It was the perfect day for a press conference. Summer in Newport Beach was warm with a cool sea breeze keeping things from being too unbearable. If Harper closed her eyes and focused, she could hear the nearby ocean crashing into the shore. As it was, there a group of fifteen people, representing the media that permeated the National Hockey League, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for Seraphina to make her announcement. The majority of the media were local - the Gulls didn't get a lot of national and international attention simply because they were still the newest team in the league and their play hadn't resulted in a playoff berth just yet. Also, the team could not seem to win more than half of their eighty-two games. They always fell short of a .500 season, which was laughable. Brandon Thorpe, the team's new captain and starting goalie, was the only reason why they were as competitive as they were.

Of course, the media had no problem devouring Seraphina in the news, calling her incompetent, a spoiled rich girl who had no idea how to manage a hockey team, and an embarrassment to the league. They had no issue resorting to blatant sexism, questioning her choice in clothing, reporting on her weight and hair styles, and even suggesting that women weren't as comparable in a position of power in a sports profession. It was absolutely infuriating.

As a writer of her sports blog, Harper decided had to write pieces about the coverage of Seraphina Hanson rather than the hockey team. Now, with Seraphina's job offer, Harper could still pretty much write whatever she wanted. And nothing would censor her unless it came directly from Seraphina herself.

Currently, Harper was seated in the third row of the five rows of white chairs put out specifically for the media. She had her recorder in the seat next to her, a pen in her left hand, and her notebook in her lap. She liked to take notes on top of recording because she could not predict when inspiration would strike and she always liked to be prepared. The press conference took place in the parking lot of Sea Side Ice Palace, the same arena where the Gulls played their games and practiced. It was unheard of, but Ken Brown also had public skating times and youth leagues that participated here as well. There were three rinks in the building total; the practice rinks were smaller and off in the back. There was even a special entrance for participants in the youth leagues so they felt like actual NHL players. Seraphina kept the tradition.

The lot was blocked off so the public could not enter, at least not during the press conference. As such, the number of cars in the lot were few and far between.

There was a simple podium that stood in front of the rows of chairs with a microphone already turned on and in position.

Harper glanced at her watch. Only a few more minutes.

Seraphina Hanson was always on time.

Harper felt her heart start to thump against the inside of her chest like pebbles skipping across the surface of the ocean. Her hand started to tap the end of the pen against her notebook in anticipation.

And then, Seraphina walked out of the building, her shoulders rolled back, her head held high. She looked like a supermodel walking down the runway. Her hair billowed around her like a lion's mane and she walked with a swagger that could only be attributed to the jungle cat. All eyes were on her; people here were quick to criticize her, crucify her in their articles, but they were as in awe of her as Harper was. She wore a professional pantsuit with high heels - a white blouse that dipped low but not low enough to be deemed as inappropriate and grey slacks that clung to her curves before dropping to her ankles. On her feet were a pair of sleek black ankle boots.

When she got to the podium, she placed her hands on the edges and shot everyone a smile. Everyone quieted on their own; she didn't need to ask for their attention.

"Thank you," she said into the small black microphone, "for being here. We have a lot of ground to cover today, and I appreciate the fact that you're here to share all of this good news with me. As you know, we're taking the Gulls' in a new direction. We have some of our core key players but the majority of our team is new. Fresh. I'm hoping - we are all hoping - that this change will transform our team from abysmal to worthy."

Harper's eyes widened. Seraphina had called out her team's shortcomings without apology. It was rare for an owner, a general manager - hell, even a coach - to be so vocal regarding their team's struggles.

"Every year, we have fans that make a commitment to our team by purchasing season tickets," Seraphina continued. Harper had no idea how she was able to retain all of this information without needing flashcards. "We, in turn, make a commitment to play hard, play fast, and play on, regardless of the circumstances. We can't promise a win but we can promise effort. We can promise heart." She paused, letting her words hang in the air. Then, "Last year, we failed to honor our commitment to the fans. Which is why we decided to make some changes around here.

“Before I introduce the ten new members of this team, I want to reassure the season ticket holders that last season was not something we’re proud of. Here at the Gulls’ organization, excellence is something we strive for because we know our fans expect it. Which they should. My grandfather’s team will not be remembered for falling apart now that he’s no longer here. I promise you that. I know I, along with every single person involved in some way, need to win your trust back. I will. We all will. Because you are important to us.”

