6. Bristol

Chapter 6

Bristol

I was alive with nervous energy. I still couldn't believe I'd snagged this job and would spend the next seven to eight months traveling around North America with the Indy Speed hockey team. Yes, they were the Comets' biggest rivals—and I'd grown to hate them as a Hartford girl, born and raised—but journalistic integrity demanded I leave my personal feelings at the door when I stepped across the threshold of Speed Arena for media day.

Media. I was the media.

It still didn't feel real.

I flashed my press badge at the security officer manning the entrance and followed the directions to where my colleagues would be set up for the day's events. The players would be filming promotional clips and having their annual headshots taken before addressing the press. The first portion of the day would be our chance to speak with the front office personnel and the Speed's new head coach, Maddox Sterling.

As a former player, Maddox had no coaching experience. It would be sink or swim, and the vultures were circling. Coaching at the professional level was a high-pressure job, and only time would tell if he was up to the task.

Entering the press room, I noticed groups of journalists gathered around the space, but what caught my eye was the breakfast spread set up in the back. Sending up a silent prayer of thanks, I made a beeline for the table, not having had time to eat anything after spending too long getting ready for my first day. And it sure didn't help that I was living out of boxes and needed to find an outfit that would cover up the giant hickey on my neck.

It hadn't exactly been the zen morning I was hoping for.

Grabbing a plate, I filled it with fruit and a frosted Danish when someone stepped up beside me. I peeked over to find a professionally dressed blonde in her late twenties, possibly early thirties.

She gave me a bright smile. "First year with the Speed?"

I blushed, dropping my gaze to my plate. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, I, for one, take notice when a woman walks into this room. And I'm sure the players will too. Bunch of flirts, that lot." She laughed after pointing out what I already knew—that far too few women were involved in sports media. It was, hands-down, a male-dominated field, but I hoped my reporting would go a long way toward clearing the path for young girls who loved any and all sports, like I had growing up. I firmly believed that if you could see her, you could be her.

"I'm Bristol Cooper. Just started with the Indy Sports Review." I extended my free hand to the blonde.

"Nice to meet you, Bristol. I'm Alyssa Simon. I've been with the Indianapolis Tribune for six years, but this will be my third covering the Speed."

"So, you were there for the championship run?" The Speed had made it to the Finals a year ago but fell just short, losing the series in six games. Since then, they'd struggled. The count was still out whether it was due to losing their captain—none other than Maddox Sterling, their new coach—or poor coaching.

"Yeah," Alyssa nodded. "Such a shame what happened to Maddox in the Conference Finals. I've never seen a man look more broken after that."

I grimaced. "It was that bad?"

"He lost everything he'd ever worked for in an instant, and it hit the team hard." She laughed lightly under her breath. "Though, it will take some getting used to addressing him as Coach Sterling instead of Maddox."

I'd done my research on the new coach of the Indy Speed. A Seattle kid, he'd come up through the prestigious National Junior Team in Detroit before being drafted by the Speed in the second round of his draft year. Not ready for the pros at eighteen, he'd elected to play college hockey at Colorado State College in Denver.

If memory served, that was the same place where Cal Berg, former defenseman and current on-air commentator for the Comets, had played. Considering the men were only two years apart in age, I wondered if they'd played on the team at the same time. Thinking back to the Comets' championship run and the second-round series with the Speed, there had been some cocky back and forth between the two men.

Maddox Sterling spent two years playing in Denver before the Speed had called him up to play at only twenty. By the time his entry-level contract expired three years later, he'd been named their captain. He played for them for fourteen years before a career-ending injury took him out of the game.

That injury had occurred a little over a year ago, and over the summer, he was named Speed's newest head coach, the youngest and least experienced in the entire league. The shakeup behind the bench had the potential for an exciting first few months of reporting on this team.

"I'm still getting used to him not being the enemy," I joked with Alyssa before I took a bite of my Danish .

Her blue eyes widened. "Oh boy. Let me guess. Comets fan?" She winced, naming the Speed's biggest divisional rival.

"Drove in from Hartford yesterday," I admitted.

"Yikes." She gave me a playful wink. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say they sent a spy."

A snort sounded, and I slapped a hand over my mouth and nose. Several of the men in the room turned to stare, and my cheeks heated. Alyssa smirked, and I knew instantly she would be my partner in crime once we hit the road. Dakota would have Braxton keeping an eye out for me, but I was a big girl, and having a protective older brother type who doubled as my best friend's almost fiancé wasn't what I needed to shake the shadows of the past and become an independent woman.

