Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Willa

S tanding nervously by the edge of the rink, I watch as the kids skate around in chaotic circles to warm up. They're trickling in as there's still ten minutes until practice starts. Theo McVey has a broad smile on his face and I wonder if that's because his mother brought him tonight so he won't have the pressure his father puts on him. Izzy alternates between skating and cutting up with two little girls she's befriended.

I glance at my watch, wondering if King is actually going to show. I had a long day working at the Clairton clinic and I came straight to the rink without being able to stop at home for a shower and food. I met Brittany and Izzy here and my sister is currently in the stands, flirting with one of the dads. My eyes drop to his left hand and I don't see a ring, but that doesn't mean anything these days.

I remind myself that Brittany is a grown woman and can handle herself. She and I learned hard lessons and we're both far more cautious in our dating escapades. My current philosophy is casual dating is fine, but anything resembling a long-term commitment is not. Brittany is pretty much the same and it's working well for both of us.

My experience with Scott didn't leave me jaded—just determined to be different. I embrace being a single, independent woman who can be completely happy with a no-strings-attached relationship. I've been out on a handful of great dates that led to nothing and a handful of others that lasted for satisfying, short-term connections—mostly revolving around sex and fun—and they didn't cause a single bit of angst when we parted ways.

I stifle a yawn as I watch the kids, chastising myself to perk up. I'm determined to make this practice better than the last but honestly… I'll be leaning on King to do that. While I can read the rules and watch all the YouTube videos I want, I don't have the faintest idea on how to teach hockey skills in a way that imparts correct form, and my biggest fear is teaching them how to do it wrong.

Izzy skates up to the edge of the boards, her cheeks flush with excitement. "Aunt Willa, did you see that? I almost didn't fall while racing Max!"

It's a struggle not to laugh at such a silly moment of pride but I concentrate on how her enthusiasm overrides everything. Brittany and I are flummoxed as to where this interest in ice hockey comes from, but we're rolling with it. "I saw, sweetie. You're getting better every day."

A commotion to the right catches my attention and I see King walking through the building. His tall frame is easily recognizable, even in a crowd. He carries a duffel bag over one shoulder and wears a friendly, confident smile that unfortunately encourages people to approach him. He willingly stops to sign autographs and pose for pictures, but I note that his mesmerizing eyes scan the area as if he's looking… for me.

Those warm golden globes find their presumed target and he waves a hand in greeting just before sidling up next to a woman and a man for a selfie. I smile and wave back.

"Coach Willa." I turn to find Max, an adorable six-year-old with curly brown hair and two dimples that had to be inherited from a parent, although I haven't matched him up to an adult yet. That's something I suppose we need to do and perhaps a social get-together is the way to do it. But that's something I'm going to make Brittany handle because she promised to help and so far, she's just interested in flirting.

"What's up, Max?" I ask, leaning my forearms on the rink's edge.

"My skate feels funny."

"Okay, come on down to the gate." I walk the length of the boards, Max following along unsteadily, his left hand on the rail to guide him. I haven't put on my skates yet as I didn't know what type of practice King had planned.

I'm wearing a good pair of tennis shoes—what I wore to the clinic today—and so I step carefully onto the slick ice. I squat so as not to get my pants wet and manage to tighten his laces. "Feel better?"

He nods and asks, "Can you do the other one?"

"Next time you put your skates on, buddy, you need to learn to tighten them from the bottom up." I crane my neck to see King standing there by the gate. "Let me show you."

King steps out onto the ice, carefully moving to the little boy, and he squats beside me. Max pivots slightly and almost loses his balance but King's big hands grab his ankles to steady him. "You good?"

The little boy nods with a grin.

"This is how you do it." King says, and then I watch as he instructs Max how to pull the dual laces tight, starting at the toe and working upward. "It takes a while, but it's important that your skates fit well, or else your skating won't be as solid. All good now."

Max starts to turn away and I tap him on the leg. "Wait a minute. What do you say?"

"Thank you?" He asks it like a question, face screwed up in thought.

"Thank you, Coach King," I say with a smile. "He's going to help coach our team this year."

"Thank you, Coach King," Max says and then skates off, and noticeably, he looks a little steadier.

