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“Ya cállate,” she ground out, voice low, a warning in her tone. But all the woman did was roll her eyes in false innocence.

Monroe stormed over, taking in the scene with a raised brow, clearly unimpressed.

“Everyone, this is my cousin Graciella,” Ari said, her hand still pressed to her cousin’s mouth.

“This isn’t Bring a Family Member to Work Day, Contreras,” Josh said in his usual gruff tone, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring.

Gracie peeled Ari’s hand from her mouth. “Well, lucky for you, I’m here to do my job,” she said with a smile, clearly unfazed by his grumpiness.

Monroe raised an eyebrow, nodding toward the coffee carrier and arm full of stuff. “What job’s that? Crafts services?”

“No, actually,” she said, not missing a beat. “I work in sports marketing, specializing in content.” She flashed her pass in Monroe’s face, coming within inches of hitting him. I tried not to laugh. “See, I was invited, thank you very much. Usually, it’s my job to make people like you look better. Most of the time, I charge for this advice, but you look like you could use it, so here’s a freebie. If you smiled more, they wouldn’t think you’re part bear.”

The words were kind, hell even her tone was, but there was still something in her delivery that made it undeniable that she was telling him to go fuck himself.

Monroe’s scowl deepened, but her grin only widened.

Ari shook her head. “Okay, gotta go,” she said, pulling her cousin behind her.

I chuckled, watching Monroe’s face twitch as Gracie winked at him over her shoulder.

She’d eat him alive. One sunny smile at a time.

I’d forgotten how loud the chatter in the press room was. The heat from the lights, the constant shutter clicks, and the conversations could all be overwhelming if you weren’t used to it. We all shuffled behind the cloth table lined with mics. Jimenez and I settled into our seats next to Ari and Monroe, whose scowl only deepened when he caught sight of Gracie among the reporters, exaggeratedly miming for him to smile.

My attention kept drifting back to Ari, seated at my side.

She was gorgeous, seated in front of the Dallas Desperados logo, exuding confidence in her hot pink suit. Seeing her there did something to me. A swell of pride that was almost overwhelming. Hell, maybe I wanted her name plastered across my jersey. Or maybe a big foam finger I could wave that said “#1 Coach” just to show how damn proud I was.

I leaned over, my hand finding her knee under the table. “Ready for this?” I murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze. I caught her nod in my peripheral vision. “You’re going to do great. I’m here to support you. Always. I want you to succeed.”

In everything.

She looked composed and radiant, but I knew she was nervous. I started tracing small shapes on her thigh, hoping to ease the tension causing her shoulders to ride up near her ears.

Gracie flashed us a big thumbs up as the questions began.

Most focused on the team’s plans for the season, our training schedule, and the roster, but then they made a shift toward the newest coaching member on staff, and I squeezed her knee.

One of the reporters in the front row leaned forward. “Dalton, how’s the team handling the new training regimen under Ms. Contreras’ leadership? Any noticeable changes yet?”

I straightened, giving a quick, confident smile. “Honestly? Yeah, we’re already seeing a difference. She’s bringing a new level of intensity and precision to our training. Her focus on injury prevention has us all feeling sharper and healthier. I think you’ll see a team that’s faster and stronger this season, all thanks to her.”

A few reporters scribbled notes, clearly intrigued, and I could feel her eyes on me, a small, appreciative smile playing at her lips.

I wasn’t kissing her ass, either. It was all true. Her focus on the functional training was resulting in real improvements on the ice. She didn’t give a shit what we could bench. She wanted to see how well we could explode up out of a squat.

Another hand went up.

“Jimenez, what’s been the toughest adjustment so far with the new program?”

He leaned to his mic, grinning. “Well, I’ll tell you, she doesn’t mess around. Brutal when it comes to running a tight ship.” He glanced at her with a mischievous smile. “Honestly, I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a Latina woman. Probably no one better equipped to handle a bunch of idiots like us.” He shifted his attention back to the crowd of reporters, turning on the charm. “But the real challenge? The intensity. She has us pushing limits we didn’t know we had. I had no idea three-pound weights could be so brutal! She’s got us doing these front delt raises that make it hard for me to turn my steering wheel when I drive home.”

The room broke out in laughter. Even the corner of Monroe’s mouth twitched.

Gracie’s smile was practically a spotlight in the crowd, beaming over the praise her cousin was getting. Hell, I was beaming. I could feel the ache in my cheeks from smiling so hard.

But the moment a familiar blonde woman stood up in the back row, my stomach dropped. What the hell was she doing here? Media Day was a closed event where only press from an approved list was invited, and I’d made it very clear she was not one of the approved.