Page 4 of How to Puck Your Boss (L.A. Hawks Hockey #3)

She smiled broadly…and her smile hit him like a punch in the stomach. It was so damn honest. Natural. And warm . How could someone be so terribly generous and free with their smile?

“I get angry a lot,” she murmured. “But mostly at myself or the world. Not at others.”

“Why do you get angry at yourself?”

“Because it’s easy for me to accept mistakes — as long as I don’t make them myself. I should be better at it. I’ve had a lot of practice.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh.

“So, why are you angry at the world?”

“Because it should be a better place than it is.” She said the words so matter-of-factly that no one would have dared to contradict her. “Okay, now I know what you’re good at — holding yourself together. So, what are you bad at?”

He didn’t even have to think about it for two seconds. “Oh, I’m a terrible cook.”

“Define terrible.”

“I’ve set several toasters on fire and making tea is a challenge for me. Although, I do use my oven regularly — to store bags of chips.”

Penny threw her head back and laughed. Loudly. So loudly that a few people looked at her, but she didn’t seem to care. “Oh man.”

“Yep. What are you bad at?”

“Keeping my mouth shut?” she offered.

He shook his head. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“Oh, I know a lot of people who would disagree with you, but okay. Um, I’m — oh, I know.

” He had never seen a person so excited about coming up with something they were horrible at.

“I’m bad at finishing things. I don’t finish books left and right.

I can play about five different instruments, but only slightly.

I don’t think things through properly and therefore often say the wrong thing.

And I’m terrible at lying. If I say anything that even takes a momentary detour from the path of truth, I start coughing like I’m choking on the words.

Then, my face reddens, and my mouth gets dry, so I keep licking my lips.

Meanwhile, people are calling an ambulance because there’s obviously something wrong with me. ”

As if on cue, his gaze landed on her lips. It was her fault; she’d used the word. And, man, he had to admit, he’d like to see her lie, just to watch the tip of her tongue run across her upper lip.

Thank God Penny’s cell phone rang at that moment, snapping Jack out of his trance. She pulled the phone out of her linen pants pocket, squinted at it, and sighed. Jack had automatically glanced at the screen: Bro lit up on it.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” she mumbled, getting up from the bar stool and walking a few steps away, probably because it was family, and she didn’t want to break their agreement.

Jack should have sipped his whiskey, sat back, and ignored the phone call. But, then again, according to all the guidance counselors at his high school, he should have gotten a real job and not chased the dream of becoming a professional hockey player. So…

“…you’re not serious! Of course I’m at the airport.

Where else would I be? You all didn’t give me a choice, did you?

So, yes, I’m on my way!... It was okay. Very long.

Very high up… Yes, I know all flights are high, but that doesn’t make it any less scary!

” She rolled her eyes and ran her hand through her hair, and then smiled.

“You did? But from tomorrow on, you can no longer use the key. Thanks, though. Man, if all those people knew that you’re not a steely-hearted businessman, but actually a teddy bear…

” She laughed. “Yeah, yeah. That’s my secret… ”

Jack frowned. If he’d read correctly, she was talking to her brother.

And from the sound of it, they were close.

A small green knot automatically settled in Jack’s chest. She seemed to have that easy, carefree relationship with her brother that Anna and Dax also had, the kind he had messed up and now had to rebuild.

True, he was no longer at the beginning of that journey, but he was still a long way from being just their brother, instead of their enemy.

And he hated it, as much as he hated that his first Christmas with them in twelve years had been taken away from him.

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” Penny continued, yawning. “I’m exhausted. I need sleep and coffee, and then I can go to war with you.” She nodded, said goodbye, and turned back to him.

He quickly refocused on the whiskey in his hands. He was itching to ask what kind of war she was fighting and who had given her no choice about what. But any of those questions would break their agreement, so he let it go. Instead, he glanced up at her and asked with a smile, “So, dog or cat?”

It was strange how many topics you could talk about that had absolutely nothing to do with hockey.

Until an hour ago, Jack would have claimed that it would be difficult for him to talk to a complete stranger without talking about hockey for five minutes.

