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Benjamin sat in a shadowy corner in the highest tier of the arena. He’d arranged with staff to have the lights come on at five a.m. precisely, but for now the huge space was shrouded in gloom.
Much like his thoughts.
After Benjamin had challenged the team to the five-a.m. skate, he’d texted his assistant coaches. Not to ask them to attend. In fact, he’d told them to stay away, wanting no witnesses to a potential failure. Instead, he’d told them to prepare for a coaches’ meeting at the usual practice time.
So now he waited. Alone. Anxious. Unbearably apprehensive.
His dare to the players could easily backfire. Some players would show up. It was unimaginable that the whole team would stay away. But if Nechayev didn’t appear, his dramatic challenge would be a failure no matter who else did.
Since Benjamin had been very clear the practice was optional, he wouldn’t be expected to discipline him or any other missing players—a thought that made him guiltily relieved. Sweat sprang on his palms at the thought of benching the star player. Despite his threat, it was an action he really, really, didn’t want to take.
This skate would also reveal the level of control Nechayev wielded over his teammates. Despite his bullying and arrogance, he had gathered a cohort of players around him—both those that shared his attitude and those seeking to avoid his negative attention. If that faction followed Nechayev’s lead and stayed away, Benjamin would have a true revolt on his hands.
Unable to sleep, he’d pulled into the deserted arena parking lot well before any players might be expected to arrive. He wished he could blame his wakefulness on Lynn. He’d left her home in an uncomfortable state of arousal, one that he’d taken care of in the shower before stretching out on his mattress, and while she hadn’t been far from his thoughts through the dark hours, it was the optional skate that continually teased him out of slumber.
His watch ticked over to 4:59. He thought he’d heard muted voices and quiet steps during the forty-five minutes he’d been waiting in his lofty eyrie but couldn’t be sure. He held his breath.
A player skated out onto the ice. Dudas, one of the alternate captains, and one of the players Benjamin had been certain would come.
Lights flared, starting at the end of the rink furthest away and sweeping toward him in a wave. A mechanical hum rumbled through the quiet. Dudas sprinted from blue line to blue line, maintained his speed as he swept around the net, and sprinted again.
Another player joined him—Noesen. Then Regula. All three alternates were now on the ice.
Benjamin waited tensely as player after player stepped onto the rink until nineteen of the twenty-two members of the roster were warming up.
No Nechayev. No Chisholm or Piiroinen, his two closest conspirators.
At 5:05, the players gathered in the faceoff circle at centre ice. He caught only random words and phrases, but it was apparent that they believed he’d abandoned them. He wondered if they understood the message he was making with his absence.
You don’t show up for me, I don’t show up for you.
By 5:10, Dudas, Noesen, and Regula had three drills running. Benjamin couldn’t help a stir of pride. This is what he was aiming toward—players who were invested in each other, working together not because they’d been told to, but because they wanted to.
At 5:15, he gave up waiting for Nechayev and headed to his office for his skates. He’d deal with the defectors later. For now, he had players who wanted a coach.
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“I COME BEARING GIFTS!” Sarah entered the arena administration office through the door leading from the parking lot, a cardboard tray filled with takeout cups balanced in her grip.
“Caffeine. Thank god.” Lynn accepted her large black gratefully. She’d already finished the mug she’d brought from home. Oscar had woken three times during the night and she’d dragged herself to the office groggy with fatigue.
She cracked open the plastic lid, took a scalding sip, and sighed. It wasn’t fair to blame Oscar. Yes, he had gotten her out of bed three times. But she hadn’t been sleeping anyway, reliving her too brief encounter with Benjamin.
Sarah distributed the rest of the drinks before taking off her coat and hanging it on the rack next to the exterior door. She dropped into her chair at the desk across from Lynn. “I hear yesterday went well. You must be thrilled.”
For a horrified second Lynn thought she was talking about the orgasm Benjamin had given her. She took another fortifying sip to cover her reaction. “Yes. The SPCA was really happy. They want to do another in the spring.”
“It won’t be your problem by then. At least it better not be. I can’t believe the team hasn’t hired a new marketing coordinator yet.” Sarah sipped her own coffee and wiggled the computer mouse. “What are they waiting for?”
Lynn made a noncommittal noise. Brewster’s plan was still a secret in the arena admin office, and she had full confidence that Benjamin hadn’t let it slip to anyone either. “Cynthie heard they are starting to interview next week. So hopefully they’ll get someone in place soon.”
“I hope so, for your sake. You must be tired of going to every game.” Sarah’s phone rang. She answered it and was soon deep in conversation with the organizer of an upcoming Christmas charity event hosted at the arena.
The thing was, Lynn wasn’t sure she could stay away from the games, even after she had no official reason to attend. She had become invested in the Canyon Cats. Or more specifically, their coach. She no longer wanted them to succeed simply to thwart Brewster. She wanted them to be living proof of Benjamin’s dedication and skill.
She’d been both relieved and disappointed when he’d gently rejected her suggestion he stay the night—and a little guilty, too. It didn’t seem fair to let him leave without providing the same shattering experience he’d given her. Her reaction to his touch had surprised and shocked her. It had obviously been far too long since she’d been with a man.
