Page 10

After practice, I shower and change. When I start toward the parking lot to head home, a pst comes from Coach Young’s office as I walk past.

“Knight, get in here,” Coach Young demands.

I backtrack a few steps, walking backward inside his office moonwalk style. He sighs heavily and his eyes flick to one of the chairs inside the room near his desk.

Grabbing a chair, I scoot it closer to his desk and take a seat. Coach’s office is nice but simple, there are jerseys and hockey memorabilia all over the walls and two windows allowing natural light in.

“Miss me already, Coach? It’s only been… what? Thirty minutes?”

His eyes do something weird as if he’s about to roll them but stops himself. Instead, he schools his features into a faint smile. “I need a favor.”

My stomach does a weird flip. This can’t be good. Coach Young, and our general manager, Tom Parker, always ask Remy for favors. The mature, steady Remy. Never me. I swallow. “Okay,” I say, widening my eyes, urging him to continue.

“There’s a charity gala this weekend.”

I instantly relax. A gala, no big deal. I lean back in the chair and give him my signature Colby Knight grin. “Ahh, and you need a date. Why didn’t you say so?” I wink at him.

“Knight,” he says in a reprimanding tone. “Be serious for five seconds.”

“Okay, fine. Continue.”

“Well, Tom asked me months ago to arrange an ‘evening with a D.C. Eagle’ for the charity auction. And I forgot about it until now.” He nervously adjusts the collar of his navy blue polo. “Naturally, I need one of you to be the Eagle in the evening with a D.C. Eagle.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You’re auctioning one of us off?”

“Only for one evening! Dinner,” he stutters. “And it’s for a good cause! The auction will fund research for the children’s hospital.”

My shoulders slacken. The team has several community outreach opportunities for us, but volunteering at the children’s hospital is my favorite. My mind is already made up, but I decide to mess with Coach some more. Enjoying how nervous he is. “Let me get this straight, I’m supposed to sell my body, a very nice body mind you, for children’s research?”

“No, no, no.” He stands from his seat and starts waving his hands around. “You’ve got this all wrong. Let me start over.” Sweat forms on his brow.

I throw my head back and laugh. When I bring my head back up, I notice Coach Young is scowling at me.

“Will you do it or not?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I nod. “I’ll do it. What do I get out of it?”

“You’ll get the satisfaction of knowing the auction money is helping children’s research. And probably a lovely dinner out with a wealthy old man.”

With a sigh, I push out of the chair and take a step toward the door. “I guess I can handle that.” I turn to leave but stop in the doorway. “Why’d you ask me and not Remy or Bruce?”

“Remy said no. Emphatically.” Coach slumps back down into his office chair. “Then he told me to ask you. Said you think you look like 007 in a tux.”

I chuckle. “I don’t think I do; I know I do.”

He ignores my sarcasm. “Thanks for doing this, I’ll text you the details.” He waves a hand toward the door, letting me know I'm dismissed.

* * *

When I arrive home from practice, I open the door from my four-car garage that leads to a spacious mud room, then into the kitchen. Stepping inside, I toe my shoes off on the mat, not wanting to mess up my freshly cleaned tile floors. As I come into the kitchen, I spot the familiar brunette messy bun that my mother always puts her hair in. Ma worked hard cleaning houses to make it as a single mom. She made a lot of sacrifices for me to play hockey, it’s not a cheap sport. When I got picked up by the Eagles, I moved her here with me. I’ve paid her to clean my place every week and cook my meals for me ever since. Cheaper than a chef, and Ma didn’t lose her income. Plus, her Italian cooking is amazing… and the thought of her all alone in New York broke my heart.

I grin, coming up behind her and grabbing her shoulders. She nearly jumps out of her skin with a shriek. “Colby! How can such a large person be so quiet?”

I chuckle. “You’ve never accused me of being quiet before.”

Her brown eyes twinkle. “True. You were always in trouble for talking in class. And nothing has changed.”

Kissing her on the cheek, I swivel around her to see what she’s cooking. “Ohh chicken and gnocchi?”