Page 19 of The Big Puck

“What else is in your contract? I can’t believe you’re done at the end of one year, no matter what. What if you win the Stanley Cup? Would Gavonza still get rid of you then?”

Holy shit. “Are you shitting me?”

“Well, no. I think if—no, when—the Whalers win the Stanley Cup, Gavonza would be crazy to get rid of you for that old has-been he’s lining up for the job. Jason and I discussed it on the drive up north, and we agree you’re the better choice for the long haul.”

“What the bloody fuck do you mean by that? Pardon my language.” My heart races at her words because they’re the same ones I dredge up to tell myself when I’m getting tired at the end of the day or whenever I see Gavonza—which is far too often.

She waves a hand. “No worries. I’ve heard it all, thanks to my big brother. What I mean is that you are a go-getter, a winner with ‘team leader’ written all over you in neon. You brought St. Paul from a losing record to winning the Frozen Four in two seasons. You took over for their old coach after he’d been there for a gazillion years and elevated the program back to what it once was. Gavonza wants Old Smitty—but what does he have? Twenty extra years and thirty extra pounds of unhealthy mediocrity.”

I can’t help the twitch in my mouth because I want to smile, or maybe even laugh. Under normal circumstances, I would laugh. But what are normal circumstances? Whatever they are, this ain’t them. I have my career and Krissy’s well-being hanging in the balance of this season.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence. But I was never officially named head coach at St. Paul, so my creds are questionable, according to Gavonza. He doesn’t share your opinion.” I don’t think he shares her level of hockey acumen either, but I keep that to myself. “And last time I looked, he still owns the team one-fucking-hundred percent.”

“Him and his daughter. Jason says she’s a trip.”

I shake my head and may have let a half-smile slip.

“Oh my God—that’s what makes you smile? An off-hand comment about the coach’s slutty daughter? You’re perverted, you know that.”

“She’s not slutty. Aggressive maybe. And how does my possible smile make me perverted? No, wait—don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“You must be out of breath because you just managed to string together more than ten words.”

“If you didn’t work for me…” I mutter, finishing the sentence in my imagination, I’d put you over my knee and give you a good spanking. The visual sends a hot rush of molten desire through my veins, reminding me I’ve been out of circulation for way too long. I push away from the table.

“Where are you going? You didn’t answer my question. What would happen if you led the Whalers to a Stanley Cup?”

“I don’t owe you an answer.” Her eyes go wide and her face turns pink, and I’m an idiot. I take a breath and take the edge off my voice. “I mean, I can’t say. There’s an NDA with my contract. I can’t talk about the details.”

She nods.

“I’m sorry I was harsh.”

“Not your fault. I’m nosy, though I prefer to think of it as curious. Don’t worry, though. My lips are sealed.”

She starts collecting the plates, and I stand grabbing the glasses. We meet at the sink. For a large kitchen, it’s feeling very cramped as we stand side-by-side at the counter. I put the glasses down and back away though I don’t exactly feel comfortable about letting her do all the work.

“You’re the nanny, not the housekeeper. If you make dinner I should clean up.” Standing my ground, I watch as she rinses the dishes and slides them into the dishwasher.

“That’s sweet of you.”

“Not sweet. Fair. I’m not paying you enough to do cooking and housekeeping.” I shift from one foot to the other and wait. It’s not like I can shove her aside and take over, which is what I’d do with my brother or roommates in the past. Having a woman in my kitchen is a whole other beast.

What the fuck is it going to be like having her around all the time?

You should have thought of that before you hired her and signed the contract.

She stops and aims her baby blue eyes at me, large and twinkling like she’s shooting fairy dust. “Next time, you can clean up. But for the record, I like to cook, and you did say there’d be light housekeeping. It’s only for a couple of months, right? Just so you know, while I’m here, I plan to throw my whole self into this job, so hard that it won’t seem like a job. It’ll be more like a lifestyle. I want to devote myself to making Krissy happy and your life smooth, easy, and worry-free. It’s the least I can do for you both after what you’ve been through.”

Her words vibrate with truth, and I’m dumbstruck. “Why…would you want to do that?”

She shrugs. “Because I can and because there’s something in me that needs to banish all the darkness I find in life. It’s just how I’m made.” She tempers her smile. “It’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No.” It’s all I can say with the stray thoughts and arguments crowding in my head, ready to tear apart the lovely idea of banishing darkness, ready to point out how impossible it is because there’s always more around the corner when you least expect it. But I don’t say a word. I hold it all in with a superhuman effort. But I don’t hold back my frown, and the skepticism must flash like a neon sign in my eyes.

“Good.” She smiles as if I really buy into her mission, and I take a deep breath. She finishes cleaning up, and we’re still standing here in the kitchen. Krissy’s sleeping, and it’s getting close to nine.

What the hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t order her to go to her room and leave me in peace. Can I?