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“My knee was fucked up, Dad.”

“I’m gonna give Tom a call. This is bullshit.”

“It’s not your place to call any of my coaches. I got hurt and I’m rehabbing. I’ll be back with my team soon.”

He was practically yelling into the phone. “Not playing this way, you won’t! They never should’ve sent you to that shithole B team for rehab.”

“This is the way it works. They’ve got a big investment in me and I’m worth nothing if I re-injure my knee.”

“Those fucking minor league guys are more likely to injure you than anyone. They’re street fighters.”

“Plenty of fighters in my league, too,” I said. “I have to go, I’m going back to the rink.”

There was a second of silence. “Good. That’s good. Focus on your game. Quit disgracing the name on the back of your sweater. You had your fun eating like shit and getting led around by your dick for eight weeks, now get serious.”

I shook my head. Why bother telling him I’d spent that entire two months focusing on healing my body? I hadn’t made it to the top of the sport by being lazy and uncommitted. No, I’d missed out on a lot the past 15 years because hockey was always first. I was always traveling, playing or training.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later,” I said, hanging up when he grunted a goodbye.

The old man stressed me out worse than anyone. I got up and grabbed my keys. My apartment in the block of player housing provided by the team here was tiny and stank of cheap beer. But at least I didn’t have roommates like the other guys did. I’d be an asshole to live with right now.

I’d go back to the rink and get in a few more hours. If hard work would fix my rusty game, it was as good as done.

A thought about one of my college coaches, Ken Zircher, made me grin as I rubbed the fresh stubble on my chin. He’d been a NHL great who loved the game so much he came back and coached at the college level. After a brutal loss, he’d told the team we were in for a grueling week of practices.

“See, boys,” he’d said in his thick Boston accent, “it’s not that I was any better than the other guys who tried to make it to the NHL and couldn’t. But when they were rolling out of bed to scratch their balls and make some coffee, I’d already been at the rink for two hours. Champions aren’t born. They’re made with hard work.”

I’d been a champion before. I hadn’t expected to fall so far that I’d be unsure if I could work my way back to being one again. Fucking John London. One of the main reasons I wanted to get back to my team was so I could give his smug, pretty face a close-up view of the ice.

Dell

I turned my key in the steel side door to the arena. It was after 8:30 – would Luke even be here? I’d read Kyler a story and tucked him in at eight. He was asleep five minutes later when I checked on him and then left with a wave at Sadie, who was watching one of her travel shows on the couch.

The rink lights were on. As I drew closer, I saw a lone figure on the ice. Luke. He was weaving around orange cones on the ice, snow flying up from his skates. When he reached the end of the rink, he spun around and went the other way.

I frowned, not liking the unnecessary stress it was putting on his knee. My skittishness over how to approach him and offer help disappeared and I strode purposefully to the locker room to unearth my skates from a cabinet in my office. I didn’t use them much anymore, but skating was second nature in my family.

When he saw me skating his way, Luke looked over, his expression a cross between confusion and amusement.

“Dell?”

“Is your knee wrapped?”

“Uh … I left it wrapped from earlier.”

I pointed to the bench. “Let me check it.”

He skated toward me and I could tell how hard he’d been pushing himself. His dark blond hair was wet with sweat and his cheeks were flushed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sitting down on the bright blue bench.

“Thought you might like some help.” I reached for his skate to unlace it out of habit. When one of the guys needed a leg or knee worked on during the game, I unlaced their skates so they could stay focused on what was happening on the ice.

“Here, let me,” he said. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ve got it. I’m fast.” I pulled off his skate and started unsnapping the bottom of his pants so I could access the knee he’d injured.

He stood silently and pulled his nylon athletic pants down. Even though I was a trainer who was used to things like this, it felt forbidden since we were alone in the arena. And looking at him felt different than looking at the other guys. I’d never wanted to look at their bodies the way I wanted to look at Luke’s right now. I focused on the wrap, securing it, standing and looking away while he pulled his pants back up.

“No reason to keep stressing the knee with all that turning,” I said.