Placing a hand on my elbow, Alyssa guided us to seats in the middle of the room, assuring me that that was the best location. The front-row occupants often were overeager, which annoyed whoever happened to be speaking, and they gravitated to those behind them—which, now, would be us.

When my tender ass hit the unyielding plastic of the chair, I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

Alyssa turned to me in concern. "Are you okay?"

I threw on a fake smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. The seat was just a little cold."

Never mind that my sore backside was a reminder of the man who had rocked my world only a few hours ago. I shifted in my seat, simultaneously trying to find a position that hurt my butt the least while also trying to ease the renewed ache between my thighs at thoughts of Mr. Green Eyes.

Once she was satisfied that I was indeed all right, she asked, "So, I'm assuming you're a Braxton Slate fan? Or are you still salty about us stealing him away? "

Stealing was an interesting word choice. Unfortunately, I'd had a front-row seat to the emotional destruction that had led to Braxton demanding a trade during his rookie season. It had nearly broken Dakota. Witnessing it was devastating—so devastating that I knew what I had with Nix would never come close to what they shared. If only I'd taken action after that warning signal, I might not have ended up heartbroken myself.

Dwelling on the past wasn't what today was about. No, it was about moving forward, creating a life where I held value beyond the man I was attached to.

Feeling Alyssa's eyes still on me, I realized I'd gotten lost in my head again, and she was waiting for an answer. Knowing the cat would be out of the bag as soon as we met with the players, I admitted, "Believe it or not, my best friend and former roommate from back in Hartford is dating Braxton."

Alyssa's eyes flew wide, and her mouth dropped open. "No way." When I nodded in confirmation, she leaned in close, whispering, "Have you read her books?"

I couldn't hold back the smile that split my face. Dakota wrote dirty books—under the pen name D.D. Morgan—which was beyond amusing because she'd been doing so as a virgin prior to hooking up with Braxton. I loved that she was unashamed in providing a guilty pleasure for so many women, and in these past couple of years since her career had taken off, it was like she was a mini celebrity in her own right.

"Every single one," I answered proudly.

She hesitated briefly before asking, "Even the one people say is about Braxton?"

Oh, that book.

That book was the catalyst for all three of us relocating to Indianapolis from Hartford .

We had all been running from something.

For Braxton, it was initially Dakota, but primarily, he was trying to escape living in Jaxon's shadow.

Dakota might have claimed she was running to Braxton, but her home life growing up hadn't been great. There were a lot of bad memories for Dakota in our hometown.

Then there was me. I knew working for a professional hockey team, especially a divisional rival of the Comets, would put me in the same place as Nix occasionally, but if I played it smart, I could avoid him.

The bottom line was that my best friend and the man who adored her were happy and thriving in Indy, and I knew that, given enough time, I would too.

I played it off like the book hadn't blown up their world, smiling widely. "Of course. That was her big break. And not to take too much credit, but I was the one who gave her a nudge to move into hockey romance."

Alyssa pulled back with a sigh, placing a hand to her chest as a dreamy expression stole over her face. "Yeah. I can see why they're so popular. Having spent years up close and personal with those hunks? It's a miracle I don't burst into flames every time I enter the locker room."

I bit back a smile. Once upon a time, I had seen the appeal and been smitten myself with those stunningly toned hockey boys. But that ship had sailed.

The seats around us filled, indicating that the first press conference of the season was about to begin. Everyone pulled out their phones and set them to record while cameramen in the back settled into position.

First, the general manager, Jared McCall, stepped up to the podium. Giving the room a smile born of years of practice addressing the media, he spoke. "Welcome to the first day of the preseason, everyone." There was a low rumble throughout the room, acknowledging him. "We are very excited to embark on a new season with some new faces, both here in the media room"—he tipped his head in my direction, causing me to sit up straighter—"and on the ice. But there is one familiar face that we are the most excited about. This summer, we decided to part ways with our head coach, and in the search for a new one, we realized that the perfect candidate was already roaming our halls. Please allow me to welcome back to the Speed, in a different capacity, Maddox Sterling, our new head coach."

McCall stepped aside, his eyes trained on the door, where a tall man who filled out a dark gray suit to perfection waltzed into the room. Dark hair was slicked back from his forehead, and a clean, strong jaw was visible from the side view as he continued closing the space to the podium. But when he turned to face the press pack and his vibrant green eyes scanned the crowd, my breath seized.

No. It can't be.

