Page 17
Story: Pucking His Enemy
“One.” She stares at me. “One actual meal.”
“Maybe.”
“Jesus Christ.” She writes something down like her pens having a conniption fit. “No wonder half this team looks like walking corpses.”
“You always this charming with new clients?” Her eyes meet mine. Sharp. Unflinching. “Only the ones who eat like they’re trying to die young.”
Chapter five
Katarina
Somemenshouldcomewith warning labels.
WARNING: Dangerously hot. May cause spontaneous combustion of common sense.
I slam my door hard enough to rattle the framed diploma on the wall—my pride and joy now mocking me after I’ve potentially made an enemy before my first official day. The hot Florida air still clings to my skin as I lean against the door, replaying the parking lot disaster in my head. Dark hair. Sculpted jaw dusted with perfect stubble. Eyes that could melt steel—and a mouth so foul it could make a hockey ref blush.
God, why are the pretty ones always such assholes?
“The universe clearly has it out for me already,” I grumble, tossing my keys onto the coffee table before making a beeline for the kitchen. Florida in summer is merciless—like a clingy, humid lover that leaves you damp in all the wrong places. Unlike the stranger from the masked party, whose hands left me... No. I’m not going there. Not now.
I yank open the fridge, closing my eyes as the cool air washes over my flushed skin. I grab a bottle of water just as my phone begins to ring. A glance at the clock has me smiling despite my mood. Right on time, like clockwork.
“You really are a worry wart, Griffin,” I answer, plopping down on my couch—the first adult purchase I made that wasn’t ramen noodles or wine.
“It’s not my fault,” he counters immediately. “I just want to make sure my baby sister had a good first day at work.”
I snicker before sinking deeper into the cushions. “You just want to be nosy is more like it,” I reply, taking a long pull of cold water. “Besides, technically all I did today was get my badge and keys. I don’t even officially start for another couple of days. But get this, I actually have my own office and it’s huge. I thought they were just going to give me a shared cubby hole and then throw me to the wolves.”
I had already braced myself for a shoebox with a view of a dumpster. Maybe a folding chair if I was lucky. Sharing a space wouldn’t have surprised me either, not with how new this team is.
But the second I step inside, my heart literally skipped a beat. The sun streaming through actual windows, not the fluorescent hell-scape I’d been expecting. I could see myself there, making it mine, building something real.
This is mine.
It’s sterile as hell right now, but that’s temporary. A few plants. A framed photo or two. My lucky mug.
I can work with this. This space feels like the start of something good.
“I don’t know why you didn’t just come work for the Reapers,” Griffin says, voice tight with that barely controlled frustration I know oh too well. “You’d have gotten your own office and been working for a real team, not those Cyclones clowns.”
I roll my eyes. “Here we go again. The Cyclones-Reapers blood feud continues.”
“It’s not a joke, Kat. Those guys play dirty, and I’m not just talking about on the ice. You have no idea what you’re walking into.”
“It’s a nutritionist position, Griffin, not undercover espionage. I’m telling them to eat their vegetables, not stealing your playbook.”
“You don’t get it,” he pushes back. “When our teams face off, and they will, you’ll be on the wrong side of the glass. My baby sister working for the fucking enemy.”
I sigh, pushing back against the guilt he’s laying on thick. “Maybe it’s time you remembered I’m not just your baby sister. I’m a professional who’s qualified for this job.”
I feel that pang of guilt whenever I think about Griffin’s face when I told him I took the Cyclones position. Like I’d announced I was joining a supervillain team intent on destroying everything he loves. Maybe in his hockey-obsessed mind, that’s exactly what I did.
“That is a really sweet offer, big brother, but I’ll have to pass.
You know I love you, and I appreciate not just you, but Dad too trying to open certain doors for me. But I want to do this on my own. Not as Griffin Novak’s little sister.”
“But why?” He whines. “I don’t get it. Other people open doors for friends and family all the time with no issues, so why won’t you take it? It’s not like you aren’t qualified. Hell, you’re probably more qualified than the nutritionist we have now.”
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