Page 13 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

speaking of magic

Grant

“Giroux and Cross?” I ask before taking a bite of my bacon. “They did okay in the last Cup final?”

Max Terry sits across from me, digging into an egg white omelet that makes my waffle and bacon look decidedly unhealthy.

He nods as he chews. “They did all right. They’re not well-integrated into the team, though, from what I can tell.

Both men keep to themselves. Cross is a Nervous-Nelly. Giroux’s just a bit of a snob.”

“And the new rookie?”

“Aiden Kennedy. Winger like Giroux. Did four years at Yale. Trying out some younger guys in case we lose Kaz.”

“Is the retirement talk real?” I ask.

He lifts a shoulder. “He hasn’t said anything to me and we talk regularly, but he’s at a place in his personal life where, if I were him, I’d be thinking about moving into management or coaching.”

“Kazmeirowicz is still so good, though.”

“He is. And he’s a great leader. And he’s just really come into his stride the past couple of seasons, honestly. His contract will have him with us another season at least, and then he’ll either come looking for more money or he’ll retire. We’ll deal with it, whichever way it plays out.”

“Any trades on the horizon I need to think about?”

“At the moment, no. But that’s where I need you.

Financially, we’re in good shape because we’re packing seats.

But we’ve got some seriously hefty contracts with Kazmeirowicz, Kolochev, Demoskev, and Dr?ghici—or the Ice Dragon as he’s affectionately known around here.

Lockhardt’s contract is nothing to sneeze at, either, and I think Zelenka’s agent must be asleep at the wheel, because I’d be demanding more money for him if I was worth my salt in that role. ”

“He plays a lot of minutes.”

“Since he got here. He’s been starting for us since his rookie year, which was what, maybe five seasons ago? I don’t know where we are with his contract, but I’d bet an extension will cost us a pretty penny.”

“And your new goalie?”

“Calum Lefleur,” he says, grinning. “Our own personal Sheldon Cooper.”

I smirk and raise an eyebrow. “He’s a physicist?”

“He’s like a savant. Probably could be a physicist. In fact, I think I heard one of the guys say he could’ve gone to MIT, but he chose hockey instead.

Now that he’s engaged to Billie Hirsch, no telling what he’ll be doing a few years from now.

When your fiancée’s career explodes into the stratosphere as hers just did, then maybe we see him playing guitar in her band at some point, you know? ”

“Goalies are a strange breed, for sure.” The headline story: NHL CHAMPION GOALKEEPER, CALUM LEFLEUR, TO MARRY BILLIE HIRSCH IN CELEbrITY WEDDING OF THE YEAR had been huge mainstream news at the end of last year.

There wasn’t anybody alive in the sport of hockey or the music industry who didn’t know about the goalie who was traded to Vegas from Montreal, met a drummer in a Las Vegas club band and fell in love, and how she wrote her Billboard number one single, “The Keeper,” just for him.

His Malibu beachside marriage proposal had been captured on video and covered literally by every club’s media team in the entire NHL.

“Let’s just say, I won’t be all that surprised if he hangs up his goalie helmet when his contract’s up in another three years, regardless of how many awards and Cups he’s earned, or what we could pay him,” Max says with a shake of his head.

“If I was married to Billie Hirsch? I might even leave hockey and go with her, so I can see his point. Who’s to say what any of us would do if we were married to a Grammy-nominated, rock-chick, superstar songwriter/drummer, you know?

We all do weird things for love…and also for this tremendous sport. ”

“Surely do,” Max says. “Including spending the bulk of my budget on a first-string.”

I chuckle at this. “It’s a strategy.”

“A strategy that has worked so far. They just have to stay healthy and committed. Evan’s injury allowed us to try out Giroux for more minutes and he’s solid. He’s not a superstar, but he’s solid. But beyond that, I think the depth just isn’t quite there, which makes me nervous.”

“Well, I get the choices you’ve made. You’ve invested in the right talent, and it’s paid off for you. I also understand why you’re worried. You’ve got big contracts to pay out and a city that expects you to keep giving the championship seasons.”

“It’s not implausible that we could become a legacy team,” Max says. “Look at Golden State. Look at the Patriots. With the right coaching and management, and a constant eye on recruiting and retaining top talent, there’s no reason we can’t be that for hockey.”

“Agreed. I’ll take a look, let you know where I think there are opportunities.”

“At the end of the day, I want a butt in every seat and an arena so loud it hurts your ears. In order to have that consistently, we can’t plateau. We can’t backslide.”

“Got it. Hearing you loud and clear. You think coaching is strong?”

“Brown is good. Great, really. Underrated, in my opinion.”

“The others?”

“They take his lead. I think we’re okay on coaching.”

“Well, if you’re underwhelmed by the talent on the bench, then I think coaching might need to step up its game. They need to pay as much attention to keeping second- and third-string strong and sharp as they do the front line.”

“Fair point. Watch a practice or two and let me know your thoughts,” Max suggests.

“Sounds good.”

We finish eating, and Max takes the bill before offering me a tour of the arena and offices.

