Tamara

“Sorry,” I mumbled, glaring at the last guy on Earth I’d expected to see again. I didn’t bother to try to sound like I really meant it. Because I didn’t. Not really. I might have felt slightly bad about hitting him except that I was sure he barely felt it through his helmet. And he’d earned it with the sexist comment he’d made, even if he hadn’t known that I was going to overhear what he’d said. At least I could take comfort in the knowledge that I’d been right to bail on him after our one-night stand, even though I’d been second-guessing myself ever since because it’d been so fucking good between us.

If I hadn’t been so tired, I probably would have been able to resist the urge to hit him. But after a long trip to Norway for the ISU Speed Skating World Cup and an expected sixteen hours of travel time to get home that somehow turned into thirty-one because of delayed flights at both of my layovers in Copenhagen and Heathrow, I wasn’t in the mood to take crap from anybody. Not even if it was a guy who knew my body intimately and was sexy enough to look hot when he was dressed in full hockey gear and wearing a helmet with a partial visor.

Skating away from him, I joined their coach at center ice. He nodded at me, seemingly unconcerned that I’d just hit one of his players on the back of his helmet. Then again, this was hockey so I was sure he’d seen worse during a practice before.

The guys who were doing laps around the ice skated over to us. “Since there seems to be some skepticism about my ability to teach you guys anything about skating, how about we settle this on the ice?” I let my gaze skim over the team before it landed on Ryan. “You up for the challenge?”

The confident grin he flashed me was incredibly annoying, but it also sent goosebumps up my arms that had nothing to do with the temperature of the rink. “Sure. I’m up for whatever you want to throw my way.”

The guy he’d been mouthing off to when I’d skated onto the ice whacked him in the shin with his stick, and I offered him a grateful smile before turning my attention back to the mouthy, sexy player who deserved to be taken down a peg. I was just the woman to do it too.

Skating closer to the boards, I stopped at the nearest blue line and pointed at the spot next to me. “C’mon, then. One lap around the rink’s perimeter. First one of us to cross the blue line wins.”

He didn’t hesitate to take me up on the challenge, handing his stick, gloves, and helmet off to the teammate standing closest to him. His dark hair was sweaty and sticking up in places, but it didn’t take away from his good looks. Not with the way his hazel eyes gleamed and the cocky tilt to his full lips surrounded by a closely trimmed mustache and beard. My heart started to beat faster, and it had nothing to do with the race we were about to begin. No, it was due to my reaction to him—a completely unwanted one since all indications pointed towards him being totally wrong for me no matter how good he was in bed. I dealt with enough cocky bastards professionally. I didn’t need to add one to my personal life.

“Ready?” he asked when he situated himself next to me.

“You’d better believe it,” I quipped, dragging my gaze away from his and focusing on the team’s coach. “Can you do the countdown for us and judge who wins? Not that there’ll be much doubt since I plan to beat him by a big enough margin that it’ll be obvious to everyone which one of us is faster—and better equipped to run power skating drills for the team.”

“I sure can,” the coach chuckled.

“Too bad I don’t have my phone with me. I could take a photo to commemorate the day a woman made Ryan eat his words after he made an ass out of himself,” one of the players added, winking at me.

Based on the low growl in his throat and the glare he gave the guy; Ryan didn’t appreciate what his teammate had to say as much as I had. Then he bent his legs, positioning his skates so he could push off quickly, and nodded at his coach to let him know he was ready.

Crouching low, I nodded as well and then aimed all of my focus forward. I shut off all thoughts except for the skate ahead of me, tensing as I heard the coach call out, “Three.”

I took a deep breath. “Two.”

And another. “One.”

I burst forward on a sharp exhale as soon as he yelled, “Go!”

Legs pumping as hard as I could go, arms swinging in unison, I powered ahead. Ryan was in my peripheral vision past the red line at center ice, crossing over the other blue line, and circling around it again. If it’d been a short sprint, he might have been able to beat me. But he started to edge back the tiniest bit as we crossed the center line again. And as we round the curve behind the net, I pushed myself even harder to reach the place where we’d started so I’d get there well ahead of him. I dug deep on the last few strides, and it was worth it because I crossed the blue line a couple of seconds ahead of Ryan.

