Roman (Cold Fury Hockey #7)(4)
“For starters,” she says with a hard stare, “show up for practice on time. Show up to your training sessions. Maybe even take an interest in the team off the ice. Quit doing stupid things. Grow up a little.”
I suppress a snort. While ironically I do play a team sport, I’m not overly close to my mates outside of partying with some of the single guys. I don’t really buy into this “family” sort of vibe that the Brannons have instituted.
Not saying it’s bad.
Just not me.
“Anything else?” I ask blandly.
“Maybe lay off the alcohol so you can control yourself,” she returns harshly.
Before I can even retort, because I’m not a fucking alcoholic—I just like to party on occasion—she says, “And try to be a little more frugal in the game-suspending penalties. Pick your battles a little more wisely and rein in that temper a bit. You don’t do a damn thing to help us from the stands.”
Okay, she may have a point there, but honest to fuck…it’s not like I plan to get suspended. I just go out there and play my fucking heart out, and I know that’s something she appreciates, even if I’m not getting that vibe from her right now.
I’ve heard enough, and although it borders on disrespectful, I stand, effectively calling this meeting to an end. Looking down at her with clear eyes and a resolved attitude, I say, “I’ll do my best to adhere to your wishes.”
“I sure hope so,” she says sternly, and the threat is clear.
Shape up or ship out.
As much as I respect Gray Brannon for her hockey smarts and for putting together an amazing team, I’m not liking her very much right now, because she wants to change who I am on a fundamental level. I simply nod and walk out of her office without a backward glance.
Chapter 2
Lexi
“Mr. Brannon will see you now, Miss Robertson,” the receptionist says, and my head jerks up to look at her.
This is it.
The moment I’ve been waiting for for months now.
I swipe my hands along my stockinged thighs, hating how sweaty they are. I need to remember to give them another swipe before I meet the great Brian Brannon, president and CEO of the Carolina Cold Fury, so he’s not shaking my slimy hand.
I stand up from the couch on shaky legs as I haul my large black purse over my shoulder, actually pining for the few moments of easy conversation I had with the gorgeous Roman Sykora a few moments ago. Of course, I easily recognized him, because I know every member of the Cold Fury and can cite their statistics too.
Roman Sykora is one of the team’s bad boys. Maybe the baddest. He’s a nonconformist, a pure beast on the ice and a man who marches to the beat of his own drum. I’m kind of the same, so it’s a quality I definitely can appreciate.
I follow the receptionist down the hall, noting the closed office door with a brass nameplate: gray brannon, general manager. I wonder just how much trouble Roman is in, but it can’t be too much. He didn’t seem that bent out of shape about it.
We turn right at the end of the hallway and approach Brian Brannon’s office. I can clearly see his name on the nameplate beside the door and my heart starts beating double time the closer we get. My hands sweat more and I rub them again along my thighs as I follow the receptionist.
When we reach the door, she knocks softly and then opens it without waiting for a response. She pushes it all the way open, stepping to the side and motioning for me to come through. I give her a thankful smile as I walk past her and watch as she closes the door behind me. When it clicks shut, I turn around slowly and face the man I’ve come to meet.
I’ve seen hundreds of Brian Brannon’s pictures. I’ve seen hours of video. I’ve analyzed every nuance of his facial expressions and tried to determine if that’s really genuine kindness and humility I see most often in his eyes when he’s talking to the press.
But as I come face-to-face with him and stare into the Irish green eyes—the same eyes his daughter, Gray, inherited—I can’t see anything but a slight look of curiosity as he stands from behind his desk and stares at me.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice to introduce myself. He thinks I’m here for an interview for a college paper, and I’m terrified to finally lay down the truth before him.
Taking a deep breath, I walk across the expanse of his office and hold my hand out to him when I reach his desk. He leans forward slightly and we shake. “You must be Lexi Robertson.”
“Thank you for taking time to meet with me, Mr. Brannon,” I say, thankful my voice seems to be working just fine despite how nervous I am.
He looks at me thoughtfully a moment, then his curious expression morphs into vague recognition. He tilts his head slightly as he motions to the chair just behind me, indicating I should sit, before he asks, “Miss Robertson…have we met before? You look very familiar.”
I take a step back, lower my butt into the seat, never breaking eye contact as I set my purse on the floor beside the chair. I can do this. I am strong and I’m the type who will willingly jump into the unknown because I fear nothing. “You knew my mother. Sybil Robertson.”
Brian peers at me harder, his eyes narrowing slightly, and then they round in absolute recognition. He smiles as he places his hands on his desk and leans forward slightly. “Good God…you look just like her.”