His Game, Her Rules

Book 1: Warriors

by Charlene Groome

Genres: Sports; Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Charlene Groome begins a spirited new series with this riveting introduction to the Warriors, a hockey team whose star player has game both on and off the ice—until their new skating coach changes everything. . . Ty Caldwell is one of the Warriors' most valuable players—and one of Vancouver's most eligible bachelors. His moves are part of his charm, so he's surprised by how strongly he's drawn to the team's new skating coach—and even more surprised when she cross-checks his advances. But Ty loves a challenge, and the same persistence he flaunts in the rink may help him off the ice. . . Eileen Francis is a world-class skater with a gold medal to prove it. But professional hockey is still a man's world—so when she lands the job as the interim coach for The Warriors, her curves are way bigger news than her turns. To take control of this bunch of alpha males, Eileen is going to have to play cold as ice and twice as hard. But she'll have to break her own rules to get the team's MVP to play up to his fullest potential. . . 96,036 Words

Release date: September 1, 2014

Publisher: eOriginals

Print pages: 232

Sample

Eileen Francis parallel parks her car on a side street at downtown’s most popular ice rink: the Dome, home of the Vancouver Warriors Hockey Club. She steps out of her car, trying to get her balance from her black Nine West sling-back sandals and digs into her oversized purse for change to feed the parking meter. She is sure she has quarters at the bottom of her purse, remembering that she tossed in a bunch of change this morning.

Eileen glances at her pearl-faced watch. “Come on, come on,” she mutters to herself as she continues to dig, shuffling her wallet around and sifting through scattered Tic Tacs and old receipts, hoping to find a quarter or two beneath the garbage.

She scrapes through the nickels and dimes and finds four quarters, which will only give her forty minutes. Surely the interview won’t take that long, will it? They know who she is and what she does. She brought along her skates and a change of clothes in case they ask to see her perform. She knows the interview in the boardroom won’t be as important as the interview on the ice, but that may have to be on another day, if she gets through the first round. Eileen inserts the last of her four quarters, and digs for more, hoping to make an hour. She was positive she had enough, but should have been more prepared for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Forty minutes will have to do. She turns quickly, steps to the side without looking up, and her shoulder makes contact with another person. The edge of her heel wobbles, throwing her off balance and causing her to fall backwards and hit the parking meter before a hand reaches out to grab her arm and keep her from falling to the ground.

“Are you okay?” the man asks.

She gasps a breath and moves her feet around to feel solid ground. “Yeah,” she answers in a daze, meeting the man’s blue eyes.

It’s a recognizable face; she’s seen this winsome grin before, although she can’t recall his name at the moment. He is wearing long beach shorts and T-shirt. His blond hair is messy, yet stylish. Flustered that she is short on time, and not as prepared as she should be for an interview—like making sure she has quarters for the meter—she uses her index finger to slide her thick-rimmed sunglasses up, waiting for the familiar-looking guy to walk past. However, to her surprise, he stops and asks, “Do you need some change?”

He reaches into his side pocket. His voice is warm and subtle, putting her more at ease. “How much do you need?” He pulls out some change and holds it toward her.

A little taken aback, Eileen smiles and says, “Thank you. My mom always told me not to take money from strangers.”

He laughs. “Money? I thought it was candy. Don’t take candy from strangers,” he says, still grinning, showing off a dimple on his left cheek.

“Candy, money—to a child it’s all the same, isn’t it?” she asks, trying hard not to get stuck at staring into his deep blue eyes. They are so bright and light that they remind her of glass marbles.

“I guess, eh?” he says. He picks out coins from his hand and feeds the meter. “How long do you need? You’ve got an hour and a half.”

“That’s perfect! Thank you,” she says and pulls out a five-dollar bill from her purse. “Here.” She gestures for him to take it.

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” He slides the leftover change into his pocket. “My name’s Ty,” he says and extends his hand.

Eileen can’t help the permanent smile on her face and she gives his hand a firm squeeze. His name comes to mind. “Caldwell,” she states. The star hockey player for the Warriors. He looks even better in person than on TV.

He nods.

“Eileen Francis,” she says in her businesslike tone. “Nice to meet you.” She adjusts her purse on her shoulder and stands tall, looking up slightly to meet his glorious eyes. “Thank you for the change.”

“No problem!” He’s still standing in front of her as though not yet finished with their conversation.

She glances at her watch and moves her purse strap over her shoulder, trying to distract herself from getting caught gawping at him. “Well, I have to go! I’m going to be late for my interview,” she says, not wanting to tell him she could be his new skating coach if all goes well today.