I had half convinced myself that my mind was playing tricks on me and that there was no possible way I'd slept with the Maddox Sterling last night, but then he spoke.

"Thank you, Jared. I'm honored to have the opportunity to remain with the Speed past my playing days."

His deep voice confirmed his identity as my mystery man. It was a voice I would hear in my dreams for years to come.

"Oh my God," I breathed out.

Alyssa nudged me playfully with an elbow, saying under her breath, "I know, right? So hot."

"Uh-huh," was all I could manage as I realized my career in Indy—most specifically, working with the Speed—was over before it even began.

Maddox continued to address the room. "It's exciting that I'm taking over at a time when the Speed has acquired some new talent, both in the draft and in free agency, as we continue our quest to return to the Finals, this time with the aim of winning the championship. We came close once. I know we can do it again."

There was some excited applause from those seated.

"Now, you all know how much I love being in front of the camera . . ."—his voice trailed off, and several reporters chuckled—"but I know it's my job now to keep you up to date, so I'll do my best to make myself available during the appropriate times. Yes, I know we all travel together, but please be respectful of the players and staff during our downtime. There is plenty of time designated for the press at home and on the road. I'll now open up the floor to questions."

As Alyssa had predicted, the front row's hands rose quickly, vying for attention from the Speed's newest head coach. It was clear from the look on his face that he wasn't a fan of these eager beavers, and his green gaze scanned the crowd.

When those shining emeralds locked on where I sat, they widened as recognition set in. Maddox's lips twitched imperceptibly, and I watched as the carnal knowledge he held of me filtered through his mind.

My heart began beating in triple time, pounding in my ears so loud I was sure everyone could hear it, instantly knowing I'd crossed a line with the coach.

"I think it's only fair that since I'm new to my position, I take my first question from our newest correspondent. Miss . . ."

Even though his eyes were searing straight into me, raising my core temperature, I peeked around, certain he meant someone else—more accurately, praying that was the case.

Alyssa spoke quietly in my ear. "I think he means you."

Of course, he does. Because fuck my life. Fuck my entire career, for that matter. Because in my need to escape for one night, I fucked the goddamn head coach of the Indy Speed and didn't want to know his motherfucking name!

Amusement sparkled in Maddox's eyes as I took a moment to mentally freak out before pulling myself back together.

Taking a cleansing breath, I offered my name as professionally as possible, mindful that we had an audience. "Cooper. Bristol Cooper with the Indy Sports Review." He dipped his chin in acknowledgment, allowing me to ask my first official question as a member of the Indy Speed press pack. "This is your first time head coaching. How do you feel you can be an asset to the Speed over a candidate with more experience?"

In a flash, Maddox's demeanor changed. Gone was the playful, sexy man who was secretly delighting in my predicament, replaced with one barely able to conceal his rage. A muscle along his freshly shaven jawline twitched, indicating his teeth were gritted, and those warm green eyes hardened, giving me a cool glare that had a shiver rolling down my spine.

What the hell did I say wrong?

Nostrils practically flaring, Maddox answered my question. "I don't need anyone to point out that I'm untested behind the bench. I am as acutely aware as all of you that there were more qualified candidates for this job. You'll all be witness to my trial by fire. But know this: no man out there can rival my passion for this team. Three-quarters of the roster are men I have played with, have led as their captain. I know their games inside and out. I think that gives me a slight advantage over an outside hire. And they all know that I'm ready to ride into battle with them, through the good and the bad, because we've done it before. I might have traded my skates for suits and swapped out weight training for film review, but make no mistake—my heart will forever bleed Indy Speed red and black. "

It became very clear that his inexperience was a sore spot. And I was the silly girl reporter who'd poked at that bruise. Great. It would seem I wasn't doing myself any favors—last night or today.

His attention finally moved to a new target, and I slumped in my chair, sweat gathering beneath my armpits after the verbal tongue-lashing.

A sure hand grabbed my trembling one, and I turned to find Alyssa giving me an empathetic smile. I was grateful for her offer of comfort and gave a squeeze in response.

"First days are always hard. It's not your fault. He was never the biggest fan of the press, but it got worse after the injury," she explained.

"Yeah." I nodded slightly, fighting hard against the telltale tingles of tears prickling behind my eyes.

Thank God my phone recorded the rest of that press conference because I was lost in another world, far away.

It was typical that in my attempt to branch out, I'd hooked up with a former player. Apparently, I had a type.

Once a puck bunny, always a puck bunny, I guess.