Of course Andre scuttled up to him, hand outstretched. “I’m the manager. Andre Gerard.”
“Yes, I know that. I meant who’s the guy who knows the rink? Knows the ice? Who’s your pro?”
“W-we don’t have a pro,” Andre said, glancing around the room, brows knitted in confusion.
All heads had already turned to me, and Robbie stepped to one side, sweeping an arm back in my direction.
Oh hell no.I took a step back, but Evan didn’t let me get far.
“This is Perry Hasting,” Evan said, pushing me forward. “I’d say he’s the closest we have to a pro. He’s been curling all his life, and is easily the best in the club.” He stood a little taller. “He’s our Skip.”
Channing turned his attention to me, holding out a hand it would be rude to ignore, so I shook it. “Alan Channing. Care to show me around, Perry?”
Andre’s glare could not have been less friendly as Evan herded me and Channing past him towards the windows overlooking the sheets, easily taking up the tour while I trailed along in his wake.
Perfect. Exactly what I needed. Andre might not be a very big fish, but this was, essentially, his pond. He would not take kindly to us splashing around in it.
CHAPTER 4
EVAN
“So those are all the teams,”I finished, having quickly given up on Perry speaking. He was never great with being put on the spot without any prep. Since I was a talker, I’d pointed out all the curlers to Channing and explained where everyone was ranked.
“And your team has top seed?” Channing asked, piercing me again with his mesmerizing attention.
It took me a moment to parse the question.
Behind me, Andre snickered, jolting me out of the trance.
Channing shot a look past me to where I figured Andre must have been standing before Channing’s glare turned him to ash on the spot.
That was nice of him, to burn the asshole down to size.
I nodded. “Yep. Perry’s one of the best curlers in the house.” I couldn’t help a grin, because Perry was basically my favourite topic. “Probably the best.”
Perry’s cheeks glowed an adorably darker-than-normal shade, but he seemed trapped by Channing too when they latched gazes.
Huh. I maybe should have been jealous about that, but Channing seemed base, and his eyes were kind of fire, so really, I couldn’t blame Perry.
“Excellent.” Channing nodded, then turned to watch the action below, quickly getting distracted by the games going on.
“If you’re here to get the lay of the place, you’ve pretty much seen it all.” I pointed through the windows to the door off the far side of the rink. “The change rooms are over there, the bar’s behind us, and the bathrooms are down that hallway.” I pointed out the door to the washrooms.
“He didn’t come here to drink and piss, Baily,” Andre sneered, shouldering his way between me and Channing.
“No, I didn’t,” Channing agreed, easing away from Andre. “But since two of my companions have already found the bar, where to piss will be good to know, I’m sure.”
I glanced behind us to where two identical-looking people were accepting drinks from Sheri. “That’s Jason and Cameron Darren,” I said, as if Channing didn’t know who he’d come in with. The twins were not as well known as Channing was for their curling prowess, but they were well enough known for their carousing, and for the fact Alan Channing wasn’t a huge fan of possibly representing the country alongside them.
He would never say so out loud, anywhere near a microphone, but there was a distance between them that didn’t happen when a team gelled well. It was obvious watching them play that while technically a top-tier team, there was no heart there.
The other arrival who had come in with them was Carol Renard, the guy who had played first stone to Channing’s Skip for years until the twins had come along and taken over the front end of the team, moving Renard to Vice-skip. He had found a seat overlooking the sheets and watched the action belowintently, twining a frayed thread from a hole in the knee of his jeans around his finger as he gazed down.
Occasionally, he tucked a strand of blue-dyed hair that had escaped his braid behind his ear. On the ice, I’d always thought he looked bad-ass with that hair and his pale blue eyes, but sitting in our lounge on his own, he was smaller than I’d thought, curled in on himself and quiet.
Channing snorted and turned his back on Andre and the Darren twins to look at me. “Thank you for the tour… Evan, isn’t it? Evan Baily?”
I nodded, caught by his sharp, golden gaze. How he knew my first name, I had no idea. I’d gotten so caught up in explaining who everyone else was, I’d forgotten to introduce myself, because of course I had.