Seraphina glanced to her right where Harper noticed the coach and his team of assistant coaches. They stood there, all at varying heights, half of them with bushy mustaches, in white polo shirts with the Gulls' logo stitched to the left side of the shirt. They looked very uniform for simply being coaches, with brown belts and pressed khaki pants. At least they weren't wearing shorts. Seraphina didn't understand shorts at ice rinks. She didn't care how hot it was outside, it was a big fashion no - whether you were male or female.

She introduced each coach individually. With Henry Wayne retiring last year, Seraphina had to find a suitable replacement for him and his team. Luckily, Neil Cherney - a veteran player and former Seattle Raptors coach - was available and Seraphina swooped him up as soon as she could. It was one of her first moves in the off-season and one of the smartest. Cherney's record spoke for itself, though he was still underestimated in the league - first as a player and subsequently as a coach.

Once the coaches were through, Seraphina stepped back to the podium. "Now," she said, looking out at the media, "as I'm sure you know, we've acquired at least ten new players, some veterans of the league, some rookies, and we've brought some of our prospects up from San Diego to train with us and get a shot at making the final roster of the team. I'm going to introduce you to each one of them, starting with center Zachary Ryan."

Harper could feel the men around her tense and the photographers get in position, ready to take pictures. This was the moment they had been waiting for. There was a collective hush; everyone was holding their breath.

At that moment, he walked out, all six foot four of him. He was pure muscle and broad shoulders all compiled in a lean package. He had sandy blonde hair, short so nothing could fall in his face and inhibit his vision. He had crystal blue eyes and sharp facial features - high cheekbones, a strong jaw - and had a roughness about him that made him look more scruffy than handsome. But still handsome. He was wearing a polo with the Gulls' logo on it as well, but his was a sky blue, emphasizing his eyes even more than they already were, and dark blue jeans that fit him in all the right places. On his feet were a pair of expensive flip flops. He walked out of the Ice Palace with his chin up, his lips curled into a smirk. He walked with a confident swagger but he didn't come across as too arrogant.

When he got to the podium, he leaned against the surface and tilted his head down so his lips were close to the microphone.

"Hi," he said. His voice is low and masculine. "I'm Zach. I'm really happy to be here. I look forward to playing for the Gulls and start a new chapter in my career."

That was it. He straightened up as hands shot up to ask him questions. Harper kept hers to herself for now. She liked to wait and see what would be asked, how questions would be answered. He had a slight Canadian twang that she found she liked.

However, there was an arrogance in everything he did, an arrogance she wasn't sure how she felt about just yet. It could be either charming or frustrating. It could be both.

"Why did you choose the Gulls over the other teams you sat down with?" one of the men asked.

"Well, the environment is appealing," Zach replied. Harper watched as he directed his gaze at the journalist who asked the question, his sky blue eyes crystal and direct. "Who doesn't want to play in sunny Southern California?" He dropped his hands from the podium in order to use them to gesture along with his words. "There's also not as much pressure here. Hockey's not a popular sport in general here so the team can actually be big fishes in small ponds."

"So you're saying hockey isn't popular in Southern California?" another journalist asked.

Zach furrowed his brow, turning his attention to the female reporter. "Yes," he said. "I am. Look at the statistics: USA Hockey has only 25,000 plus people registered to play out of a state of thirty-six million. Hockey here is definitely growing and those that are fans are ravenous. They're the best kind of fans because the appreciation and understanding is there. But I don't have to worry about people recognizing me at the mall. I know some of the guys have kids who go to school here and all they are to the teachers and other parents is Dad. It's not a bad thing, honestly. I prefer it. It's one of the reasons why I decided to come here."

"Is it true you cheated on Diana Platt with some of the Toronto Bangles players' wives?"

They weren't in a room per se but the tension was tight and suffocating. Harper didn't know much about Zachary Ryan but he did seem to have a temper - not a bad one, exactly, but he wasn't afraid to tell you what he felt at any given moment. He was one of the players who chirped at the refs if he thought the ref made a bad call and he was one of the few skilled players who wouldn't back down from a fight if confronted unless, of course, the player was trying to goad him into taking a penalty and getting him off the ice.

"Honestly, I don't understand how my personal life has any relevance to my skills as a hockey player," Zach said. His tone was clipped but not confrontational. Harper could respect that.

"Have you changed your off-season workout regime to fit with the Gulls’ expectations?"

Harper was already writing but she couldn't take her eyes off Zach. He was more attractive than she expected him to be, smarter as well. The question was inappropriate and completely out of line but he handled it somewhat professionally. She didn't know if she was going to ask a question. Right now, she wanted to get a read on him and see just the sort of man and player Zachary Ryan really was.