She wondered what he would say if she’d told him he was responsible for her last human-caused orgasms—orgasms more than twenty-six months apart. The morning after their one-night stand, she’d made an appointment with her doctor to talk about the in vitro process, and she’d been celibate ever since. Sure, she’d had a few dates with her battery-operated boyfriend before Oscar’s birth, but since then she hadn’t even taken him out of the drawer. She had actually wondered if motherhood had conquered her libido.
Last night proved that wasn’t the case, for which she was supremely grateful.
But gratitude wasn’t a strong enough reason to have casual sex. That was definitely out of the picture now she had a son to consider. She had angsted enough over having a friendship with Benjamin. Moving it to the next level was out of the question.
Wasn’t it?
His chosen career was volatile and unstable. Lynn needed a man who could be anchored by her and Oscar, not drag his family from place to place like a ship tossing at sea.
Anchor. What a depressing word. Why had she described herself and her son as a heavy, unwilling weight?
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BENJAMIN, LEVI, AND the other two assistant coaches were jammed into his dank cave of an office.
Levi had snagged the only visitor’s chair by rights of seniority, both in age and in longevity. Ryan Rossi leaned against the wall near the door and Avril Mailloux hitched a hip on a low metal filing cabinet.
“So, how did your little challenge turn out?” Levi’s tone was disgruntled. As usual.
Benjamin ignored it. Also as usual. “No Nechayev, Chisholm, or Piiroinen. Everyone else showed.”
“I could have told you that yesterday. If you’d asked me.” The fact he hadn’t obviously rankled.
Out of Levi’s sight, Ryan and Avril shared a glance. Benjamin wondered where their support would fall should the conflict between him and Levi escalate. Avril had joined the team the season before Benjamin and Levi treated her with the barest modicum of respect, so might be swayed to his camp. Ryan, however, had worked with Levi for several years and was his go-to guy in most situations. His loyalty would be harder to gain.
He directed his comments to Levi. “It was an excellent practice. One of the best we’ve had since Simpson was traded. It’s plain that Nechayev and his buddies are a disruptive influence. As coaches, we need to devise a plan to get them working on the same page as the other players. Any ideas?”
“You should make him captain.” Levi stabbed a finger at Benjamin. “You should have the day he arrived. He’s our top player and deserves the recognition.”
He had wanted to see how Nechayev fit into the team before giving him that honour and responsibility, which was why he’d named three other players as alternate captains instead. In the last weeks he’d seen no reason to reverse that decision, and was certain giving Nechayev the C would cause more problems, not fewer.
Before he could state his opinion, Avril cleared her throat. “I don’t agree with that.” Her faint French accent hardened the ths and lengthened the vowels. She’d been a member of Canada’s very successful national women’s team for several years, though this was her first coaching job. “He needs to earn captain, and he hasn’t done so.”
“You could bench him.” Ryan had reached the top levels of junior hockey in Ontario but never been drafted. He’d worked his way to the Canyon Cats by coaching various minor teams.
Levi twisted in his chair to stare at him in disbelief. “For Christ’s sake. That’s ridiculous.” He turned back to Benjamin. “Even you couldn’t be that stupid.”
Ryan flushed and Benjamin held up a placating hand. “I asked for ideas and I want all of them. We’re brainstorming here.” He took a calming breath. “To be honest, benching him has crossed my mind. I would prefer not to take such a drastic move, but I’m running out of options.”
“It’s an idiotic idea.” Levi’s glare challenged Benjamin. “Avril’s wrong, too. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
His pulse raced and stomach clenched. Before today he’d managed to avoid an all-out confrontation with Levi, but if he expected Ryan and Avril to respect him as head coach, he couldn’t let those comments slide. He had to take a stand.
“We’re all professionals here and bring different perspectives to the job.” He kept his voice firm and pressed his palms flat on his desk to hide any hint of nerves. “We’re going to have conflicting opinions, but denigrating each other won’t resolve the issues.”
“I don’t care how many fancy words you use.” Levi flicked a palm dismissively. “I’ll say what I need to say how and when I want to say it.”
He was forcing Benjamin’s hand and he knew it. Ryan and Avril watched the show play out, faces blank.
Ignoring his roiling gut, he stared at Levi. “If you can’t be respectful to your colleagues I will have to ask you to leave.”
“You think you can do this without me?” Levi barked out a laugh. “Who has the most experience here? It’s certainly not you.” He spit out the last word, his dark, derisive gaze pinning Benjamin as fiercely as a stick speared through his chest.
“Maybe you have more years in, but you’re not head coach. I am.” He swallowed, a prickling sensation racing up his torso and throat to his cheeks. “Which mean you’ll work with me, in a manner I approve of, or not at all.”
Levi’s chin jerked up. “If you’re threatening to fire me, it’s a wasted bluff. Only Peterson can do that, and even if you asked he wouldn’t. He knows what he owes me.”
Any lingering doubts that Levi knew of Brewster’s plans evaporated. “I wouldn’t count on that.” He put every ounce of confidence and determination he could into his tone and expression, wishing he could say more. But he wouldn’t put Lynn’s job in jeopardy simply for the personal satisfaction of seeing Levi squirm.
Levi stared, his belligerence tempered now by faint caution. Ryan and Avril made no movements, as if afraid to draw attention to themselves. Benjamin waited.
“Fuck you,” Levi said, and stormed out of the room.