Page 49 of Power Play Daddies

“Exactly,” I say. “Their goalie’s good, but he’s not invincible. We can outmaneuver him if we force more cross-crease passes.”

Leo scribbles something on his clipboard. “Makes sense. Cam’s been running numbers on that, too. I’ll loop him in for tweaks during tomorrow’s practice.”

Coach looks at me, his gaze steady. “You’re stepping up, Blaze. I like that. Anything else?”

I hesitate, but only for a second. “I’ve got an interview with Daisy after this.”

Coach’s expression changes, subtle but there. A shift in his jaw, his shoulders tightening. “For the article?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual. “She said she had a few questions for me.”

Coach leans forward, elbows on his desk. “Listen, Beau. You’re one of the most mature players we’ve got. She’s new around here, and I expect you to keep an eye on her.”

“Of course,” I say quickly, though my stomach twists. If only he knew. If only he had any clue about what already went down between me and his niece.

Coach nods, satisfied. “Good. Don’t give her too hard of a time.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I mutter, heading out of the office. My face burns, and my chest feels tight, but I shake it off. I’ve got this.

The makeshift interview room is tucked away near the locker rooms. Daisy’s already there when I arrive, sitting cross-legged on a chair, her laptop balanced on her knees.

She’s wearing a simple black dress, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. She must have changed for the interview, too.

When she sees me, her face lights up.

“Hey,” she says, closing her laptop. “Nice play on the ice earlier.”

“Thanks,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. “You surprised me with your skills.”

“My dad taught me a little growing up,” she says, standing and walking over to me. “Now, sit. Let’s get started.”

I drop into the chair she points to, feeling weirdly out of place. “How many interviews you doing today?” I ask.

“Just you,” she says with a small smile.

Damn. That shouldn’t make me feel anything, but it does. I lean back, trying to play it cool as she grabs a mic and steps closer.

“Hold still,” she says, brushing her hair behind her ear as she clips the mic to my hoodie. Her fingers are soft as they skim mychest, and the scent of her—something warm, like vanilla and honey—wraps around me.

Her eyes meet mine, and I swear, for a second, I forget how to breathe. The gold flecks in her eyes catch the light, and it’s like falling off a cliff, no parachute in sight.

“There,” she says softly. “You’re all set up.”

“Okay,” I manage, my voice rough.

She steps back, tilting her head at me. “Start by saying your name and position for the camera.”

“Beau Callahan, but some of the fans call me Blaze,” I say, clearing my throat. “Forward, center.”

She nods, looking at me with that curious glint in her eyes. “No one knows much about your life. Think you could share a bit?”

I hesitate. Vulnerability isn’t exactly my strong suit, but I said I’d do this. “Okay,” I say finally. “My parents moved to the city from Alabama when I was nine. They wanted better opportunities for us all. They came here to build a life for themselves.”

“Well, how did that go?”

“My dad… he ended up being a billionaire. He owns Cal Call Technology Systems, which is the best telecommunications company in the states. He was so proud of his work, but not as proud as he was of me.”

She smiles at me. “Tell us a little bit about that.”