Free Offside by Bianca Sommerland Page B

like a bit much. Unless . . . unless it worked. “You think you can keep me from getting traded?”
    “So long as you’re willing to cooperate?” Stephan’s neat brows lifted. He smiled at Scott’s nod, flashing toothpaste-ad-white teeth. “Yes. As far as the press, and the new owner, are concerned, you’re cleaning up your act. You are a humble man, well aware that he’s ‘fucked up.’ You will listen to whatever the owner has to say and reply politely, always addressing him as ‘Sir.’” He sniffed. “And I will do my best to make sure he can’t tell you’re hungover.”
    “Some toast and Gatorade and I’ll be fine.” Mostly. He cursed himself again for drinking so much, but he was feeling a bit better already. Things weren’t hopeless, not if Stephan could pull this off. All the attitude he’d wanted to give the stuffy bastard vanished as he considered how fast he’d have been shipped out without his help. “What else do you need me to do?”
    “For now, just get dressed.” Stephan gestured vaguely toward the suit bag on the bed. He looked around room, nostrils flaring, lips pursed. “We will focus on the meeting, then discuss new accommodations. Is there a reason you share a condo with a teammate and his . . . girlfriends?”
    Scott laughed. “I was renting, but I got kicked out. Vanek gave me a place to stay, but now he wants me gone.”
    “Ah. Well, I will find you appropriate lodgings. We need you to be completely accessible to the press. I’d like them to see you in a more permanent setting. To make it clear that you’ve made a home in Dartmouth and you plan to stay.”
    “I do.”
    “Good. Perhaps this job won’t be as difficult as Asher implied. You have a reputation for being quite . . . unpleasant to work with.” Stephan shook his head. “I’ve spoken to several of your teammates. None of them had anything good to say about you.”
    Damn. Not that Scott should be surprised. His teammates on his other teams hadn’t liked him either. And he always tried not to care. It was harder with the Cobras though. He liked a few of them—enough to want to stay even if they’d be happy to see him gone. Zach automatically came to mind, but Scott wasn’t sure where he stood anymore either. Did Zach want him gone too? Would he have had anything good to say if Stephan had talked to him?
    Probably not.
    Scowling, Scott moved to the bed and unzipped the suit bag. Charcoal black. White shirt. The blood red tie was a bit much, but nothing he couldn’t deal with. He snorted as he pulled out the small silver bag containing a pair of snug black boxer briefs and socks that matched the suit perfectly. The man had thought of everything. “In other words, they all told you I’m an asshole.”
    “Flirting with married women is considered bad form.”
    “The chicks like the attention.”
    “Let them get it from someone else. I can’t force your teammates to like you, but you will do everything in your power to keep them from hating you. Let them see how dedicated you are to being an asset to the team.”
    Seriously? “I am dedicated.”
    “Are you? Are you on the ice before the rest? In the gym longer? Do you follow the instructions from the dietitian?” Stephan made a sharp motion with his hand before Scott could answer. “Don’t bother. I’ve done my homework. You are the laziest, least disciplined player on the roster—”
    “I’m a loser. I got it.”
    Stephan just kept talking. “—talented, but that hardly matters when you show up drunk. Or call in sick. That. Ends. Now.”
    Fuck, if you weren’t such a fairy, you’d make a good Dom. Scott pulled on the incredibly soft dress shirt, then dropped his towel and stepped into the boxers, grinning when Stephan looked away. “Got it. Anything else?”
    “We need to find you a nice girl.”
    “A what?” Scott stared at the man who’d just officially reached certifiable. “I don’t do ‘nice girls.’”
    “You do