Page 3

The cold air slaps me across the face as I step out of the elevator into the garage. I dig my keys out of my pocket and hit the unlock button on my car. It beeps once, loud and sharp.

I climb in, toss my coffee in the cupholder, and sit for a second, hands on the wheel.

I’ve played through injuries. I’ve skated into fights with men twice my size. I’ve handled press conferences, hat tricks, and a five-game losing streak in one of the most brutal markets in the league.

But that girl?

That smirk?

Those eyes?

Nope. No strategy for that.

And now she lives next door.

***

I pull out of the garage and head toward the arena, heart still thumping like I just took a puck to the ribs.

Because something about Mandy Fields is different.

And if I’m not careful, she’s going to be the one thing this season I can’t defend against.

***

The Acers facility smells like sweat, tape, and overpriced cologne, and coffee. Burnt, arena-style coffee in a paper cup someone left on top of the skate dryer.

I walk into the team conference room just as Coach is setting down his clipboard. Right on time, but not late enough to dodge the incoming chirps.

“Well, well, look who decided to join us,” James says, drumming a pen against the table. “What happened, high-rise Nate? Got stuck signing autographs for the neighbors?”

“He was probably admiring his own reflection,” Ethan adds, spinning backward in his chair. “Guy’s cheekbones are sharper than his slapshot.”

“Careful,” Mikey chimes in. “He’ll flex and crack the projector screen.”

I slide into my seat between Parker and Connor, deadpan. “You boys rehearse this, or is it all-natural talent?”

Parker chuckles, always the calm center of chaos. “They’ve been warming up since you were going to be the last to arrive.”

“It’s not my fault I live somewhere that requires an elevator and manners,” I shoot back.

Connor smirks. “Manners, huh? Didn’t peg you for the hold-the-door type.”

“Only when it’s for a law student who can carry a box like she’s auditioning for a moving company,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

James pounces. “Law student? Whoa. Who’s this?”

“Someone,” I say.

“Oh, it’s definitely someone,” Ethan says, grinning. “And judging by the smile you’re trying to hide, she’s hot.”

Parker raises a brow. “Wait. This wouldn’t happen to be someone you’re actually talking about without flinching?”

I blink. “Seriously?”

“Which means,” James says, “she’s someone. And you’re already in too deep.”

Before I can dig myself out, Coach Stephens clears his throat. Conversation dies instantly. The room shifts from chirps to focused silence with one look from the man.