Page 5 of Dirty Pucking Player

GREER

The asshole is late.

His first day as a Scorpion, and he can’t even make it to practice on time.

This does not bode well.

But I can’t say I’m surprised. Everything I’ve heard about Bash up to this point has led me to believe he’s not going to last long on my team. Bob may think he controls everything, but he can’t force me to put Bash on the ice. And if my players don’t come to practice, they don’t play. It’s a simple rule. One I’ve enforced before and won’t hesitate to again.

Everyone else managed to get here on time, and Bob said Bash was flying in last night, so there’s no excuse for his tardiness. This is deliberate and exactly the type of behavior Bash Fury is famous for.

His arrogance is almost as well-known as his lineage. Being the son of a Hall of Famer like Mike Fury gives Bash that extra “glow” of celebrity even if he weren’t an outstanding forward in his own right. But arrogance and skill aren’t enough to get what you want on my team—you have to play by the rules.

No practice. No play.

As simple as that.

I’ll plan to move forward with the current first line. Lebedev, Hayes, and McCormick are one of the best forward combos in the league this year, and breaking them up was going to cause problems. Lebedev has an ego almost as big as Bash’s, and it was sure to cause a fight if I moved him to open the way for Fury. At least now, I have a little more time to assess the line-ups, knowing Bash won’t be hitting the ice tomorrow.

I watch the guys move through their drills…a little too sluggishly for my liking. It may only be practice, but I like to keep my players sharp and ensure they keep up the energy they need in the game. I clap to get their attention. “Let’s go, guys. Strong forecheck. Move your feet. Win the race to the puck. Let’s go.”

My voice carries out across the ice, and the guys push harder and faster.

If Bash were here, I’d be trying to work him in to see how he fits on the first line—most likely in the position currently occupied by Lebedev at right winger—but the arrogant bastard can’t even deign to grace us with his presence, so he’s being relegated off first for the foreseeable future when he does get put into the line-up. I don’t care what Bob has to say about that. He can fire me if he disagrees.

We run the drill over and over, like the efficient team I know we are. There’s a reason I’ve managed to bring this group this far in such a short amount of time. I don’t tolerate any crap, and these guys know how to play together. They all know they’re good, but they don’t let it go to their heads. Even Lebedev manages to reel it in when necessary.

I’m not so sure Bash would fit in with them even if he were here.

“Hey, Coach.” Hayes skates over to me. “What—” He looks over my shoulder, and his eyes widen slightly. “Well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

There’s only one person he can be talking about. Only one member of the team is missing this morning. And everyone is very aware of his absence.

Bash.

I turn toward the tunnel to the locker room. Bash makes his way up, and even walking in skates and pads, he still manages to swagger like he owns the place.

Conceited son of a bitch…

I glance at my watch. An hour past the start of practice. I clench my jaw to bite back the angry words I have about him being late. Tearing into him in front of the entire team is unnecessary. It’s better saved for a private conversation—one I would have been having with him whether he was late for practice or not. One about what I expect from him when he’s on my team.

He runs a hand back through his thick, dark-blond hair, then shakes it before pulling on his helmet.

Christ…

It really is too bad he’s such a cocky asshole because one thing I can’t deny about Bash Fury is he is hot. The kind of dirty hot that gives you dreams that have you waking up panting with your hand between your legs.

His soft whiskey eyes lock with mine, and he flashes me a grin and winks.

Fucking winks.

He reaches down and adjusts his cup before he jumps out onto the ice and skates straight over to Mac while pulling on his gloves. One of the reasons Bob wanted Bash so much is because Mac played with Bash on the Warhawks before coming to the Scorpions this year. They played well together there, and there’s every reason the two of them will fall right back into that rhythm again here in Vegas.

They embrace like old friends, and the other guys on the team skate over to greet him. He didn’t even have the decency to come to introduce himself to me…his coach.

Such a douchenozzle.

Anger heats my skin even in the chilled air of the rink. It crawls up my neck and over my cheeks in what is undoubtedly a red flush. I clench my fists at my sides.

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