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“Yes, Coach.” Heading back into the center of the ice, I call for them to stop their sprints before giving a few simple orders, and the team splits into groups. A few freshmen grab the goals while others scoop up the box of pucks and empty them onto the ice, letting them spill in every direction. We skate around, each collecting a puck and getting straight into our drills.
We’re a good half hour into training when two girls walk into our closed session and take a seat up in the grandstands. They’re probably one of the guys’ current hook-ups wanting to see us mighty Dragons in action. I ignore them as best I can until a bright flash draws my attention. I glance up at the grandstand to see one girl standing with a camera raised to her face and the other scribbling furiously in a notepad.
What the hell? Who are these girls? We couldn’t be getting reporters sneaking in already. Usually that only happens toward the end of the season, or if one of the guys has fucked up real bad. Considering it’s only the first day back, I can’t imagine that one of my guys would’ve been idiotic enough to fuck up already.
I skate over to Coach Harris, who has his back to the grandstand. “Have we got an interview today?”
His brows pinch together in confusion. “No. What are you talking about?”
I indicate with a nod up toward the grandstand and Coach turns around, following my gaze. He zones in on them, taking in the notepad and camera, and his face darkens with frustration. If there’s one thing this man despises, it’s reporters. Though, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s booked an interview and then completely forgotten about it. “Hey,” he hollers, gaining their attention along with the rest of the teams’. “Get down here.”
“Shit,” I hear my best friend, Tank, grumble under his breath as he comes up behind me while watching the girls make their way down the grandstand. “Wouldn’t want to be them right now.”
The other boys gather around to see what’s going on as the girls get closer. “Fuck,” Tank laughs a moment later, indicating the taller girl as they clear the bottom step. “That’s the chick from the gym.”
“No way,” I laugh, taking her in. “She’s hot.”
“Yeah, you should see what that girl’s willing to do, man. She’s fucking wild,” he says, lowering his voice as they reach the team, and I finally get a chance to take the girls in. The girl from the gym is exactly Tank’s type. Blonde, tall, and toned, with a hint of crazy in her eyes.
But the other, fuck. She’s stunning. Long dark golden hair is pulled back and begging for me to wrap my hand around it. She glances around the group of men before her, and I expect her to be shy or intimidated, but instead, she smiles the most breathtaking smile I have ever seen, making her green eyes shine like two beacons drawing me in.
My dick hardens at the sight, twitching painfully.
“What the hell is this?” Coach demands, indicating the camera and notepad. “This is a closed training session. Who are you?”
“Hi,” my little Golden Girl says, sticking her hand out. “You must be Coach Harris? I’m Dani and this is Sophie. We’re students in Professor Whitaker’s communications class,” she explains as if that should mean something to him. He takes her hand and gives it a quick shake, purely to be polite.
“Okay, that’s wonderful for you, but we have a lot of work to get through. I’m sure you can see yourselves out,” he says dismissively.
The girls glance at each other in confusion before focusing on Coach once again. “Um . . . We were given an assignment to promote and write weekly articles on the team. We were under the impression you were on board,” Dani says.
“I . . . ahhh, shit,” he mutters, letting out a frustrated sigh, making it all too clear he forgot all about it. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude. I agreed to this toward the end of last season, but you need to focus your energy on another team. I don’t have time for this.”
Sophie shakes her head and captures Coach’s gaze. “Unfortunately, we can’t do that, sir. Professor Whitaker has assigned us the hockey team, and she won’t accept any changes. Believe me, we tried,” she says, rolling her eyes. That last comment hit me like a knife through my spine. “This assignment counts for fifty percent of our grade.”
Coach Harris begins to fume, and Dani takes a step forward, placing a hand on her friend’s arm to cut her off. “Coach, with all due respect,” she starts, softening her tone. “Sophie and I are really good at what we do. It’s no secret that you guys have lost a lot of respect after last season’s championship blunder, and I hate to say it, but your reputation has seriously gone down the toilet. Honestly . . . maybe we’re exactly what you need right now.”
