Page 3 of Defensive Desire (Iron Ridge Icehawks #4)

Chapter Two

Logan

T he 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.

The way she leans into him, into the quiet confidence in his stance, it's like they just… fit . Like puzzle pieces clicking into place.

It's crazy to watch. Connor's got Lucy now too. Coach has paired up with Natalie after the worst kept secret ever. Hell, even Ryder's been spotted with some redhead at Ridgeview.

One by one, my teammates are falling in love. Finding their person. Getting soft.

For a split second, I let myself imagine having someone in my corner like that. Someone to share doe-eyed looks with across crowded rooms. Someone who'd understand my silences, someone like… like…

No.

I shake the thought away, squashing it like a bug under my boot.

Love's not for me. Never has been.

"So all the details will be in your emails," Sophia continues, her voice stronger now with Blake beside her.

"We'll need everyone's participation and I'm sure this will be easy with guys like you.

Each player will partner with a local business to create promotional content and increase community engagement. "

From the back of the room, Eli Thompson, our former enforcer turned tavern owner, shouts, "Just auction 'em off again! The ladies of Iron Ridge would empty their bank accounts for a date with these pretty boys!"

The room erupts in laughter as Eli locks eyes with Lucy, who's cheeks are now shining the brightest of red.

I roll my eyes.

That charity auction was a fucking nightmare. Some banker's wife paid fifteen grand to have me teach her kid how to check properly. Ended up being a decent kid, but still.

"Sorry, Eli. No auctions this year," Sophia laughs. "Instead, you'll be creating content, appearing at events, and connecting with the town. The team with the most engagement by the start of the season gets exclusive use of the arena café space."

My ears perk up at that.

Café? I know someone who'd love the chance at another opportunity to grow her business.

Not only grow, but the arena café is prime real estate for any entrepreneur. Foot traffic from every home game, tourists, youth leagues.

For a small business like Emma's new coffee start up, that kind of exposure would be...

"I'll partner with Emma," I announce before I've even processed the thought fully.

The room goes quiet.

Sophia must have been half way through a sentence, because her mouth stays wide open as I push off the wall with steely determination.

I don't know why, but my gut tightens at the thought of anyone else stepping in.

It’s not just about the coffee or the community program.

It’s about Emma.

And the fact that if anyone’s going to help her make her dreams come true, it’s going to be me.

Across the room, Blake raises an eyebrow, Connor smirks, and Coach Brody looks mildly confused at the whole thing.

"Right.. Logan you want to go with Emma Carter? From Chapter and Grind?" Sophia clarifies, clearly surprised by my sudden enthusiasm.

I nod, not bothering to explain myself.

I don't need to justify shit to anyone.

Ryder, the perpetual pain in my ass, opens his mouth. "But I was going to—"

I silence him with a glare that's dropped bigger men than him.

"But… her coffee…"

I glare harder and he shrinks back into his seat.

"Smooth, Kane," Connor mutters from beside me, too low for the others to hear.

I ignore him too.

Big Mike looks pleasantly surprised. "Well, that's the initiative I like to see! Anyone else have preferences for partnerships?"

The meeting dissolves into a flurry of suggestions and debates.

I tune it out, already planning what equipment Emma will need for a temporary café setup at the arena. She'd want her espresso machine, obviously. Storage for those specialty beans she keeps in those air-tight containers. Probably display space for her books...

Fuck. What am I doing?

We hit the locker room after the meeting and Connor wastes no time coming up to me with that smug fucking grin on his mouth.

"Jesus Christ, Kane. Could you be any more obvious?"

I ignore him, reaching into my locker for fresh gym clothes.

Ryder sidles up, grinning. "Logan's just in it for the free coffee, right? Can't blame him. Emma's stuff is legit."

"Emma's stuff ?" Connor echoes with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

"The coffee, Walsh," I growl, slamming my locker shut with enough force to make him jump. "Her coffee is good. End of story."

"Right," Connor drawls, unconvinced. "And this has nothing to do with how you stare at her every time we're at Chapter and Grind? Or how you keeping insisting to build those shelves for her display? Or how—"

"You're building her shelves?" Ryder interrupts, eyes wide. "Dude, that's like... domestic and shit."

I fight the urge to shove both of them into the equipment bin. Coach Brody's hell bent on team discipline and camaraderie ever since he loved up. I can't afford any suspensions for friendly fire this season.

"My sister dated a carpenter once," Ryder continues, oblivious to the danger flowing through my veins. "Started with an end table, ended with a ring. Just saying."

"Nobody asked you," I mutter, yanking my t-shirt over my head.

"Look at that," Connor stage-whispers to Ryder. "The Iron Wall is blushing."

"I don't blush," I snap. "And I don't need to explain myself to you assholes."

Blake approaches, already changed and ready to hit the gym. As captain, he always knows when to intervene. Right before blood is spilled.

"Leave Logan alone," he says, though his eyes are dancing with amusement. "Not everyone can articulate their feelings through grand center-ice proposals."

"Fuck off, Maddox," I mutter.

The truth is, I don't know what this thing with Emma is. Don't know what to call the way my chest tightens when she smiles or how I can't stop noticing shit she needs fixed in that shop of hers.

Don't know why my throat goes dry when she bends over that damn coffee counter, or how her ass looks in those tight blue jeans she wears. Or the way her tongue darts out to taste test new blends that makes my mind go places it shouldn't.

Don't know why I wake up thinking about her smile. Or go to bed remembering the way she touched my arm last week when I helped move those boxes.

It's fucking annoying, like an itch I can't scratch, a distraction I don't need.

Hockey is my life.

Has been since I was old enough to hold a stick.

I don't do relationships, don't do feelings, don't do... whatever the hell this is. But here I am, volunteering to spend more time with her like some lovesick rookie.

Maybe I'm just as pathetic as the rest of these assholes?

All I know is that she's different.

Emma isn't like the puck bunnies who see the paycheck or the jersey. Not like the women who expect me to be someone else. To be who they want me to be.

Emma just... sees me.

And for some fucked-up reason, she doesn't run the other way whenever I approach.

"You know," Blake says quietly when the others have moved towards the gym. "It's okay to want something for yourself, Logan. Off the ice, on the ice. You count too."

I grunt in response.

I don't do heart-to-hearts. But as the only other guy on the team who grew up in Iron Ridge, of all the people here, Blake gets it. Gets why this place matters. Why the people here matter.

"Just don't fuck it up," he adds with a smirk before heading out.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Captain.