Page 31 of No Rhyme or Roughing (The Golden Guardians Hockey Hearts #1)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SYDNEY
My inbox was blowing up. Not literally, though I kind of wished it was.
It hadn’t even been a full day since the video went viral, and already a flood of potential clients had contacted my agent. She knew I liked to pick jobs myself, so she passed along my email address to the ones she thought I’d be interested in.
Which, apparently, was a lot.
I clicked through the emails, deleting a few before frustration set in.
One rule I had was that I didn’t work alone with men I didn’t know.
They needed to have a female manager or coordinator involved in my employment, something to create a sense of security.
That made it easy to filter out most of the offers. Almost all of them, in fact.
Then, I came across an interesting one.
It was from the assistant to the only female general manager in the National Hockey League. Intrigued, I picked up my phone and tapped my manager’s name.
She answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Is this one for real, Angela?” I asked. We’d worked together for a few years now, so she knew exactly what I meant.
“Ah, San Jose works fast,” she said with a soft laugh. “When they called me, I knew it would catch your eye.” We’d tagged both her social media account and mine in the video of the guys dancing. “I just got off the phone with them ten minutes ago.”
“This can’t be real.” The San Jose Sharks were interested in stepping up their in-game entertainment, especially during intermission shows.
They wanted more butts in seats, just like we did.
Hockey wasn’t the number one sport in America—or numbers two, three, or four. Many teams struggled with attendance.
“They want a conversation, Sydney,” Angela said, her smile clear in her tone.
“A conversation,” I repeated, still processing.
“Yes. Someone in management saw the videos of your boys in San Francisco. They want to see the effect it has on crowds, and they’d also like to set something up with you—if you can make it to San Jose soon.”
“Soon,” I echoed, biting my lip to keep from laughing. I’d go whenever they wanted. Working in San Jose would let me stay in the area. “Is it steady? ”
She knew what I meant. “You’d become a member of their staff.”
Not just a temporary gig, then. Stability. I glanced at the open door leading to the hall of my brother’s house. I could stay close to him. And Ryder? Shit, I hadn’t even considered that.
“Can I think about it?”
Angela laughed again. “Of course. Just know they’re willing to pay you well, with a bonus structure.”
We ended the call, and I sat there, not thinking exactly, just basking in the possibility. My phone beeped with a reminder, and I checked the time.
“Oh, crap.” I was going to be late.
Ryder, Teddy, and Rowan were already at practice, but there was a secret session on the ice afterward, just for the guys who’d agreed to dance in the game tomorrow night. I’d stayed up most of the night working on choreography I thought they could master in such a short time.
These were hockey players. They were used to cramming a lot into their heads and turning it into muscle memory.
There was no stupidity in this sport. Sure, some of them may have barely finished high school, but to excel in this game, they needed that elusive factor—the ability to read plays, know exactly where to be, and communicate nonverbally.
I scrambled off the bed, stuffed my feet into a pair of sneakers, and dashed outside to my car, still dented from my initial run-in with Ryder.
Maybe it was time to upgrade from a Prius anyway. If I went no-contact with my parents, using the trust fund Dad gave me might not feel so terrible. It wouldn’t be about benefiting from the relationship but taking what I was owed after everything he’d done to us.
First-world problems—trust funds and teaching hockey players to dance.
I shook my head as I turned out of Teddy’s neighborhood and headed toward the Bay Bridge. Traffic was mostly at a standstill, inching forward painfully slowly. By the time I reached the rink, nearly an hour had passed.
When I walked onto the ice, they were all waiting for me. Red-faced and drenched in sweat, they’d clearly stripped out of their pads after practice, leaving only thin workout shirts that clung to every ridge, every... bulge. Of their chests, obviously.
Lord help me. Ten of them, each beautiful in their own way.
Ryder smirked as I stepped onto the ice. I’d never been a great skater, so I opted to walk in sneakers.
“Something wrong, Sydney?” he asked.
Snapping out of my trance, I shook my head. “No.”
“Because you’re staring.”
It was nearly impossible to rip my gaze away from his soaked shirt and that wicked curve of his lips.
The player to his right, a giant with a thick black beard and arms I doubted I could wrap both hands around, ran a hand down his chest.
Another stretched, raising his arms high above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin.
“For fuck’s sake,” Teddy groaned. “Jules, put your fucking arms down. Vasiliev, stop leering at my sister. Yes, she probably finds you impossible to resist, but right now, I find you both impossible not to hit.” He scowled at Ryder. “And you can shove that damn smirk up your ass. ”
Rowan chuckled.
