There is no other option.
I shake his hand, thanking him for his time, before making my way over to Sabrina. “What’s next?”
“They want footage of you with the coaching staff. You with a clipboard, watching film, in a meeting room,” she reads from the tablet in her hand.
“Real or staged?” I ask, imagining the cameras zooming in on my video coach, Dr. Sutton Pearce, as she navigates through her ridiculously named computer files. “Defenderella” was the one she opened this morning before dropping a truth bomb on Rob and me about the state of our defense.
“Staged, Finley, always staged. We can’t have the general public calling you the ‘Ice Queen’ like the guys do.”
“Iamthe queen of this ice, Sabrina.” I honestly love the nickname, not that I would ever let the players know. Who wouldn’t want to be given a royal title that screams badass?
She sighs. “You know that managing your image is a key portion of my role, right? As the head coach, you’re the face of the team.”
I wink at her. “Then you’re welcome for giving you such great material to work with.”
Sabrina looks slightly shocked, and I realize she rarely sees the sass I keep so carefully hidden. “You know, the fact that you look like you could be a model does not, in fact, help us. It’s hard to make hockey fans take you seriously when you’re on repeat in their spank bank.”
I shake my head. “I played on the boys’ hockey team for four years in high school. I may have had my own changing space, but that certainly didn’t stop me from hearingexactlywhat they thought. Boys are gross, and that rarely changes as they age. I learned quickly that results are the only way to earn their respect. So the men of Colorado can jerk off all they want to an image of me lifting the Cup, but I’ll still be the best damn coach in the league.”
“You should’ve said that during your interview!” Charlotte Langford’s voice echoes from behind us as we walk down the long hallway that leads to the coaches’ offices. “And, turns out, I should’ve been more prepared to change out the interviewer.”
I pause to let her catch up with us, blinking at her bright outfit. The hot-pink blazer she has on matches her heels perfectly, and the bright blue shirt and matching pants underneath should look ridiculous, but somehow, she pulls it off. The only reason I manage to match is because, besides my black power suits for game day, I spend one hundred percent of my time in team-issued sweatsuits.
“How did we get lucky enough to have Patrick?” I ask.
Charlotte laughs, picking up on the sarcasm in my tone when most people wouldn’t. She lived in the apartment across the hall from me for a little over a month a year ago, and due solely to her outgoing personality, we became friends. Despite our work schedules dominating the majority of our spare time, she’s still the one person I can fully be myself with.
“God, he was the worst, wasn’t he?” Charlotte asks. “I swear, we did our due diligence. You’ve seen him. He did that interview with that one quarterback who finally decided to retire. You know, what’s-his-face? Tim?”
I shake my head at her, hiding my amusement behind a face of ice. “Your dad is the owner of the Colorado Stallions, Charlotte.How can you possibly not know the name of arguably the most famous quarterback of all time?”
She circles her pointer finger in front of my face, her hot-pink nails flashing. “Don’t give me that look. You know I’ve never cared about the football side of Dad’s business. Why would I want to watch a bunch of grown men running around, throwing balls at each other, when I could be helping build a global entertainment business? I, personally, booked Jaxon Steele for five nights at the stadium. Singing like that while running across a stage? Nowthat’simpressive.”
“He sure is pretty,” Sabrina agrees.
Um, hell yes, he is. Unfortunately, that buzzing on my wrist informs me I have yet another coaches’ meeting before the game tonight. “Well, I’ve got to get to my meeting so I can have a fake one before my real one. Is there anything else you need from me, Charlotte?”
“Besides your forgiveness for somehow being associated with a company that hired Patrick?” Her smile says she knows I’ll forgive her. “No. Just please don’t let it ruin our friendship. I like Taco Tuesday, even if you’re gone like every Tuesday.”
“I have—”
“To work,” she cuts me off. “I know. And travel all the time. And your games start so late. Luckily for you, my schedule is equally as crazy, so I don’t judge you for it. But you’d better plan on being my plus-one to the Jaxon Steele concert. Don’t forgetIsaw you dancing with a hairbrush to ‘If You Love a Girl.’”
“No way,” a deep voice chirps. “Ice Queen does not sing into a hairbrush.” Lefevre slings an arm around Charlotte’s thin shoulders.
I blink at him. Twice. One of the best parts of being known as Ice Queen is I can make these huge-ass men do almost anything just by glaring at them. It’s a real power trip.
“I mean.” He coughs, his boyish face dropping. “That is clearly untrue. Coach Blake would never engage in such ridiculous, fun behavior.”
I shake my head. Twenty-five-year-olds are so easily manipulated. “Precisely, Lefevre. Now, don’t you have some cardio to do?”
“Nah, I finished—I mean,” he says, backing away when he realizes it wasn’t a question but a command. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
And just as quickly as he came, he’s gone again.
My watch vibrates again, notifying me that I’m truly about to be late.
“I’ve got to go,” I announce. “Can you have your assistant work with Paige to figure out which day will work for me to join you at the concert?” I ask Charlotte.
