Page 6 of Press Your Luck

I felt like an idiot that I was like a horny teenage boy, eager to sit with the pretty, popular girl. I was clearly a glutton for punishment because the best thing for me to do would be to avoid Naomi at all costs, not just in person, but also watching all the news media and past games that were available on the Internet. But there was something compelling about her that continued to draw me to her, which was how I ended up agreeing to sit at a table with Naomi as members of the press asked us questions.

When I first entered the room, she was also entering from the other side. Holy hell. She was even more stunning in person. She wore dark jeans with a white blouse and a red blazer. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and shrewd hazel eyes studied the room and then me.

She thrust out her hand, which I clasped and shook. "Good to meet you, Coach Withers," I said.

"You too, Coach Jackson.” She extricated her hand from mine, at which point I realized I'd been holding it a bit too long. But why wouldn't I? It was warm and soft.

Because my mama raised me well, I pulled the chair out for her and sat only after she'd been seated.

Her demeanor was irritated, and I wondered if that was having to do with the press or something specifically with me. Did it bother her that I’d held her chair for her?

Looking around the room, most reporters were local and state, but a few were from national outlets as well. That was unusual for minor-league hockey, but it was quickly apparent that they were here because of Naomi, the first woman to coach a men's minor-league hockey team.

The moment we were settled, arms flew up and questions were tossed out.

"Naomi, have you settled into Nevada? What sort of decor have you used in your new place?"

I frowned at the male reporter asking her the question. I looked at the back of the room at Reed, who shrugged, clearly confused by the question as well.

I turned my attention to Naomi, wondering how she would respond.

"I am settled in, thank you." Her words were polite, but her tone was irked.

"Coach Jackson, is Bo Tyler really as settled down as he seems? Has his input on the team made a difference?"

"Bo has been a tremendous asset to the coaching staff. Not only does he know what he's doing, but the team looks up to him and respects him a great deal."

"Let's just hope none of them decide to jump off the roof of a motel," someone from the back quipped.

"Let's hope not."

"Naomi."

I realized at that point that they were calling her by her first name, while they were calling me Coach Jackson. I was well aware of the double-standard, but I believed I was getting an upfront and personal view of it in action.

"Have you met anyone since you've moved to Nevada? How will it work if you want to have a family? Do you want to have a family?"

What the hell?

Next to me, Naomi tensed. "I am focused on coaching the Silver Nuggets to a winning season. I don't have time for anything else."

"Coach Jackson, after a season of coaching the minors, do you wish you were back up in the NHL?"

This was really surreal. Why were her questions about décor and dating, and mine were about hockey? “How come nobody is asking me about my home decor? Or whether I'm seeing anyone? The answer to that is no, by the way." I glanced over at Naomi, expecting her to understand that I was supporting her. But her expression was fierce, as if she thought I was playing into this nonsense.

"I'm very happy to be coaching this group of men. I see potential in them, and there's a lot of satisfaction in helping them reach their goal of moving up."

"Coach Jackson, are you preparing for tomorrow's game any differently than you might normally considering—"

I held up a hand. "Please tell me you're not about to suggest that because the Silver Nuggets coach is a woman, we would be coaching our team differently?"

The room went silent, and as I took another quick glance at Naomi, she'd arched a brow, telling me I had at least surprised her.

"Our coaching has nothing to do with Naomi's gender, but with her experience."

"But she's young. You have more experience on and off the ice."

"When I was Naomi's age, I was skating and fu—" Thank God I was able to pull the f-word back. "Let me put it this way. I wasn't so different from Bo Tyler a couple of years ago. I'd never coached, and I'd certainly never won a gold medal in the Olympics, something I hadn't achieved even by the end of my career."

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