Page 6 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Ryker

Igrit my teeth and swallow back the curse I’m dying to mutter.

This woman is a sadist.

I can tell just how much she’s enjoying watching me struggle…and I can’t even blame her.

I gave her so much shit about how she’s not qualified to be my skating coach, so now she’s taking every opportunity to run my ass off.

She skates around me, her fiery red ponytail swinging behind her.

She’s wearing black leggings, a black long-sleeve top, and white hockey skates.

She’s dressed like a figure skater who moonlights as an assassin, which I guess makes sense because she’s going to kill me with how hard she’s riding me during this training session.

She turns to look at me. “I wanna see how you accelerate quickly.”

I wipe my sweaty brow with the back of my forearm. “What do you mean?”

“When you’re standing still and you need to go from zero to a hundred, show me how you move.”

I angle my feet so the blades of my skates dig into the ice, then speed off across the ice.

When I skate back over to Maddy, her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s staring at me like she’s never been more annoyed.

“That was good,” she says. “Too bad that’s not how you actually move in the middle of a game.”

“What?”

“In the footage I’ve seen of you playing, you spin out.”

She makes a running-in-place motion with her skates.

I frown at her. “I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do. I’ve seen it. You do it when you’re lazy or not paying attention.”

Irritation shoots up my spine. “I’m never lazy when I play. I’m always locked in on whatever’s happening on the ice. Always.”

She purses those plump lips and pulls her phone out of the side pocket of her leggings. She taps the screen, then holds it up. A clip of me doing the exact thing I said I didn’t do plays.

My face heats with embarrassment. “I never noticed I did that.”

“Most players don’t,” she says, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Always angle your feet so that you can use your edges to accelerate quickly. When you don’t remember to do that, you end up running in place. That wastes so much time when every second counts.”

I exhale roughly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Do it again.”

I look at her. “I said I know what I did wrong. And you saw me do it correctly a minute ago.”

“You need to do it more so that you get used to it. So that you do it without thinking.”

I grit my teeth in annoyance, even though she’s right.

“Stand still, then take off as fast as you can. Use your edges.” Maddy says.

I do what she says, grimacing at the pain in my left ankle and knee. I stop, then turn back around and skate over to her.

“Again,” she says.

I sprint across the ice, stop, then head back over.

“Again.”

I bite down before taking off again. Fuck, if she says that word one more time, I’m gonna scream.

“Again.”

I take off once more. I’m soaked with sweat, my knee and ankle throbbing.

When I make over to her, I rest my hands on my hips and catch my breath.

Those stormy gray eyes are hard as she looks up at me. “I want you to run suicides next.”

I hold up a hand. “No way.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, the look in her eyes taunting. “No?”

“I can’t. My knee and my ankle can’t take any more.”

She tilts her head at me. “Really?”

“Really.”

She’s quiet for a second as she stares at me. “Then maybe we should stop for today.”

I nod, wincing as I stretch out my leg.

“And maybe you should have listened to me when I told you that you needed more time before training. Because maybe I know what I’m talking about. Maybe I’m actually good at this, and maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t write me off because of who my dad is.”

She skates off. I watch her disappear down the tunnel. I stand there, my entire left leg throbbing, feeling like the biggest dipshit on the planet.

Because she’s right. I should have listened to her. I should have rested for longer before jumping back into training. I should have listened to her when she insisted she knew what she was doing. She really does. She was able to pinpoint my weaknesses right off the bat and fix them quickly.

I tug a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, knowing exactly what I need to do—even though it’s the last thing in the world I want.

I need to keep training with her.