He laced his skate and stood, arching his brows at me. “What do you suggest?” he asked, his pale blue eyes shining with amusement.

“We should practice passing. You’re in great shape, you just need lots of repetition on the mechanics you haven’t been doing for the past two months.”

He nodded, the chagrin gone from his expression. “Good idea. So you’ve picked up the game at this job, huh?”

“Here and there.”

“You ever play?”

“Nope.” I pulled a spare stick out from beside the bench and slid myself over the rink wall.

Luke’s focus was impressive. For the next 45 minutes, it was like I wasn’t even there. I’d pass a puck and he’d sweep it up with his stick, charge to the net and shoot. He never even looked at me. It was him, the puck and his stick.

“Let’s change gears,” I finally said. He looked over at me and then skated over, breathing heavily. “Get some water first.”

I ran him up and down the rink for the next hour, reminding him that his only competition was himself. I despised the words as I said them because they were straight from my dad’s playbook. He always told his players to strive to be faster and stronger today than they’d been yesterday, rather than measuring themselves against other players. It was good advice.

Glancing down at the slender silver watch on my wrist, I saw that it was nearly 10:45.

“That’s it for tonight,” I said. Luke skated my way and slid to a smooth stop.

“Thanks, Dell. I don’t know why you’re bullshitting me about having played hockey before, because you definitely have. This was a big help. Having you here to pass to me was huge.”

I nodded. “I can come back at the same time tomorrow if you want. We’ll be on the road Thursday night.”

“Yeah, if you can. You want to get dinner before?”

I shook my head.

“Ah. The man in your life?”

“I eat dinner with him when I’m home.”

“Got it. Well, I’m gonna stay and do a little more. Thanks again.”

I reached for his stick and pulled it from his hand. “We’re done for tonight. Go get some sleep.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. “Yeah. Okay.”

We skated to the bench and headed for the locker room together. I glanced over, studying the lines of his body. He was tall and broad. All muscle. I had no business ogling a guy who, permanent or not, was playing for the team I was employed by.

“My roommate wants to meet you,” I said. “She’s pretty – you’d like her.”

“As pretty as you?”

I was taken aback for a second before I laughed. “Much prettier.”

He smiled, holding the locker room door open. “I doubt that.”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment at the compliment. I was used to taking shit from the guys, not being treated like an actual woman.

We changed into our street shoes in silence and left the locker room together. Luke switched off the rink lights and we walked toward the exit.

“How’d you wind up a hockey trainer?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve always loved the game. Plus, you know, the low salary and grueling travel schedule are pretty amazing.”

“Hockey gets in your blood, doesn’t it?”

Little did he know I’d been born with it in my blood. “How long have you been in the big league?”

“I went in after college.”

“What was your major?”

He grinned. “Marketing. Good think I don’t have to sell stuff for a living, ’cause I’d be shit at it.”

I doubted that. As long as he was selling to women, he’d be a very successful salesman.

Again, I reminded myself to stop thinking this way about him. “So our road trips won’t be your first by bus?”

“Nope. I kind of miss the bus, to tell you the truth. That’s when you really get to know your teammates.”

He followed beside me until I arrived at my oldish white sedan. I unlocked the door and climbed in.

“See you in the morning,” I said.

“Your hair’s so pretty.” He looked almost shy for a second. “You should never cover it up with a hat.”

My hand flew up to my hair, loose around my shoulders. I’d forgotten to put my hat on.

With a small wave, he turned to walk toward a large SUV sitting alone on the other side of the lot. He was rich and successful, but he carried himself with a laid-back assurance that made him unimposing.

Other than his sex appeal, which was a little imposing. There, I’d admitted it. He was sexy. It wasn’t just his looks, but the intensity of his cool blue gaze and the occasional unexpectedly sweet comments he made. He didn’t seem like the playboy I’d been so sure he was. No, playboys made my stomach turn. But Luke Hudson most definitely made it flip and flutter in a way that made me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

With a sigh, I told myself not to do this. My priority was Kyler. I needed my job to support us, and I couldn’t afford to gamble it for a flirtation with a hockey player.

