Strictly for Now by Carrie Elks

CHAPTERFOUR

MACKENZIE

My cheek throbs as I stare into the eyes of the only fully dressed man in the locker room. And yes, I’m going to have to work very, very hard to block out the memories of those naked balls swinging dangerously close to my face.

This was not how I was planning to introduce myself to the team.

I’d read the roster as soon as I came in. Pre-season practice is supposed to start at ten. It’s seven-thirty. Nobody should be here to witness my self-guided tour of the stadium.

And nobody should be here to swing their undercarriages in my face.

“It’s funny,” Mr. Fully-Dressed says, running his thumb along his darkly bearded jaw. “Because turning the team around is my job.”

“And who are you?” I ask him, ignoring the pain in my cheek. My eyes hurt, too, especially when I try to narrow them.

The naked player sniggers. I’d forgotten just how sculpted hockey players were. I look at the man in front of me, wondering if beneath his sweats and black t-shirt he has the same kind of physique.

And then I look away because hello! Who cares? Not me.

Not one bit. Nope, not even when I can see every ridge of his chest through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Eli Salinger,” Fully-dressed says. “Head coach.”

“Great.” I force a smile. “I’d like to talk to you later. Say four o’clock in my office?”

“Where is your office, exactly?” he murmurs.

“In the administration block.” Or at least I think that’s where it is. I only dropped my things off before I came down here to explore the stadium. “If you come up at four I’ll be there to meet you.”

“I’m not available at four.”

So it’s going to be like this. I expected resistance. It happens with every project. But usually I’m more resilient. Kinder, maybe.

This time I’m feeling annoyed. And it’s not this guy’s fault. He didn’t ask for me to come here the same way I don’t want to be here. But we’re going to have to work together, anyway.

“Three?” I suggest.

“Six,” he counters, like we’re bidding in an auction. “I’ll be back at the rink by then.”

I’m going to be dead on my feet by six. But I don’t want to finish my first day without speaking to everybody on the staff. And if he’s doing a power play here, I’m going to win.

“That’s fine.” I nod.

“Okay then. And can I ask a favor of you?” he says, his voice laid back and easy now that he’s taken control. He has that same casual confidence my brothers have. Maybe all hockey players have it. Wherever it comes from, it makes me bristle.

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t come into the locker room without knocking. No matter what time it is. It’s bad for the team.”

I swallow hard because he’s got me there. “I won’t.”

He winks and I feel the effects somewhere near the base of my stomach.

Okay, lower down than that.

Deciding now might be a good time to leave, I give him a nod then force my eyes over to the two team members I’ve kind of bonded with in the most ghoulish way. They wave at me as I leave. Or at least attempt to leave. The stupid door won’t move at all now.

I think it hates me.

I go to tug at it again but then I feel the warmth of a body behind me. Eli reaches around my waist, his arm brushing mine and I feel the steel of his bicep as he curls his fingers around mine on the handle.

“It’s a little temperamental,” he says softly, his breath warm against my ear. Then he pulls and it opens with ease. He’s steps to the side, and I have to remind myself to move.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“No problem.” There’s a smile in his voice. I don’t look back as I walk through. I’m halfway up the corridor when I hear sudden laughter followed by a sharp reprimand.

When I get to my new office, which is actually Gramps’ office and is absolutely covered with papers, trophies, and even some takeout cartons that give me no clue as to how long they’ve been here, I slump in his comfortable leather chair and let my head fall into my hands.

I can’t believe I walked in on two naked players. I have to work with these people. I have to make them believe in me, in the changes I want to make. I have to look them in the eye without remembering how their dicks wobble when they’re leaning over me.

I give myself one minute to internally scream, then I take a deep breath and stand up again, determined to get this room tidy so that I can actually think about how we can find the money to pay the IRS.

Because the sooner I do that, the sooner I’ll be back in New York, working in shiny lovely offices and not a hellhole like this.

And right now that’s the only thing that’s keeping me going.

* * *

ELI

“She’s kind of hot, that management woman,” Goran says as we walk across the blacktop to my car. We’ve just spent two hours teaching kids with disabilities how to play para hockey. The school contacted us through the foundation Wayne set up when he first created the Mavericks, and we’ve been coming every week for the last month.

It's been pretty cool watching the students go from barely being able to move their sleds to actually racing around the school gym on them, hitting balls into the goals. We’re trying to coordinate a time to change the wheels into blades so they can come to the stadium to play on the ice instead of in the gym.

