His smile turned smug. “That was a good one.”
The truth hit me like a puck to the mouth: Jay was young, attractive, and a much better match for Zaila, at least on paper. My long-clipped rebellious side roared to life—the one that had often left Karl rolling his eyes at my ridiculous attempts to garner his attention.
I cleared my throat. “It was. And it brought about some exciting new ideas.”
Jay looked thoughtful. “So…you’re saying I could do something like that again?” His eyebrows rose.
Was I? That would be spontaneous, possibly chaotic, and potential repercussions ricocheted through my mind. But it would show Zaila that I wasn’t a stuffy suit who didn’t know how to enjoy life…
I forced a nonchalant shrug. “In good fun and nothing that could embarrass or endanger a colleague, then sure.” What the actual hell had I just said?
“Really?” Jay asked, disbelief twitching across his features.
“I have to tell you, I didn’t make my fortune by coloring inside the lines, Jay.” I patted his shoulder a bit too forcefully, slightly mollified when he winced. “I appreciate creativity.”
And you’re not the only one who can play, asshole. I learned and perfected this game before you were in high school.
Jay studied me for a long moment. “So you’d be okay with me setting up a week or two of office pranks, just to see where the creativity flows, of course?”
I shrugged. “It’s the off season. The players aren’t practicing, and this is the least busy time of year. Seems like a good time to try it.”
“Which is why we do that team-building retreat in September,” Jay concluded. “I really thought that was as interesting as you’d allow us to be.” He blinked, as if seeing me for the first time.
I chuckled, glad for the diversion from Zaila. Karl and I had always enjoyed pranks. Maybe bringing that here would inject some much-needed lightness into the organization, and into me. I’d been in a rut for so long I no longer even realized it was a rut.
By all measures, I was in my prime, but I’d spent over two decades mourning my older brother, my hero, even as I’d tried to continue his legacy by playing hockey through college. It was time to let loose.
To be fun. To see if I had anything in common with Zaila Monroe. As much as I still struggled with whatever this was happening to me, I liked her, I respected her, and I desired her. I wasn’t ready to ask her out, but I did want to see if I’d overblown my interest. If I hadn’t, perhaps I’d come up with a new plan.
As Jay left, I turned ] toward Tim and Zaila in time to see her throw back her head and laugh. Her smile was radiant, even from this distance. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
When I got back upstairs to my office, I was surprised to find the Wildcatters’ team captain waiting for me.
“Did we have an appointment?” I asked.
Cormac Bouchard shook his head. “No, but can I have a few minutes?”
Since Cormac rarely came to see me and typically handled player issues with the coaching staff, I was intrigued—and worried. “Of course.” I ushered him into my office and waited for him to take a seat at the table I used for informal meetings. I grabbed us each a water and sat down across from him. “What’s bothering you?”
He began with a deep sigh. “Some of the new guys,” Cormac said, shaking his head. “They think this place is just one big party with excellent perks and sweet money. I’ve never met a group less interested in hard work and toeing the line.” He leaned closer, his expression tense. “I think Jeff Cross is close to going off the rails—much worse than his college coach let on.”
I settled back in my chair, absorbing this additional detail. On paper, Jeff Cross had been a solid offensive addition with strong statistics and athleticism, but his personal choices hadn’t been well-documented. I could see now that it was likely intentional. If they had been, neither Silas nor and I would have picked him. As it was, perhaps I should have seen that red flag more clearly and not been so focused on one-upping Leon Johanson, Karl’s former coach who was now the offensive coordinator for Boston and had been very interested in Cross. Such pettiness had a way of biting the vindictive person in the ass. “What does Coach Whittaker say?”
Silas Whittaker was the team’s head coach. Cormac raised an eyebrow. “He’s talking to Jeff right now, for the fourth time in the last two weeks.”
That revelation weighed heavy on my chest. “He’s not a team player,” I surmised. “And he’s not settling in because he’s used to being the star.”
Cormac nodded. “With an even bigger ego. He’s a rookie in the NHL. You and I both know he’ll have his ass handed to him in the first period of the first game. I’m worried, Gunnar. This guy’s already changed my locker room. If nobody shuts him down and puts him in his place, he’ll mess up the team. I planned to go out on top, and Jeff’s already caused enough adversity to make me question that possibility.”
“That serious?”
“Well, Maxim wants to pound his face in, and Stolly’s had it out with him because he made comments about Stolly’s wife.”
I sucked a breath through my teeth. “He said something about Millie?”
Cormac’s face soured. “How hot she was from the back, but how the glasses detracted from her overall appeal. Took me and Maxim to peel Stol off the snotty little shit. And Jeff laughed.”
“Is that why Silas is talking to him today?” I asked.
