Page 6 of Edging Coach
Then tried to calculate the odds of slipping out without being noticed.
None, was the answer.
And now I’m about to make the second-biggest mistake of my life.
Shit.
CHAPTER 3
JACK
I shouldn’t have joined them. I knew that. I’d accepted the invite because a coach needed to get to know his players, and sometimes having dinner or a few drinks with them helped. We didn’t tend to hang out with the players the way they hung out with each other, but socializing like this once in a while wasn’t out of the ordinary.
When that coach had been ridden into oblivion by the player sitting across from him—that was when things quickly diverged from normal.
I barely followed the conversation around me. There was some chirping, because that was inevitable with hockey players. There was some gossip about trades that may or may not have been in the works, and about who might be getting called up to the big leagues for good. They were all absolutely sure a particular goalie on Boston’s affiliate team was going to get called up any day now. Boston’s starting goalie was a mess, and the one on the affiliate team had been killing it, so it was only a matter of time before calls were made.
Beyond that, I struggled to focus on much besides the mansitting across from me. Or the way we kept catching each other’s eyes. Or?—
Jack. He’s a player. Stop.
I pulled my gaze away from him for the forty-ninth time and tried to focus on what Rizz was saying about… about… something. I didn’t know.
At least we’d made it through practice without incident. Granted, I hadn’t been running the show yet, just observing, so there hadn’t been much need for interaction. But Devon had played well, especially during the scrimmage at the end of practice. I’d understood very quickly why Emil acquired him; he was the kind of offensive defenseman this team lacked and his previous coach had squandered. While his D partner tended to stay back by the blue line, Devon would get in deep with the forwards. He was a more physical player than a lot of the Grizzlies, bodying around players who had forty pounds on him. If he got the puck, he’d barrel into the offensive zone rather than finding a forward to carry it.
He had serious potential. If Vancouver wasn’t sniffing around to call him up by the end of this season, I’d eat my skates.
Beside Devon, Pells grumbled and put his phone down beside his empty plate. “Shit, we should call it a night. We’ve got practice tomorrow.”
The guys all groaned theatrically.
“And agame,” Yanni said. “Wejustplayed one.God.”
“The coaches areso mean,” Rizz said with exaggerated exasperation. “They’re such assholes, expecting us to—oh, hey, Coach. Forgot you were there.”
The guys all laughed, and I chuckled.
“Sorry, boys,” I said. “I don’t make the schedule.”
“But you make the practice schedule,” Pells pointed out. “So, this is kind of your fault.”
I put up my hands. “I just got here. You can’t blame me for the way the schedule is right now.”
“Mm-hmm.” Rizz narrowed his eyes. “But you’re going to make it better, right?Right?”
“Absolutely,” I deadpanned. “I think everyone should have more time to spend with their families instead of killing half the day at practice.”
Some of the guys cheered. Rizz and Pells eyed me dubiously, as if they knew there was a potential monkey paw outcome here.
I smirked and delivered: “That’s why practices will start at six instead of eleven.”
That prompted a chorus of protests. Rizz and Pells just rolled their eyes and shook their heads. They probably knew I was kidding. Or at least hoped I was.
Everyone settled up their tabs, and we all filtered out.
On the way outside, Arts turned to Devon. “Hey, Claus is going to stay a bit later, but I can take you back to the hotel.”
Before I could stop myself, I said, “Uh, Devs and I are staying at the same hotel.” To Devon, I added, “Why don’t I give you a lift?”
