He sees me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aiden
“No way.”
Shelli’s face is drop-dead serious as she holds out both palms, nodding. “Aiden, hear me out.”
“You’re insane.”
“Never!” she stresses before taking a bite of pancake. She chews quickly, swallows, and I can’t help but smile. She is going to make me agree with her. “I love Jensen as much as anyone else on this team, but he isn’t our Jensen anymore. He’s older, ready to move on. We need to bring up our talent. Gallagher needs to move up into the backup spot. We need to send Mansor back down at least for the rest of the season. Get Gallagher’s feet wet, and then after we win the Cup, Jensen retires, Gallagher is our dude, and we make a trade for Peca.”
My jaw drops. “Isn’t he a first-round draft pick? No one will come off him.”
“They will. No one needs a good goalie right now. Everyone thinks they’re fine. It’s all about scoring at the moment, which is how we swoop in and snatch him up. We can let go of some of our young talent, especially our forwards. Mom went crazy a couple years ago, but I’m telling you, if Jensen goes, we need to strike now for our goalie team.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Seriously, ask Tate. I told him my plan, and he looked at me the way you are right now,” she promises with a little grin and a forkful of pancakes. Her hair is up in a topknot, and she hasn’t changed out of my tee yet. It’s almost two in the morning, but I don’t think either of us is tired. We’ve been talking and kissing since she got here. It’s been pretty outstanding.
She takes a bite and nods. “It’s starting to make sense, isn’t it? You’re getting past letting go of Jensen.”
I narrow my gaze as I pull my hair up into a bun. “You’re too damn hockey smart for your own good,” I say, leaning over the bar and holding up a strawberry for her.
She leans over, taking it in her mouth before batting her eyelashes at me. “It’s part of my charm.”
I chuckle as I eat a strawberry. “How do you know all this?”
“It’s a passion.”
I eye her. “You should have been a coach or something. Played or been a scout. All that knowledge is going to waste.”
She shakes her head as her brows come together. “No, I get to talk to my mom and dad, all the guys at the rink, and then you. I love it.”
“Don’t you want more?”
She shrugs. “My time will come. Right now, I’m enjoying singing at the bar and talking with people who love hockey as much as I do. I also love interning, even though I just update social media right now.”
I point at her with my fork. “That’s right. Why are you doing that? Your mom owns the team.”
She nods and purses her lips at me. “You know my mom. You work for what you want. I decided a couple weeks ago I want the team. Well, no, that’s not right. I’ve always wanted the team, but I thought she’d give it to the boys.”
“Why would she do that? Anyone who talks to you knows you are basically an updated version of her.”
“Updated?” she asks with a sly grin.
I nod as I count on my fingers. “Smarter, bolder, more cutthroat. You won’t think with your heart. You’ll go toe-to-toe with anyone, and you’ll win. No one would be able to shut you down. Not that your mom can’t hold her own, but she cares too much. You’ll get what you want. You’ve got a really great ass, spectacular eyes, and I think you rock the heels better than your mom.”
Her lips curve. “All that makes me an updated version?”
“All that makes you Shelli Adler, the next owner of the Nashville Assassins. I hope I’m playing when it happens.”
She looks up at me coyly through her lashes. “I don’t know. It could be very unethical for you to be sleeping with the owner.”
The thoughts swirling in my gut scare the hell out of me. As much as I can feel it, I can’t see it. I don’t want to ruin what we have going here, though. This is nice. It’s special. “Your dad did it.”
She grins. “He did.”
I take a bite of my pancakes as she watches me. “Hopefully I’m still playing then.”
“You will be. You’re just now going into your prime. You’re finding the confidence you’ve always had but didn’t use ’cause you had talent. Now, your talent with your confidence? Shit, you’re gonna be unstoppable in no time.”
“Wow. You know my stats, don’t you?”
She looks up at me, certainty on her face. “In the last five games—six goals, nine assists, plus/minus twelve, time on ice average about twenty-one minutes.”