I click my key fob to unlock my car. “I guess she is.”

“For an old chick,” he adds and I lift a brow at him. I don’t know how old Mackenzie is but she looked younger than me.

“Don’t call women chicks.”

“Okay, for an old woman.”

“Also, don’t call them old.” I climb into the driver’s seat.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not nice.” Goran’s picked this up from the rest of the team. Sometimes it feels like I’m raising these kids as well as trying to shape them into a team. The reality is they’ve lived, breathed, and slept hockey ever since they were kids. A lot of them haven’t had the time to mature into fully grown adults.

“How long do you think she’s here for?” Goran asks as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

“No idea.”

“She said she was single though, right?”

I blink. “Don’t even think about it,” I warn him.

From the corner of my eye I see him pouting. He has these full lips that make it look particularly effective. “Rule one of being a hockey player. Don’t shit on your own doorstep.”

“I haven’t heard that one before.” He grimaces. His English is exceptional for being his second language, but he occasionally gets blindsided by idioms.

“It means that you keep work separate from your personal life. You’re twenty years old. Go out to clubs, get on Tinder, whatever. Just don’t get involved with people you work with. It always ends poorly.” I lift a brow. “Believe me.”

“You sound like you’ve had some experience with that,” Goran says perceptively.

“Yeah, well I’ve been around.”

I take a left toward the sprawling apartment building where most of the team lives. Goran shares a three bed apartment with Carter and Max. I’ve been in there once. It’s a pigsty. It reminds me of growing up with my brothers.

And makes me glad I don’t have to share my place with anybody anymore. I like my own space. I like my house not smelling of sweat and three-day-old takeout.

I pull up outside the door and Goran grabs the handle.

“Thanks for coming today,” I tell him.

“Thanks for asking me. It was fun. We’ll do it again next week, yes?”

“Yep.” After that, it’s going to take a little more scheduling because the hockey season can be blocked full and unpredictable. But we’ll make it work. “Try to get some rest,” I tell him as he climbs out of the car. “See you tomorrow at ten.”

“I got rehab,” he tells me. “I’ll be in at nine.”

“Sure thing.” He closes the door and I start the engine up, heading back to the stadium, and park in the head coach spot. I climb out of the car in a good mood and put my pass against the reader to unlock the door.

It’s almost six, so I grab a bottle of water from the cooler in the kitchen and head up the stairs to the offices. I’ve heard through the grapevine that Mackenzie has taken over Wayne’s office, so that’s the one I head to.

Hers is the only light still on. Everybody else has gone home. The office staff try to work condensed hours during preseason, because once the season begins everybody is constantly busy.

I knock on the door and a moment later she calls out for me to come in. Pushing the door open I’m surprised by two things.

The first is that she’s already made some headway into Wayne’s mess. The desk is empty. So is the cabinet beside it. There are still piles on the other cabinets and shelves, but damn, it makes a difference.

It also smells good. As in not like old food and dust and whatever the hell else Wayne gets up to in here.

The second thing that surprises me is that Mackenzie’s bruise has already come out. And it’s a humdinger, red and black and gray staining her right cheek, all the way up to her eye which is swollen.

“Damn. You should get that x-rayed,” I tell her. “Are you sure you didn’t break anything?”

She touches her cheek gingerly. I notice her manicure. Pale pink nails. No chips. Nice.

“I went down to the medic’s office,” she tells me. “She did a scan and everything’s fine.”

“She tell you how to treat it?” I ask her.

“Yep. Gave me some arnica and told me to ice it every hour.”

“And have you?” I scan her face for any signs of lumps. Hematomas aren’t funny, but all I see is smooth bruised skin.

“Yes, sir.” The moment she says it she winces. I don’t think it’s from the pain.

“That’s good.” I drop into the chair in front of her desk. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

She smiles, and it looks good on her. “I had to tidy up a little bit.”

“I saw the before picture,” I tell her. “That was more than a little bit.”

Her eyes widen. “It was bad, wasn’t it? I knew he was messy but…” She trails off. “I mean, my boss told me there was a lot of mess to deal with.” There’s a barely perceptible shift in her demeanor. Like she’s closed up but is trying not to show it. “Anyway, hi. I’m sorry about this morning. Can we start over?”

“What happened this morning?” I ask.

She smiles again. I’m only half joking. She looks completely different from the woman laying helplessly prone on the locker room floor, and not just because of the bruise. Sitting behind the desk she’s in control. Her hair is perfectly tied into a pony tail, her glasses are perched on the bridge of her elegantly straight nose, and her blouse is now buttoned enough so I can’t see the swell of breasts that kind of entranced me earlier.

