CHAPTER ONE
HEATH
“Not a single one of you deserve to wear the Jericho Chimera jersey after last night’s debacle.”
Ballbuster extraordinaire Cora Brooks stood at the player's bench halfway through practice after a truly shitty morning and laid down the law on her first day back at the Chimeras after a hiatus since our last major fuck up.
Or maybe she thought she did.
Half of my teammates ogled her thoughtfully. The other half were probably still drunk after last night’s clusterfuck. Not that I blamed them.
Cap stood with his arms crossed, gripping his stick like he wanted to ram it down her throat, sending subliminal messages to Coach who stood slightly behind the curvy goddess in the power suit who should never have been anywhere near the ice.
And me?
I watched the woman the club called to intervene when the media storm grew too hot. I knew why. It was either they called her in to fix the mess that we didn’t, or someone—likely several someones—got sacked.
And that wasn’t happening on my watch. Not after last night.
Cora paced the player’s bench like it was her own personal sand box. She had no idea she was so far out of her depth, but it would be fun to watch her flounder. We weren't like any version of the team that she’d attempted to manage before, nor were we the regular misfit players.
“This room is full of grown men who behave like toddlers. Every one of your faces are all over mainstream media rags after last night, and a few minor channels. Not one of you,” —she glared at every face who dared snicker at her outburst. Exactly who was the toddler here?— “Will be playing on the weekend if we don’t fix this by Thursday. That gives you,” —she made a second fake ass show of checking her fancy watch— “exactly five days to get your housekeeping in order. Be squeaky clean. Apologies all round. Fix that poor woman’s reputationand each of your ownor you will not have a fucking job come Friday. Am I clear?”
The resounding silence that boomed across the ice crackled with its failure to answer her.
If this woman expected any of us to bounce back with a chorus of‘yes, ma’ams’, she was shit out of luck.
Hell, she’d just threatened the best thing anyone of us had worked for—and wehadeach worked our asses off for the positions we held on the team—that took us years to get here. What reaction did she expect?
Beside me, Shannon Incarson reached back and scratched his ass. “So, we’re good to keep training, then?” he asked politely.
I smirked. He couldn’t have given a betterfuck youto the little lady in the power pants suit the color of pristine ice that settled over the luscious curves and glimpses of honey tanned skin. Skin I'd love to see more of, though under differentconditions, maybe. See how she took to submission and what relinquishing control over doling it out looked like on her.
That was always my favorite game, had been for years. Working out which of the women who loved to cling tightest to their control out of pure desperation would be the hardest to give it up but the most fucking stunning when they did.
Cora Brooks, with her severe bun, white blonde hair tightly tucked back behind her ears in a perfect knot, glaring at us through black rimmed glasses, her make up perfect…She was my top candidate for the sort of woman who would never want to relinquish control.
No more than I’d ever give up my position on the Jericho Chimeras team. That took me four years to earn, training every damn day just to get myself noticed by scouts all the way through high school.
The woman before me would be the perfect submissive, and she’d fight every inch of the way. It would be hell, and she would be beautiful.
Huh. Pity that would never happen. Pity she was here to fuck with my team. We could have had so much fun.
Before Shannon could open his smart ass mouth and say something else to piss her off, I broke rank, skating backwards. Cora’s eyes locked onto me. Her pretty little mouth opened—to rip me a new one, call me off the ice, I didn’t much care—but it was Coach who called me back.
“Valentine. Rein it in.” Unlike her temper tantrum before, his voice whiplashed across the ice, catching me at chest height.
I let my stick dance with the puck a moment longer, and took a clean, unobstructed shot at the goal.
A blind shot, because the goal was behind me, and I kept my eyes locked on her the entire time as it sailed neatly into the net. The score ticked over on the board in my periphery.
“Yes, sir.” I kept my tone respectful, and finally flicked my gaze to Coach.
His eyes narrowed at my show ponying. I’d pay for that little stunt later. “Stay on the ice. I got a few words for you. Hux, you too, son. The rest of you, follow Miss Brooks into the main office for a full debriefing on your media habits for this week. It’ll be a change up and I expect you to treat her like you treat me.”
A second round of silence whispered across the ice, its significance lost on the stranger in our midst.
Cap knew better than to open his mouth, though my lips curled up in a derisive smile as the team followed Miss Cora Brooks off the ice.
