Page 6 of Dirty Pucking Player

Damn my pale complexion.

It makes hiding my reactions to things all that more difficult.

The asshole skates straight over to Lebedev and says something that has my current first line right winger straightening his spine and fisting his hands in his gloves. They get chest to chest, but, thankfully, neither takes a shot.

Fucking Bash…

Already starting shit and he’s only been here two minutes. He needs to fall in line, but I’m not going to go off on him in front of the guys. He’s just trying to establish he’s top dog.

Well, he’s in for a mighty rude awakening if he thinks that’s the way it’s going to be on the Scorpions. There’s only room for one alpha, and it’s me.

Lebedev skates over to the bench in a huff and throws his stick against the boards. Our equipment manager, Steve, takes care of the discarded stick without a word, then glances at Lebedev with sympathy. Even Steve feels for him.

Poor guy.

He already knows he’s been replaced, but Bash is going to have to earn that spot. If he can’t keep himself in check and under control, I’m not putting a liability on the ice. Not when we’re this close to making the playoffs. Not when I’m this close to having the most successful first season expansion team in history. Not when I’m the first female coach on top of that.

There’s too much at stake and too many people counting on me to let this arrogant bastard ruin my plans with his ego.

* * *

BASH

Coach Greer Waterson is pissed. Maybe the wink and crotch grab were a bit much, but damn, her anger brings a sexy red blush to her cheeks.

I wonder if it’s the same one that appears when she’s coming?

A grin tugs at my lips.

That’s definitely something I want to see.

That woman is a force of nature. Even years ago, when she was just a college student playing on the Olympics team, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her when she was on the ice. She played with relentless focus and passion. A passion I would love to experience directed at me…were we in different positions. Mostly horizontal. But I’d take her vertically, too, against the glass, against a locker, anywhere I could.

As it stands, hitting on my new coach is probably not the brightest idea.

I’m quite literally at the end of the road where my playing career is concerned. If this doesn’t work out, I may not have another chance at the Cup.

But if I had to be traded somewhere, the Scorpions are probably the best team it could have been. I should count my blessings I’m on the ice at all and be happy I’m with her. Another hot-headed, testosterone-fueled old school coach would have just been another inevitable trade, but her…I can handle her.

I’ve never met a woman I couldn’t manage with a grin and some sweet-talking, and Greer will be no different.

God willing.

It’s time to stake my claim here. And I’ve already made that first move with Greer and my competition. Lebedev stands off to the side, eyeing me with fury burning in his gaze. He had to know my coming meant he was going to lose his first-line position.

Sorry, dude. Time’s up!

I skate over to him and flash him a grin. “Hit the bench.”

He growls and puffs out his chest as he skates right up next to me. “Fuck you, Bash. You couldn’t even bother to come to practice on time, and now I’m just supposed to hand over my position?”

“They’re paying me a fuckload more than they’re paying you to play this position. You really think they’re going to put me on the second or third line? Let the big boys play.”

I wait for the swing, but it doesn’t come. He has more restraint than most of the assholes on the ice these days, or maybe he’s just smart enough to know I’m right and there’s no point in fighting it.

Save that anger for the ice.

He scowls at me, then skates over toward the bench, throwing his stick. Coach glares at me from across the ice. Her cool-green eyes match the temperature of the rink, sending a slight shiver through me.

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