“Miss Antonov wins!” the coach yelled. “And that’s why I hired her, boys. There’s a lot that you can learn from her, so head to the center of the ice and get ready to skate your asses off.”

“It’s Tamara, please,” I panted. “Miss Antonov makes me want to look over my shoulder for my mom.”

“Shit, you’re fast,” Ryan huffed.

“And I’ve got the gold medals to show for it.” I winked at him before turning to face the rest of the team. “Now that I’ve given all of you a demonstration of how fast I can skate, how about you do the same for me? Line up at the blue line”—I jerked a thumb over my shoulder—“show me what you’ve got.”

When he didn’t move, I turned to Ryan and lifted an eyebrow. “You’d better get moving before your teammates leave you in their snow.”

“But I already showed you how fast I am on my skates.”

“Fast?” the teammate who had Ryan’s equipment laughed. He kicked the gloves towards us before skating over and handing the stick and helmet to Ryan. “Did you miss the part where she kicked your ass?”

I beamed a smile his way, nodding. “Exactly.”

“She beat me, but not by that much,” Ryan grumbled, earning him a glare from me that had him backpedaling. “I’m not saying you didn’t win. You did. I’m just saying that—”

I held up my hand, and his friend jabbed him in the side with an elbow. “Dude, shut up. You’re just making it worse.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Mouthing off earned you the race against me. You can consider it a warm-up since I’m not going to reward you for your bad behavior by letting you skip out on the team skate.”

His teammate laughed and skated towards the blue line. Ryan shook his head, but he turned to follow after his friend without any further complaint. When he stopped to toss his helmet, gloves, and stick onto the bench, I decided to cut him a little bit of slack. “But I have another reason for wanting you to skate with the rest of your team. It’ll allow me to focus on their stride while also being able to judge how fast they are, based on how they measure up to you.”

He flashed me a smug grin over his shoulder. “A few of the forwards might be faster than me on the ice, but I can assure you that none of them measure up to me off it—something you’re damn well aware of already.”

“Alrighty then,” I grumbled to myself as my cheeks heated. Shaking it off, I skated to the other side of the ice and positioned myself behind the net. “Ready?” After getting a bunch of nods, I pulled a whistle out of my pocket and hung it around my neck. Lifting it to my lips, I blew and the guys sprung forward in a race to where I stood. I repeated the process several times, until I felt like I had a decent handle on who the fastest skaters on the team were. And damn if Ryan wasn’t right—four of the forwards beat him consistently, but he was the fastest of the defensive players for all but one of the races.

“Good job, guys,” I offered as I moved from behind the net to stand in front of them. I raised my voice to make sure it carried to everyone, and took the time to scan the line and make eye contact with each and every player. “You’re pro hockey players, and you wouldn’t have made it here if you couldn’t skate. You know it.” I paused to glance at Ryan, and he offered me an apologetic smile. “Your coach knows it, and I know it. Nobody is saying that you’re bad skaters, but I can make you faster.”

“How can you do that?” one of the centers asked.

“That’s a great question. I’m glad you asked,” I complimented him. “As a speed skater, I know things that can help you to be more efficient on the ice because that’s what I’ve been trained to do since I first stepped on the ice when I was two years old. The more efficient you are, the easier it is to go faster and the less tired you’ll be.”

Ryan stunned me by chiming in with a supportive comment. “We’re also less likely to get hurt if we aren’t tired, and that’s more important than ever since we can’t afford to lose anyone right before the playoffs.”

It sounded like I’d convinced the cocky defenseman that a girl had something to teach pro hockey players, but it remained to be seen if he could prove to me that he wasn’t the ass he seemed to be with his earlier comments. For some reason—one that I refused to admit had anything to do with how sexy he was and the way he’d made by body feel during our one night together months ago—I found myself hoping he’d manage to do it.