But apparently, that only applied to complete strangers who were allowed to ask about his work or family.

They talked about gun policy in the USA, their favorite animals, if pudding with skin was better than without, what they dreamed about, and what their first childhood memory had been. After twenty minutes, Jack felt like he knew everything and nothing about this woman at the same time.

He knew that goosebumps worked their way up her neck whenever he casually brushed his knee against hers or touched her shoulder with his hands — but not what her last name was.

He knew that she liked to look at the shoes of people walking past and that she automatically wondered where they had been — but he had no idea what she did for a living.

He knew that she loved peanut butter and even made it herself — but not where she came from or where she lived.

And he knew that it was getting harder and harder not to touch her because her skin was soft and warm and perfect — but he didn’t have the first inkling why she was here, rushing off to LA.

Maybe that was exactly what made the situation so exciting and fascinating.

Penny gave him insights into her mind but not her life.

And that was okay. He had a lot of imagination and had already created his own image of her.

In his mind, she was a math professor who had been invited to speak at a statistics lecture in Buenos Aires.

She preferred to wear comfortable clothes in her free time, but definitely owned a lot of white blouses and staid skirts – reading glasses too!

– to look professorial. Oh, yeah, and her mind was filled with equations and a lot of dirty fantasies.

Okay, the latter was more of a wish on his part.

But it was objectively true that whenever he smiled, she licked her lips and, hey, he was an optimist!

When the flight staff finally called their flight to board, he had almost forgotten why he was in New York and why he had been in a bad mood until meeting Penny.

“That was quick,” Penny remarked in surprise and turned to the gate, where a short line of customers with first- and business-class tickets was already forming.

“Yup,” he confirmed. Too quick . Reluctantly, he rose from his seat. He didn’t want to leave yet. He wasn’t ready to leave this strange acquaintance behind. But, to his surprise, Penny had also stood.

“Oh God, you’re in first class, aren’t you?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yeah,” he answered slowly. “You too?”

That couldn’t possibly be true. College math professors weren’t paid enough to afford first-class.

Penny sighed at length. “I’m afraid so.” She pulled a ticket out of her pocket, glanced at it, and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Yep, of course, he booked me a first-class ticket. Typical.”

Jack stared at her, his mouth gaping. Was she complaining about having to sit in first class? And who booked her the ticket? Her assistant? Did she have an assistant? No. That didn’t make sense.

Shit, maybe she wasn’t single, after all. Maybe she was one of the six wives of a rich oil tycoon who had ordered her back to LA to finally fulfill her marital duties.

“You’d rather fly economy?” he asked before his imagination ran amok.

She shrugged. “Sort of.” She rubbed her face and cleared her throat.

“You know I don’t judge anyone for what they spend their money on,” she added hastily.

“People can do what they want. I don’t want to be judged for what I do, so I don’t judge anyone else.

But my goodness, I would have been just as miserable in economy.

I would see the money go for other things. ”

Jack believed every word but wondered what “other things” meant.

And he was glad that she wasn’t disappearing from his life quite yet.

For months, he’d only been thinking about his family or work; the last half hour had been like a vacation from his life, despite his mind working in overdrive to reconcile the contradictory things he was discovering about Penny.

“Why did you book a first-class ticket if you’d rather be in economy?"

She waved her hand. “I didn’t book anything.”

“So, who did?”

“I’m afraid that’s a private matter,” she murmured, her gaze wandering down his shirt and pausing briefly at the old, faded fabric backpack he had slung over his shoulder.

She frowned. “What kind of job do you have that you run around in a hoodie and jeans, your backpack looking like it’s the same one you had in 12 th grade — yet you fly first class? ”

“Private matter,” he replied matter-of-factly. The backpack was indeed falling apart, but it had been a gift from his sister Anna, and he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

Penny grinned. “Of course. Well then, off we go to first class.” She lifted a jute bag from the floor, one he hadn’t noticed before, and strolled purposefully toward the gate.

Frowning, he followed, catching a glimpse of several serious-looking files peeking out from the bag…alongside a stick decorated with yellow and pink feathers and lots of rhinestones.

Who the hell was this woman?