Page 13

Chapter 13

Captain Cooper

Cooper

Scout was working us a little harder now. By the end of our workout Monday, we were all sweating and feeling some burn.

“Fuck. Why is this so hard every year?”

Ducky grinned at Royston. “Cause you’re old, dude.”

“Easy on the old , baby Duck.”

“Is matter of chemistry. Eat well, sleep well, exercise well, and body will perform.”

A moment of silence followed Petrov’s announcement. He wasn’t wrong, but it was just…not very encouraging.

Ducky shook his head. “Well, all work and no play makes everyone kind of boring. Who’s in for poker Wednesday night?”

“I’m in,” Royston said.

“I can do that,” Crash agreed.

I pulled off my T-shirt. “Sorry, I can’t.”

“Hot date?” Ducky asked.

I grinned. “Not quite what you’re thinking of, Duckster. I’m going to the driving range.”

Ducky looked at the partially dressed men around him. “We could do that instead.”

I held up my hands. “Sorry, it’s a private thing.”

“But you said it’s not a date.”

“It’s not. It’s a lesson.”

JJ, normally so quiet you could forget him, spoke up. “But it’s with a woman, right?”

My cheeks heated and what the fuck was up with that? “Yes, I’m helping her get ready for a golf tournament in September. She’s never golfed before.”

“She must be hot.”

Was she? Not conventionally. She was also blunt, a little prickly, and honest. It somehow made her relaxing to be with. “It’s not like that. We’re…friends.”

Ducky cocked his head. “That’s cool, I guess.”

JJ frowned at me. “I don’t remember you talking about a woman friend.”

“I have women friends. Faith Devereaux. Her teammates, like Tempo and her roommate Megan Thomson.”

“Faith is different. She’s your best friend’s wife. And Thomson has a crush on you. Had. I hear she’s with someone now.”

I shrugged. A lot of people had a crush on Cooper, the face of the Toronto Blaze. “Well, now I have Callie.”

“Have you known her long?”

“Not sure why this seems worth discussing, but I am spending Wednesday and Friday teaching a friend, who happens to be a woman, to golf. As a favor. So, I won’t be playing poker with Ducky. She’s someone I met recently, and she doesn’t want half the hockey team watching her learn.”

“How about Thursday, then?”

I agreed to Thursday, and conversation moved on to whether Royston was allowed to join.

I was dressing back in the street clothes I’d worn today—dress pants and a short-sleeved shirt—when JJ came out of the showers. The others had gone, and I’d leave once JJ was ready.

“They don’t mean anything by it, you know.”

I gave him a sharp glance. “No?”

JJ pulled on his briefs. “They know you as Captain Cooper.”

“Jesus. That sounds like a cheesy superhero.”

“You’re our James Bond.”

I paused, checking JJ for an unexpected concussion. “What the hell?”

He gave one of his rare laughs. “Not that you’re a spy. But you’re good-looking, good at what you do, well dressed and always on top of things. You lead us. This group you set up to work out here? You’re being the captain, watching over us and helping us prepare for the new season. But that’s Captain Cooper. There’s another Cooper behind who’s a little less perfect, but we don’t see him much.”

JJ was quiet, but he observed. We’d been linemates for three seasons now. He was guarded, so he knew me better than I knew him.

“Captain Cooper, if you follow the analogy, doesn’t have women friends. He has dates, and they don’t last long. I know Hunter and Faith are your friends, and I like to think I am too. But these guys, even though they don’t know you as well, picked up that this is a little different.”

“I’m not completely altruistic. I’m helping her prepare for a golf tournament, and she’s my date for a family wedding which will be a shitshow.”

He stood up, throwing on a T-shirt. “If she’s a friend, that’s good. You need people you can be yourself around.”

“So do you, JJ. You have your twin and who else?”

“You, I hope.”

“Get your shoes on and let’s go before we start crying and making friendship bracelets.”

He flashed a grin. “As you wish, Captain Cooper.”

I threw a towel at him.

* * *

Callie

I wore more of the golf clothes I’d bought. A driving range in the city might not have a strict dress code like an expensive country club, but I liked these clothes. They felt good, and I felt good knowing I looked good.

Since Cooper, I didn’t even want to wear some of my old stuff. At least I had a few new blouses to wear at the office, in the colors that Cooper and Valerie had picked to make me look good. And they did. I didn’t know why, and wouldn’t dare try something different on my own, but these colors were now going to be staples in my wardrobe.

I was waiting for Cooper at the door to my building when he pulled up. I managed to get in the car before he came around to help me.

“I hope you won’t do that when we’re at the wedding.”

“What?” What the hell had I done wrong?

“Get in the car before I can open the door.”

“But that’s just a waste of time. I’m perfectly capable of opening my own door.”

“Still.”

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. “Basically, when we’re with your family it’s like being at the country club permanently.”

“That sums it up pretty well.”

“What was that like when you were growing up?”

He shrugged. “It was all we knew. All our friends were the same, so I thought it was normal. Until I started playing hockey.”

I shot him a glance. He was focused on driving, eyes slightly narrowed, hands relaxed on the wheel. He looked confident, even with buses cutting in and taxis treating yellow lights like greens.

Growing up the way he did was part of that confidence. He knew how to behave in any situation, how to be part of the in group. But despite that, he’d chosen hockey. I was curious about that, but it wasn’t my business.

Still, I let the pause linger in case he wanted to share, but instead he told me about the place we were going.

I wasn’t sure what to expect at a driving range, but this was a Cooper kind of place. There was parking that he could access with a card. Everything was clean, modern-looking and well cared for. He’d brought some clubs along, and I followed him to the entrance.

