“She even grabbed a crowbar and went after one of the men herself.” Something about the memory still sends a satisfied rumble through my chest. “When I pushed her to ask, she looked me dead in the face and said she didn’t want to know my secrets.”
“What’s her stake?” Coach asks. “Why keep quiet?”
“Because she’s practical.” I take a drink. “She likes minding her own business, and that’s the kind of person we need. She’s dealing with some debt trouble. If we pay her well, she’ll have every reason to protect the arrangement. She’s not going to blow up the one situation that’s actually working in her favor.”
Samuel looks intrigued. “This could actually work.”
“I want someone who’s in it for the right reasons,” Coach says.
“She’s in it because she needs the money and she’s not willing to compromise her integrity for it.” I set my bottle down. “Honestly, Coach, that combination is harder to find than loyalty.”
A long silence. The garden is quiet except for wind moving through the trees at the edge of the property.
Finally Coach says, “Bring her to Saturday’s practice session.”
“Saturday,” I repeat.
“I want to see her myself. How she carries herself, how she handles being around the team. If I like what I see, we’ll talk terms.” He finishes his beer and stands. “If I don’t, we move on.”
“Fair enough.”
Coach gives me one more look, the kind that’s been honing itself on me since I was sixteen years old. “Don’t make this personal, Grayson.”
I say nothing, which is probably its own kind of answer.
He leaves through the side gate. Samuel lingers, finishing his beer with a grin that I don’t trust. “So. This nurse.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m just saying.” He spreads his hands. “It’s the first time in years I’ve seen you go to bat for a woman.”
“I’m going to bat for our team’s medical coverage.”
“Sure you are.” He stands, still grinning. “What’s she like?”
I think about it for a second despite myself. Sharp. Exhausted. Too proud to take help she desperately needs. Funny in a way that seems accidental, like the wit escapes her before she can calculate whether to use it or not.
“Difficult,” I say.
Samuel laughs all the way to the gate.
I sit there alone for a while after he’s gone, looking at the sky. Saturday. Which means I have to call Miranda tomorrow and tell her that our morning at the park has been rescheduled. Replaced, actually. Replaced with a hockey practice and a scrutiny session from an alpha who doesn’t give second chances.
She is going to have things to say about that.
A lot of things.
I lean my head back against the chair, and something that is not quite a smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. Miranda Carver, standing on a rink, arms crossed, chin up, looking at me like I’m the most inconvenient development in her entire week.
Yeah.
I’m almost looking forward to it.
The puck hitsthe back of the net with a crack that echoes through the arena, and I feel it in my teeth. It’s a clean and perfect shot.
I circle back to center ice, stick loose in my hands, and tell myself that the burst of energy today has nothing to do with the woman standing behind the glass. My eyes still search for her anyway to gauge her reaction.
Miranda Carver is leaning against the barrier with her arms crossed over her chest, watching us practice like she’s evaluating a particularly disappointing science experiment. She’s in jeansand a dark sweater that shouldn’t look as good as it does, and her expression is the same flat, unimpressed mask she wears every time she looks at me.