This could be a chance of a lifetime, a rare opportunity that just happened to come her way thanks to her uncle Gary, the senior adviser to the general manager of the Warriors. The phrase, “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know” enters her mind, but she knows that, to the surprise of most, she is just as talented as the guys who play professionally.

She pushes her sunglasses back as she peeks through the glass window to see a woman with a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other, listening to her iPod as she cleans the floor. Eileen knocks on the door, hoping to get the woman’s attention, but the woman is in her own world, her black ponytail is swaying like a tree branch in the wind as she grooves to the music. Eileen knocks again and waves her arms to get the woman’s attention.

“Are you looking for the offices?” a male voice asks from behind her.

Eileen jumps with fright, and her glasses move down her nose. She looks behind her, relaxing her shoulders when she sees Ty Caldwell again. “I am.” She smiles back at him. “I can’t remember what door I’m supposed to go to.”

“I’ll show you another way in. Follow me,” he says with a wave.

She doesn’t remember her uncle telling her about a private entrance. Thankfully, Ty found her and will help her get in and point her to the right direction.

“Great!” She takes quick, small steps, afraid she’ll do a face-plant on the sidewalk if she’s not watching where she’s going. Eileen has never been late for anything; it’s one of her personal rules. If she’s going to be late, she can kiss this job good-bye.

“Are you interviewing for guest services?”

Eileen smirks.

“What’s funny about that?” he asks. “You wouldn’t be here for the skating coach position.” He laughs to himself.

She tightens her lips. Her eyebrows rise, causing her sunglasses to move.

He laughs again. “You’re kidding!” He stops in his tracks. His head tilts slightly and his mouth tugs at the side. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why is it so funny? Your skating coach has taken a leave and they need a replacement until he can come back.”

“Are you sure you’re not confused with coach’s personal assistant?” he asks, beginning to laugh some more. “I know he’s looking for one.”

She lifts her oversized sunglasses off her face and pulls them back as a headband. “Hmmm, I don’t think I have those qualifications,” she says. “Or the patience.”

“As a skating coach?” he asks, opening the door for her.

She lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve never known a coach to have a personal assistant. Maybe you were confused with the owner?” she says, trying to offer him a better suggestion as they walk to the elevator and Ty presses the button.

“What qualifications do you have to teach professional hockey players?” he asks, sounding intrigued. “I’m curious. I didn’t know the Warriors hired outside . . . talent.”

She stands up straighter and looks at him. He sure knows how to rattle one’s confidence before an interview. “First off, I’m one of the most skilled female hockey players in the country.”

“Yeah, but still—”

“It’s because I’m a woman.”

“Well, it’s just, you know, a guy’s league—”

“Uh-huh.” She waits patiently for him to recover.

“I know we need a coach, but—” He pauses.

“I just happen to be female.” She keeps her head high. Why is she wasting her time convincing him? It’s management she needs to sell herself to. “But it’s the job I am interested in and a job I do quite well.”

They step into the elevator.

He laughs as the door closes. “You could have fooled me.”

“I’ve played nationally, as well as for the Olympics. Twice.”

“And that makes you a professional?”

She gives him a fake smile with the intent to kill him with kindness. “Yes. If women were playing in the NHL, I’d be playing.”

The elevator doors open. “Well, here we are,” Ty announces.

“If you want a skating tip: races are won or lost in the first three strides,” she says, gripping her heavy purse.

“Huh.” He nods.

“Thanks for the interview warm-up,” she says as she takes a step out into the hall. “And for your personal assistance showing me to the right floor.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Ty says with a forced grin.

She points her finger in the direction of where she thinks she should go.

He nods. “You want the last door down the hall,” he says, sticking his head out of the elevator and pointing. “Good luck. I might see you on the ice.” The elevator doors begin to close.

“Thanks,” she says, getting one last look at him before she’s on her own.

Eileen follows the bright blue carpet to the end of the hall, noticing a gallery of framed hockey scenes and players displayed throughout the top floor. Eileen can’t help but stop to take a quick look. How great would it be to work here? The thought is enough to weaken her knees. When she was a child, her dad and uncle would talk proudly about Canada’s national sport and her uncle, especially, would say he has the best job in the world. She admired him. How could she not want to be part of the greatest sport there is and have the chance to work alongside her uncle? Not that she would work directly with him, because his job is to scout for new talent and evaluate players, but it would be nice to be part of the same profession.

Eileen takes in a deep breath and then slowly opens the door, peeking inside and hoping it’s the right entrance and not some joke Ty is playing on her. She isn’t sure he can be trusted. There is something about him that doesn’t sit right; she knows that men in this league are all selfish and irresponsible because, in this country, they are put on pedestals and the fame goes to their heads. At least that was her experience with her ex-boyfriend.