I channeled my father, who would be telling me to get my head out of my ass. Pulling out of the parking lot, I smiled to myself. Yep, there was no better way to banish sexy thoughts than replacing them with thoughts of Butch Price.

Luke

I made the turn from the long concrete-floored hallway into Dell’s office. Her back faced me, her long auburn hair hanging loosely down it. I stopped and just admired her for a second. Even in sweatpants, the perfect curves of her ass didn’t escape my notice.

“Hey,” I said, not wanting to scare her.

She turned around and smiled. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Good. Just stocking supplies. Want me to wrap your knee?”

I was pretty sure my knee didn’t need wrapped anymore. But I had no other reason for being in her office. I’d looked forward to this time alone with her every day for the two weeks I’d been here. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

Since I had shorts on, she was able to move the leg of one side up a little for all the access she needed. I could’ve done it, but I liked the feel of her fingers brushing over my bare skin.

She got to her knees and set to wrapping. When she glanced up at me with those bright green eyes, my cock stirred in my shorts.
Fuck.
I’d never been aroused by a trainer working on me.

I shifted and looked up at the ceiling. It wasn’t the sight of her kneeling in front of me that was giving me wood, but something I’d seen in her eyes. I was nothing if not perceptive, and something told me I wasn’t the only one feeling something here. She’d said she was with someone, but maybe it was a bad relationship.

“Hey, are you sure about dinner tonight?” I asked. “You’re helping me out, and it’s the least I can do.”

“I can’t. Want me to see if Sadie’s open? My roommate?”

Her suggestion pissed me off. Couldn’t she see I wanted to go with her, not just anyone? “No. I just … thought you might want to go.”

“I wish I could, but I’ve got plans.” She looked up at me again. Maybe she did wish she could. I sure as hell did.

“What about—”

I was interrupted by a kid bouncing into the room, smiling widely.

“Mom, can I skate?” he asked.

I looked at Dell, my lips parting a little in disbelief.
Mom?
She had a kid?

She ruffled his hair. “This my little man, Kyler.”

My shoulders dropped a bit with relief. “The man in your life.”

“Yes.”

“Mom, can I?”

“Hold on, Ky. When I finish I’ll go see if one of the guys will skate with you.”

“I’ll skate with him,” I said.

She looked up at me. Those eyes the color of spring grass were going to get me in trouble. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You ever skated before, Kyler?”

He gave me a scowl. “All the time! I’m a hockey player.”

“Hey.” Dell cupped his little chin and made him look up at her. “Manners, mister.”

“Sorry,” Kyler muttered. He walked over to a glass jar of rainbow candies on the counter of Dell’s office and took the lid off, taking his time choosing one.

“You’re good,” Dell said to me with a smile. She glanced at her watch and turned to Kyler. “You can skate for ten minutes, okay? Practice starts after that. Go get your skates on.”

He gave her a toothless grin and ran out the door.

“He’s cute,” I said. “But if he’s the only man in your life, why won’t you have dinner with me?”

“I can’t. I don’t see players outside of work.”

I remembered Tanner’s warning the day I arrived.

“Just dinner, Dell. I’m not trying to get in your pants.”

Her cheeks darkened and she looked at the floor. I was surprised how much I enjoyed flustering this otherwise confident woman.

“I just … don’t,” she said. “When I’m not on the road, I have dinner with Kyler.”

“Fair enough.” I wouldn’t push her any further. It was admirable that she put her kid first. “Speaking of him, I better get out there.”

She nodded and I hustled to the locker room to lace up my skates. When I went out to the rink, Kyler jumped up from the bench.

“Who are you?” he asked as I helped him over the wall.

“Luke Hudson.”

“Are you new here?”

“Yep. What position do you play, Kyler?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and looked up at me. “We’re still learning fun … damentals.”

I grinned at the use of such a big word from such a little guy. His sandy brown hair curled loosely at the ends and his eyes were a hazel swirl of colors. Since he looked nothing like Dell, he had to resemble his father. The thought filled me with an unexpected pang of jealousy. She’d let some other guy do a hell of a lot more than take her out for dinner.