Page 8

CHAPTER 8

ELLE

T he first thing I notice when I step into Sutton’s office isn’t the view of the city skyline or the gleaming white leather furniture, though both are certainly attention-grabbing. No, it’s the spread of food laid out on a small dining table in the center of the room.

I pause for a second, eyes widening. She said we’d have dinner before my first game. I was thinking tacos from a local spot, but this? Chuckling, I take it all in. Sutton does not do things halfway.

The table is covered with delicate hand-painted plates, crystal wine glasses gleaming in the soft lighting. There’s a spread of everything from fresh seafood to melt-in-your-mouth steaks and, because Sutton is Sutton, there’s even a tray of gourmet desserts over on her desk that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel.

“You weren’t kidding when you said dinner,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “This is serious.”

Sutton flashes me a grin as she leans back in her oversized chair, a glass of wine in hand. “Well, it’s not every day our new coach survives her first week,” she says, her tone playful, though there’s pride behind it. “So I thought we’d celebrate. Plus, Tommy’s food is practically a gift from the gods. I’m just facilitating.”

I glance over the spread again, feeling the weight of the week start to ease off me. I guess a catered meal is the kind of thing that says “Welcome to the family” without any actual words.

“Tommy’s? Really?” I tease, giving her a look.

“We’re celebrating. ‘Heels’ Carter is in the house!” She grins my way, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “I always thought ‘hell on heels’ would be a good nickname for you.”

“Sutton,” I groan.

“Oh, come on. I love that the press shows one snippet of you at the end of a game trucking across the ice, and in your Manolo Blahniks, no less, to join the team. You exuded grace.”

“Thank you,” I say with a giggle. “But, I don’t own Manolo Blahniks. These heels are straight up from Payless.”

Sutton gasps. “No! They’re so cute!” She points to a small container on the table. “Caviar?”

“I’m good.” Talk about an odd couple. “I thought you were ‘just a low-key kind of gal’ these days?”

She shrugs, unbothered as she leans over and scoops up a bite of caviar with the most perfect toasted triangle of bread I’ve ever seen. “When the food is this good, even I’ll make an exception. Besides, you’ve got to try the scallops. I’ve never had anything like them.”

I roll my eyes dramatically, even though my mouth is watering. “Scallops, huh? This must be what it’s like to have money.”

Sutton laughs, then waves her hand dismissively like she’s trying to downplay the extravagance of it all. “You’re not wrong. But what’s the point of having it if you don’t enjoy it, right?”

I give her a pointed look. “If I had your kind of money, I’d probably own a yacht by now.”

The Mahoney family is an institution in these parts. Old family, old money, old ways…at least they were until Sutton stepped in. As a younger, more “finger on the pulse” kind of matriarch, she’s brought the Mahoneys out of the past and into a bright forward-thinking future with ease.

“Who says I don’t have one?” Sutton’s eyes gleam, a little too mischievous. She picks up her wine glass and takes a slow sip, watching me with an expression that could only be described as satisfied. “So, how was your first week?” she asks, setting the glass down and leaning forward, clearly interested.

The weight of the question lands on me. It’s only been a few days, but so much has already happened. Mostly with one player. There’s a lot to unpack, though I don’t really want to get into the nitty-gritty. I pick up a fork and start on the fresh salad in front of me, buying myself a few seconds to figure out how to answer.

“It’s been...well, it’s been a lot,” I admit, popping a bite of something crispy and green into my mouth. I wave my fork vaguely. “I mean, it’s like every moment is a test. The guys have been more welcoming than I thought they would be, at least the majority of them are.”

Sutton takes another sip of her wine, studying me over the rim of her glass, the familiar glint of mischief in her eyes. “You knew Dixon might be an uphill battle,” she says, reading my mind as always.

I stab my fork into my salad, avoiding her gaze for a moment, the thought of Dixon’s standoffishness still weighing heavily on my mind. “He’s definitely more closed off than I expected. To the point I’m waiting for him to throw a big party to celebrate my failure.”

Sutton raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my take. “I bet he’s trying to figure you out,” she says, waving her hand dismissively like this is some simple phase we’re going through. “You’ve got a strong presence, Elle. It’s gonna take a minute for him to get used to the idea of having someone who’s not just a coach around, but is also someone he shares history with. It’ll be fine.”

I roll my eyes, trying not to smile. “I wish I had your positive attitude.”

