Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

COACH'S CHALLENGE

A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

Lisa B. Kamps

COACH'S CHALLENGE

Copyright © 2016 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

The Baltimore Banners™ is a fictional professional ice hockey team, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.

Artwork by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art

http://www.simplydefinedart.com/

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Other titles by this author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

PLAYING THE GAME preview

ONCE BURNED preview

About the Author

Other titles by this author

Dedication

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For all of the youth sports coaches out there who instill the kids with a sense of comradery and family, and teach them the importance of hard work, teamwork, and dedication.

And for Hugh, Brian, and Uncle Bob. My kids learned so much about hockey, sportsmanship and teamwork from all three of you, lessons they carry to this day.

Thank you.

Other titles by this author:

THE BALTIMORE BANNERS

Crossing the Line, Book 1

Game Over, Book 2

Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3

Body Check, Book 4

Break Away, Book 5

Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

Delay of Game, Book 6

Shoot Out, Book 7

The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy

Books 1-3 Boxed set

The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy

Books 4-6 Boxed set

On Thin Ice, Book 8

Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

One-Timer, Book 9

Face Off, Book 10

Game Misconduct, Book 11

Fighting To Score, Book 12

Matching Penalties, Book 13

THE YORK BOMBERS

Playing The Game, Book 1

Playing To Win, Book 2

Playing For Keeps, Book 3

Playing It Up, Book 4

Playing It Safe, Book 5

Playing For Love, Book 6

Playing His Part, Book 7

THE CHESAPEAKE BLADES

Winning Hard, Book 1

Loving Hard, Book 2

Playing Hard, Book 3

FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN

Once Burned, Book 1

Playing With Fire, Book 2

Breaking Protocol, Book 3

Into the Flames, Book 4

Second Alarm, Book 5

Feel The Burn, Book 6

Coming Soon

STAND-ALONE TITLES

Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)

Finding Dr. Right

Time To Heal

Dangerous Passion

Dangerous Heat

Illicit Affair

Coming Soon

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Prologue

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December.

Sonny LeBlanc didn't understand women. Never had. Didn't want to.

Which didn't explain why the hell he was standing in the doorway, feeling like an interloper as he watched the tender scene in front of him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and considered backing out. Tender moments confused him, made him feel awkward and out of place. Give him screaming, grunting and hitting over tenderness any day and he'd be right at home. But this? Hell, no. He had no idea how to handle moments like this.

He was ready to back out as quietly as he could when one of the women looked up at him, a trembling smile on her mouth. JP Larocque's girlfriend, Emily. Or maybe she was more than his girlfriend. Sonny wasn't sure, he only knew that he had been worried about JP at the start of the season, wondering if one of his star players was going to be able to keep his damn head in the game.

Well, whatever had been going on must have worked out, because JP was playing better than ever. That's what counted, right?

His eyes darted to the other woman, drifted away, moved back again. This must be the sister. The resemblance was there, in the shape of their faces and similar coloring. A little older, more mature. The sister's face had a more lived-in look to it, but in a good way. The woman probably didn't think so, though. Didn't most women cringe at the mere thought of delicate lines fanning out from their eyes?

And she had beautiful eyes. A deep stormy blue, almost gray, so full of life and emotion. Eyes that would show everything she thought and felt—so different from the steely gray of his own. Their eyes met and something unusual rippled through him at the sadness and wariness he saw there. Sympathy. Protectiveness.

He pushed the foreign emotions away and cleared his throat. I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just going to get my coat and... His voice trailed off as he pointed in the general direction of the bed. The younger woman, Emily, offered him another hesitant smile and stood.

Already? I don’t think we’ve put out the desserts yet. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?

Dessert? Well... His voice trailed off again and his eyes drifted back to the sister. There was something about her, something that kept drawing his attention and made heat rush to his face. His hand twitched by his side and he slowly curled his fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to reach up and cover the scar slashing across his left cheek.

Did the younger sister notice? He sure as hell hoped not but he couldn't be sure, not when she offered him a bright smile. She tugged on her sister’s hand and pulled her to her feet.

Coach LeBlanc, this is my sister, Monica. Monica, this is the Banners’ coach, Coach LeBlanc.

He nodded, the movement probably too short for pleasant introductions. Ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.

Nice to meet you, Mr. LeBlanc.

Sonny. Uh, my name is Sonny.

They stood there, each watching the other, nobody saying a word. Sonny searched his mind for some kind of small talk but the only thing he could think of was hockey stats and game plans. What the hell did women like to talk about? It had been so long since he had tried to make small talk—with anyone, not just a pretty woman—that he felt out of place, like a fish floundering out of water, suffocating on air.

He cleared his throat, more self-conscious than he had been in a long time, and started to excuse himself from the room. Emily smiled again and took a small step forward, her eyes alight with something he didn't understand.

Coach, my sister was just asking for some coffee. Would you mind showing her to the kitchen? She’s never been here before and I’m not sure she can find it.

Coffee. He could do that. And it wouldn't be a hardship leading the other woman to the kitchen. Maybe he'd even come up with something to say by the time they got there. He nodded, his gaze still on Monica. Of course. Yes.

Monica glanced over at her sister, some kind of silent communication passing between them. Did he imagine it, or did her sister actually kick the back of Monica's foot? Sonny guessed it didn't matter because Monica tossed one last glance at her sister then moved toward him. Her steps were slow and he sensed her hesitation as she approached him. He tried to offer her a smile but it felt stiff on his face, pulling tight against the ragged flesh of his cheek. He stepped to the side to let her through the doorway then moved in front of her, leading the way to the kitchen.

The noise out here was a little louder, laughter and good-natured teasing, conversations vying for attention over the holiday music. Sonny glanced over, a feeling of paternal pride filling him as his gaze swept over the group. No, he wasn't their father, not really. But there were days when he felt like he was.

God forbid any of them ever realize that, though. To them, he was nothing more than their coach. Maybe even a mentor, if he was doing his job right. Rough, hard, always pushing and demanding their best, never letting them give up. It was a challenge he reveled in, one he took to heart every single day.

It was the role he was most comfortable in.

He turned into the kitchen, an open airy room that flowed into the rustic living room beyond. He paused, hesitating before turning to face Monica. She stood just behind him, her slender arms folded in front of her like a protective shield. Protection from him? Sonny didn't think so. At least, he hoped to hell not. But maybe she was one of those meek women who were intimidated by shadows. Lord knew, he'd been called things worse than intimidating. The scar running down his cheek sure as hell didn't help.

He cleared his throat and moved closer to the counter, one large hand hovering over the coffee pot. It sat in the middle of the counter, surrounded by mugs and cream and sugar. How do you take yours?

She started, like the question