Killian (On the Line #1) - Brenda Rothert Page 0,22
I know.
Killian: Guess we should go to sleep.
I glanced at the alarm clock and groaned. My wake-up call for a six AM workout was just four hours away.
Me: Right. Goodnight.
Killian: Send me a pic of you in my shirt.
Me: Sorry, I don’t do selfies.
Killian: I didn’t mean your face. Just your tits ;)
Me: You’ll have to use your imagination. Goodnight, Captain.
Killian: Night boss.
Killian
Keri’s grin was smug when she turned to me and Liam. She’d stopped us in the tunnel and we both gave her a questioning look.
“Alright, so you’ll be building some positive PR by skating with fans this afternoon,” she said.
“Right.” Liam nodded. “Just don’t bitch if I knock anyone over.”
She put a hand up to stop us from moving forward. “Maybe I need to mention that these are young fans.”
I scrunched my face skeptically. “Young as in . . . teenagers?”
“Uh, no. They range in age from five to seven.”
“Oh, hell no,” Liam said, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m not a fuckin’ babysitter, Keri.”
“They’ll have chaperones with them.”
“You know, maybe you should ask some of the other guys,” I said. “I’ve never been around little kids.”
“Oh, don’t give me that. You two are the ones whose images need a makeover.” Her blue eyes sparkled with the same kind of confidence that reminded me of Sid.
“I can teach ’em how to throw a good right hook,” Liam said, cocking his head. “And share some colorful words they may not know. Or, what about how to break your stick over an opponent’s head? That’s all some useful stuff.”
Keri gave him a no-nonsense glare. “Liam, come on, I’m asking you to do this. Please. You’ll have fun, and so will the kids.”
His face lit up in a grin. “Okay. We’ll do it.”
“Speak for yourself,” I muttered. “I don’t know shit about dealing with kids.”
“Just be nice,” Keri said. “And no swearing.”
An hour later, Liam nudged me as we approached the ice. “You do the talking. That’s the captain’s job.”
“Thanks, asshole,” I muttered.
There were about a dozen kids lined up on our bench. The closer I skated to them, the more I tensed at the sounds of their giggles and high-pitched conversations. I didn’t know how to handle kids.
But how hard could it be? They were just small people. I stopped in front of the bench and looked them over. They were bundled in a rainbow of coats, hats and gloves, and they quieted when they saw me.
“He’s a hockey player,” one boy said in a low, awed tone.
“Hey, guys,” I said, leaning on my stick. “I’m Killian, and I’m the captain of the Flyers. This is my teammate Liam. You guys excited about ice skating?”
“Yeah,” the sound of their shout was about enough to knock me over.
“Good!” I said. “You guys have any questions before we get started?”
“Have you ever fallen down on the ice?” a boy blurted out.
“All the time. Especially when I was learning to skate. You just have to get back up and keep trying.”
Another boy raised his hand and I pointed at him. “Got a question?”
“What if I have to pee while I’m skating around?”
“No worries, we’ve got bathrooms here. One of the . . . grown-ups can take you.”
“Mr. Killian?” A boy with a shaved head was wiggling around on the bench.
“You got a question for me?”
“I need to fart.”
I looked at Liam, trying not to laugh. One of the chaperones looked embarrassed and was about to scold the poor kid.
“It’s cool, man,” I said. “Let it rip. We’re open about that stuff here.”
A little girl with dark curly hair was waving her hand around frantically.
“Yes?” I asked her.
“Um, I have my own ice skates. They used to be my sister’s, but now they’re mine. They’ve got purple stars.”
“Awesome,” I said. “Wish mine had stars on ’em.”
The kids were all squirming and it was evident they’d been sitting long enough.
“You guys ready?” I asked, looking around at them. The chorus of excited responses made me laugh.
The rolling walker contraptions kids used when they were learning to skate were lined up on the ice. Liam and I, and the chaperones, each had to be responsible for two kids. Mine were both boys.
“What are your names?” I asked them.
“Jerico,” a boy with milk chocolate skin and huge brown eyes said. “Everyone calls me Jerry.”
“Sam,” said the other kid, a skinny boy with glasses and a mop of blond hair.
“Alright guys, just hold on to those walkers and skate. I’ll be right here.”
Jerry’s eyes widened. “You can