“Hello. May I help you?” the receptionist asks as Eileen walks up to the desk.

“I’m here to see Gary Williams.”

The young woman with shoulder-length hair bats her light brown eyes. “You must be Eileen,” she says, her eyes suddenly shining.

Eileen smiles at the warm welcome. “Yes, I am.”

“I finally have a face to a name. Nice to meet you. I’ll let your uncle know you’re here.” She speaks softly into her headset. “He’ll be right out. You can have a seat while you wait if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Eileen says and then walks away from the desk, letting her eyes drift around the room, admiring the memorabilia hanging on the walls. She glances at her watch—two minutes after nine. She’s late. She hopes they’re too busy to notice. She squeezes her hands together to contain the jitters and clenches her jaw as she thinks about the interview.

“Elle!” a voice yells out.

“Uncle Gary!” she exclaims and walks toward him, holding back from giving him the usual hug, but he makes the first move and wraps his arms around her. A quick squeeze relaxes her, and lets her know she has his support. “How was Arizona?”

“Hot!”

“Looks like you got some sun,” she says, eyeing his uneven graying strands, which look white against his leathery, tanned skin. Even his mustache is sprouting gray.

“Got some golf in,” he says, extending his arms and taking a pretend swing. “Our place was right beside a golf course. We had a great time. Your aunt is making arrangements to go back.”

Although Gary’s blue eyes are behind thin-rimmed glasses, their oval shape reminds Eileen of her mother’s. She beams at him and remembers her mom. The sweetness of her voice, her kind nature, and the love she had for her children has been irreplaceable. She misses her parents. She sniffs to clear her nose and blinks. This is the last place she would allow herself to be weepy. She throws back her shoulders and stands up straighter.

“You should come with us next time. We’ll do a family trip and I’ll get Keaton to bring some friends,” he says with a wink.

Eileen just smiles. She knows what her uncle is getting at. His son, Keaton Williams, plays for the Kings and he’d probably bring along some of his teammates to hang out with. There is no way Eileen is going to get involved with a hockey player. She did that once before and it was a big mistake.

“I’ll take you into the boardroom for our meeting and introduce you to the coach and owner; they’ll be sitting in on this meeting as well.”

“Okay,” she says and lets out a heavy breath. This is it. Time to impress. She follows his lead down the hall.

“They can’t wait to meet you. I’ve talked a lot about you. Remember, just be yourself,” Gary whispers and pats her on her shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll do great.”

“Me, nervous? Never.” She laughs, trying to hide her unsettled nerves. Do they genuinely want to work with Eileen or are they doing her uncle a favor?

Gary pats her on the shoulder again and swings open the boardroom door. Silence clouds the room as Eileen steps inside. She views their long faces and stern upper lips.

“This is Eileen Francis,” Gary says proudly, taking a side step. “Eileen, please have a seat.” He closes the door behind her. “I’ll introduce you. To my left is Ted Walker, the president and general manager of the Warriors. Rick Bissel, VP of hockey operations. Steve Morrow, the head coach . . . and Joe Smith, the assistant coach.”

They each nod in turn.

“Everyone, Eileen Francis,” he says with an upbeat demeanor.

“Thank you,” she says, making eye contact with each of them.

“Eileen comes to us with years of experience and talent,” Gary says, beaming. “I’m not just saying it because she’s my niece; Eileen is a very capable young woman and I know she can help our team develop the skills we are looking for.”

Eileen clears her throat while trying really hard not to show her excitement of being in the same room as the Warriors’ management team. She rubs her sweaty palms on her thighs of her summer dress.

“Her skating ability is above standard and I believe she’d be an excellent choice to replace Ritchie,” Gary says and then turns to Eileen with hopeful eyes. “This would only be temporary of course, but I know she can do the job well.”

“So you are here for the skills coaching position?” Ted asks, lowering his round, chubby face to meet Eileen’s eyes. “The job focuses on skating. It’s temporary, but we need someone to fill Ritchie’s skates until he comes back. I don’t know exactly how long he needs. So this would be a contract position for now. And”—Ted lifts his head, folds his beefy hands on the table, and leans in—“we’re heading into training camp. It’s critical we get the boys off on a strong footing.”

Eileen nods slightly, giving him her full attention.

Steve straightens up and folds his hands together. He’s the youngest of the men sitting at the table. His dirty-blond hair is feathery as though it has just been washed and left to dry. When he jots notes on his notepad, he looks sideways at Eileen and his hair slides forward, covering his forehead. “We had a horrible season last year, one we don’t ever want to repeat. We have some exceptional players, but we need to practice playing together and build chemistry with some of our new players. That’s my job, to shuffle lines, but we have a lot to do this season and we’re looking to make changes. I need to make sure we coach these guys with the full ability and dedication.”

