“Hey, man,” Blake said, fist-bumping him as he stepped into line with several of his friends. “You clean up good.”
Tank chuckled.
“Nothing worse than a night spent in fucking monkey suits,” Victor grumbled, tugging at his bow tie, which was askew.
“It’s not so bad,” Tank said—aware that was the wrong response when Victor, Blake, Preston, and Coulton all frowned at him.
“You’re usually the first one to bitch about having to wear a tuxedo,” Preston pointed out.
It was true. Tank’s preferred attire was loose-fitting athletic gear or nothing at all, a joke he’d made countless times with his buddies, claiming he did his best work naked. Usually after that jest, he’d make a crude gesture to drive home his meaning, not that it was necessary.
Tank shrugged. “Please tell me we’re all sitting together.”
Blake grimaced. “Of course not. They’ve got us all split up so we can schmooze the guests and talk them into contributing big tonight.”
“It’s for a good cause,” Coulton pointed out, just as he always did. The Stingrays Foundation raised money for several causes, but their pet project was one that spoke to Coulton’s heart. Funds made tonight would provide money to foster children so that they could participate in school and community athletics. The foundation paid for equipment, registration fees, and even provided transportation to practices and games, if necessary.
“Yeah, man, I know,” Tank said, agreeing. Coulton volunteered for Big Brothers Big Sisters and he’d grown incredibly close to his Little Brother, Slade, who Tank had to admit was the bomb. The kid was fucking hilarious and cool as shit.
“So you really brought Mac to the gala?” Preston must have seen Tank and McKenna walk in together. “Blake said you were, but I figured he was joking.”
“What’s wrong with me bringing her?” Tank asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Not a damn thing,” Preston quickly assured. “We all love Mac, you know that. It’s just that you usually bring a puck bunny—or two—to these kinds of things.”
“Speaking of,” Blake said, leaning closer. “Lara is sitting at her uncle’s table tonight.”
Tank groaned. He should have anticipated Lara’s presence here, as Charles Steele was one of the Rays’ biggest sponsors, but since embarking on “Project Tank” with McKenna, he’d pretty much forgotten all about the woman.
Which was surprising for two reasons.
One, she was part of the reason he was in trouble at work to begin with; and two, she was constantly texting him. He’d gotten to the point that whenever her name popped up on his phone, he deleted the message without even reading it. He kept telling himself to just block her damn number, but there was a tiny part of him waiting to snap out of…whatever this thing he had going with McKenna was.
“Thanks for the warning,” he murmured to his best friend.
Tank glanced around the room. He told himself he was just curious who else was in attendance, but the truth was he was looking for McKenna. They’d been apart all of five freaking minutes and yet, he felt the strong need to check on her, see her.
He spotted her in the far corner, talking to Coach Fields. He didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, but it looked like a serious conversation.
Probably about him and his reform, he thought begrudgingly.
Dean Fields had come on as the Stingrays’ head coach at the end of last season. It had been a return home for the guy, as he’d ended his hockey career as a Stingray thirteen years earlier, after several injuries sidelined him for good. He’d played with Victor and Preston back in the day, and they were delighted to have their old teammate back as their coach.
Dean had become an assistant coach in Vancouver a couple years after hanging up his skates, where he’d been until Baltimore hired him for the head coach job. They’d announced Dean in January, a few months after their former coach decided to retire, and he’d taken over in late April.
There was always an adjustment period whenever a new coach came into a program and tried to make it his own. Tank had decided to withhold judgment—as he’d really liked their previous coach—and give Coach Fields a chance to prove himself. So far, he was impressed with most of the changes the man had brought to the team. Coach had been cool about Tank’s after-hours shenanigans, alluding to the fact he’d gotten into more than his fair share of trouble back in his player days, as well.
So he was surprised to see the coach looking so serious right now. Tank knew Benny, Hugh, and James were at the end of their ropes with him, but he really thought Coach Fields was more chill and understanding about it all.
When he finally got to the head of the bar line, he ordered McKenna’s wine and a beer for himself, surprised to discover her still deep in discussion with Coach Fields. He started across the large event space, intent on joining them, but was waylaid several times by sponsors and fans, all wanting to meet him or snap selfies or grab autographs. Since tonight was all about promotion, he plastered on a smile and laid on the charm.
After fifteen minutes, he managed to break free and tried to spot McKenna in the crowd. The coach was now conversing with Hugh and James, so perhaps she’d managed to find their table.
He groaned to himself when he discovered McKenna had been cornered by Lara.
Fucking awesome.
Tank wasn’t sure when McKenna’s opinion of him started to matter so much, but he liked the friendship that was blooming between them, and he hated to think something either the coach or Lara might say would negatively impact that.