King and I rise together but whereas he's suave and as at home on the ice as he is on the ground, I don't get out to skate much these days. My foot slips out from under me, but King is quick on the draw, taking my upper arm and steadying me. My hand flails but lands on his abdomen until I feel my body regain balance.

"Sorry," I say, instantly pulling my hand back and grabbing the rail. "Not used to walking on ice in shoes."

"Maybe wear your skates to practice," he suggests, taking my elbow and helping me through the gates. "I heard that guy last weekend refer to you as a figure skater."

" Hack figure skater is what he said," I say with a laugh once I'm on firm ground and have my complete balance. "And I brought them… I just wasn't sure if I should wear them or coach from the sidelines with the expert here."

Grinning, King leans on the rail. "Were you a hack figure skater?"

"I don't think so. I tried out for the Olympics when I was sixteen but didn't make it."

His eyes flare with surprise and admiration. "Total hack."

Laughing, I shake my head. "I'm proud of my accomplishments. Not that it's an excuse, but I was recovering from an injury when the tryouts were held and I just didn't have it. Still, it was an honor to be invited."

"I'll say." He offers a low whistle of appreciation. "That's incredible."

The compliment flusters me because it's been a long time since someone paid me a genuine one. I glance out at the ice, do a quick count and note that all our players are here. "Ready to get these kids learning?"

"I'm ready."

"Good, because I'm pretty much going to let you do all the talking and I'll just nod and act as if I know what you're talking about."

King laughs from deep in his belly, eyes twinkling. I'm entranced by the fact his sense of humor comes easily and his smile makes his face even more beautiful. "I've got it covered," he says with a wink.

"Oh, thank goodness. I was starting to panic."

King chuckles. "Don't worry, we've got this. It's all about basics."

"First things first," I say, jerking my head toward the bleachers where the parents have taken seats to watch the practice. "Let's do a little introduction."

"Let's," King says and then motions for me to precede him, his hand briefly touching my lower back as I move past. It shoots a shiver up my spine, but I try to ignore it.

"Hello," I say when I'm before the parents. "As you know, I'm Willa Montreaux, and I'll be coaching the Ice Pups this season. As you also know, I don't understand hockey at all, but I've been doing research and studying, not sure if that will give me much of a leg up. My background is as a figure skater, so I know how to teach the basics of movement on the ice. Luckily, an angel dropped into our laps at our first game—" I motion to King beside me. "I'm sure most of you recognize Jack Kingston from the Pittsburgh Titans. He saw my struggles last weekend and has graciously volunteered to help us out."

A rousing cheer goes up from the parents, an indication that no one had any confidence in my skills, and that's fair. I didn't have any confidence either.

A hand comes down on my shoulder… King's. Large, warm and reassuring. "Coach Willa isn't giving herself enough credit. It doesn't take much hockey knowledge at this age." His gaze cuts over to Theo's mom but she seems oblivious as to what her husband did at the game. "What you all need to remember is that they are out here to learn basic skills and it is not our goal to win games. If any of you are looking for that, this isn't the league for you." King pauses, looks around at the parents, but they all smile and nod their understanding. "Okay, with that said… let's get this practice underway."

More clapping and I turn for the boards, speaking from the side of my mouth at King as we approach. "I think I'm going to stay off the ice so you're not distracted peeling me off it."

King laughs, looking down at me. "Fair enough, although it was by no means a chore to help you up."

He turns away and I'm left wondering if he was just flirting with me. Because I think I was flirting with him. I'm a proficient skater and chances of him peeling me off the ice are nil. Or maybe he's the world's most easygoing guy, finding amusement in the smallest things and making those around him feel good by his teasing.

Regardless, I take up my position near the rail and open my eyes and ears to watch King work his magic, hoping I will glean something useful for those practices and games he won't be able to attend.

Putting his fingers in his mouth, King lets out a shrill whistle and calls, "Okay, Ice Pups… assemble."

They all stop their skating and tussling, turning to face him with curious eyes.

"Any time I say assemble it means get those little legs moving and come to me," he says, waving them over. They all start a mad dash, eager to be the first one there. Two of the kids go sprawling but scramble back up pretty quick.

When they're all around him in a semicircle, the first thing he does is lay down the ground rules. "All right, team, let's talk about a few things you need to remember. First, we are out here to have fun. Does everyone understand that?"

