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At the team’s first practice after the Simpson trade and the seven-nothing shellacking that had followed, Benjamin did his best to cajole his players back into a cohesive unit. There was nothing anyone could do about losing their captain and they had to find a way to move forward.
Most of the coaching and training staff had been philosophical about the trade. Levi, however, blamed Benjamin. Despite his frequent protestations that he had also been blindsided by Brewster’s news, nothing he said assuaged Levi, and the assistant coach remained disgruntled and obstructive. Unwilling to confront him and cause more drama, Benjamin simply set his assignments and then left Levi to his own devices, hoping things would smooth out without a face-to-face duel.
Too bad a similar policy of avoidance wouldn’t be possible with the player that had replaced Simpson. From his position at centre ice, Benjamin watched the newest member of the Canyon Cats glide lackadaisically through the puck-handling drills Levi was running.
Valeri Nechayev’s reputation as a head case was one of the league’s worst kept secrets. While no one could deny his skill and talent, he was arrogant and intimidating in the dressing room and took stupid, impulsive penalties on the ice. He’d been drafted two years ago but hadn’t managed to crack his NHL team’s roster. The result was a huge chip on his shoulder and a sense of entitlement that was evident from the moment Benjamin met him.
Left unchecked, Valeri’s attitude would poison the team and destroy any progress he had already made. The time to set boundaries was now.
Swallowing down his queasiness at the upcoming skirmish, he blew his whistle. “Water break, guys. We’ll work on specialty teams next. Valeri?” The Russian-born player turned to Benjamin, bored dismissal etched on his face. “Bring your bottle over here. I want to talk about where you’ll fit in.”
With no pretense of enthusiasm, Valeri joined Benjamin on the side of the rink opposite the players’ benches, where the rest of the team and staff were gathered. Levi stared across the ice, squinting with suspicion, but Benjamin ignored him. He had bigger problems at the moment.
“Look,” he said to Valeri in a conciliatory tone, “I know you’re not happy about the trade. It’s disappointing to leave a contender for a team struggling to make the playoffs.”
“You think?” The young man refused to meet Benjamin’s gaze and stared into the empty seats. Behind the clear visor attached to his helmet, his face was set in sullen lines.
“You need to learn to deal with things like this. It won’t be the last time your career takes an unexpected turn.” Especially if his attitude didn’t improve. Being a shit-disturber to throw off the opposition was one thing—being one in the dressing room was frowned upon at all levels.
“Why should I listen to you?” Valeri straightened from his hipshot stance and pinned Benjamin with an icy-blue glare. “It’s not like you figured out how to deal. I looked you up. You were a hot shot kid in this tiny little town, but you blew your chance. I’m not going to be like you. I’m going to make it.” The guttural traces of his native Russian only highlighted his dismissive tone.
Okay, enough with the sympathy. “You’ll listen to me because I am your coach, and if you want to play you’ll do what I say, when I say it.”
Valeri’s eyes widened a fraction though his expression remained belligerent. “I’m the best player on the team. You need me.”
Benjamin shook his head. “You forget, no one expects this team to do anything but lose.” No one but Benjamin, that was. “If you play and we lose, no one will be surprised. If I bench you and we lose, same deal.” He knew he’d have to make good on his threat if Valeri didn’t come to the table, and no matter how disruptive he might be, he was still the Canyon Cats’ best chance to get into the win column. But Benjamin was responsible for the whole team, not just one player, and if he had to list Valeri as a healthy scratch, he would.
Even if that jeopardized his own goal of reaching the playoffs. He pinched his nose with two fingers to fight off the faint sense of panic that thought sparked.
Valeri studied him. “You’re bluffing.”
His stomach clenched but he kept his voice firm. “Try me.”
The Russian hesitated then gave a brusque nod.
It wasn’t much of a concession, but Benjamin would take it. “Okay. Now tell me what you know about our power play unit.”
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LYNN PACED BACK AND forth under the bleachers, invisible to anyone on the ice but close enough to hear the action. The practice was coming to an end and she was lying in wait to snag Benjamin for a private conversation.
She’d been awake much of the night debating whether to tell him about Peterson Brewster’s hidden agenda. If Cynthie found out, she’d be furious. But she’d seen the devotion and drive Benjamin brought to the team. Didn’t he deserve to know how the cards were stacked? It wasn’t fair for him to be labouring so hard and not know his owner was working against him.
Or was it better he didn’t know so he could keep his focus where it belonged—on the team, not on the boardroom drama?
She’d teeter-tottered back and forth all night long. Even now she wasn’t one hundred percent sure telling him was the right thing, but she’d committed to that decision and was sticking to it. If their roles were reversed, she knew she would want to know.
