Page 92 of Ice King

Now my hackles were really raised. Plus, I had a feeling he was a reporter. At this point, Ford didn’t need another asshole who just wanted his fifteen minutes of fame. “If you’re looking for someone from the hockey team, they’re all on summer break.”

“Yes, you’re correct, but I’m currently on my way to Los Angeles via Portland and took a chance with a detour at the last minute. I was hoping to catch the coach since I knew he lives in town. I thought maybe he’d point me in the direction of one player in particular.”

“Oh? Who would that be?”

He acted as he if didn’t want to tell me, but when he did, he made certain he looked me directly in the eyes. “Ford Kendrick. The sign caught my eye. Your place of business?” There was an official sound to his comment, the stranger looking away while contemplating what to do next. The sudden need to be protective of Ford and the entire team felt ingrained, my instinct nagging me to be very careful.

“Oh, heavens, no. Just a part-time gig. Ford. Of course.”

“The location and the town remind me of where I grew up. You know Mr. Kendrick?”

I’d become jaded in the last year, notably so and for good reason. I wasn’t interested in providing much information about myself or the town. Even if he was on the up and up.

“Everyone knows everyone here, including when there are any issues or one of their community members is being hassled.”

I wasn’t known for being subtle and I could tell he caught the hint, his upper lip curling.

“And protective, I see.”

“Absolutely,” I told him as I nodded to the container full of various creams and sugars. “Especially of our star hockey player who’s been given a load of crap by the media as have others in town. Including his talented hockey-playing brothers.”

“There are more like him.” He didn’t seem bothered by my attitude.

“Yes. You know what’s interesting. Ford is the kind of player who deserves all the accolades. He’s not only super talented but a genuinely nice man coming from an incredible family. The man deserves to find the right agent, someone who will work with him as his career continues to explode. He will be an international commodity one day. You mark my words.”

I might as well leave the reporter with something decent to say along with whatever bullshit he might pen to try to become famous. I’d had enough of the crap published about shifters.

“Wow. That is an endorsement. Maybe you should consider being his go-to when the right agent comes along.”

“You mean because so many are shoddy representatives of human beings? To them, athletes are just commodities. Right? Put his face on a Wheaties box and you’ll make millions. Granted, I personally think his handsome face should be on a cereal box. He’s that talented. However, not unless he has an iron-clad contract favoring him and not the agent.” Where in theworld was all this coming from? Perhaps I was taking my three weeks of frustration out on the man, but what the hell. Reporters could take it.

He laughed. “Maybe a little harsh, but you’re right. Agents aren’t always interested in looking out for the betterment of their clients. We could learn a thing or two.”

“Yep. Including how him being a shifter isn’t detrimental. All these assholes who try and crucify him are just ridiculous, horrible people who don’t understand shifters are no different than you and me. Sorry. I’m assuming you’re human. You have that smarmy look about you.”

“Wow. Smarmy. I haven’t been called that in a very long time. You’re quite passionate about Mr. Kendrick.”

“Someone has to be in his corner.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

I took a deep breath as I studied him. He remained very surprised at my responses. “If you want to leave me your card, I can let Coach Stryker know when he comes in for coffee. That’s his choice if he’ll mention your request to Ford. How long are you in town for?” I pressed a lid onto the cup and slid it across the counter. “On the house. I was just getting ready to pour it out.”

Did my voice sound a little cranky? With his suave appearance and sixty-thousand-dollar watch, the reminder of a past I’d left and never wanted to return to was a reminder I didn’t need.

“You don’t need to do that. I’m perfectly capable of paying. Also, I’m just passing through.”

“That’s a shame you can’t stay longer and yes, it’s obvious by the somewhat con artist way about you that you are perfectly capable of paying for the two-dollar cup. Please. Allow me to share some North Bend hospitality. I insist.” Yes, I was being more forceful than necessary, but the longer he stood in front of me, the more anxious I became. Who was this guy? Everything about the timing bothered me.

“You are very kind. I assure you there isn’t an ulterior motive, Miss…”

“Wallace and I’ve been forced to learn very early in my life that everyone always has an ulterior motive. I care about the people in this town, Mister…”

An eyebrow shot up. “Young. Abbott Young. I’m sorry to hear that. But you’re right to be cautious. There are some dangerous, cutthroat people out there. And yes, I can be one of them, but I assure you in this case, I intend on being a friend. If allowed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. He slid it closer while taking the cup into his other hand.

“I’ll see that Coach Stryker gets it.”

“Tell him to call me no matter the time of day.” He studied me far too intently for a full minute, which not only created additional butterflies in my stomach, but also made me cranky as hell. “Wallace. Ah, yes, I thought you looked familiar.”