The Hockey Captain Wants the Size 20 Team Chef Every Night novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: Winter Classic

Hank Doyle won the fight in one meeting.

"No cook, no coach," he told the owner.

"I eat what she makes, and so do the guys. If she doesn't travel, I don't either."

The owner was seventy-one and had never lost a staring contest in his life.

He blinked first.

Delphine got her compromise, which was that I'd stay in the hotel kitchen and nowhere near a camera.

I took it.

I had a season to cook.

On the first of January the Blizzard played the Winter Classic outdoors.

It was a football stadium in the snow, with forty thousand people.

I had a heated tent behind the visitors' bench and a team that needed to eat in the cold.

I made hot beef barley soup in six stockpots and two hundred grilled cheese sandwiches on a flat-top.

The cold bit through my coat, and the tent smelled like butter and steam.

Pavel ducked in between periods with ice in his hair.

"Chef," he said, holding out a paper cup.

"I would die for this soup. If I'm scored on, tell my mother it was the soup."

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