Read Online True Love and Other Disasters by Rachel Gibson - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Gibson
Tags: Contemporary
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is?”
He glanced over the reporter’s head to Sam, who was being grilled by someone from a Canadian news organization. Ty smiled. “Coach Nystrom thinks outside the box.”
“The team already has twenty combined penalty minutes. Just last week, Nystrom expressed his desire to keep penalty minutes per game at a minimum. Don’t you consider twenty excessive?”
Ty shoved his arms in his shirt and buttoned it.“Not at all, Jim. We kept Vancouver from taking advantage of the power plays. So, I’d say we did our jobs tonight.”
“You scored your first hat trick of the season on your home ice. How does that feel?”
Finally. “Real good. The whole team deserves a lot of credit for tonight’s win. I just happened to be in the right place when Daniel passed me the puck. Monty’s first assist since being called up from—”
“Mrs. Duffy’s in the lounge,” someone from the Post Intelligencer called out, and Jim turned toward the commotion in the doorway. “Thanks, Savage,” the reporter said and followed the stampede out of the locker room.
Ty buttoned the front of his blue dress shirt and shoved the tails into his gray wool pants. He glanced around at the guys, who looked as stunned as he was. This was the second game of the playoffs. They’d won in their own house and the coach had granted the press full access to the team. Reporters loved full access. They loved it like a kid loved cake, but the sudden appearance of Faith Duffy prompted an en masse exodus. Like rats bailing from a sinking boat. What the hell?
Ty pulled on his socks and shoved his feet into his shoes. He combed his fingers through hisdamp hair and moved into the team’s lounge. Mrs. Duffy stood in the middle of the huge Chinooks logo woven into the blue carpet, smiling for the cameras and answering questions thrown at her by a knot of sports reporters. She looked almost fragile in the totally male environment. Beneath the bright lights and camera flash, her smooth hair shined, her skin kind of glowed, and her lips were a glistening pink. She wore a black suit that hugged her waist and buttoned beneath her breasts. He and the boys had worked their asses off tonight, and apparently all she had to do was show up all bright and shiny and the guys in the press went ape-shit nuts.
“What made you decide not to sell the team?” someone asked.
“My late husband, Virgil, knew how much I love hockey. He left me this team because he wanted me to be happy. It was only right that I keep it.”
What utter bullshit. Ty moved further into the room and shoved one shoulder into the doorway leading to the workout gym.
“What are your plans for the team?”
A smile curved her lips at the corners and damned if it wasn’t innocent and seductive all at the same time. She must have been one hell of a stripper. “To win the Stanley Cup. Virgil put together some great players, and I plan to do everything I can to make sure we bring the cup home to Seattle.”
“We hear there’s no plan to pick up Fetisov for next season.”
The corners of her mouth dipped and Darby Hogue stepped forward and saved her butt. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information,” Darby said, “but we have no plans to trade Vlad.” Then Coach Nystrom stepped forward and answered a few questions concerning trade restrictions while Mrs. Duffy smiled like she knew what he was talking about.
Ty glanced about the room at his teammates, and his gaze stopped on his father, who stood near the coaches offices talking to some woman in a lacy blouse and pink bra, and holding one of those hairy little dogs that yipped a lot. She was definitely the old man’s type: overblown, big blonde hair. Not bad looking but a little torn up around the edges. He wondered where the old man had managed to find her in the two hours since Ty had spoken to him.
“When was the last time you were at the Playboy Mansion?” a reporter asked, pulling Ty’s attention to the owner of the
He glanced over the reporter’s head to Sam, who was being grilled by someone from a Canadian news organization. Ty smiled. “Coach Nystrom thinks outside the box.”
“The team already has twenty combined penalty minutes. Just last week, Nystrom expressed his desire to keep penalty minutes per game at a minimum. Don’t you consider twenty excessive?”
Ty shoved his arms in his shirt and buttoned it.“Not at all, Jim. We kept Vancouver from taking advantage of the power plays. So, I’d say we did our jobs tonight.”
“You scored your first hat trick of the season on your home ice. How does that feel?”
Finally. “Real good. The whole team deserves a lot of credit for tonight’s win. I just happened to be in the right place when Daniel passed me the puck. Monty’s first assist since being called up from—”
“Mrs. Duffy’s in the lounge,” someone from the Post Intelligencer called out, and Jim turned toward the commotion in the doorway. “Thanks, Savage,” the reporter said and followed the stampede out of the locker room.
Ty buttoned the front of his blue dress shirt and shoved the tails into his gray wool pants. He glanced around at the guys, who looked as stunned as he was. This was the second game of the playoffs. They’d won in their own house and the coach had granted the press full access to the team. Reporters loved full access. They loved it like a kid loved cake, but the sudden appearance of Faith Duffy prompted an en masse exodus. Like rats bailing from a sinking boat. What the hell?
Ty pulled on his socks and shoved his feet into his shoes. He combed his fingers through hisdamp hair and moved into the team’s lounge. Mrs. Duffy stood in the middle of the huge Chinooks logo woven into the blue carpet, smiling for the cameras and answering questions thrown at her by a knot of sports reporters. She looked almost fragile in the totally male environment. Beneath the bright lights and camera flash, her smooth hair shined, her skin kind of glowed, and her lips were a glistening pink. She wore a black suit that hugged her waist and buttoned beneath her breasts. He and the boys had worked their asses off tonight, and apparently all she had to do was show up all bright and shiny and the guys in the press went ape-shit nuts.
“What made you decide not to sell the team?” someone asked.
“My late husband, Virgil, knew how much I love hockey. He left me this team because he wanted me to be happy. It was only right that I keep it.”
What utter bullshit. Ty moved further into the room and shoved one shoulder into the doorway leading to the workout gym.
“What are your plans for the team?”
A smile curved her lips at the corners and damned if it wasn’t innocent and seductive all at the same time. She must have been one hell of a stripper. “To win the Stanley Cup. Virgil put together some great players, and I plan to do everything I can to make sure we bring the cup home to Seattle.”
“We hear there’s no plan to pick up Fetisov for next season.”
The corners of her mouth dipped and Darby Hogue stepped forward and saved her butt. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information,” Darby said, “but we have no plans to trade Vlad.” Then Coach Nystrom stepped forward and answered a few questions concerning trade restrictions while Mrs. Duffy smiled like she knew what he was talking about.
Ty glanced about the room at his teammates, and his gaze stopped on his father, who stood near the coaches offices talking to some woman in a lacy blouse and pink bra, and holding one of those hairy little dogs that yipped a lot. She was definitely the old man’s type: overblown, big blonde hair. Not bad looking but a little torn up around the edges. He wondered where the old man had managed to find her in the two hours since Ty had spoken to him.
“When was the last time you were at the Playboy Mansion?” a reporter asked, pulling Ty’s attention to the owner of the
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