.”

“No way,” I laugh, taking her in. “She’s hot.”

“Yeah, you should see what that girl’s willing to do, man. She’s fucking wild,” he says, lowering his voice as they reach the team, and I finally get a chance to take the girls in. The girl from the gym is exactly Tank’s type. Blonde, tall, and toned, with a hint of crazy in her eyes.

But the other, fuck. She’s stunning. Long dark golden hair is pulled back and begging for me to wrap my hand around it. She glances around the group of men before her, and I expect her to be shy or intimidated, but instead, she smiles the most breathtaking smile I have ever seen, making her green eyes shine like two beacons drawing me in.

My dick hardens at the sight, twitching painfully.

“What the hell is this?” Coach demands, indicating the camera and notepad. “This is a closed training session. Who are you?”

“Hi,” my little Golden Girl says, sticking her hand out. “You must be Coach Harris? I’m Dani and this is Sophie. We’re students in Professor Whitaker’s communications class,” she explains as if that should mean something to him. He takes her hand and gives it a quick shake, purely to be polite.

“Okay, that’s wonderful for you, but we have a lot of work to get through. I’m sure you can see yourselves out,” he says dismissively.

The girls glance at each other in confusion before focusing on Coach once again. “Um . . . We were given an assignment to promote and write weekly articles on the team. We were under the impression you were on board,” Dani says.

“I . . . ahhh, shit,” he mutters, letting out a frustrated sigh, making it all too clear he forgot all about it. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude. I agreed to this toward the end of last season, but you need to focus your energy on another team. I don’t have time for this.”

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