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She’s here.
Baylor Moore is here.
But hold the fucking phone… She wants to be the captain of my team?
Jace is sputtering beside me. Frayer is gaping, along with most of the rest of the team, and all I can do is hold her gaze. She wants my team? Cold day in fucking hell. I’ve worked my ass off to get this team if Jude went into the draft and I didn’t. I hate the politics of getting everyone to respect you, but I did it. I worked hard alongside Jude to gain the respect I have from these dudes, and I refuse to allow all that hard work to be lost to her.
She may be hot, and she may be the only thing on my mind besides hockey, but she’s not getting my team.
“This is my daughter, Baylor Moore. When I told you she has more hardware than most of you, I know you are probably thinking that it’s in the women’s league, but it’s not. She’s played on male teams since she was fourteen,” Coach continues, and that’s when she looks away, sucking in a breath before she looks out past the group of guys that is now her team. But I keep watching her.
She is still as stunning as I remember, even though it was only two months ago. Hard to forget someone like her, and seeing her again has me in knots. Not only because she is gorgeous but because she thinks and assumes that she can come in here and take my team. The shitty thing is I know she can—she’s talented enough—but over my dead body. As much as I want to enjoy her rosy cheeks from the bite of cold from the ice, the glossed-up red on her lips, and the way she stands there like she owns the room, I know I can’t. But I do. I’ve been imagining her in full gear in front of me since the moment she laced up her skates. And seeing her now, I know my feeble imagination did her no justice.
She’s magnificent.
I remember when she told me she was born to play, and she wasn’t lying. She looks the part, perfectly. Her skates give her an extra few inches. Her shoulders are thick from her pads, along with her legs. She looks like someone who could mow you over with no problem, and when I remember how she tried to do it to me, I’m fighting back a grin. I don’t know about my teammates, but if I didn’t know her, have the taste of her lips still teasing mine, and also being a badass like I am, I’d be scared of her.
But I’m not, and she isn’t getting my team.
“I have trained her to be the best, like I was the best. I also don’t let up on her. I don’t baby her. Make special rules for her,” Coach says, looking out at all of us. “I’m not dumb. I know the statistics for college rape and all that shit. And some may say that I am insane for pushing my daughter into a men-only league, but she can hold her own. She doesn’t back down. You cannot and will not bring her down. Believe me. Many have tried. None have succeeded.”
Slowly she looks back at me, and something about her eyes tells me that what her father just said is not one hundred percent true. Someone got to her and it may have been me, but before I can even think that through, Coach is demanding my attention again.
“This goes for any of you, not just her, but if you touch her or bully her in any way, you’ll have a one-way ticket off my team. I don’t do bullies. I know this is an egotistical sport. We all think we are better than each other, and that’s fine, but keep it to yourself. Pick each other up, work to make each other better, because we are only as strong as our weakest player. We are a family. Treat each other with respect on and off my ice,” he says before he skates up a bit.
I want to stand, tell him he has nothing to worry about because if anyone disrespects Baylor, I’ll kill them. But then it’s obvious by the way she is looking at me that we are not supposed to know each other. It may have only been one day with her, but that was enough to learn her mannerisms and hold them tightly in my mind. And I haven’t tried to let go.
I can’t.
Coach then goes down on one knee, looking at all of us before he continues. “The thing is, boys, you are my employees when you hit my ice. You come to work, you come to perform, and you come to fucking win. My payment to you is that I will train you, mold you, and make you more than the best fucking player you can be. I will push you, I will make you cry, and more than likely, you’ll puke. A lot. Lord knows, she’s puked a billion times under my training.”
They share a grin, but then Baylor is looking at the floor again. When Jace looks over at me, I look at him and shake my head. “Don’t you say a word.”
He doesn’t even agree or disagree. His eyes are wide, a “what the fuck” look on his face as his eyes direct back to our no-holds-barred coach. He may be scary, but I like that he has come down to our level, that he is talking to us as equals. Looking around, I can see the fear and even some resentment in my teammates’ eyes. None of us likes change; it took a lot for us to learn Coach Moss. Thankfully, we all know each other. We know that we can be the best. With Baylor being the only new person, I have a feeling that a lot of my teammates are not gonna be able to handle her.
Coach was right when he said this was an egotistical sport, and a lot of my teammates are just that. They know they are the best, and our team is, but we’ve learned to respect each other. A girl coming in and showing them up? Yeah, not gonna go over well. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous for her, and as much as I want her to go away because I know she can beat me, I also want her to shine. I know how badly she wants this, and I believe that she can make it, but this is not going to be easy.
Because while I’m trying to beat her, I’m also going to be protecting her.
Which can put a target on my back and also throw me off my game.
That struggle, man. It’s real.
“I was brought here for a reason,” he says softly. I swear you could hear a puck drop it is so eerily quiet as he looks at all of us, gauging our reactions. “I am here to make you the best because I am the best. I can see the way you guys are looking at her. Yeah, she’s a girl. But I can promise you, she will make this team better. She will make you better, because she is the best.”
He then looks directly at me and holds my gaze. It’s as if he is talking just to me, and I know he’s right. Chills run down my spine as I suck in a deep breath. Baylor has his eyes, those intense, no-bullshit kind of eyes that put a little fear inside of you. He isn’t playing. He isn’t blowing smoke up our asses; he means business and I know he is my ticket to the top.
The only problem is Baylor is attached to him.
And now me.
And in no way, shape, or form the way I dreamed.
I’m trying to act cool.
I’m trying to act like I’m not nervous.
That I belong.
