Page 9 of He Has Pluck

“You ever think of writing a romance novel, Finnegan? Cause you have quite the imagination.” I force a grin. “Or maybe it’s you who’s interested—”

He shakes his head. “Not me. I’m married. Happy as a pig in shit.” He grins and sighs. “But don’t worry. I won’t let out about your secret crush. Just make sure you keep it under wraps yourself.”

I give a chuckle as if he’s crazy. No way am I admitting to him that there’s any crush going on. Because there’s not. She’s Ice Chip because I don’t like her. I don’t want anything to do with her. My dick? I can get my dick under control. Eventually.

“It’s not a pet name. You’re off base, man. She’s not my style at all.”

Rafe comes over and stands in front of us. “I hear you’re going to be the star of the film, Jason.” His words are loud enough for half the locker room to hear, and all goes quiet as eyes turn to me.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” one of the guys, Anthony Gaylord says. I studied the roster to make sure I know everyone and what they’re called by teammates. He’s “Tony G.” I don’t answer since I wasn’t asked a question and lift my shirt off. This is it. Time to hold my own in the locker room.

Rafe says, “The documentary is going to be told from the perspective of the new guy, struggling to make it in the NHL, to make it on the team and to win the playoffs. The producer says it’ll make the stakes higher and optimize the emotional connection with the audience. Or so I was told.” He turns to me, and I know it’s a test. He’s not angry or mocking, but it’s clear that he wants to know how I’m handling the situation.

“I was told the same thing, though I think they have it all wrong.”

He nods. “Maybe. Maybe not. You up to it, kid?”

I pause a beat, figuring out what to say. “I’m hardly a kid. In fact, I feel like an old man after that practice. But I do have a lot to learn. If they want to film me while I’m learning and skating my ass off for this team, that’s up to them.”

“Good answer,” he says.

“This is ridiculous,” Tony says. “Rafe should be the focus. He’s captain,” A lot of the guys grunt their agreement.

“I am the captain of the team,” Rafe says, “and as your captain and leader, I want to make one thing perfectly clear.” He pauses to make sure he has everyone’s attention.

He has me fucking riveted. I feel like I’m waiting to be named for the roster at an open tryout. Same damn sick feeling that maybe I don’t belong. I dismiss it the same damn way I always do—with a silent fuck you to everyone who doubts me.

“I don’t give a shit about the fucking documentary,” Rafe says. A beat of silence follows, and he grins.

I let out a breath and laugh. “My sentiments exactly,” I say, feeling relieved. Except there’s a small pinch of untruth in those words, voiced by my stupid dick that insists I do have an interest in the documentary’s camera lady.

“I know, right?” Tony says, still scowling. “What the fuck is management thinking putting a camera on us now?” He turns to me and points. “On him, especially. The least likely—”

“Calm down,” Rafe says. “This is Delaney’s brainchild. You know she’s the ultimate ballbuster. Jason didn’t stand a chance.” Most of the guys nod and grunt in agreement.

“Jason has a lot to prove,” Tony says. “Now he’s got that distraction on top of the pressure of landing in the NHL just when we’re set to make a playoff run. How’s that going to go?”

“I’ll be fine.” I stand. “I can handle whatever pressure gets thrown at me. A random camera in my face isn’t going to matter.” The image of the lady behind the camera has no business popping into my head, and I force it out with the image of Coach Green’s scowl.

“He scored the winning goal—and two others—to seal his team’s win of the AHL’s Calder Cup last season,” Rafe says. “That tells me he’s a clutch guy. Good under pressure.”

Surprise mixes with pride to cause a rumble in my chest.

“Yeah, but this ain’t the Calder Cup.” Tony turns to me. He’s been up and down from the Brawler’s farm team out west all season. “I truly hope you hold up, kid. We lost one of the best scorers in the NHL a couple of weeks ago, and we’re counting on you to help fill his skates.”

“I’ll do whatever I need to do to help the team win.” Maybe Tony needs a reminder that this is a team sport because it sounds a lot like he’s setting me up to be a scapegoat. Or the hero. With my heart beating fast, I wrap a towel around my hips and head to the shower, needing the space to regroup and get Tony G, Coach Green and Rafe out of my head. That leaves one person taking up space in my mind when I should be all alone there. Jesus. Juliette “Ice Chip” Sullivan is a tougher distraction to deal with than everyone else put together.

* * *

Still wet after my long shower, and before I have a chance to finish dressing, there’s a knock on the locker room door. Most of the other guys are still in various states of dress, and they look at Rafe.

He calls out. “Who is it?”

At the same time, the door bangs open and a full-blown fat-ass movie camera appears in the opening.

Everything from swears to laughs and a general commotion greets the camera. Ms. Ice Chip holds it on her shoulder and scans the room as she moves inside. Fuck. I sit motionless, wearing only boxers and my watch. The last thing I want to do is give her a reason to focus on me. Especially not after the reaction of some of the guys about my supposed role in this film.

“Hello, guys. I’m told this is where all the team bonding happens.” She moves into the room and waves a hand in a circular motion. “This is a movie camera. Feel free to move.”