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“LUKE! HOW DID it go? I was just going to stop in and get a behind-the-scenes peek at the interviews.”
Luke pulled up short at the familiar booming voice. You didn’t stalk past Ron Lougheed, general manager of the Portland Storm, no matter how frustrated you might be. Besides, this was the perfect opportunity to bring up his concerns.
“Yeah, about that, sir... As team captain, it’s my job to make sure that my guys are centered, that hockey is the top priority. We’ve been through a lot this season and now it seems we’re finally gelling at the right time. I’m worried that Holly Evans is a distraction we can’t afford right now.”
“Nonsense! Holly Evans and her delightful brand of infotainment is exactly what the franchise needs in order to make some headway into the hearts and minds of hockey fans.”
Ron Lougheed was a heavyset giant of a man and despite his gregarious demeanor, everyone in the hockey world knew that when he made up his mind, there was no changing it.
Still, Luke had to try. “But sir, our time is better spent if we—”
“Let me tell you a little something about the business of hockey, Mr. Maguire. For the last five years, our merchandising and ticket sales have consistently ranked in the bottom third of the league’s teams. Since we made the play-offs, we’ve seen a fifteen percent jump in merchandise revenue and we’ve almost sold out tonight’s game. That’s after one post-season game. We need to ride this wave, and the Women’s Hockey Network is helping us do that. That clip of you walking away from her the other night has half a million likes. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but it’s good.”
Luke nodded. Shut his mouth. Braced for impact.
“I trust I don’t need to tell you how eager we are to see results in the postseason?”
“No, sir.”
“Excellent. Now, what were you saying about concerns?”
A headshake was the best Luke could muster. “Nothing, sir. Nothing at all.”
“That’s what I thought. I’m looking forward to watching your interview footage from this morning. After all, a captain sets the tone for his team, and I know I picked the right man to keep these boys on track. And put a couple of pucks in the net, while you’re at it. Understood?”
“Perfectly.”
Ten minutes of fuming and a chicken and pasta lunch later, Luke was back in front of the doors emblazoned with the stylized cresting wave of the team’s logo. The doors burst open just as he reached for them, but instead of revealing his sexy, skirt-suited nemesis, he came face-to-face with the rookie.
“Dude, you up next?”
“Yeah.” He glanced over the kid’s shoulder, but the doors swooped shut before he could catch even a glimpse of teal. “Yeah, I’m up next.”
“Cool. Word of advice? If you stand close enough during the part where she’s on-screen with you, you can see all the way down her shirt.”
When his tip failed to elicit any reaction from Luke, Sillinger’s cocky grin faded. “Look, Cap, I want to apologize for what I said after the game the other day. Cubs explained why you’re so tense and everything.”
The kid glanced away as he said it, so he missed Luke’s look of surprise at the mention of Eric Jacobs, or Cubs, as everyone on the team referred to him. “Exactly what did he tell you?”
“Oh, you know. All the pressure you’re under from the higher-ups. And dealing with the media. And about your shot being off and stuff.”
Luke exhaled. He should have known Jacobs would have picked up on all of Luke’s behind-the-scenes crap. The guy was eerily intuitive—it was what made him so great out there on the ice.
“Um, you ever consider that maybe your shot’s off because, um...” The kid leaned conspiratorially close and murmured, “I’m just sayin’, maybe it would help if you changed the oil.”
Luke stared blankly at the right-winger. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, mostly because he’d been thinking about it a lot since he’d watched that damn video last night. Holly Evans was beautiful, and she’d made him think about something other than hockey for the first time in a long while. And she could certainly get him riled up. Not to mention she didn’t give a damn about hockey. All things he found way too appealing at this very moment.
“Sometimes things get rusty when the pipe’s not clean, you understand? I mean, how long’s it been, man? In my experience, a good lube job can really help work out the kinks. And lucky for you, right through that door is a smoking-hot woman who told the entire internet that she considers you a certified Grade-A cut of beef. Plus, when I made my move, she told me she’s looking for a guy with more maturity. That’s your in, dude! She totally wants someone old. You should hit that.”
Luke was pretty sure he’d never felt more ancient than he did having this particular conversation and he was only twenty-six. “Thanks for the advice, rookie.”
“Hey, no problem, Cap. I got your back.” Brett glanced at the door to the interview room. “You need a wingman in there, or you good?”
“I think I got it,” Luke assured him.
Their conversation was interrupted by the infamous “Charge” anthem, a staple of sporting events everywhere. The rookie yanked his phone out of his back pocket. He glanced at the screen and grinned like he was on the cover of Hockey Digest. “Yes! It’s the car dealership. You are not even going to believe the sweet ride I just bought!”
He was bouncing up and down like a Chihuahua that was about to pee on the floor. “The guys won’t be able to give me a hard time about my wheels anymore. I gotta take this, Cap. Good luck in there.”
Luke waited until Brett disappeared around the corner before he stepped inside for his mandated face-off with Holly Evans, intrepid reporter.
* * *
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME, Jay? You took Salt Lake City over Vancouver in the first round? That’s ridiculous. No wonder you always lose your hockey pool. I mean honestly. I expected better of you. Vancouver clearly has the edge and—Luke!” Holly bolted off the interview stool.
She hadn’t been expecting him.
Like the rest of the team, he was wearing the navy T-shirt that mimicked his jersey, with the cresting wave on the front and his last name and number on the back. His T-shirt even had a white C on the front.
But unlike the rest of the team, the sight of Luke in his T-shirt and jeans did funny things to her hormones. Seriously, is it hot in here?
“I thought you were...not coming back...ever. How long have you been there?”
“Not long,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he sauntered farther into the room. His cocked eyebrow and smug half grin said otherwise. Holly worried that her attempt to appear innocent was failing miserably, because her thoughts were anything but G-rated.
“What are you guys talking about?”
“You