“I’m not saying it won’t be tough, but you’re tougher,” Sutton adds with a shrug. She picks up her glass, takes another sip, and then looks over at me. “Besides, he’s Dixon.” Amusement creeps into her voice. “The guy’s a freaking wall when it comes to being closed off. It’s his thing. But he’s good, Elle. Really good. I’ve seen him face down shooters that most people would have crumbled against.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. Sutton has always had a way of showing me the bigger picture, even when I’m too close to the ground to see it. “His skills as a goalie are pretty legendary.”

Sutton leans back in her chair, an almost thoughtful expression crossing her face as she lets the words hang in the air. “More than just his skills, though. His ability to focus when the going gets ridiculous is what sets him apart. He’s the type of guy who blocks out everything—except the puck coming straight at him.”

“And you think that’s what makes him the type of guy who makes it hard for people to break through?” I ask, poking at my salad again, trying to keep the conversation light.

Sutton smirks. “Yes. Which is why I’m not worried. He just needs time to see you as more than someone from his past. You’ll get through to him, I’m sure of it.”

I give her a small nod, but I’m still not convinced. I’ve seen how hard it can be to break through someone like Dixon, even when they’re good at what they do. The tension between us is palpable, but I’m determined to make this work. For everyone’s sake, including my own.

I finally glance up at Sutton, catching her eye. “I hope you’re right.”

Sutton’s eyes twinkle and she shifts in her seat, clearly warming up to a new topic. “Anyway, let’s talk about something a little more fun, shall we?” She leans forward, her voice turning teasing. “Have you had any distractions outside of coaching since you’ve settled into River City? I mean, surely someone as”—she pauses dramatically, letting a grin tug at her lips—“beautiful and talented as you has had a few suitors.”

“Suitors?” I choke on my wine. “What? You’re going there already?”

“Yes, suitors,” she says, her twang sounding twangier as her glass of wine dwindles. “You’re a total babe, Elle. I give you two months tops before someone wants to make sure they catch you.”

“Ew.” I giggle as I shake my head. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of trophy to be claimed.”

Sutton laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Well, maybe not a trophy, but you’re certainly not the kind of woman guys just forget about. And trust me, you’ll be on their radar soon enough.”

I roll my eyes, half-amused, half-annoyed. “Oh great, now I have to start dodging admirers? Like I don’t have enough on my plate.”

Sutton smirks, her gaze sharpening with a more knowing look. “Let me cut to the chase. Is Eric trying to make contact?”

The mention of his name hits me like a cold rush of air. I take a slow sip of my wine, trying not to let my frustration show, but Sutton’s already leaning forward, her elbows on the table.

“Eric,” she repeats, almost like a dare. “He’s been texting you, hasn’t he? Ever since the whole ‘new coach’ thing was announced.”

I try not to flinch, but it’s impossible. “Yeah,” I admit quietly, setting my glass down. “He’s been reaching out a lot, actually. Wants me to do him a favor, score him an interview with a player most likely.”

Sutton’s lips curl into a sharp smile that’s not even close to friendly. “Oh, I’m sure that is exactly what Eric wants,” she says with a low chuckle. “He shows up when it’s convenient and works for his manipulative ways. That guy never changes.”

My stomach drops at her tone, but before I can say anything, she adds, “I don’t know if I told you, but he tried to get me once, too. A few years ago, when I first started working with the Renegades. He thought he could write some hit piece about me, get some dirt for a story. But I shut that down quick. My lawyers took care of him.”

I blink, surprised at how casually she says it, but there’s a certain pride in her voice that I can’t help but admire. “What? He tried to smear you? You mean, like in the press?”

“Yep,” Sutton says, her eyes gleaming with that same fierce determination I’ve come to know her for. “Tried to say I wasn’t fit to own the team, that I didn’t have the experience to be successful. I think he railed against me being a woman who owned an AHL team. But my lawyers worked fast. We shut it down before it went anywhere. He’s a rat, Elle. He always has been.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for Eric at this point. Sutton’s right. I’ve seen his underhanded tactics up close, and I know the type of person he is.

“I’ve been ignoring his texts, not returning calls, and I’ve set my email so he goes to spam automatically,” I say with a sigh, pouring myself a glass of water. Not all of us can indulge, not on the night of my first game anyway. “I’m hoping he’s like a rash and will go away if I don’t rub him. But he’s relentless. I’m just worried he’s not going to stop until he gets his way.”

“Then make sure he doesn’t,” Sutton says, her eyes narrowing. “If he comes near you again, you let me know. I’ll make sure he knows exactly who he’s messing with.”

I smile, genuinely grateful for her support. “Thanks, Sutton. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She lifts her glass with a grin. “You don’t have to worry about Eric. Just focus on what you’re here to do. The Renegades need you, and I’ve got your back.”

