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So what if my heart races a little when he walks in? So what if I notice the way his shirt stretches across his shoulders, or how his rare smiles transform his entire face? So what if he remembers things I say in passing and shows up with lumber on a quiet Tuesday afternoon?

It doesn't mean anything.

It can't.

Because guys like Logan Kane don't go for girls like me, with my coffee-stained aprons and impossible dreams that never quite fit into the neat boxes my mother prepared for me.

Do they?

Chapter Two

Logan

The Players' Lounge at Icehawk Arena is too fucking crowded.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching as Blake gestures animatedly to Coach Brody and his fiancée Sophia. The woman who tamed the infamous Icehawks captain is showing charts on her tablet, clearly excited about whatever marketing bullshit she's cooked up this time.

I don't mind Sophia. She's good for Blake, settled him down. Made him less of an asshole, which is saying something in the world of NHL hockey captains.

The leather couches are filled with my teammates—Connor sprawled out like he owns the place, Ryder bouncing his knee like a restless four year old. Beyond the massive windows, I can see the practice rink where we should be, instead of trapped in yet another goddamn meeting.

"Alright, listen up!"

Coach Brody's voice cuts through the chatter at the front of the room. He stands in front of the stone fireplace, arms crossed over his chest, that permanent scowl etched into his features.

At forty, he still looks like he could suit up and knock someone's teeth out on the ice.

"Big Mike and Sophia have an announcement," Coach says, eyeing his team as we fall silent.

Big Mike steps forward in his tailored suit, Greg the CFO hovering behind him like a calculator-wielding shadow.

I shift my weight against the wall, jaw clenching.

Fucking suits.

Always trying to complicate the simple things. Hockey isn't about marketing strategies or profit margins—it's about the ice, the team, the game. Give me a stick and someone to protect, and I'm set.

Everything else is just noise.

"Gentleman," Big Mike starts, clasping his hands together. "As you know, last season was a huge success, thanks to Coach Brody and your hard work."

A few cheers and stomping feet against the floor follow. I don't join in. One Stanley Cup victory isn't enough for me. I want more.

"But our community engagement metrics are still below league average," Big Mike continues, his smile fading. "So Sophia has developed a new initiative."

Sophia steps forward, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, Mike." Sophia looks at Blake nervously. I watch the way he gives her a nod, like he's silently backing her. "I'm pleased to announce that to kick this season off, the Icehawks are launching the'Iron Ridge Community Outreach Program.'"

The room falls quiet. Too quiet. The kind that makes rookies squirm and veterans check their phones.

Blake feels this too, and stands, his captain's presence soon felt by the entire room.

"This is exactly what we need. Fresh perspective, new ideas." He looks around the lounge, that stern expression that means business crossing his face. "The community built this team. Time we gave back."

Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room. I grunt, bringing my hands together in a slow clap. The team follows suit, and soon the lounge echoes with applause.

Sophia's shoulders relax as Blake wraps an arm around her waist.