Page 29 of Dirty Pucking Player

“Didn’t know what, Coach?”

There’s no way she could know what happened on the ice last night.

Her shoulders rise and fall. “I didn’t know what I know now. About what Berglund said.”

Shit.

Someone told her.

I didn’t think anyone else was close enough to hear it. I had hoped no one else had so it wouldn’t get spread around.

Apparently, I was wrong.

Greer has been around this world for most of her life. She knows what goes on and what gets said between guys, and she surely understands that she is going to get a lot of flak for being a female coach. But that doesn’t make the sting in my chest from knowing she now heard what was said dissipate.

“I never wanted you to know what that ass said.”

She shrugs again and finally turns to face me, resignation written all over her soft face and slump in her shoulders. “It isn’t wholly unexpected.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” And now that she does know, I can’t help but wonder what that does to Coach’s opinion of me. “Does it make you hate me a little bit less?”

I want her to admit it. Greer never caves on anything, yet, she’s here, and she’s apologizing. Which means she knows I’m not a bad guy.

The tiniest of grins tilts her lips despite her obviously trying to fight it. “A little bit. But seriously, Bash, while I appreciate your defending my honor, it’s completely unnecessary.”

I shake my head. “No way, Coach. You have a hard-enough job being a woman in this world without assholes like that making comments. I can’t just let shit like that slide.”

She nods and bites her bottom lip. “The truth is, things like that are going to get said about me. A lot. This is a male-dominated sport. Some of your peers are macho assholes who never want to see a woman coach because they think we’re inferior. It’s just the way it is. I accepted it would happen when I decided to get into coaching male teams and knew it was inevitable when I reached the NHL.”

“You against the world? All alone?” I shake my head, push off the wall, and step toward her. “That’s hardly fair. You should let people help you.”

If Rachel were in Greer’s shoes, I sure as hell hope someone would defend her if I couldn’t. The thought of her being alone with an asshole like Berglund without anyone to stand up for her would be a big brother’s worst nightmare. That protective instinct I’ve had since childhood for the women in my life seems to flare to life around Greer. She may not be getting beaten by my asshole father, but she doesn’t need to be beaten down by misogynistic douchebags with nothing better to do than pick on someone trying to do something great.

Greer sighs. “I have to stand on my own two feet, Bash. People are waiting for me to fail.” Her gaze hardens. “And it doesn’t help when my star player refuses to listen to me.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Your star player?”

“Shit.” She drops her face into her hands and shakes her head. “I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.”

No shit.

Greer admitting I’m her star player is like my admitting someone else is a better forward than me. Never. Going. To. Happen.

I smirk at her. “That one hurt, didn’t it, Coach?”.

She chuckles and nods, averting her gaze slightly. “But seriously, Bash. You don’t need to defend my honor. I can take care of myself. And that includes standing up to douchebags like Berglund.”

“And douchebags like me?” I raise an eyebrow and wait for her to respond.

Given the way she’s been tearing into me since the moment I landed in Vegas, I would expect her to say yes. But her entire vibe is different now. There’s no hostility radiating off her in violent waves. Instead, there’s an acceptance.

Of what…I’m not entirely sure.

She considers me for a second and shakes her head. “You’re going to make me say it. Aren’t you?”

“Come on, Coach. You know you want to.”

She sighs and throws her hands up in surrender. “Fine. I don’t think you’re a douchebag.”

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