The kids cheered, clambering to the ice, clad in helmets, sticks in hand. Tank joined them, and for the next hour, he ran the kids through a whole series of drills before initiating a quick game of pickup.
McKenna was the one to guide them to the photo shoot portion of their plans, even though Tank and the kids still weren’t finished playing.
The parents laughed when Tank complained to McKenna the loudest, begging for “just five more minutes.”
McKenna played along, putting one hand on her hip, assuming a motherly tone. “We still have pictures to take and things to sign,” she said, “and it’s a school night. We need to make sure they have time for dinner and homework.”
Tank led all the kids in a bit of playful booing over homework, then McKenna herded them—as best she could—toward one end of the rink. She was a natural on skates, gliding across the ice with ease as she organized them for the group picture. Quite a few of the parents joined them on the ice, standing near McKenna with their phones, grabbing their own photos of Tank and the team.
He cheesed it up, then McKenna had the kids grab the items they wanted signed. Tank autographed them, then took the individual photos. More than a few parents—clearly Stingrays superfans—asked if they could pose in the pictures with their kids. One mother exclaimed the shot of him with her entire family was going to be included in her Christmas card next year.
The signing took longer than it probably should have, but everyone was having so much fun they didn’t seem to care.
Once he posed for the last picture, he pointed to McKenna. “Isn’t McKenna great?” he asked the kids, who cheered for her.
McKenna brushed off Tank’s compliment, laughing when he skated over to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Look how tiny she is,” he joked. “Like a little mouse.”
The kids laughed.
McKenna played along. “I’m not tiny. You’re just a giant.”
“He is a giant!” one of the younger kids yelled out.
“A giant?” Tank held his hands over his head, like he was a giant from a children’s book, playfully chasing McKenna around the ice. She skated around the kids, some of whom got into the game, chasing him as he continued trying to capture her. When he caught her, they tussled, Tank messing up her hair as she tried to bat his hands away, much to the amusement of the kids.
“Bad giant!” she chastised, laughing. “Behave yourself.”
“Never,” he retorted, giving her a quick, impromptu kiss on the cheek.
McKenna flushed bright red, and Tank caught sight of more than a few of the mothers grinning at them, as if they were the cutest couple ever.
Tank didn’t have a clue what had prompted him to kiss her, because that sure hadn’t been his intent. It was just…she looked so adorable, rosy-cheeked in the chilly arena, grinning widely at him. Then he caught a whiff of strawberries in her hair, and he’d felt a stirring of something…
Something he had no business feeling for McKenna Bailey.
He chalked up his lack of judgment to the fact that he wasn’t used to abstaining from sex.
Slowly, the parents began to collect their kids, everyone heading home. He suspected at least fifty percent of the families would be stopping at McDonald’s to grab dinner on their way.
Coach Burrows walked out with McKenna and Tank, his wife and their two sons already waiting for him in the car.
“I can’t thank you enough for tonight,” Coach Burrows said, shaking Tank’s hand again. “Suspect half the team now wants to play hockey professionally after that.”
Tank chuckled. “Nothing wrong with that. Given what I saw out on that ice, quite a few of them have what it takes.” That wasn’t completely true, though there were two kids on the team who were absolute brutes, with the skills and mindset to go far if they applied themselves.
The coach shook McKenna’s hand next, then said good night.
He and McKenna climbed into her car. Before she started it, she turned to him. “You were great in there, Tank.”
“I really love playing hockey with kids. It’s fun. There’s no stress, and it makes me remember why I fell in love with the sport to begin with.”
“It shows. I’m sort of sorry we didn’t line up more promotional opportunities like that one for you. I didn’t realize you were such a natural with kids. I don’t think a single person who was here tonight isn’t now officially a Tank Phillips fan for life.”
“Are you included in that group?” He wasn’t sure what made him ask that question, but after spending the last two weeks with McKenna, Tank hated that he’d made such a shitty first, second, and thirty-eighth impression on her. There had been plenty of opportunities for him to welcome her to the Stingrays organization the way his teammates had, but instead, he chose to act like a swaggering ass rather than get to know her.
McKenna didn’t reply to his question immediately, and he started to fear she’d tell him no.
Finally, she put him out of his misery. “Yeah. I think I am.”
