“Oh it doesn’t matter,” he says calmly. “You’re a healthy scratch tonight.”
He turns and exits the room, leaving me stunned. “Healthy scratch” means the coach is choosing not to play me even though I’m not injured. I open my mouth but stop myself from speaking because I can’t challenge him—it would make things worse—and he’s gone anyway. I look around the table and am met with looks of sympathy. Devin says, “I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t. You’re right. I did this. You said he’d be pissed and he is.” I push aside my half-eaten oatmeal and stand up, grabbing the muffin. “I won’t give him a reason to punish me again.”
As I make my way to my room, I can’t help but blame Brie for this a little bit. She got me angry and caused me to not want to be alone. This woman isn’t good for me. I contemplate finding a new charity to volunteer at, but decide I’m going to stay at this one and just try my best to annoy the crap out of her the way she annoys me. As infantile as it may be, that’ll bring me some satisfaction.
Chapter 4
Brie
Well the kids love him, I tell myself as I watch Alex take questions after his talk on his health and fitness routine. It was actually a fantastic workshop. I’ve had a lot of experts come in and give presentations on stuff like this before. And they were good but most forget that these kids are on their own and the money they have to spend on anything isn’t a lot. Alex realizes that and he’s made a point of referencing cost-efficient ways to eat healthy when he talks about food and all the exercise stuff he references doesn’t need a fancy gym membership. He’s also, I hate to admit, really funny, adding just the right amount of jokes and silly references to keep it interesting.
The talk wraps up and the kids leave, every single one of them stopping to thank him personally. He also brought them all Barons hats that he had the entire team sign. “If you’re not a fan, sell them on eBay. I won’t be offended.”
I laugh at that and his eyes find mine. I cover my mouth and force myself to stop. After the last kid leaves, he walks over to me. “You liked my talk.”
“I like that they liked your talk,” I reply and give him a small, polite smile. “And it’s very sweet of you to give out the hats.”
“I was going to ask if I could start a running club for the kids,” he says and rakes a hand through his thick brown hair, sending it every which way, yet somehow it still looks perfect.
“Sure. But that would be a really big commitment.” I am a little stunned he would volunteer that. We’ve had one athlete volunteer here since we opened—a baseball player. He came twice, promised a whole bunch of things, got the kids excited and then never came back. I should have known his motives were self-promotion and not helping the kids when he showed up with a photographer. I don’t want to be that naïve again. Although I have to admit Alex seems a lot more dedicated about this than the baseball player did. And since he flat out, and rather hostilely, refused to let me mention his name for the fund-raiser, he’s clearly not here for the publicity.
He shrugs his broad, strong shoulders. “We’d meet once a week. And I’d have to probably change the day around every now and then because of road trips, but if that’s okay I’d love to do it.”
“That would be fantastic.”
“Great. Oh and one of the girls…Mary Hope.” He says her name without the H like most French Canadians, so it comes out “Ope” and it makes me smile. I don’t remember much about my years living in Quebec but somehow that accent feels like home and soothes me. “She said you used to have yoga classes but the instructor quit.”
I nod. “Yeah, she moved upstate to start her own studio. I’m going to try and find a new one this week but it’s not easy finding people that will work for free.”
“I have a friend in Seattle who teaches yoga. She goes to national conferences all the time and she might know someone local willing to help,” he tells me and I can’t help but think of the stuff I saw online about him in Seattle at a gym getting cozy with a fitness instructor that dates another hockey player. “Would you like me to call Shay and ask?”
“You were just in Seattle weren’t you?” I ask casually.
He smiles that damn cocky, lopsided grin again. I wonder why the right side of his face doesn’t lift up like his left. A puck to the face maybe or a stick? “You’ve been following my schedule? I thought you didn’t watch hockey.”
“I don’t,” I counter. “But you made the paper for stuff other than hockey on that trip.”
His smile fades and his shoulders seem to tense. He swallows and I watch his Adam’s apple bob under what has to be two-day-old growth at least. He’s almost sporting a beard…I’ve never kissed a man with a beard. Not that I want to kiss him. It’s just an observation. He clears his throat and my eyes pop back up to his face. “I should have known you followed gossip sites.”
I’m about to argue that I don’t, but Len sent it to me when she found the article because she does, in fact, follow gossip sites. But before I can open my mouth Selena pops in, her arms loaded with boxes. Alex immediately darts to her to take them from her. “We got that donation of art supplies from the place in Queens.”
“Fantastic!” I nod. “Thanks, Selena. I’ll put them away.”
“Need help?” She smiles at Alex.
“I can help,” Alex volunteers immediately so Selena simply nods and disappears.
Our eyes meet and he still looks a little pissed about our earlier conversation. “Follow me.” I march over to the walk-in closet in the corner. “I don’t read gossip sites but I happened to see the picture.”
“Shayne is my friend’s fiancée. It wasn’t what it looked like,” he replies tersely. “Not that I expect you to believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I reply. “What you do with your personal life isn’t my business as long as you act professional here.”
“So do you want me to help find a new yoga instructor?”
“Yes, please. I’ll take all the help I can get,” I admit as I open the closet door and step in, reaching up for the string attached to the light bulb. “I just have to find some space for the box.”
