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“ I ’m on the verge of realizing my dream. Becoming a professional hockey player means everything to me, Claire. I have training and meetings and school, and—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re very busy and important. Now shut up, get in the car and bring me a damn cake.” That’s when I hear the flush.

“Oh my god. Have you called me from the toilet … again?”

“Yes. I have because I had to. I was busting, but I had to call you before I went back to the car. I want Lotte to be surprised.” Feeling a headache coming on, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“And who is Lotte again?”

“I met her today. She’s my new bestie.”

My eyes roll of their own accord. “Of course she is.”

Like my mom, my sister Claire has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. This meant our house was always full of stray kids, kittens, puppies, and the odd lame duck. She can’t help herself. She must save everyone.

She sure as fuck has saved me.

“Fine. What type of cake are we talking here?”

“Don’t care as long as it’s pink and covered in sprinkles. It has to be pink, Noah. If I see anything but pink, you’ll wear it. Oh, and I want Lotte written in the center in—”

“Let me guess, pink writing?”

“No, smartass. Gold glitter. This girl deserves some sparkle.”

“You are out of control.”

“And you love me for it. Now go. I’ll be back at work in twenty minutes.”

Before I can argue, she is gone, and I can hear the laughter of the idiots on my team behind me. “Man, you are so whipped. Imagine what it’s going to be like when you get married. Your wife is going to wear your balls for earrings.” I drop my phone into my gym bag and glare at my teammate, and head idiot, Shane.

“That’s a lovely image. Fuck.”

“Hey, don’t tell me. Tell the future Mrs. Petterson.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, and you’re still whipped. Now, off you go and get that cake before your big sister comes and gives you a spanking.” He stops and begins to stroke his chin. “Wait, that sounds hot. Maybe she and her wife could drop by, and they could team up.”

I’d like to kick his ass but, as much of a complete moron Shane is, he has a point. Not about the hot spanking, but about me being whipped. Dad left when I was four, and while Mom battled the cancer that took her throughout my teens, it was Claire who stepped in, packing lunches, and taking me to games, becoming the mom I needed. She’s the most important person in my life and if she needs a cake then God dammit, I will get that woman the prettiest, pinkest, sprinkliest cake she’s ever seen.

Flipping Shane and the boys off, I pack up my weights, collect my bag, and head for the showers.

Claire Bear

PLEASE DON’T LEAVE. I’ve told the boss I have a flat tire, but I don’t. Don’t tell him that, though. Will explain. Long story. Won’t be long. Promise. DON’T LEAVE

I’d already been waiting thirty minutes when that message came through. Despite the promise, another thirty minutes I’m never getting back have disappeared.

There is still no sign of Claire, and I am beyond desperate to make my exit. This building is beige but dark, smells musty and most of its inhabitants seem one bad coffee away from a complete breakdown. The guy sitting opposite me, Tony, has been stapling sheets of paper together this whole time. I don’t think he’s blinked once. When I tried to make conversation and asked why he was here, he seemed uncertain. Bumbled something about finance and logistics before settling on the descriptive stuff .

Then there’s Claire’s new boss. He seems like a friendly enough guy, but he’s asked me a lot about Claire and her wife Kelly, and if they have any friends named Trisha. It’s starting to feel … odd.

One good thing has come out of it though. This depressing brown office has further intensified my determination to make it to the NHL, because if this is the real world that exists outside of a rink, I don’t want it.

Just as I begin to join the ranks and lose the will to live, Mr. Bowe comes bustling back into the kitchen flanked by more of his staff. “They’re here. They’re here. Everybody hide!”

“Wait, what?” No one answers because they’ve ducked into a cupboard, behind a door, or into a potted bush. Me though. I remain perfectly still, watching in silence as a pretty little blonde with massive boo … blonde hair appears in the doorway.

We consider each other briefly, but before I can curl my lip and flash her a smolder – “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOTTE!” The room erupts into chaos. Bodies are leaping out from everywhere. The poor girl, I presume is Lotte, looks scared half to death, drops her drink and winces her way through an appalling but heartfelt rendition of Happy Birthday. Tears are then shed, conversations are had, but I remain seated, transfixed by the girl who seems to equally enjoy and hate all this attention.