“Mr. Cooper, so glad to see you. We have your bay waiting for you.”

He smiled his easy, charming smile, dimples in play, and the man’s face lit up. He led us to “our” bay, as he called it. Cooper asked him questions as we walked, me following a couple of steps behind. I saw a lot of people do a double take, then watch Cooper.

Apparently the golfing contingent were big hockey fans.

Our friendly guide showed Cooper how everything worked, which made me think Cooper hadn’t been here before. Had he set this up all for me?

“Would you like a picture?” Cooper asked our guide, who was still lingering.

The man’s eyes lit up. “If you don’t mind.”

Cooper posed for several shots, and then, reluctantly, Cooper’s new friend left.

Something relaxed in Cooper—his shoulders were less rigid, his mouth softened, and he let out a long breath.

“Tough day?”

He turned to me and forced a smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

I held up a hand. “I’m not asking for secrets about hockey or whatever. You just seemed tense. Are you sure you want to do this tonight?”

“Yeah. I do. Did you follow what he told us?”

I rolled my eyes. “What he told you. I don’t think he noticed I was here.”

“Does that bother you?”

“It’s fine. Honestly. I’m good at being in the background. You’ll just have to explain to me why the balls are going up and down on those tee things, and what’s with tapping that card?”

Turned out this was a fancy automated system that would set different tee heights and would keep track of your shots.

“It’s very elaborate.”

“People take their golf seriously. Another time we can even virtually play Briarwood.”

I did not understand that kind of obsession. “Do they insist on a dress code when you do?”

Cooper laughed. Maybe I was thinking too much about it, but it felt like a real laugh, not one that was part of the Cooper experience he gave his fans.

“I haven’t tried it, so I don’t know. But you’re covered with what you’re wearing. Now, let’s see if we can improve your swing with a little practice.”

Two hours later I’d learned a few things. I was never going to be a real golfer—the kind of person who chose to spend hours hitting a ball with a club. Because it was kind of boring. I knew a little better how to swing a club and hit the ball so the ball went farther, the way it was supposed to. And I knew I’d been right that Cooper was incredibly patient.

Since I was the person with the most to learn, I spent most of the time on deck, and Cooper had to be behind the red line. Which meant people passing by felt they had access to him.

And they all wanted to be in that Cooper orbit. They wanted to share in his charisma and be close to their hero. I learned more about being a public figure than I did about golf. I was starting to believe he earned his inflated salary for playing hockey.

He did his best to balance being polite with fans and helping me. I was getting the hang of what I was doing, so I didn’t need as much input from him. But one blowhard with a loud voice started to talk about “terrible loss” and “failure” and Cooper’s smile grew more rigid. I wanted to shove the man out of our bay, but if Cooper was working so hard to protect his image, it wouldn’t be helpful to undo it. And the guy had money, based on his clothes and an entitled air, so someday he might be a client.

Instead, I straightened, shoved my boobs out a touch, and did my best to sound sweet and flirty. “Coop, babe, I need some help here.”

Blowhard turned as if he’d just realized there were more people around than him and Cooper. I tried a pout.

Cooper’s rigid smile changed into something real. “Coming, honeybun.” He turned to Blowhard. “She needs me.” Disgruntled, Blowhard stood while Cooper walked over to me. “How can I help you, babe?” His eyes were glinting.

I batted my eyes. Blowhard was still waiting, so I had to make this good. I wiggled my hips. “How am I supposed to hit this again?” Was that going too far?

Cooper moved behind me. “Do I need to show you, sweetheart?” He bracketed my body with his, firm muscles forming a cage around me. I felt protected, sheltered. For a moment, I let myself relax into the feeling, imagining what it would be like to be someone who could do that. Be taken care of.

“Is he still there?” I muttered, low enough that only Cooper could hear me.

“Is that what this is about? Is he bothering you?” He placed his callused hands overtop mine on the club. Goose bumps pebbled my skin.

“Not me,” I hissed. “You.”

I felt him stiffen for a moment, then relax. “Now pull back.” He lifted the club with our combined grips. We swung together, but I was paying more attention to the man behind me than the ball. That sheltered feeling lingered, and we missed hitting the ball altogether.

“Guess you’ll have to keep showing me.” I looked under Cooper’s arm and saw Blowhard finally give up.

We swung again, and this time I paid attention, and the ball shot straight and far.

“Good job, Callie. You’re definitely getting better.”

I was. But I knew that a major part of that last shot was because I’d relaxed. I’d followed Cooper’s lead. I’d trusted him.

He stepped back. “How are you feeling?”

I dropped the club and rolled my shoulders. “Like that’s enough for today.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

I nodded and thought that was more relief in his voice than he intended to reveal.

We ran into additional fans as we headed out, and Cooper was patient and charming but insisted we had somewhere to go. I did my best to look like I was eager to get Cooper to myself. I did like the man, liked talking to him. But that was when it was just us, and he didn’t have to put on his public face.

I got my wish when we stopped at another small restaurant, one that was blessedly free of hockey fans. I’d told Cooper I was paying for the meal, because the driving range, like Briarwood, was charged to a membership card, and that I didn’t have.

Cooper shrugged but it turned out I was wrong that no one at the restaurant cared about hockey. They insisted the meal was on the house.

As we headed back to the Bentley, I frowned at him. “Did you know they wouldn’t let me pay?”

He shrugged. “Depends. I think they thought we were on a date and wanted to help out.”

At least these fans weren’t taking from him. “Friday, we’re going someplace I can pay.”