The night was manageable. Harper wouldn't necessarily call it fun but it was definitely enlightening. Zachary Ryan was as arrogant as she initially believed and then some. He oozed confidence and had no problem talking about what he was good at. What Harper found she liked about him was that he had no problem admitting what he needed to work on. He didn't check out all the girls that were clamoring for attention or an autograph though he didn't completely ignore them either. He answered her questions without preamble, direct and to the point. She started getting a better understanding of who he was and she found that she began to respect him, despite the rumors. 

Harper made sure she didn't touch on his personal life unless it directly correlated to the sport, such as who took him to hockey practice, when did he start playing, who were his childhood heroes he looked up to for motivation. She made no move to ask about girlfriends or his mysterious love life - he never seemed to have a steady girlfriend though there were a few casual ones - or even touch on the rumors that followed him from Toronto.

She and Katella ended up leaving relatively early - a few hours after they arrived - both seemingly content with their respective nights. Harper noticed Katella dancing a lot with Alexander Vane, the defensive player who was also a goon, poised to send a message or start a fight if the team needed it. Katella was a fabulous dancer and in Alexander’s hands, she moved beautifully, liked she belonged there. As far as Harper saw, they didn't make out at any point but there was chemistry that was undeniable.

"Thanks again," Harper said when Katella took her to her car.

"Thank you," Katella said with a smile and a wave before heading inside. "Have fun at practice tomorrow."

That's right, Harper thought to herself. I have another article I need to write. She smirked to herself as she slid in the car. God, she loved her job.

* * *

Harper finished her article on Zack Ryan the next day. She emailed it to Seraphina and took her time to do what she always did on Sunday - walk the Back Bay and buy a frozen banana on Balboa Island. When she got home, Seraphina emailed her back with a couple of edits and the approval for it to be published on the Gulls' blog that day. It didn't take long for Harper to post it, and from there, she shut off her computer, refused to check her smartphone, and decided to play her game.

Monday morning, she received an eight AM call from Seraphina requesting she attend the Gulls' nine am practice and write a piece about how they look. "And be honest," Seraphina added. "Practices are open to the public so don't bullshit. Not that you ever do, but don't feel you need to write as a homer."

Harper hopped in the shower and threw on her clothes - a fitted plaid shirt with the long sleeves rolled up to the elbows, tight skinny jeans, and worn converse shoes. She didn't have time to blow dry her hair so she tossed the wet locks in a messy bun and threw an old baseball cap over it. A couple of stray strands slipped out of the binding and framed her face. She hoped they wouldn't frizz up when they dried.

The drive was easy - no more than fifteen minutes - but the parking wasn't as empty as she expected. A lot of people probably wanted to see the new team practice together. Once she parked, she grabbed her tote bag and headed into the arena. The practice rink was down a long circular hall and broke off to the right. She slipped in unnoticed and headed up the stairs where half the stone rows were already filled with spectators.

Harper took a seat off to the side just as the Zamboni finished cleaning the ice. She pulled out her notebook and pen, and once the players made their way into the ice, began to take notes.

* * *

The team was rusty. No doubt about it. There was no syncopation yet because the majority of them had never played together. However, they had potential. That much was clear.

Besides Ryan, there were nine new players Seraphina acquired either through waivers or during the off-season. NHL analysts actually gave the team an A+ for their acquisitions because Seraphina managed to increase depth while remaining well under cap. Some still criticized her choices - there were a few players with controversies of their own, including Alexander Vane, a fourth line goon who was arrested for battery after he defended a female fan from a groping male and Oscar Solis, a top defenseman known for being a pest on the blue line and who, like Zachary, had no problem answering the call to fight if need be. Gregory Russell was the person Seraphina spent the most money on but someone worthy of the investment, despite the fact that he was in his early thirties and kind of a jerk. He was a second line center with more experience than Zachary Ryan, but no Cup. Kyle Underwood would serve as Ryan’s right winger.

Harper was waiting outside the locker room for the team to get decent before she got to go in and interview them exclusively. Questions swirled in her mind and she kept clicking her pen, trying to make sure they made sense to her, trying to make sure she didn't sound like a complete fool when she interviewed these players, the coaches.