The players streamed off the ice and down the hall leading away from her, heading to their locker room. The four years between sixteen and twenty and random growth patterns was evident in their varied heights and bulk. Some seemed tall enough to touch the rafters, others only coming to their teammates’ shoulders. The training and coaching staff followed, with Benjamin the last to appear.
She stepped out of the shadows. “Hey.”
Lifting his attention from the tablet he carried, he smiled. “Hey, yourself. I didn’t see you in the stands today.”
Knowing he’d looked for her warmed a hidden part of her heart but did nothing to allay the butterflies dancing in her belly. “Can we talk?”
His attention sharpened. “Of course. Is everything okay with Oscar?”
The ember glowed brighter. “Yes, he’s great.” She led Benjamin to a room under the stairs that climbed to the main concourse level. It was a catchall location for broken chairs and old posters and various other discarded bits and pieces. She shut the door behind them, barricading them into the claustrophobic space.
“I have an office, you know.” Confused amusement lightened his dark eyes.
“We can’t talk about this anywhere someone might hear.”
His alarm returned. “What’s going on?”
“You can’t tell anyone else what I’m about to tell you.” She twisted her hands together.
“You’re freaking me out, Lynn.” The lines at the side of his mouth deepened.
“It’s just...” She took a deep breath. “I’m not supposed to know this. So if you let on that you know, I could get into big trouble.”
He took a small step forward, dipping his chin to make direct eye contact. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. And I promise to help with whatever it is.”
His solemn oath solidified her wavering intention. “Peterson Brewster wants to move the team.”
He was still for a moment, and then his shoulders slumped. It seemed an admission of defeat and it made her realize there might be layers to this news she hadn’t considered. It was too late to back down now.
“That’s his prerogative.” Even his tone was resigned. “Why all the secrecy?”
Lynn explained how Cynthie had learned of the plan. “The thing is, Brewster still has three years left on the contract with the arena. The only way he can move the team before it expires is if the city fails to honour any commitment in the agreement. One of those commitments is fan attendance. If it falls below a certain level over the course of a given season, the contract can be ended without penalty.”
It took him barely the blink of an eye to reach the same conclusion she had. “He traded Simpson to hamstring any progress I’ve made so far.” He raked a hand through his hair and a tousled curl fell onto his forehead. “And brought in Nechayev to be a distraction at best, a liability at worst.”
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BENJAMIN WONDERED IF his own expression was as miserable as Lynn’s. She stared with wide, worried eyes, her fingers snaking together in a Gordian knot.
“I don’t know for sure why he traded Simpson. But it seems rather suspicious.” She gnawed her upper lip with her lower teeth. “I hope I did right telling you. Maybe you would have rather not known.”
“No, it’s better this way. I think.” His mind raced. There were so many angles and aspects to this news he needed more time to process it.
“You understand why you can’t let on that you know.”
He dragged his thoughts away from all the ways Brewster could screw up the team and Benjamin’s own plans to concentrate on Lynn. “Other than the fact your boss found out by eavesdropping, which I can see would be regarded as unprofessional? Am I missing something else?”
“If Brewster knows we know, he has nothing to lose by being even more obstructive than he is now. At the moment, the only leverage I have is that he has to act, at least some of the time, as if he’s here for the long haul.”
“He’s being obstructive?” His teeth clenched at the thought of Brewster making Lynn’s life difficult, his protective instinct kicking in.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” She rolled her shoulders. Her light cardigan was unbuttoned to expose a silky v-necked blouse. The blue material, shiny in the harsh overhead fluorescents, shifted over her full breasts.
Benjamin quickly returned his gaze to her face. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Her smile flashed, there and gone like sun rays dancing across water. “You worry about what happens on the ice, I’ll handle off.”
“Community activities aren’t only good for the community, you know.” Her light floral perfume overlaid the scent of concrete and disinfectant permeating the small room and he resisted the urge to lean in and sniff her neck. “Team appearances build camaraderie and connection among the players. Nechayev might need some...encouragement...fitting in. It would be good for him to get out with his teammates.”
She tilted her head. “Are you saying you’d put your support behind such an event and do your best to prevent Brewster from kiboshing it?”
“We both have stakes in this game.” Lynn needed to keep people in the seats, and he needed to build a winning team. Neither would happen if Brewster’s scheming went unchallenged. “I don’t see a downside to working together.”
“Awesome. Thank you.” Smiling widely, she stepped forward and hugged him.
His arms encircled her waist and he rested his chin on the crown of her head as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Though their night together had been more than two years ago, his body remembered the feel of her lushness pressed against him, the texture of her hair against his throat, and instantly reacted.
She had to have felt the swelling of his cock. He immediately loosened his hold so she could escape his embarrassing response. Instead of retreating as he expected, she lifted her chin and stared up at him.