Teddy shot him a glare.
He laughed harder.
A shorter man—for a hockey player—skated over to me, stopping close. “Bonjour, ma chérie.”
His charming grin and French accent nearly made my knees give out.
A large hand landed on his shoulder, yanking him back. I expected Teddy, but it was Ryder, nearly putting his teammate on his ass.
Words failed me. Talking to people had never been my strength, and facing a horde of incredibly good-looking hockey players was torture. Amusing slightly, but still torture.
This was a job, I reminded myself. They weren’t paying me, but I had a purpose. I’d trained rock stars and athletes before. I could do this.
“You okay?” Ryder asked, his voice low.
Lifting my chin, I said firmly, “Please join the rest of your team.”
He looked surprised but obeyed.
Walking to the front, I surveyed the group. “I’ve got to say,” I began, “I’m surprised this many of you agreed to this.”
“There should’ve been more,” Ryder muttered, frowning.
“No, this is perfect. Ten is a good number. It won’t crowd the ice. You’ll all have room.” I stopped in front of the bearded giant. “You’re quite large, aren’t you?”
The others chuckled, but I was regaining my confidence, openly and honestly evaluating my dancers as part of the process .
Vasiliev narrowed his eyes. I should’ve felt intimidated, but I wanted to hug him. He was a giant bear. Even as he tried to scowl, I could see the softness in him.
“It’s okay.” I patted his arm. “I can teach anyone to dance.”
Red crept up his neck. “I know little,” he mumbled.
At first, I thought he meant he didn’t know much. Then, I realized he’d left out a word. “You know how to dance?”
He ducked his head, mumbling something I couldn’t make out.
“What?” I leaned closer.
“Was figure skater.”
“You were a figure skater?” My voice carried, and I winced as the others erupted in laughter. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “As children.”
“That’s amazing.” I smiled. “You’ll be the lead. There’s always someone the group can look to if they get tripped up or fall out of rhythm, especially beginners. And it definitely won’t be Ryder.”
“I feel like I should be offended,” Ryder said, though he looked amused.
“She speaks true, Captain,” Vasiliev said. “You not good.”
Laughter burst from Teddy, so I turned to him. “Don’t worry, brother. You’re worse.”
“Je suis amoureux de toi,” Antoine murmured.
Both Teddy and Ryder smacked him on the back of the head.
Ignoring them, I clapped my hands. “Vasiliev, stand in front. The rest of you, spread out. Let’s begin.”
“I’m heading out,” Teddy said, skating toward us as the rest of the team filtered off the ice after our dance lesson. “You good to catch a ride with Syd?” He directed the question to Ryder as Jules ruffled my hair on his way past.
Ryder shrugged. “Yeah. Guardian probably needs to be let out of his crate. You go.”
Vasiliev stopped in front of us, spraying ice over my shoes. “Thank you.” He pressed his hands together in a praying motion and dipped his head. “We do good.”
“Well,” I laughed, “you’ll do something.”
He grinned, a dimple appearing as he glanced between Ryder and me before heading off. Only Rowan lingered on the ice, watching us closely, as though he were waiting for something.
“You okay there, Gonzo?” Ryder asked, frowning.
Rowan didn’t answer. His eyes flicked between us, and I realized Ryder was standing close—too close. His body angled toward mine, and the space between us felt deliberate. Intimate.
Rowan’s heavy sigh filled the silence as he gave a single shake of his head before stepping off the ice, leaving Ryder and me alone.
We stood there, the quiet rink amplifying the sound of his retreating steps.
A nervous laugh escaped me. “I feel gross.” I took a step back, creating more space between us. Cold sweat clung to my shirt, making me feel far too seen.
Ryder followed, his skates moving faster than my feet. Leaning down, he pressed his nose into the curve where my neck met my shoulder. “You definitely don’t smell gross.”
Another laugh slipped out, my defense mechanism in full force. “You’re just saying that because you’re thinking about kissing me.”
“Are you not thinking about kissing me?”
“Always.”
The word tumbled out before I could stop it, and Ryder’s lips curved against my skin. His nose brushed up my neck, and I froze, my back pressing against the boards. The warm slide of his tongue tracing a path to my ear sent a shiver through me, a sharp contrast to the cold air of the rink.
But I pushed away, walking toward center ice. “Ryder… what happened between us…” I couldn’t finish the thought. Saying it aloud would reveal too much—the need I couldn’t hide from my voice.