They all nod.

"Repeat after me… We're out here to have fun."

Their tiny voices echo the words.

King cups his hand around his ear. "I didn't quite hear that. Yell it out to me."

"WE'RE OUT HERE TO HAVE FUN!" they scream at him, and all heads in the arena turn our way.

"Exactly," King says and then praises, "Excellent job. Now, although we're here to have fun, we're also here to learn. And what do you think is the most important thing you can do in order to learn?"

A few hands shoot up and he points to a little boy in the front. "You… what's your name?"

"Christian."

"And what do you think is the most important thing?"

"Well, our teacher at school says if we're not listening, we can't learn."

King grins and points at the boy. "Excellent. Exactly right. So that means if I'm talking, you're listening. If Coach Willa is talking, you're listening. Think you can all do that?"

The kids nod their assent.

"All right, then. That covers the rules. Have fun and listen. Now let's get started."

For the next fifteen minutes, King works on basic skating drills, emphasizing balance and posture, which is a slightly different skill on hockey blades versus figure skates. I just watch, absorbing.

He has them skate back and forth, calling out encouragement as he learns all the kids' names. "Keep your knees bent, Carrie, and push off with the inside edges of your skates."

I'm amazed at the ease with which he can communicate with kids this age. It's obvious that King has a natural ability to connect with them, his instructions clear and inspiring. Even the usually distracted Amelia is focused, her pigtails bouncing as she tries to follow along.

For the last ten minutes, King moves on to stick handling. He produces a handful of pucks from his gear bag and shows the kids how to control them while skating. "Keep your blade on the ice and the puck close to it. Use only small taps to guide it in the direction you want to go."

Some of the kids try to get fancy, picking the stick up to move the puck on both sides of the blade, but they lose control quickly. King is patient as he reins them in, telling them we have to start off slow and master the easy way first.

Max, ever the eager beaver, manages to knock his puck halfway across the rink. "Oops!" he exclaims, giggling as he chases after it. King grins and doesn't get angry, despite the fact Max must not have had his listening ears on.

Instead, King calls out encouragement. "You'll get it, Max. Just keep trying."

As the practice continues, one thing becomes abundantly clear—they are having a blast, their confidence growing with each passing minute.

By the end of the session, although I've not contributed a single thing other than praise and a few moments of wrangling wayward kids, I feel an incredible sense of accomplishment. The kids learned a lot, but I learned more. King showed me that very simple skills are all that's needed for this peewee league. While I'm sure he'll level up the instruction, it really is about teaching them the basics. I now know enough I can handle reiteration of these skills at the next practice or game if he can't attend.

But truly… I hope he can attend because it's been a pure pleasure to watch someone so self-assured, kind and committed to these kids. I dare say… it's also sexy as hell, and although I feel slightly guilty for even thinking that, I can't help it.

King gathers the Pups in a huddle where I'm standing at the board. "You all did an amazing job today. Don't you think, Coach Willa?"

"I do," I say, clapping my hands. "We'll keep practicing, and you'll get even better."

The kids cheer, their faces glowing with pride.

"All right… we'll see you at the game Saturday. Try to be here at least fifteen minutes early if you can, fully dressed." I then turn to the parents and call out, "Anyone have any questions?"

They all shake their heads and as everyone begins to disperse, I turn to King with a heart full of gratitude. "I cannot thank you enough. I don't know what I would have done without you."

King shrugs modestly. "It was my pleasure. You'll do a great job whether I'm here or not because you understand the goals."

Warmth spreads through me as I greedily accept his praise, something I'm not often given in my life. I've always tried to figure out how to do things on my own and when I've succeeded, I was the only one patting myself on the back.

Brittany approaches us, her arm around Izzy's shoulders, her eyes cutting between me and King.

"King, this is my sister, Brittany."

King smiles and nods at my sister, but his attention drops to Izzy. "The mom to the incomparable Izzy. Your skating today was amazing."

Izzy grins up at him. "Aunt Willa practices with me sometimes. She wants me to be a figure skater, but I love hockey."

"No one says you can't do both," King says, and I can see that this was never something Izzy thought about.

Her face screws up as she considers that. "Really?"

