“You’re the rookie?” Grasping his hand, I try to remember the roster information I studied on the plane.
“Sure am. Let me throw your bags in the back for you.”
I shake my head, moving to the bed and heaving my gear bag over the side. “I’ve got it.”
Once we’re back in the car and on the move, I ask, “How did you two get chauffeur duty?”
“Coach asked whether anyone wanted to or if she should send the intern. Larsen volunteered, and I figured I’d drive since we need you to be alive to be of any use to the team,” Li jokes.
“That’s so unfair. I’m a fucking fantastic driver,” Larsen says from the back.
“Sure. As long as you believe speed limits are more suggestions and the point of driving is to see how many times you can cross the lines in the middle of the road.”
The rookie grins, his head leaning into the spot between the front two seats. “Is that not how you win the game?”
I chuckle as Li whacks his friend’s head.
“Plus,” Li adds, “we live in the team apartment building, too, so it was easy for us to be the ones to pick you up.”
We spend the rest of the drive chatting. It’s something I’d normally be annoyed by, but Vic’s parting words are still circling in my mind, reminding me that this could be my one chance to prove I deserve to be a team captain.
Li pulls his black pickup into an underground parking garage, handing me a packet with my key and apartment information. We drag my bags out of the truck bed, and Li silently grabs one before heading toward the elevator.
“My guy! Do you know who else lives on this floor?” Larsen asks as we step out of the elevator, still happily following as Li and I carry my bags down the wide hallway.
I shrug. “Literally just moving in, Rookie, how the fuck would I know?”
He chuckles. “Too true. And to be fair, I’ve lived here since the start of the season, and I only found out when I rode the elevator with her after the game the other night.”
“Oh, shit,” Li says, and I glance at him. “Really? I know she lives in the building, but I’ve never seen her here.”
“Children,” I interrupt as we reach the door with my number on it. “Who are we talking about?”
“The Ice Queen,” Larsen practically shouts at the exact same time Li replies, “Coach Blake.”
As if summoned, the door behind me opens. All three of us turn to stare as a tall woman walks out in black joggers and a Yeti mascot T-shirt. Her dark hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her eyes—they’re almost the exact same shade as the blue in the club’s logo.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
I mean, pretty. No. Good-looking. Fuck. What am I allowed to say about my head coach’s appearance? That she’s attractive?
Nothing. Almost assuredly, saying nothing is the right answer.
Her appearance is surprisingly something the internet articles failed to accurately capture when I was reading up on the plane about my new coach. I’d heard the news about the first female head coach when she was brought on last year, but our teams haven’t met this season, so I hadn’t had a reason to care. Since I learned I was coming to her team, I read a number of articles about her and her coaching style, but I clearly should’ve paid more attention to the pictures. Or at least read a vanity piece or two about her. There’s something vaguely familiar about her that I can’t seem to place.
“Shit.” Larsen steps slightly behind me, almost as if he’s trying to hide his bulking frame.
“Ah, Rookie,” she chides, and the smallest twitch of her lip makes me think she’s enjoying messing with the kid. “You thinkI haven’t heard you dumbasses call me Ice Queen before? Why do you think I make you do sprints so often?”
“Sadistic was my guess,” he mumbles, though when she chuckles, he gives her a small smile.
“Maybe a little.” The gleam in her eye tells me she thinks the assessment is amusing. My college team had a female assistant coach, and she was the toughest person in the room at any given moment. When I heard I was getting traded to the Yeti, some of the guys tried to offer condolences about being traded to her team. However, after working with Coach Green in college, I have no doubt Coach Blake will be just as good as any other coach on the ice. Hell, as sad as it is, she likely has to be better than her male counterparts for her to have made it this far.
“Anyway.” Coach Blake’s eyes finally meeting mine. “I didn’t realize they were moving you into this unit. I guess we’re neighbors now.”
“Yeah.” I hold out my hand. “Beckett Kane. Nice to meet you.”
She stares at my hand for a moment, and just as I’m about to awkwardly pull it away, she reaches out and shakes it, her grip surprisingly strong. Or, maybe not surprisingly, considering she’s a hockey coach.
