Seabrook pushed a hand through his hair and scratched at the beard stubble on his jaw. "You up for a couple of beers after practice?"
"Wish I could. I brought my kid sister back with me. She's been having a pretty tough time since our parents died." Jordan shrugged. "She's seventeen and full of attitude on a normal day. But right now she's breaking my heart. I didn't feel good about leaving her behind."
"Maybe while she's here I could have my cousin Bridget give her a call. She's seventeen too, a little nerdy, and kind of a genius. But she's really nice."
"I like smart girls."
"Oh yeah?" Seabrook grinned. "Since when?"
Jordan shoved his jacket inside his locker, opened his duffel bag, and pulled out his practice jersey. "Since I was a punk-­ass kid."
"What happened to your passion for long-­legged blondes with IQs smaller than their bra size?" Seabrook asked.
"My tastes have recently changed to glasses-­wearing brunette schoolteachers."
"Every man's fantasy."
"Yeah, but this one's mine."
"Does she know that?"
"I'm working on it."
"What?" Seabrook laughed as he slipped his jersey over his shoulder pads. "You have to do more with this one than snap your fingers?"
"It's complicated." Jordan pulled out his skates and set them on the bench in front of his locker.
"I think I'm looking forward to meeting this mystery schoolteacher."
"Yeah. Well, hands off when you do."
"Oooh. This just keeps getting better and better." A grin that had women falling at his feet spread across Seabrook's face as he grabbed his stick. "Good to have you back, buddy. Hope you can still pass the puck."
"Ha." Jordan hoped so too. He'd never gone so long without strapping on his skates before.
While he finished putting on his gear he noticed that not everyone was happy to see him back. The vibe he picked up from the Rock was more than just a passing state of pissed off.
Not that Jordan didn't understand the man's frustration.
The team had needed him to help them toward winning the Cup and he hadn't been there. And now they were falling short of what they needed to go all the way. But enough was enough with the dark glares burning holes in his backside. Jordan had his own frustrations. Like his grumpy little sister who currently sat in the stands above the locker room tunnel, and Lucy who was in such foreign territory she almost backed out.
When he finally shushed out onto the ice it was like he'd never missed a beat. He looked up and gave Lucy and Nicki a wave just as the Rock gave him a big shove. Had Jordan not been prepared for it, he would have gone flying. Because his sister and Lucy were watching he ignored the vicious push, skated to his position, and readied for the warm-­ups.
"Nice to have you back." Coach Reiner gave him a friendly nod that contradicted the harsh texts he'd sent just a day ago.
At the other end of the line the Rock stood with at least twenty guys between them. However, with each relay the big man with an angry, battle-­scarred face only a mother could love, drew closer. By his aggressive glare Jordan knew his teammate was looking for a fight.
By the time they got around to practicing shots and passes, Jordan ignored the heat coming his way and focused on his job.
Forward Scott O'Reilly passed the puck on a long drive toward the blue line. Jordan got in position to slap the puck into the net. The next thing he knew he was flat on his back and the Rock was standing over him.
"Get up, you backstabbing fucker," the Rock snarled.
Backstabbing?
Jordan had been called many things. Most had been appropriate. The Rock's slur was not.
The stress and the frustration of the past two weeks blew wide open like a lit box of TNT. Jordan came up off the ice, dropped his gloves, and grabbed the Rock by the front of his jersey. The Rock grabbed back but couldn't get a good grip.
A scream reverberated through the arena and Jordan snapped his head around to find Nicole pounding on the glass.
"Get your filthy hands off my brother, you ugly dipwad!"
At the moment Jordan had the advantage with one hand wrapped in the Rock's jersey and the other fist pulled back ready to deliver a haymaker. Misplaced or not, pride burst through his chest that his temperamental little sister wanted to come to his defense.
The Rock turned his glare back to Jordan and sneered. "You pussy. You have to have a little baby bunny save your ass?"
"Not this time." Jordan delivered the punch and knocked the Rock off his skates.