“No offense, Eileen, but you are a woman,” Rick says, his voice husky. He stares her down with squinted brown eyes, the same color as his tailored suit.

“And obviously you’ve never played in the NHL,” Joe says, his mouth twitching into a smirk. He places one hand behind his head, feeling the short strands of his brown hair. He smirks again, releasing his hand to the table.

She relaxes her shoulders. Eileen isn’t going to let him make her feel incapable. Joe’s cold stare makes his brown eyes seem black. Her body quivers and she has to look away from him before he gets the best of her.

“You’re right. I haven’t played in the NHL,” she says with a devious smile. “But I have equal talent as the men on your team. I’ve played in the 2010 Olympics in Whistler and 2014 Olympics in Sochi—”

“Congratulations on winning gold,” Steve interjects. “That was a huge accomplishment.”

“Thank you. It’s one of my most prized possessions,” she admits.

“And it should be.”

“Did you see her on the cover of Maclean’s magazine?” Gary asks. He turns in her direction and smiles.

“She was also on a cereal box,” Rick snaps. “I want to see the skills, not hear about them.” He taps his pen on his notepad.

“I’ve also played for the women’s national hockey team,” she emphasizes. “And currently I run my own hockey school. I teach all ages how to skate and the fundamentals of hockey.”

“But can you teach professional hockey players new skills?” Rick asks with a sarcastic laugh. He runs his fingers through his thinning, coffee-colored hair and stops at the crown of his head. He narrows his eyes, studying her like he’s judging her looks.

A professional player is as good as it gets. Isn’t she considered a professional?

Eileen steels her gaze at Rick. “Yes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe I could do the job.”

“She can skate circles around them,” Gary interrupts and then bows his head when all eyes are on him.

“I’m sure she can,” Rick says.

“It doesn’t mean she can teach,” Joe snarls, puffing out his chest to make his small frame bigger. “It takes a certain attitude and skill to be able to get through to the guys.”

“I’m not an intimidating person, is that it?” Eileen asks jokingly. She notices his stubby nose twitch.

“Look, the boys need coaching while they practice,” Gary says. “I know you would much rather have a male teach them, but this girl’s got what it takes.” He lifts his hand up and motions it toward her as though she’s on display at an auction. “Just wait until you see her skate and see what she can do. I’ll bet my house she can show the boys some new skills.”

Eileen takes a breath. No pressure, no pressure, she thinks, trying to calm herself.

“We believe you, Gary,” Steve says. “But let’s face it, the guys are going to take one look at her and laugh. Sorry, Eileen, but I just don’t think this is going to work.”

She shakes her head. Maybe they have someone else in mind for the job. Didn’t Gary tell them she was female before she arrived? What was the point of her coming here today if she didn’t have a chance? She would be at the top of her career if she got the job. Just when she is about to say that they should give her a trial run, Gary interrupts with a sales pitch.

“Look, Ritchie is gone for approximately eight to twelve weeks—we know that. There’s no obligation to have Eileen fill in.”

The men study Eileen as if she were some foreign object.

Gary breaks the silence. “Who will you find in a short time that has this much experience and will be willing to take the job not knowing how long it will be for?”

Rick bites his lower lip.

“I brought some lesson plans.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a folder. “Obviously nothing can compare to being on the ice, but this will give you an idea of what I teach.”

The men pass around the handouts. Their eyes skim the stapled pages.

She would just have to fight back without words. That is, if they gave her the opportunity.

Rick ignores the question and turns his attention on Eileen in a sharp but direct tone. “Do you honestly believe you have what it takes to teach these men performance skating?”

Eileen is so tired of men making her feel like she is not worthy of the game.

“Why can’t I?” Eileen snaps. She isn’t going to let these men make her feel incapable. She doesn’t need this job; she wants it. For the accomplishment, for the bragging rights, to top her resume.

Rick pushes in his face as though caught off guard. “You may think that you can—”

“Oh, I can,” she retorts, knowing she has nothing to lose. “I’m sure you think because I’m female I can’t do the job.”

“I didn’t think that at all,” Rick defends. “What I’m getting at is, can you handle it? It has nothing to do with you being a woman.” He moves his chest in closer to the table and folds his hands on his notepad. “Some players may have a hard time accepting a woman instructing them,” he says, lowering his voice and making eye contact with a cold stare. “Especially when it comes to hockey. Are you going to take it personally? Or are you going to give up after a week? It won’t be easy.”

She wouldn’t let anyone push her around and. . .