A Perfect Strategy. Anna Sugden

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СКАЧАТЬ allowed himself a few seconds of heady anticipation before clearing his head and getting himself into game mode. By the time he’d changed into his gear, his mind was 100 percent focused on the task ahead.

      It wouldn’t be easy tonight. Philly had made a lot of changes over the summer and were hot favorites to win the East coming into the season. They hadn’t lost a single preseason game, so were riding high on confidence. Scott planned to ensure the Cats knocked that cockiness out of them. They would not win in his barn, or at his first game as captain.

      “You ready?” Grey called out from across the room.

      Scott gave him the thumbs-up before reverently lifting his sweater off the hanger and slipping it over his head. On only two other occasions had the action meant as much to him—the day he was drafted by the Ice Cats and the night he made his first appearance in the show.

      Putting on his helmet, he headed to where his friends were waiting. Then he led the way out, through the short tunnel and into the brightly lit main bowl of the arena. As his skates hit the ice, he looked over behind Ike’s goal to his seats. His heart swelled to see Celine, Angela and Wayne going crazy clapping and cheering him from behind the glass. He saluted them with his stick, then began his warm-up.

      The rest of the pregame routine passed in a blur, no matter how hard he tried to imprint it all on his brain to preserve the memory. He couldn’t remember heading to the locker room, what Coach said or even what he’d said in his first captain’s speech. The next thing he knew, he was standing by the famous snow-leopard logo, with Ike ahead of him and Grey behind him, ready to lead his team out.

      When the doors swung open, he cleared his throat. “Let’s go out there and show them the Ice Cats play the best damn hockey in the world.”

      As he strode toward the ice, he allowed his mind one small lapse in focus to acknowledge that life couldn’t get much better than this.

CHAPTER ONE

      Present day

      “THE HOCKEY NETWORK, New York, isn’t renewing my contract?”

      Scott paused, steak-laden fork halfway to his mouth, to look at his agent.

      “They want to go in a different direction. They want a more ‘three-sixty’ coverage.” Andy added air quotes.

      “You mean they’re changing me because I suck at color commentary.” Scott had never been good at running his mouth off and THNNY seemed to want to fill every second of the game with talk. He didn’t mind commenting on plays and stats, strategy and tactics, even guys’ college or juniors careers. But the network wanted him to gossip about the players, as well.

      Sharing in-depth information about the men he’d been teammates with less than a year ago was something he had no interest in. He’d been on the butt end of that kind of intrusion enough this past season, between his retirement and divorce, to be real uncomfortable with sharing details about guys’ personal lives. He didn’t even like repeating locker-room tales.

      Besides, who cared? Scott sure as hell didn’t. The only thing that mattered was what happened on the ice.

      “I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue next season, so I guess that makes my decision for me.”

      “You’re sure you don’t want to coach?” Andy patted his mouth with his napkin. “I’ve had feelers from several GMs about you. A future Hall of Famer is always of interest.”

      Scott ate the piece of steak, using the time to mull that over. He’d done some work with the Cats this past season, helping the younger players tighten up their defensive tactics. He liked to think he’d played his part in helping the team win the Cup, even if he hadn’t been out there on the ice with them.

      Getting his name etched on the silver chalice one last time had been cool, though it hadn’t made up for losing it the previous season. For sure, it hadn’t been the same as winning it as a player.

      “I enjoy stopping by practice to work on drills with the guys,” he said finally. “But I don’t want to do it full-time. Or have the responsibility for running the team, day in and day out. I don’t have the patience. It drives me nuts to work on plays and then see it all fall apart come game time because they forget how to execute in the heat of the moment.”

      Andy gave an exaggerated shudder. “You and me both. That’s the problem when you’re naturally talented. You can’t teach what’s in your gut.”

      “I hope your gut is enjoying my food.” Ryan Grey clapped a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Good to see you, bro.”

      “You, too, man.” Scott stood and greeted his friend and former teammate.

      Ryan’s career had been cut short by repeated concussion issues. After a troubled few years, he’d decided to turn his love of cooking into his next career and now ran one of the most successful high-end steak houses in the tristate area, if not the whole East Coast.

      “It’s been a while.” Ryan topped up Andy’s red wine. “How’s retirement treating you?”

      “Still finding my feet,” Scott admitted. “If I was a better cook, I’d give you a run for your money.”

      “You could try.” His friend grinned. “But I won’t be losing sleep over it. You’re a better D-man than chef.”

      “True.” Scott didn’t take offense. He had enough culinary skills to survive without starving and had a sharp dialing finger for takeout and delivery. “Still, I can grill a mean burger.”

      “Maybe you should open a sports bar.” Grey relit the candle on the table and straightened the centerpiece. “Don’t you have a business degree, too?”

      Scott nodded. It was a bit clichéd—retired pro athlete putting his name to an eatery—but it could be fun. “That’s a good idea. I may look into it.”

      “Anything I can do to help, give me a shout. I’m happy to share what I’ve learned.” Grey’s head lifted. “I have to go—my maître d’ is signaling. Don’t be a stranger.”

      “I have a guy in my organization who specializes in second-career investment opportunities. He’s helped some football players with bars and nightclubs. I’ll put you in touch with him.” Andy pointed his wineglass toward Scott. “No pressure, but he’ll give you the facts and figures of what’s involved.”

      “I’d appreciate his insights. But I’d still like to keep my hand in hockey somehow.”

      Even though he knew his body couldn’t take playing at the highest level anymore, he didn’t feel old enough to be retired. He kept in shape and skated regularly. After so many years playing, he couldn’t give up hockey completely.

      He wasn’t really part of the Ice Cats any longer. He was like an honorary uncle: included and indulged, but not a true family member. And he hadn’t felt like part of the commentating group—they’d been together a few years and it had been hard to slot into their tight-knit circle. Since his divorce one year ago, he sure as hell hadn’t felt like part of his family.

      Andy signaled for the check. “You could join me and become an agent. Some of my best guys are former СКАЧАТЬ