CHAPTER10
The two superstars came in together, well before their practice time. They wore street clothes, had frowning faces, and tight jaws. Their tense expressions were more common for them when they were on the ice. Calista wiggled her shoulders, wishing they were out on the rink now. That said, they were both here which helped her out.
Two birds, one stone. Mikah could get her in to see the plumbing, and she wanted to speak with Ronan and clear up how they met. She had his phone number, and the vague sense that she owed him an apology but hadn’t known where to start. Calista shut her laptop, gave the two men a small smile, and waggled her fingers at them. See, she had social skills.
“Hey, Calista,” Despite his expression, Mikah spoke with the soft voice he used the few times she’d seen him with his sister Lily. “Dodo’s pushing the team to take sides in this ownership battle, and you know I want to keep my position.” He rubbed his jaw, looking like a model going for a thinking pose. Piper hadn’t simply fallen for a handsome guy, Mikah was a star on the ice. His career mattered. “I have to stay out of this as much as I can.”
True. Mikah, through no action of his own, was caught right in the middle of the ownership battle. He’d started dating Piper before any stock news broke and this had been sprung on him. Heat flushed Calista’s face. She owed him an apology too because she’d put him in this situation. “Sorry.” She rotated her hands in front of her as if holding the world. “About all of this.”
Mikah’s face softened. “That’s okay. Now, about your text, Captain here will give you a quick look around the locker room while I take some ice time. You two, just give me a minute to change.” He went through the interior door into the locker room.
Calista looked at Ronan from under her eyelashes, and her heart shimmered. “I didn’t think it through when I texted Mikah. Piper told me he’s always one of the first players in. I didn’t think he’d need to contact you.” Was that part of the chain of command? She’d have to ask Dahlia. “I certainly didn’t mean for you to have to come to the stadium early.”
“When the owner calls, we jump.” Ronan’s voice held a dispassionate note he hadn’t used with her before.
Calista’s lips tightened, knowing her words were inadequate. She’d called this one correctly. Ronan wanted an apology. Calista pushed her laptop away and rolled her chair back. “Sorry.” Ugh, not all that she wanted to say. “I mean, sorry about how we met.” Her face bloomed hot. They’d met right here with her half out of her dainties. He’d touched her elbow and made sparks flutter under her skin. She took a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t make my name clear from day one when we met. I was never a dancer, just doing Dahlia a favor by trying on the costumes.” There, that was better. Her shoulders loosened.
“No problem,” Ronan said easily, though his blue eyes didn’t warm.
Wasn’t her identity communication failure the reason she should be apologizing? Was there something more? Something less? “I—”
Ronan backed toward the exit. “I’ve got to make a call. I’ll step outside. Meet you here in ten.” He left.
The whole scene made Calista feel bad inside, more guilty than she thought she should feel, but she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable crawly sensations. She sat back down, cradled her laptop with her arms, but didn’t open the lid.
Five minutes later, Mikah came through dressed in his gear and left to take the ice. Fifteen minutes after that, the door to the locker room opened again, and Ronan stood there dressed in his practice clothes, with skates on.
Holy hockey gods, he looked amazing. Snowers blue was his color. He was the best thing that ever happened to her hometown team. Happy hormones flooded her body, and Calista held in a small moan. Would it be weird to ask for a selfie with him?
Ronan leaned backward, holding the door open. Calista rose and headed to him. She slowed when she neared him to relish their height difference, more pronounced because he wore the ice skates. Amazing, Ronan Stromkin, right here, in front of her, in uniform. He was history about to happen. He was the stuff retired jerseys and Stanley Cups were made of. Hockey coaches would study his moves in the future. Fans would be his for a lifetime. Would saying any of that be appropriate in this moment?
Ronan shifted on his feet. His expression didn’t invite her to share her thoughts. She’d seen him up close before but not in uniform. This was taking out her knees. They needed statues made of all the players, as Piper had suggested, but especially Ronan.
Realizing, she was moving at a bizarre snail’s pace, Calista picked up her speed and entered the locker room. Fluorescent lighting and the overwhelming scent of industrial bleach made her nose twitch, and Calista did her best not to sneeze. The air filtration system could use a definite upgrade.
Inside was a bunch of light blue and white metal lockers and bench seating. The long narrow room curved to the left. Logic told her the showers would be back there, and she continued around with Ronan following her. There was a strip of showerheads placed high on a long-tiled wall and a floor with drains. Nothing luxurious, nothing worthy of ice hockey athletes. Calista shook her head. “Not much privacy.”
“We’re used to it.”
Dad had showers at the garage. Their showers were individual long cubicles. Wouldn’t take that much space to do that here. Would probably have to lose the conference room to get it done, or maybe they could open the opposite wall. She needed to see the building’s blueprints. Calista kept her thoughts to herself, because taking down walls would require the judge to stamp sold on her takeover.
Wouldn’t it? Dodo had told her to address the plumbing. She could ignore the part where he took it back. Dodo was wishy-washy, look at his dating life. She’d show she could do her part improving the stadium, while the lawyers scrutinized the paperwork.
Ronan pointed at the showerheads. “Poor water pressure. It’s worse on the visitors’ side, or so the guys say. Dodo calls that stadium strategy.”
Make visitors uncomfortable? Mom would never agree, and Calista didn’t either. The best needed to play the best under equal conditions, that way they could all shine and elevate the upcoming game by feeling great. If the visitors’ locker rooms were worse, that embarrassment benefited no one. Those men gave her team an opportunity to rise to their highest levels of play. They deserved to be treated as respected guests, at minimum. Calista frowned. “Do you think that’s good gamesmanship?”
“No.” Ronan’s voice was flat and his answer unequivocal.
Calista hadn’t thought he would. No guy at his level needed a shady advantage. She nodded in satisfaction, Ronan knew what was right.
Ronan turned on three showerheads at the end. Nothing happened. “These don’t work, you have to get down here fast or you’re third rotation.”
“I can fix it.” To what level was yet to be established. Calista pushed her hair back and ran her brain around the hours in the day. This was a busy week for her between paperwork, business meetings, and school. Because her term was short, she had to be there every weekday and twice on Thursdays. Nothing she couldn’t handle though, she wasn’t even working part time at the auto shop. Right now, her parents wanted her to focus on finishing her degrees. School wasn’t intense, but its rigid, be present, be on time, don’t burn down the building, created its own restrictions. Calista worked to untangle her thoughts so she could explain that despite her schedule, the Snowers were a priority, but then the locker room went quiet and dark
One minute the fluorescent lights buzzed in the background, the next moment, they were thrown into total below ground blackness.