Page 4 of Offside

“Shit, woman. You look…frazzled.” She gestures toward my face with a flourish. “And your cheeks are flushed. Are you okay? Does your back hurt? Should I get you an appointment with the team doc?”

Although we haven’t worked together all that long, Christine is both intuitive and trustworthy, which is why I’ve shared with her the details of my car accident and the injuries it left me with.

I wave her off and dip into the dish to retrieve a colorful handful of candy. I pop one in my mouth and sink down into my chair. Sighing, I drop the files on top of a growing pile on my desk.

For the first time today, I relax and let my guard down.

“I’m fine, Christine. No appointment necessary.” I take a sip of the strong coffee and clutch the mug in both hands as if it’s a lifeline. “I’m just glad that meeting is over and done with.”

“Oh? Did it not go as you expected?”

You could say that.

Nothing about Ballas Keeney is what I expected.

I expected him to behave like a grumpy, untamed beast that night in Vegas, which he did. Right up to the point when he turned into a very different version of himself that was more teddy bear than beast.

He shocked and ruined me all in one night.

So, no. Not everything about Ballas is ever what I expect him to be.

I swivel in my chair and stretch out my legs, flopping my head back against the chair headrest with an exasperated sigh.

“Yes and no. I thought I was prepared for him. I thought I was ready to handle it.”

My statement has so much more meaning behind it than Christine is aware of. I grappled with my decision to extend his contract through many sleepless nights. I carefully left my personal views out of my verdict. I evaluated his stats through his time in the NHL, especially the numbers he put up with the Vikings over the last seven years. The evidence was compelling. But now I wonder if I made a deal with the devil.

I don’t necessarily have to see Ballas all the time, but the idea that he’s here, right in this building, may be enough to set me over the edge.

It would give Nate pleasure to know just how deeply Ballas gets under my skin. My GM was dead set on trading him and in complete opposition of my decision. He wanted Ballas gone and was already talking with Coach Thomas on how to rework the lineups.

And Nate’s were all personal. He didn’t like Ballas because of his character traits.

“Keeney is cocky and arrogant. He gets himself sent to the bin more times than not. And he’s fucking past his prime.” Nate’s vitriol was clear. He hates Ballas nearly as much I do, but this is business and we can’t risk losing a good player over our personal feelings for him.

Like him or not, Ballas is a beast like no other out on the ice. He can move the puck up the ice and is a great offensive D-man, getting the assists and racking up the points to help the team win.

Sure, Ballas is not a youthful, energetic player. He’s grumpy and gets in more scrapes than most and is sent to the penalty box on average more than many other players on the team. That part is true. Will Ballas be an unpredictable liability this season? Did I come to the right conclusion?

There’s also the teensy-weensy conflict of interest that has now come into play. It hangs over my head like the shoe ready to drop with every choice I’m forced to make.

Based simply on his career, I feel confident that I made the right decision about keeping Ballas on the team. “Always use the numbers,” Uncle Marv had said. “They never lie. But gut instinct is also a strong indicator whether a decision is a good one or bad one. That’s how the best ones are made.”

Relying on Ballas’s stats was a no-brainer. But was it my gut talking when I gave the green light to finalize the deal? Or something else?

Christine reaches out and is about to remove my coffee cup when I snatch it back, cradling it into my chest as if it’s a toy I refuse to share. “Don’t. You. Dare. I need this with a desperation you can’t even fathom.”

This makes her laugh as she stands in front of me expectantly, hands now on her hips.

“I’m not sure anyone can ever reallyhandleThe Beast,” Christine says with a sassy wink. “If you know what I mean. I’m sure that’s why you felt off your game. I know I would.”

“Christine…” I admonish innocently. “What on Earth are you implying?”

She shrugs, twirling her long tapered fingernail around the big hoop in her ear. “Ballas is a man most people love to hate. Personally, I find those alphahole bad boys irresistible. Case in point, AJ’s father, Antoine.”

My jaw drops open and I shake my head on a laugh. “At least you ended up with something good out of it with AJ. All I have is a mountain of contracts to review and docs to sign. I’m certain I won’t be falling for anyone—bad boy or otherwise—with all the work on my plate.”

I unconsciously rub at my lower back which has suddenly awoken and is throbbing with a vengeance. Stress will do that to me.

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