Someone propped the door open, indicating that she was free to come in. She took a breath and made sure her recorder was on and she was ready. When she stepped in, the first thing she noticed was the smell.  It reeked of body odor and body spray and she had to hold her breath so she wouldn't choke. They were gathered in a circle around their coach, all of them listening to what he was saying. No one really noticed her, which she preferred so she could get ready and prepare. Everyone except Zachary Ryan, that is.

His crisp blue eyes found her and he gave her a little half smirk, like he could see straight through her. Like he knew she was frazzled on the inside despite the cool demeanor she was holding onto on the inside. His dark blond hair was messy and sweaty and the crease from his helmet was visible on his forehead. He had no shirt on - oh my god, look at that body. Now I know how rappers feel when they talk about butts - so his broad shoulders and toned chest and sculpted abdominal muscles glistened with sweat for everyone to see.

Well, actually, only for her to see since his teammates weren't exactly checking him out.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to look away. She would not look at him. She would not let him get to her.

"...lot of work to do," Coach Cherney concluded. He clapped his hands together before rubbing them up and down. "But we can get through it. We've just gotta stick to the plan."

When he finished, Cherney looked over at Harper, as though he knew she had been there the entire time. "You're Harper, right?" he asked. He waved her over before she could respond. "Sera told me about you. You're here to write about our practice."

Harper swallowed as every player turned to look at her. She refused to notice Zach's smile get bigger on his face.

She cleared her throat. "Um, yes." She nodded her head and felt her fingers clutch her pen tighter. She hated attention. She liked writing for a reason. It gave her the opportunity to work alone where she answered to no one but herself. Now, she was still writing - for a salary and health benefits - but she was given assignments that involved her interviewing people and spending time with them and getting to know them. And not just a few people, but an entire hockey team and their coaching staff.

"Why don't you introduce yourself to us, and then you can grab a few players and get some quotes," Cherney suggested.

Cherney was intimidating even though he was a smaller-built guy. When he played hockey, he used to play defense, which didn't make sense because he was so small and so lean. He was bald with a bushy mustache that crawled over his top lip. He was known for being direct and had no problem being confrontational. He was old school and did things his way without adapting to the times, which could definitely be an issue depending on how this new team responded to his coaching. However, he seemed to be nothing short of friendly and Seraphina had nothing but good things to say about him. Even now, he was looking at her with warmth even though they had yet to be formally introduced.

Except for the fact that he was making her introduce herself to everyone. Except for the fact that he put her on the spot.

"I'm Harper," she said, forcing a smile. She sounded more confident than she felt, which was a good thing. She hoped her smile came off as genuine rather than as a grimace. "You'll be seeing a lot of me. I'm the team blogger and I'll be writing a lot about you as players, you as people, and you as a team. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to me."

"Do you let your subjects read the articles you write before you publish them?"

Harper's eyes narrowed in on Zach. There was that dry glint in his eye, the cocky smirk on his chiseled face. He stood there without a shirt on, only in the leggings all hockey players wore under their hockey pants, padding, and socks. She refused to look at his chest, refused to explore the muscles with her eyes, refused to give him that satisfaction. He was a gorgeous specimen but he knew that and it took any endearment away.

"Are you worried?" The quip was out of her mouth before she could stop it and her tone was challenging and possibly flirtatious.

Especially after her conversation from last night.

She didn't like the way he was looking at her. She didn't like that gleam in his eyes, the particular curve of his smile directed at her, his body language. But she was starting to understand who he was and she knew how to respond to that. She wasn't nervous around him anymore. In fact, she was secure, bold in her confidence of herself. He liked a challenge; she would give it to him.

"If you have any questions," she said, her eyes finding Zach once again. "I have an office on the second floor of the Ice Palace that I will be moving into Monday. Feel free to reach out to me. I look forward to working with you."

The team collectively welcomed her in their own way but she didn't hear them. He hadn't looked away from her. Another challenge. She got that.

Challenge accepted.

God, she hoped it wasn't flirtatious.