"Absolutely not," he said.
"I don't think I have a choice."
"They can't just assign you additional work without compensation or adjustment to your current load."
Logan appeared in the kitchen, drawn by the tension in Nolan's voice. "What's wrong?"
"They want Mira to coach basketball too," Nolan said, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.
"What?" Logan's expression mirrored Nolan's. "No. Hell no."
"It's not really up to you guys," I started.
Blake emerged from his room, took one look at our faces, and asked, "Who do I need to hit?"
"No one needs to hit anyone," I said firmly. "The athletic department wants me to extend my services to basketball. It's actually a compliment."
"It's exploitation," Nolan interrupted. "They're overworking you because you're too good at your job."
"And they want to share you," Logan added, his voice carrying an edge I'd never heard before. "Share our performance specialist."
The possessiveness in that statement made my stomach flip in complicated ways.
"I don't belong to the hockey team," I said carefully. "I'm employed by the athletic department. If they want me to work with multiple teams—"
"Then they should reduce your hockey hours or pay you more," Nolan finished. "Not just pile on additional work."
But I needed the money. The athletic department wasn't offering more compensation, but they were implying that refusing might impact my scholarship renewal. And with my parents' medical bills still unpaid, I couldn't afford to lose my position.
So I accepted, and the hockey team did not take the news well.
The situation exploded three days later when the basketball players showed up at the hockey house, expecting tofind me for a scheduled training session I'd completely forgotten to mention to my housemates.
I was in the kitchen with Blake, learning to make risotto, when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," I said, wiping my hands on a towel.
I opened the door to find five basketball players—all absurdly tall, all looking confused about why they were at a hockey house.
"Hey, Coach Torres," one of them said. He was probably 6'7", with the kind of confident smile that suggested he knew exactly how attractive he was. "We're here for the agility training?"
Behind me, I heard footsteps. Multiple footsteps. Heavy footsteps that suggested three hockey players had materialized with supernatural speed.
"Who's this?" Nolan asked, his voice dangerously pleasant.
"The basketball team. We have a session scheduled."
"At our house?" Logan's voice climbed an octave. "You scheduled basketball at our house?"
"I didn't think—"
"You're damn right you didn't think," one of the basketball guys interrupted, stepping forward with an aggressive confidence that made my stomach drop. "We were told to come here. If there's a problem—"
Blake moved faster than I'd ever seen him move, positioning himself between me and the basketball player with the kind of physical intimidation that had everything to do with the promise of violence.
"There's no problem," Blake said quietly. "As long as you step back."
"Blake," I started.