"Really," King assures her. "I did lots of different sports growing up. I think it's good to try them all so you can find out where your passion lies."

Izzy looks dubious but then glances up at me. "Should I try figure skating?"

"Only if you want to," I say with a smile.

Her gaze goes to her mom. "And piano?"

"Of course." Brittany's eyes slide to me. "Can I talk to you privately for a moment?"

"Izzy," King says, getting my niece's attention. "How about you help me pick up all the pucks from the ice?"

So sweet and thoughtful, essentially offering to watch Izzy. I smile at him gratefully and follow Brittany a few steps away so we're out of earshot.

"Willa, oh my God," Brittany whispers, her eyes wide. "If you don't jump all over that, I'm going to disown you."

I roll my eyes. "Britt, stop. He's just helping with the kids."

"Yeah, but he's a Greek god, remember? And so nice! I wonder how old he is."

My defenses rise because I'm embarrassed I looked him up online last night. He's only twenty-five and I'm not sure what it says about me that I found such info disappointing. Not that I have any business even thinking of King in a way other than as an assistant coach, but he's far too young for my thirty-three years. "I have no clue and get your mind out of the gutter."

"Okay, but surely you're feeling the I want to fuck you vibes he's throwing your way, right?"

My jaw drops wide open even as a flush of heat sizzles through me. I glance over my shoulder at King who's holding the bag for Izzy as she skates from puck to puck to pick them up. Turning my head back to my sister, I hiss, "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh my God, you are so dense. That guy is into you."

"He is not," I scoff.

"He is too," she says adamantly.

"He's too young," I whisper harshly, shaking my head.

"Aha! You did look up his age. I knew it. Well so did I, and it appears he doesn't have a girlfriend. At least I couldn't find anything online when I stalked him. I think you should make a move."

"A move?" I growl at her, lowering my voice. "I'm here to coach hockey, not get laid."

"Which is why I'm the smarter sister and you're stupid." Brittany's voice lowers further. "It's not like you're morally opposed to having a little fun with a man."

That's true. "I'm not interested in a relationship."

"I know and to hell with relationships. I'm right there with you. But how about having a no-strings hookup with him? I bet he fucks like an animal."

"Jesus, Britt," I hiss, looking back to make sure we're not heard. "Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm not. And you're crazy if you pass up this opportunity."

"Willa," King calls out, and I feel like a zap of electricity just fried my every nerve ending. Did he hear any of that? Does he know we're talking about him?

I pivot from Brittany and walk over to where King stands near the gate, the equipment bag for the pucks over his shoulder. Izzy breezes past me, heading to her mom.

"Thank you again for helping today," I say when I reach him.

"It was fun and I'm looking forward to doing more. In fact, I was wondering if you were interested in grabbing a bite to eat right now so we can go over the rest of the schedule and figure out what practices and games I'll be able to attend."

I glance back at Brittany, who watches me expectantly. I can read her expression loud and clear. It says, Make a move, girl.

She's freaking crazy. I mean… it's ludicrous for me to make a move.

Although admittedly, I have been in a rut for the last few months and I sure do miss sex.

No. It's crazy to even think it. I'm an established doctor. He's a young, virile, gorgeous… young… way too young, professional athlete. I shouldn't even consider a hookup. That's just… wrong.

Right?

On the other hand, a meal would not be weird, especially to discuss our mutual endeavor to coach these kids. And this is the twenty-first century, after all. Woman power and all that. There isn't anything wrong with having sex to feel good, and I stand by the decision to be that type of woman. Brittany is certain he's throwing off vibes that say he's interested in far more than dinner, but I'm not sure about that.

But no!!!

This would just be dinner to discuss coaching. That's all.

Jeez, I hate how unsure I am about a simple dinner invitation. I can thank my ex-husband for that. Scott did a number on me. He was always demeaning, knocking my confidence. The fact he cheated on me and then said "It's just sex" crushed me. Not because he betrayed me, although that hurt, but because that implied he was going somewhere else for better sex. It was all very confusing.

But maybe I need to take some power back for myself. I've been on autopilot since the divorce, immersing myself in work and refusing to consider getting close to another man.

I think at the very least, dinner with a handsome, genuine and kind man isn't a bad place to start.

Smiling at King, I say, "Sure. That sounds like a good plan."