I raise my own glass to that. “Deal.”

Just as I’m about to take another sip, the door to Sutton’s office swings open. A familiar voice rings out, light and teasing.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

I glance up to see Hayden leaning against the doorframe with her hands tucked casually into her hoodie pockets. She’s dressed in loose-fitting workout gear with her shoulder-length hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. There’s no mistaking her—she’s got that same fierce confidence I’ve always had, and a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“Hayden!” I say, my face lighting up as I get to my feet. “What are you doing here?”

“As soon as practice was over, I caught the bus so I could get here for the game,” she says, grinning. “I figured my presence would help in case you’re in need of some serious inspiration for your coaching career.”

Sutton rises from her chair, her warm smile never faltering. “Hayden, darling! I’m so glad you could join us. How’s everything going with homeschooling? I hear you’ve been keeping up with a full schedule, juggling your training and schoolwork.”

Hayden flashes Sutton a quick smile, her eyes sparkling with the same energy that makes her such a force on the ice. “It’s going well,” she says with a shrug. “A lot of work, but my tutor’s great. I still get to keep up with my training. Coach is pushing me hard, but you know, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Sutton nods approvingly. “I admire the discipline, I really do. Not everyone can manage both.” She winks, casting a playful look in my direction. “And I have no doubt we’ll be seeing you flying up the ranks someday soon.”

Hayden chuckles, clearly enjoying the attention. “Who knows? Maybe.” She steps into the room, her gaze quickly moving from Sutton to me. “So, what’s the deal tonight? Am I sitting close to the action or in a box?”

I smile at her. She’s got some options, but I already know what her answer will be. “I’ve reserved a spot in the section where the players’ wives and girlfriends usually sit. It’s a great view, under the owners’ box at the top of the stands.”

Hayden raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming. “That sounds nice, but I’m not here to watch the game from a distance. I want to feel the energy. I want to see the hits, the fast breaks, the rush of it all. I want to be right there.”

Sutton chuckles, clearly amused by Hayden’s fiery spirit. “Well, if that’s the case, sweetheart, you’re welcome to sit with me in the owners’ box. It’s a great view, there’s a television so you get to see the plays, it’s comfortable, and?—”

“No thanks,” Hayden interrupts, holding up a hand as if to stop the offer before it even goes too far. “I appreciate it, but I’m here for the game .” She gestures wildly, her eyes shining with excitement. “I want to feel the Renegades spirit around me, you know?”

“You want the stands,” I say, knowing my girl.

“I want the stands.” She looks at Sutton apologetically. “I like to take my chances sitting with the fans, close to the action.”

I can’t help but laugh at her determination. Sutton shakes her head with a knowing smile. “You’ve got your aunt’s fire, no doubt.” Then she turns to the phone on her desk, pressing a button that summons some nearby assistant. “Sonya, please grab a Renegades sweatshirt for Hayden, will you? She’ll need something to blend in with the crowd.”

Once Sutton disconnects the call, Hayden grins, her posture relaxed but confident. “I’m definitely more of a fan-in-the-stands kind of gal. You know, where the real energy is.”

“Alright, alright. You’re making me feel guilty that I like the owners’ box,” Sutton teases as she gives her a playful look. “Just make sure you’re showing some team spirit when you’re out there. You’re a member of the Renegades family now, after all.”

I watch Hayden, her energy infectious, and I feel a pang of pride. She’s got so much potential, and one day, she’s going to be just as much of a force in the sport as anyone out on that ice tonight.

“We need a toast.” Sutton pours a glass of water, passing it to Hayden before she raises her own glass into the air. “To the next generation.”

Hayden’s eyes light up as she raises hers, too. “To making it all the way to the top.”

I can’t be left out of this. “To breaking barriers, taking risks, and proving that anything’s possible when you’ve got the drive to back it up.”

We clink our glasses, the sound sharp and full of promise. In that moment, as a woman who’s found her own way in a sport she’s always loved, I feel a sense of connection with both of them: Sutton, the wise and experienced leader, and Hayden, the young star with her eyes set on greatness.

There’s a knock before Sutton’s office door swings open, her assistant strolling in and handing Hayden the Renegades sweatshirt. She pulls it on over her head, her expression lighting up as she sees the logo on the front.

“Thanks,” Hayden says with a wink. “I think this will do just fine.”

Sutton’s eyes twinkle as she gives a satisfied nod. “You wear it well, kid. Now, let’s go watch the game.”