Chapter 7

" R eady?" I ask Whit as we sit down and situate ourselves in front of the webcam. We've got a morning news segment we're calling in for. Neither of us wanted to fly to New York to do it live, but the Rogues's publicist told us that meant we'd have to do it over video call instead. Better get used to it, there's going to be a camera in my face for the next six months, anyway.

"Yeah, let's get it over with," he grumbles.

I'm glad we're on the same page. The interviewer on the other end pops up on the screen of the laptop sitting in front of us, and we do quick introductions before they give us the rundown.

As if neither of us have ever done a press box in our lives.

Once we're live, the host pastes on a big smile. "We're sitting with Minnesota Rogues's newly appointed head coach, Coach Sullivan, and general manager, Whit Moreau," the news reporter says.

"Sully." I correct. "Thanks for having us."

I am glad Whit's by my side. We work well together. Not just because we both played in the minors and NHL and had great careers, but we're also bachelors who dedicated every minute of our lives to the game. Neither of us have ever settled down, and that's what our team needs. Both of us are switching from NHL to PWHL, and we're in the next stage of our lives—coaching the Minnesota Rogues.

"You both are coming from the NHL, what kind of support is the National Hockey League offering the women's league? If any?"

I clear my throat, willing to take this question. "Our goal is to work collaboratively with them, they've got decades of knowledge and experience operating a successful hockey league, and we hope to be able to do the same for our women's league."

"Is the PWHL receiving financial assistance from the NHL?"

"Some. But that's probably a question for the financial team. Sully and I are really focused on the team, scouting players, and making the state of hockey proud," Whit answers. We haven't been cleared to publicly discuss the funding beyond "some."

We've got the draft coming up and have been spending our nights pouring over data with the owner, scouts, and Rogues's staff. We know who we want, and it's likely the same players the other nine PWHL teams want.

"Sully, you were a captain of the Minnesota Lakes for many years. How do you feel about coaching a professional team in your home state?"

"It feels incredible. I was thrilled and honored when Whit called me to discuss a coaching position. Like you said, this is my home state, I love it here and am so excited to be back on the ice again. This time coaching a team of talented athletes who live for the sport as much as I do."

I don't mention the personal life docuseries, that information won't be released until tomorrow, and I'm thankful I don't have to answer questions regarding that portion of my contract. There's nothing exciting about having women vying for my attention and their fifteen minutes of fame. That's nothing new to me, and as it stands, there's only one woman I'm interested in… and she hasn't said one word to me since the text message the day after.

"And Whit, you've spent most of your career in Canada, but you were born in Minnesota, as I understand it. How does it feel to be back?"

"It's great, a big adjustment, like any move, but it's nice to reconnect with old friends and family. It makes holidays easier." He chuckles. "Since I've been back, I've been able to fall in love with the state of hockey all over again. See the lakes I grew up playing on, that sort of thing. Returning to my roots has been energizing."

"That's wonderful."

My eyes drop to the corner of the screen to check the time, the minutes crawling by like molasses. I haven't spoken with Kendra since our text, but I'll see her tonight at the party Micky is hosting to celebrate the announcement of my new coaching position and Scoring with Sully —what a stupid name.

The floor at Sugar and Ice vibrates as the bass travels through it. Micky's cocktail lounge has essentially been transformed into a nightclub for the private event. Super .

Thankfully, this is an invite-only event. Most of the guys from the Lakes hockey team, the players' wives and girlfriends, some people from the network, based on the credentials around their necks, and Rogues's staff are here. My eyes scan the crowd for Kendra. I haven't seen her yet. I need to get my head right. After grabbing a whiskey from the bar, I find a dark corner to hide in. It's not long before Conway finds me.

"The man of the hour… How are you holding up?"

"Never better."

"Hey, you've been wanting to meet somebody, and now you've got women lining up… You've been missing hockey, and now you're head coach of the Rogues… Shit, man. Sorry about this string of bad luck."

I smirk and take a sip of the amber liquid as I survey the throng of guests mingling and dancing. I don't know half these people. Even a bunch of the Lakes's rookies are here. They're just here for the party. I don't blame them. It's a pretty good soiree by Lakes's standards. Micky is a natural when it comes to hosting these promotional events.

I haven't told Conway about Kendra yet. I don't even know what we are. As of now, we aren't even talking. It doesn't bode well for us working together, but I'm hoping I can change that tonight. She should know my intentions.

"I'm psyched about the coaching spot. It's the show I'm not looking forward to. Trying to find love on camera? Seriously? I mean, can you imagine a worse person to do this?"

"It might not be so bad," he says, pulling at the silver lining.

"It'll be fine. It's only six months of filming," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

"Filming is six months. But the woman you meet might be forever." He gestures with his beer bottle.

Huh? He's right. There's a chance that could happen. "Holy shit."

As if I manifested her from my thoughts, Kendra breezes through the front door with Pierce Haldermann, one of the other executive producers. Seems like a stand-up guy, being the one who was on board with letting Kendra be my point of contact during production. Following behind him is a handful of whom I assume are the camera crew. I forgot they were attending. Something about getting a few shots for promo material and asking my old teammates what they think of me coaching and being on a dating show.

She assists them in setting up in one of the back corners, then circulates the room, socializing with guests. Her long-sleeved dress is short and tight, showing off each curve. My fingers itch to dig into those curves again. It's fascinating to watch her work. She makes it look effortless. She's a boss.

I can't take my eyes off her. When she seems pleased with what she and the crew are accomplishing, she retreats and visits with Micky, who's with Raleigh, Birdie, and Jordan—the WAGs of my former teammates. Kendra fits in like they've been lifelong friends.

Jesus, all I want to do is talk to her, but I'm in a fishbowl here. Everyone's eyes are on me, hence me hiding in this dark corner sipping whiskey… and keeping my eyes on her and that body that continues to punish me from across the room.