Page 5

A work wife or husband? If only.

“I meant team as in . . .” Zanetti twirled a finger around. “The organization.”

Right. Nolan supposed he was part of the Trailblazers organization now, if only temporarily. But here, too, he was on the outside looking in on already-formed friendships and interrelationships.

“How is this going to work?” Eli asked. “Is there, like, a questionnaire?”

“I’m going to do a lot of observing at first,” Nolan replied. “I want to see if I can spot patterns in the team culture’s strengths and weaknesses. At some point I’ll conduct interviews. Possibly hold small focus groups. But no, there’s no questionnaire.”

“Have you done this sort of thing before?” Dabbs asked.

Nolan nodded. “It’s what I specialize in. I started out as a low-on-the-food-chain human resources coordinator for a logistics company right out of university,” he said, aware these guys might want some background on him since he’d be in their space for the next few months. “It was mostly admin stuff like payroll and overseeing the ordering and inventory of uniforms, but one of my side tasks was supporting the employee engagement programs. You know the ones that help foster a deeper connection between employees—or players, in your case—and between employees and their organization.” He shrugged. “Turned out I had a knack for that, and I’ve been doing it ever since. In fact, I overhauled Sport U Apparel’s engagement programs at their North American office in Toronto a few years ago. It led to a significant decrease in turnover rates.”

Several impressed faces and nods followed that statement. These guys would recognize the name of the mega sports apparel and equipment chain—Sport U Apparel’s name was on the side of this building and they sponsored several of the Trailblazers.

Before his interview, Nolan had wondered if he’d gotten this position because of his experience or because his dad was the head coach. In the interest of transparency, he’d asked. Roman and Zanetti had shared a quick look before Roman had shrugged and said, “Both, to be honest. Zanetti and I were brainstorming ways to analyze our existing programs, and Madolora recommended you. So we interviewed you because of that, but we wouldn’t have hired you if we didn’t think you were the best person for the job. Does that help?”

It had helped. These days, Nolan had a good relationship with his dad. As a teenager, though, it had been somewhat complicated—there’d been times Nolan had accused his dad of loving his hockey team more than he’d loved him. It was only as an adult that he’d come to realize that Dad had moved them from city to city for better paying coaching positions because he loved Nolan more than anything else—his job had allowed him to provide for Nolan even if it often took him away, same as Nolan’s mom.

Still, good relationship or no, Nolan’s independent streak had fought back against the implied nepotism of his being offered this role. Knowing Roman and Zanetti wouldn’t have hired him if he hadn’t been a good fit helped him regain his equilibrium.

Of course, they could’ve been lying, but Nolan didn’t think so. Roman Kinsey was deeply committed to the team culture.

“Any other questions?” Roman asked the players now. Several of them shook their heads, yet he nevertheless waited a full ten seconds before nodding. “All right, get out of here. And someone point me in the direction of the branded water bottles, will you?”

“They’re probably in the storage room,” Owen Cotton volunteered. Like Roman and Zanetti, he’d also been with the Trailblazers since the team’s first season.

“I already checked,” Roman said. “They’re not in there.”

“What about the second storage room?”

“There’s a second storage room? Since when?”

Cotton shrugged. “I don’t know. Four or five months ago. We needed space in the first one for backup skate-sharpening machines, so a bunch of stuff got moved into a smaller closet near Madolora’s office.”

“Thanks, I’ll take a look.” Roman’s phone beeped. He checked it and sighed. “After my next meeting.”

“I can get them,” Nolan offered. “I know where my dad’s office is, so I should theoretically be able to find this storage room. I’ll bring them up to your office.”

“Appreciate it.” Roman clapped him on the back and departed.

Most of the players had also left, but Eli stood in the hallway when Nolan emerged, those unreal biceps positively straining against his T-shirt.

Christ.

In the past ten months, Nolan had successfully managed to convince himself he hadn’t been attracted to Eli, but he couldn’t deny it when the man was standing in front of him, tall and built and sharp-jawed and freckled and oozing confidence like most jocks oozed ego.

“You know,” Eli said, falling into step with Nolan. “When we were texting last week and you said you had an interview, you failed to mention it was for my team. You also didn’t mention why you were interviewing. Did you get fired?”

“No, I didn’t get fired.” The storage room was just past Dad’s office, and Nolan pushed the door open and flicked on the light. “I quit.”

“Something else you failed to mention.”

“We were talking about something else. It felt weird to bring it up.”

“We were debating whether a bread bowl of soup is some form of sandwich,” Eli pointed out.

“It’s not.”