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“Exactly. You don’t know shit about me.” She turned away from him and looked at her dad. “What was your plan?”
Coach looked torn, but a person didn’t make it to the big time as a player or coach unless they were willing to do whatever they had to in order to win.
Coach let out a weary sigh. “You’ve always been one of the few people who could really reach Tig, get him to see beyond the goal posts. Cal here has a way with goalies.” He turned his attention away from Astrid. “You took that kid on the Lynx juniors team and turned his whole game around. He wouldn’t have gotten drafted if it wasn’t for you. If you two work together, you can help Tig get his mojo back.”
That was exactly what Cal had been hired for, but putting Astrid in this position was just shit.
“If Tig can’t get out of this jam he’s in, he’ll go on waivers and our season is already lost.” Coach took a long drink of his beer. “Then when he doesn’t get picked up by another team—which he won’t because everyone else sees exactly what we do—he’ll go down to the minors, and then after his contract runs out next year, that’ll be it.”
Shock broke through Astrid’s mask of neutrality, and she let out a gasp. “That can’t be right. He’s the next Roy, the next Brodeur.”
“He was,” Coach said with a shrug of regret. “Now he’s just a guy with a massive dollar figure on his contract and a huge attitude problem who can’t stop a puck.”
So. Fucking. What.
It was Cal’s job to give a shit about the numbnut, but it sure wasn’t Astrid’s problem. If he was her, he’d be watching every game just to see the asshole miss.
“It doesn’t seem fair to put Astrid in this position,” Cal said, drawing the intense focus of both O’Malleys. Coach rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Cal with a considering gaze. Astrid, on the other hand, looked like she was deciding on the slowest and most painful way to remove every hair on his body.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said. “It was years ago. I’m over it. As long as the media doesn’t catch wind of me being there working with Tig, I’m in.”
Yeah, sure she was, in the same way he was completely unbothered when the skies grew dark ahead of a storm and his thigh throbbed like he was back in the hospital with more than two dozen stitches and a whole life of nothing in front of him. Astrid was full of shit but for whatever reason refused to admit it.
Cal turned to Coach. He had to make the other man understand. “Coach, I can do this on my own. Astrid doesn’t need to deal with all of the baggage that would come with having to see Jones every day.”
Coached nodded and opened his mouth as if he was about to agree when Astrid cut him off.
“Are you coming to rescue little ol’ me? How sweet.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin in a non-verbal fuck you. “Well, let me tell you something. I don’t need you to be my knight in shining armor. I am my own knight in shining armor.”
He snorted in disbelief. “Then how do you explain last night?”
“With Andy?” she snarled and stepped in close, within kissing distance, and he couldn’t look away from her mouth. “Someone did a whole tough-guy routine before I got a chance. I would have taken care of it. I always get things done.”
Last night she’d used those pink lips for all sorts of fun things. Not any more, it seemed, which was a fucking shame. This was the moment when he should just shut up and let her do whatever she was going to do.
What did he care?
He didn’t.
It was a great plan except for one thing: words were already coming out of his mouth. “And you didn’t like that tough-guy routine?”
Her cheeks went pink, and she inhaled a quick breath before that nothing-bothers-her mask fell back into place. “I hated it.”
He grinned down at her. He couldn’t help it. She was so full of shit.
“Wait. You two already knew each other?” Coach asked, looking from one to the other, confused and more than a little suspicious.
“We don’t,” they both said at the same time, stepping apart.
What the fuck, Matsen? She’s the coach’s daughter, and you forgot he was even in the room—that anyone was in the room but Astrid.
Coach lifted his eyebrows, and the look on his face was way more you-two-are-full-of-shit than I-kinda-believe-you-maybe, but he didn’t press the point. “Astrid, Cal’s right,” Coach said, his tone full of apology. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”
“Working with Tig is not a problem,” she said, linking her arm through her dad’s. “It was years ago, and like I’ve said for years, I’m beyond over what happened with Tig.” She cut a narrow-eyed glance at Cal. “In fact, I can’t wait to get started.”
Cal clamped his jaw together to stop himself from saying anything else as he watched them join the others. There was no way this was going to be anything other than an epic disaster.
Chapter Ten