Surely, looking the way she does, she’d be used to it. Long, thick, golden locks and sharp bangs frame a stunning face blessed with big, blue eyes, and soft plump lips, the bottom one of which is currently being sucked in between her teeth. Petite, yet curvy in all the right places, she has long, toned legs clothed in thick tights that disappear beneath a shortish black plaid skirt, and playboy bunny boobage is tucked away behind a soft, gray blouse.

She’s a straight-up hottie. And as a hockey player, I am contractually obliged to be into hot.

It’s basically the law.

When the crowd thins, Claire spots me in the corner and makes her way towards me, dragging her new friend with her. “It’s the prettiest cake I’ve ever seen,” the birthday girl whispers as they approach. “Look at the marbling. It’s so pink! Can I take a photo before we slice it?”

“Of course we can. But I want you to meet someone first.” Lotte is placed in front of me but has yet to remove her eyes from the cake. “This is my brother, Noah. He’s the man responsible for all the prettiness.”

Glacial blue eyes flutter and meet mine. Her cheeks flush a similar color to the frosting she so admires, and her smile is… wow. “You made this?” Her voice is soft and sweet and way, way too innocent for me to be thinking what I am.

“No, I got it from a bakery one of my coach’s wife owns. She makes all the cakes herself. You like it?”

“I love it. Thank you.”

That grin and the heartfelt gratitude accompanying it, take up an abnormally sized space in my chest, and I have to remind myself that it’s my turn to speak. “You’re welcome,” I manage, “but I only picked it up. Claire was the one who demanded, so technically, all thanks should go to her.”

Lotte nods, blinks a few more times, then shrugs. In an instant, her whole demeanor shifts. “Um. My phone is ringing. I’ll come back.” With shaking hands, the tray is carefully placed on the table, and she moonwalks towards the exit. “Claire, can you take a pic and slice it up for me?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” Claire smiles, “I’ll save you the biggest piece, too.” With that assurance, Lotte runs.

“I hear no phone, Claire. What’s her deal?”

“None of your business and save your dimpled grin and goo-goo eyes for someone else. Lotte is off limits.”

Clutching my chest, I feign insult. “Sheesh, you’re pretty moody for someone who had a three-hour lunch and a birthday party on their first day.”

“It wasn’t three hours, it was two. Also, shut up, and put those muscles to work. Cut.” She hands me the knife, snaps a pic on her phone, and then chases after Lotte.

“Uh, uh. No way, Claire. I need the dirt.” There’s no chance in hell I am staying here without her any longer, so I pass the knife onto Tony, who looks at it like it’s the first time he’s seen such a thing and follow my sister out the door.

“Claire,” I holler, catching her arm and pulling her close. “You can’t just leave me hanging like that, especially with these people. They’re weird. Besides, I have things to do.”

She calls my bluff. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Pfft, um, well, okay. Fine. I have nothing to do, but I would prefer to do nothing anywhere than here, celebrating with a bunch of weirdos you now call colleagues.”

“Hey, I taught you better than that. Don’t be rude. And don’t call people weirdos. It’s insulting.”

“That’s rich. You called our neighbor weird three times before you left the house this morning.”

“Well, she is weird, Noah. She collects mannequin heads. Who does that?”

“Oh, so you can call her weird, but I can’t call the cutie blinker, and her party time pals weird?”

Something flashes in my periphery and the birthday girl herself is before me. “Stop saying weird … And - and, if you were referring to me when you said the cutie blinker, it’s not a compliment, so stop saying that too. It’s my birthday, and it’s the first time anyone has brought me a cake, and you’ve ruined it you … you big … big … pretty cake-delivering bully.” Her tiny, shaking hand is then placed squarely in the center of my chest, and she pushes me out of her way before hightailing it outside.

“Nice one, dick.” Snaps Claire as she, again, sets chase after the little blonde. Of course, as always, I follow.