Page 13 of Dirty Pucking Player

Christ, the way her cheeks reddened…

I hated starting off on that foot with her, but she needs to know where we stand, and where I am is the best player on this team at this position. I should be the starter. That’s why they’re paying me all this money. It isn’t to be a second or third-line guy who sits on the bench and only fills in when somebody needs a little breather.

If she can’t see the past my reputation to understand that this team needs me, then there would be no point in me being here in the first place.

I think she got my message loud and clear because the disdain flooding her gaze this entire day never wavered. She’s not a woman who likes to be told what to do. She’s strong. She’d have to be to accomplish what she has. It’s pretty damn impressive.

Her background as a player and a coach is staggering enough, but add to that an expansion team sitting at third in the division coming into the trade deadline…if she were a man, everyone would be singing her praises, but as it is, people assume it’s a fluke.

The pundits on the sports shows keep praising the play of the team while, in the same breath, dismissing how much of their success comes from Greer’s role. They can so easily brush aside what she does.

I don’t.

Greer has worked her damn ass off to get where she is, and she deserves all the recognition for this team’s success. She just needs to also recognize its future success will depend on me, too.

Tonight will prove that. We’re less than two months from the playoffs. Every game counts. But they brought me onto this team to be Bash Fury, not Bash Fury Light. I won’t play to please Greer and hold back. I’ll do what’s best for the team. What’s best for the game. Sometimes, that means some head bashing and sticking people into the boards.

I grab my gloves and helmet and shove out of the locker room to find her waiting. She leans back against the opposite wall of the tunnel, watching the door. Her eyes meet mine, and the coolness there washes over me like an ice bath.

Here for me, Coach?

Something tells me she is. She should be on the bench already or in her office, performing whatever her usual pregame ritual is while we go warm-up on the ice. There’s only one reason she’s standing here staring me down. She has something to say.

No need to guess what.

I let the guys file out around me and slowly scan her from the top of her blond head down to her high-heeled feet as I grab my stick from the rack outside the locker room.

How the hell does she stand in those all game? It’s fucking insane.

So is the way they make her legs look absolutely flawless and a mile long in her prim, dark-gray pencil skirt. The fact that she insists on wearing these perfectly tailored suits that show off every curve while still managing to look completely professional is such a cock tease.

She assesses my approach with a scowl and glances over her shoulder toward the door. When she’s sure no one else is coming out, she opens those beautiful lips. “No bullshit tonight.”

And here we go…

I tighten my hands around my stick and rest it on the ground between my skates. “Did you stand out here all this time just to get up in my face, Coach?”

She pushes off the wall and steps toward me. “If you start with any of your normal stuff tonight, I will pull you and put you on the goddamn bench. Don’t think your big contract scares me. This is still my team.”

Someone put their big girl pants on today.

I like it.

Rather than avoid another unpleasant confrontation, she’s opted to go the direct and aggressive route.

Well, two can play at that game, Coach.

I step into her until only a foot separates us. She squares her shoulders and straightens her spine, trying to appear bigger, since even in her heels, her eyes barely reach my shoulders.

The move is adorable.

“Thanks for the warning, Coach.” I move my stick until it’s right between us and wrap my right hand around it at her eye-level. “Are you gonna tell me how to handle my stick, too?”

Her mouth drops open, and that adorable flush crawls up her neck and across her cheeks. “You are one cocky son of a bitch, you know that?”

I smirk and pull my helmet on. “Thank you for noticing.”

With a parting wink, I step around her and make my way toward the ice and the line of my teammates waiting to head out for warm-ups.

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