This is good, I tell myself. I have to work with this woman. I have to make sure she does nothing to harm the team. Having fantasies about burying my face in the valley of her chest isn’t exactly professional.

“I’m Eli Salinger,” I say, reaching my hand across the desk.

She curls her fingers around my palm. “Mackenzie Hunter.”

“Have we met before?” I ask her. “It’s just that you look familiar. But I can’t place it.” I’ve always had a knack for recognizing faces. Now that she’s upright and my view isn’t obscured by Goran’s ass it’s nagging at me.

Two tiny lines furrow her brow. “I don’t think so.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Cornell.”

“I played there a few times,” I say. “Did you go to hockey games?”

She shakes her head. “No, sorry. I think I have one of those faces. People think they know me but they don’t.” She shrugs.

“Do you know anything about hockey.”

She takes a deep breath. “Not much,” she admits.

It’s not the face. It’s the eyes. I feel like I’ve seen them before. And it’s annoying me now.

But it’s past six and I have two matches to watch at home tonight.

“Well then, welcome to the Mavericks,” I say. “You’ve picked an interesting time to come and mix things up. I assume you’ll be concentrating on the business side of things.”

“That’s why I’m here.” She nods. “But I need to understand the whole business, including how the team works. The first thing we need to do is cut down on expenditures. I’ll be undertaking a full audit of every payment we make. Including the team.”

“Our salaries are negotiated in advance. We can’t cut those.”

“I understand that. But we can freeze them. Look at bonuses.”

I shift in my seat. “My players aren’t in the NHL. They’re not highly paid. Any cut including bonuses will affect them badly. Most of them are living alone for the first time. Paying their own bills.”

“The team folding would affect them worse,” she says. “You have the IRS breathing down your necks. Nothing is going to be sacred until there’s money to pay them.”

“But you can’t do anything without Wayne’s agreement, right?” And I know for a fact that Wayne would never agree to anything that put the team at a disadvantage. Hockey is everything to him. Winning is paramount. You could sell every bit of furniture in the offices and he wouldn’t give a damn. But touch his team?

You’re dead meat.

“I have authorization to make any changes needed.”

“From who?”

She doesn’t blink. “The Gauthier family.”

“Greg?” I ask.

“I said the family, didn’t I?”

Her attitude is annoying me.

“Look,” I say, trying to keep my voice reasonable. “I get it. You’re a businesswoman. You know how to run regular businesses. But this isn’t a regular business, it’s a sport. You’ve already said you don’t know much about hockey. So all I’m asking is please don’t interfere in the way I run my team.” I let out a sigh. “Or at least run it by me before you do.”

Her frown deepens. Something I said was wrong but I have no idea what. I don’t think I insulted her. Almost the opposite. Any other coach would be screaming right now.

“Okay. I’ll do that.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you met with Wayne yet?” I ask her, because I’m certain he’s not going to be as laid back as I am about this.

She opens her mouth then shuts it again. Those two tiny lines appear above her eyes. “I’m actually meeting with him tonight at his house.”

She’s so closed off she should have a red and white sign flashing in front of her. And yet I kind of like it. For the past fifteen years, I’ve had my fair share of relationships and had to bat off a lot of female interest. And unlike some of the guys on my team, I wasn’t stupid enough to think that interest was for me as a person.

It was for me the NHL player. It attracts people. We’re not gods but we’re different, and different is interesting.

“Give him my best,” I tell her.

“I will.”

“And ice that cheek before you leave. Twenty minutes.”

She gives me the tightest of smiles. “Sure.”

I stand and go to leave, but then for some stupid reason I turn around at the last minute. “Oh, and by the way. If you need somebody to talk to, or if you’re feeling lonely while you’re in town, give me a shout.”

I regret it as soon as I say it, because I don’t have time and I don’t really want to.

Her smile disappears completely and I regret it even more. “I’ll be fine. But thank you.” As if to reiterate her point, she picks up a piece of paper from the desk and starts studying it like she’s got a pop quiz in ten minutes.

That’s when I realize she thinks I was hitting on her. And I wasn’t. I was trying to be nice. She’s alone in a new city and knows nobody. I feel kind of sorry for her.

I close the door shut behind me and stomp down the corridor. Now I’m the one in a pissy mood. And it doesn’t feel good.