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“Just like his owner, I’m guessing?” Beck’s eyes twinkle as he stands, his full six-foot-three frame towering over me.

My breath catches.Why does he have to be even more attractive up close?

“I’m Abby,” I manage, extending my hand. “And this is Jake.”

Jake, who’s been unusually quiet, steps forward, his eyes as wide as saucers. “You’re…you’re Beckett Hayes.”

Beck grins, crouching down to Jake’s level. “I sure am. And you must be Jake. I saw you cheering out there. Best fan in the house.”

Jake beams. “Really?”

“Really.” Beck’s sincerity is palpable, and my heart melts a little more.

“Mom’s writing an article about the Ice Hawks,” Jake blurts out, and my stomach drops.

“Jake—”

“That’s awesome,” Beck says, standing again and meeting my gaze. “I’d love to read it when it’s done.”

My cheeks flush. “It’s…a work in progress.”

“I’ll bet it’s great.” His smile is warm, making my pulse do an embarrassing little flip.

And before I realize it, Jake continues. I’m sure he’s just enamored that his hero is talking to him and doesn’t want it to stop. To my horror, Jake pulls out another tidbit to share.

Jake nods enthusiastically. “Mom knows all about hockey! She writes lots of stories about it.”

Beckett arches a brow at her. “Really? Where do you—?”

“I write forSports Weekly,” she cut in smoothly, watching for any flicker of recognition.

Nothing.

She tried again. “I was at your last post-game presser. You answered one of my questions.”

Still nothing. His expression was open, friendly, but utterly clueless.

Abby stifled a laugh. Of course. One face in a crowd of reporters? No wonder he had no idea.

Before I could say anything else, Jake pipes up, “Mom also wrote about how you skated right into the goalpost last season.”

Beckett groans. “Oh man,thatstory? You’rethatreporter?” He gives her a playfully wounded look. “Brutal.”

Abby smirks. “To be fair, I did say you recovered gracefully.”

Beckett crosses his arms, eyeing her as if trying to place her all over again. “And yet, I only remember the part about the goalpost.”

Abby chuckles, shaking her head. “Selective memory.”

He flashes her a crooked grin, then turns back to Jake. “Hey, buddy, I think your mom’s trying to make me look bad.”

Jake giggles. “You made yourself look bad when you crashed.”

Beckett gasps in mock offense. “Wow. Tough crowd.”

Abby laughs, warmth spreading through her.

“Come on, Jake,” I say, gently steering him back. “We should let Mr. Hayes get back to—”