Chapter One
Joslyn
“Are you so excited? I’m excited for you. Think of all that hockey player eye candy. I swear hockey players have the best asses in all of sports. You’re going to have a whole team to ogle!” My best friend Lainy’s excited voice filters through the car speakers as I drive to my morning meeting at Mile High Arena in downtown Denver. The girl is inappropriate with a capital “I,” but God, I love her. She’s the salsa to my chips.
“Oh, please, girl! You’ve got a sexy hockey butt of your own at home. Aren’t we against objectifying people? Pot meet kettle.” I tease.
“Fine. I’ll keep my objectifying to myself. Yes, I’ve got a glorious hockey butt at home, but I’m married, not dead. Scott doesn’t care if I look.”
Her husband, Scott, is also a close friend, so I know he’s not intimidated by anyone. Hockey players have healthy egos, and he certainly doesn’t lack confidence. He was a powerhouse when he played for Colorado ten years ago and is well-respected around Denver. Lainy is his person, and Scott is hers. It’s adorable, albeit annoying.
But I’m not jealous. Not even a little.
“No more ass talk. Please. I haven’t had nearly enough coffee for that. And no bringing up my dating life, either. We’ve talked about that way too much lately.” I take a sip of said coffee, juggling my to-go mug and the steering wheel as I merge onto the I-70 on-ramp. I’ve mastered the art of coffee consumption while driving. It’s my superpower, but I’m still hoping the traffic will be light since it’s summertime.
“Whatever, Miss, I’m too old to date.’ Which, by the way, is bullshit because you’re only forty-two. But I’ll put a pin in that for today. Don’t wanna ruin your moment of triumph.” She pauses for effect.
I roll my eyes, which she can’t see but undoubtedly knows.
“I’m just happy you’re finally getting the recognition you deserve because… ding, dong—the Wicked Brother-in-Law of the West is burning in hell where he belongs!” she exclaims. Yeah, she’s a bit dramatic.
“Oh my God. That’s Jacob’s father, and it just happened last month. Be nice, Lainy.” I’m shocked but not surprised. My girl tells it how it is. She never hides her opinions, which makes her a fantastic friend. Let’s be honest, my late brother-in-law didn’t win any awards for his parenting skills.
“I’m sure he’s relieved,” she mutters derisively. “Because now no one is standing over his shoulder telling him how much he sucks. I’m sure working under him was a nightmare.”
“Okay, true, but maybe don’t say that around him, okay. I’m sure he’s hurting enough already.” It feels disloyal to my nephew to speak negatively about his dad, even though Tad Robertson was a complete and utter asshole. Parent-child relationships are complicated. I know that firsthand.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ll be nice, but only under duress. So, how do you feel? Are you ready? You’ve done so much work behind the scenes for the last few years, so this must feel vindicating.”
“It really does.” I’m so excited, I’m having a hard time keeping it contained. “You know Jacob’s a dream to work with. We’re going to makethis team competitive again. I’m looking forward to making some real changes. God, we’ve been talking about it for so long.”
Jacob, my thirty-one year old nephew, is the other half of the ownership team for the Colorado Wolves, Denver’s professional hockey team. He’s basically been handling all the responsibilities for our organization for the last year or so, due to his father’s illness. Granted, with his degree from Harvard and his many years of experience working under his father, he’s incredibly well-equipped to be in charge, but I know it’s been a lot of work for him. We’ve been discussing our restructuring plans for years, and now we’re finally getting to rebuild this organization together. His father’s recent death has allowed me a chance to step up and help him. I must admit, I’m thrilled to be a part of it at last.
When my husband Kurt died ten years ago, I inherited forty-nine percent of the team’s ownership. Domineering asshole that he was, he left his brother, Jacob’s father, in charge of everything. The team, all the money…everything. Even in death, he was a controlling bastard. When I asked about my role at the Wolves, Thaddeus “Tad” Robertson shut me down so fast my head spun. Never going to forget how that felt.
“Women don’t run hockey teams, Joslyn. That’s not how it’s done.” I was informed when I expressed interest in joining the leadership team. It was the classic “shoo, little girl” comment, and it made my blood boil. I had little choice but to let it go, as I had two teenagers who depended on me, and he controlled the finances.
Everything changes this season. Not only am I part of it now, but I get to be a driving force for change. For the first time since I married Kurt, over twenty years ago, I feel like I’m in charge of my own life. It feels terrific.
Now, I’m headed to my first meeting as an active part of the ownership team. No more sitting on the sidelines for me! Jacob and I just hired a new general manager, and this will be the first time we’re all getting together. It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
“You got this. You’re a badass boss babe, and you’ll rock it.” My bestie’s voice breaks through my reverie. A short, high bark punctuates her encouragement, and a cold, wet nose nuzzles my arm.
“There she is. You tell her, Abby. I love that you’re taking her to work with you.”
My sweet pupper answers her with a whine, butting her soft, furry head into my hand. A clear sign that petting is required. I’m happy to oblige. After making sure my coffee cup is secure in its cup holder, I reach for her. She has the softest caramel fur around her ears. I love to run my fingers through it.
“Perks of being an owner—I mean, there’s got to be a few, right? Besides the hockey butts,” I add flippantly, as I stroke Abby’s silky ears. She tries to snuggle closer to my thigh. Dogs are the absolute best. They’re like a warm and fuzzy hug for your inner child, unconditional love incarnate. Lainy ignores my jab like a good friend and keeps trying to pump me up. She’s such a supportive person, and I’m lucky to have her in my life.
“I know you’re probably worried, but don’t be. You are going to be amazing at this. Gotta go. Love you! Call me later, girl. Love you, Abs.”
I smile fondly as I hang up. Girlfriends are everything. I appreciate her enthusiasm, but despite her pep talk, I’m still nervous about my first day at the arena. I focus on driving to distract myself from the uneasy fluttering in my stomach.
I glance at the dashboard clock. It’s only 8:15, and I’m almost through downtown. Traffic is smooth. I should have just enough time to grab another coffee and gather my thoughts before the meeting. The coffee cart at the arena has a toffee hazelnut latte to die for. My mouth is already watering.
I roll down my window, letting the cool summer breeze flow through my long, curly hair. I’ll enjoy it now because my drive home will be much hotter. My mood lifts as I turn up the music. I sing along to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” because who doesn’t? Then run through my to-do list for today. It’s a light schedule, and I plan to set up and organize my office.
Approaching the arena, I turn down the music. Why? So I can see to drive better. Don’t judge. Everyone does it. Pulling into the parking lot, I grab a space near the front, giving the parking gods a quick thank you. It’s the middle of the summer, so there aren’t many people around, but I’m still grateful for the convenience. Jacob hasn’t gotten me a reserved spot yet. I’ll have to remind him today. The poor guy is so overworked. I can’t wait to jump in and help.
