I shake her hand, relief coursing through me--at this point, I'll take any friends I can find."Well, I wasn't supposed to be here till tomorrow, but I got an earlier flight. I was hoping either Carson Wells or Travis Shaw would have some time for me?"
"Of course, just let me check."She hustles back around the desk and grabs the phone. After a quick conversation, she looks up at me."Coach Shaw will be right down. I'm so sorry, we weren't expecting you until tomorrow with the rest of the guys. Otherwise, I would have had everything ready for you."
"No, don't apologize, I'm here way early."I give her my most charming smile, grateful for her genuine warmth.So far so good.
A couple of minutes later Travis Shaw strides into the reception area, a broad smile on his handsome face.
Coach Shaw was one of the few bright spots during my time with the Jags. He coached our team's AHL affiliate, otherwise known as the farm team. But Florida's farm team plays inthe same city as their 'parent' team, so there's quite a bit of interaction. Travis and I clicked right away. He always treated me like a person, not a problem to be managed. Without Travis, Iprobablywouldn't have lasted as long as I did on the Jags.
"Jamie Pirelli!"his smile reaches his eyes as he pulls me in for a quick bro-hug."Welcome to Seattle, and welcome to the Sasquatch. Great to see you."
"Thanks, I'm glad to be here,"I say, matching his grin."Plus, I'm already enjoying the cooler weather."
He chuckles."Yeah, I can't say I'll miss Miami's humidity, although I'm told once the rains arrive, we'll be desperate for any scrap of sunshine we can find." He grins.There'sa reason the Twilight vampires were from around these parts."He grins and gestures for me to follow him."Come on in."
As he leads me through the office area, Coach Shaw's enthusiasm for the Sasquatch is clear. He inclines his head toward a large, glassed-in office where General Manager, Carson Wells is sitting in a chair, deep in discussion with someone sitting across from him.
My gut tightens when I see who he's talking to. Rylan Collings. My new team captain sits rigid in his chair, back straight, shoulders tense. Even from here, the intensity rolls off him in waves.
A scene from last year hits me like a freight train—late in the game when Seattle visited us. Collings bearing down on me along the boards, all raw power and determination. He crushed me like I was made of paper, then stripped the puck off me, smooth as silk, making me look like a rookie, fresh out of juniors. My ribs still remember that monster check. I can't help grinning—when someone hands you your ass that cleanly, you've gotta respect the skill behind it.
Right now though, there's something vulnerable about him. His jaw works back and forth as he listens to whatever the GM is saying.
Carson catches sight of Travis and me through the glass and waves us in. My heart rate kicks up a notch as we step into Wells' office.
Rylan's composed expression slips for a fraction of a second when I enter. He looks even more tense, if that's possible. But he recoversquickly, his game face sliding back into place as he stands.
"Jamie Pirelli, welcome."Carson Wells extends his hand, his grip firm and confident. He's one of the youngest General Managers in the NHL, maybe in his early forties, but there's an air of quiet authority to him, and he's well-respected around the league."We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."
"I managed to get an earlier flight."My voice comes out steadier than I feel as I shake his hand.
Rylan Collings standsperfectlystill, his expression unreadable, but there's an undercurrent of something in the tense way he holds himself that makes my stomach clench. It's not outright hostility, but it's not warmth either. His light brown hair is shorter than I remember from the last time I played opposite him, and there's a touch of premature gray at his temples. That shouldn't be hot, but somehow it is.
"Hey, Rylan, good to see you again,"I say, meeting his gazedirectly, hoping I can diffuse whatever this tension is with some good, old-fashioned friendliness.
"You too, Pirelli."
We shake hands, and when our palms touch, it's like a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm.Holy shit.My breath catches in my throat as our eyes lock. Up close, his are an unusual mix of blue and gray, like storm clouds over the ocean.
He's taller than me by a couple of inches, and while I might outweigh him by a few pounds, the way he carries himself, as if he's holding something back, makes him seem bigger.
Travis and Carson are talking, but their voices fade into the background, as all my senses zero in on Rylan. The way his jaw clenches and unclenches. The steady rise and fall of his chest under his fitted grey Henley.
He shifts on his feet and I swear to god, I can feel the air move between us. Every tiny movement he makes registers on my radar like a blip on a screen.
This is not good. Get it together, Pirelli.You're here to play hockey, not develop an inconvenient crush on your team captain.
But my body isnotgetting the memo, and a liquid warmth pools in my lower belly. Fuck mesideways.
"Sorry, we don't want to interrupt,"Travis says, but Carson waves him off."No, it's fine. We were just finishing up here. I'm glad you two canofficiallymeet before camp starts tomorrow. It's going to be an intense season. We all need to hit the ground running."He turns to Rylan.
"Thanks for meeting with me, Collings, we'll talk more later this week,"he says, and Rylan nods.
"Of course. I'll see everyone tomorrow,"he says with a polite smile before moving past me to the door. I catch a whiff of his cologne, something clean and woodsy. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as our shoulders brush on his way out.
Well. That was... something. My new captainobviouslyhas some thoughts about my arrival, and I'm pretty sure none of them are good. The memory of his earlier vulnerable expression tugs at me, making me wonder what they were discussing before Travis and I walked in.
"Have a seat, Jamie."Carson gestures to the chair Rylan just vacated."We have quite a bit to talk about."