I’ve got a whole team of people behind the scenes that I need to get to know now, so we take our time, starting in the administrative offices.

I meet the accounting and finance team, the arena operations team, the sales team, and the PR team.

A redheaded woman named Scarlett warns me not to drink the water here, and I laugh but then cast a confused glance at Max.

Max sighs. “Cupid has been busy around here the past few seasons. Kazmeirowicz met and married his wife here. Then Kolochev and Demoskev fell like dominoes right behind him. All in spite of a non-fraternization policy, too. Went straight out the window.”

“But I’d say it’s all for the best, right, Max? The guys are all better because they found us.” Scarlett gives Max a cheeky smile and a wink. To me, she says, “Maybe you’ll find your soulmate here, too.”

“Oh, already had a wife. I don’t need another one for now.”

“Making a note of that,” Scarlett says, tapping a finger to her temple. “We’ll make sure to get you on Vegas’ hottest bachelors list.”

“Anyway,” Max emphasizes, changing the subject away from the love lives of the players and staff, “I’m sure Scarlett and her team will have you up here getting your photo taken and blasting out your personal information on social media in no time.”

We head out of the office to tour the rest of the facility, finishing on the lower level with the locker rooms, weight room, and physical therapy offices.

I meet Georg Kolochev’s wife, Pam. I remember seeing the replays of her over-the-top marriage proposal to him in a Playboy Bunny suit, and she’s just as cheeky as I might have expected.

I like her, though, even more as she walks me through the philosophy of the physical therapy team.

Max tells me how she and her husband, Georg Kolochev, are in the process of adopting defensive teammate Tyler Lockhardt’s very young brother and sister after a custody emergency in the family.

“This place is kind of one big loving family, isn’t it?” I say more to myself than to Max as we walk down the hall.

“It is,” Max answers. “I think that’s one of the reasons the team has such magic on the ice. It would be hard to replace.”

“I confess, the more I learn, the more I realize how unique this team is.” It certainly wasn’t like this in Alberta. This level of team loyalty is matchless. But vital for success.

“Look, I’m not throwing Bud under the bus—because he really got us to where we are now—but he was a little clueless about this stuff.

He didn’t think about the chemistry of the whole organization.

He didn’t realize what kind of magic was happening.

I’m glad you see it already. It further proves you’re the right guy for the job. ”

“Well, I appreciate the confidence you’ve placed in me.”

We stop in front of a half-open door to what looks to be little more than a closet.

Max says, “Speaking of magic. This is our nutritionist’s office.

She’s been great with the guys. Got Kolochev off the sauce.

I think you’ll be impressed with her work with the team.

Just hoping she’s in so you can meet her today. ”

He pushes the door open, and I swear I just about swallow my own tongue.

“Devon Pearson,” Max says, “Meet our new GM, Grant Gerard.”

Devon’s brown eyes go wide with surprise, but she recovers quickly, standing and brushing off the front of her skirt, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I take her hand and clear my throat. “Nice to meet you.” It comes out more like a question. I keep shaking her hand for longer than I need to because her skin is just as soft as I remember. And she’s really fucking beautiful…just as I remember. Wait. Devon works here?

Aw, fuck!

Yeah, that.

That precise thing.

I’ve fucked one of my employees.

Well, technically, not my direct report, but a few rungs down. Not that it makes it any less awkward.

Fuuuck.

Figures that the one night I let myself go, throw caution to the wind, and it was with a woman I can’t have. I can’t be with an employee.

What are the chances?

But hold up here for just a goddamn minute.

I can’t let one slightly tipsy night mess with my dream job.

It was a one-time thing with Devon, and we were both okay with it. When I asked her if she wanted to keep in touch, she told me no. She said she wanted to leave our night together as a great time and keep it there in the past. And I agreed.

As I back away, I realize Max has asked Devon a whole question to which she is answering, and I haven’t heard a thing she’s said about the team’s nutrition program.

As I tune back in, Devon is talking about working with the guys on customizable nutrition plans.

She laughs as she says that the arena pub is going to want to put a hit out on her, because she’s about to do a dent in their lunchtime hamburger business.

I laugh but it comes out sounding fake, at least to me it does, and I frown to myself, only to find Devon’s smile falter as a result.

Awkward much?

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Devon. Thanks for what you do,” I say, stepping toward the door.

I know I’m being cold. I don’t want to be, but fuck.

Flashes of our night together invade my brain, her off-the-chain sexy cries when she was coming underneath me…

how she stared up at me when I was coming in her.

I blow out a breath and step into the hallway, hoping my dick will stay firmly under my immediate control. No need to sport a hard-on in front of the team’s owner and a new employee.

Holy hell. I need to get it together.

Focus, Gerard—on facts.

Devon’s an incredibly beautiful, funny, smart, and lovely woman who’s amazing in bed, but still…just someone I hardly know. We can get through this. We’ll laugh it off later. I hope.

It’s not until I get onto the elevator, trying hard to focus on whatever Max is saying about some capital repairs needed on this level, that I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

Devon is here in Vegas.

And we’ll be working in the same building.

So much for throwing away the past and starting fresh in Las Vegas.