Page 12 of In My Hockey Era (Must Love Hockey #1)

ON THE RECORD (AND FLUSTERED)

Lucy

I tap my fingers against the mic, stalling.

This should be easy. I’ve been running this podcast for years, talking about the Stampede like it’s my full-time job. Breaking down plays, questioning coaching decisions, hyping up players when they deserve it and roasting them when they don’t. But tonight? Tonight, I feel off my game.

I clear my throat and lean in.

“Alright, Stampede fans, let’s talk about last night’s game. Because wow—if that wasn’t a clinic in offensive dominance, I don’t know what is.”

My voice steadies as I slip into analysis mode, recapping the highlights.

I rant a little about our defense—because, seriously, what the hell was that second period?

—and praise the power play for finally looking competent.

Twenty minutes fly by in a blur of stats, takes, and a dramatic reenactment of a referee’s terrible call.

But then I get to the book club update. And… yeah. That’s where I stumble. Like a train coming off the tracks.

“So, the Stampede Book Club is still going strong. Our latest read? A classic hockey romance with a surprisingly solid female lead. I—uh—may have gone into it fully expecting to hate it, but I have to admit, it’s kind of… well… not terrible.”

I make a face at myself, knowing damn well that’s an understatement.

I actually liked the book. More than liked it. And it’s partially because of Bennett freaking Wilder.

I drag in a breath and glance at my screen. “Okay, let’s take a couple of listener questions before I wrap up. First up… oh, great. This one’s from Sarah. And she asks…”

I scan the words, and my stomach drops.

“Lucy, you and Bennett have been looking pretty cozy lately. Any updates on that front? Asking for, you know… everyone.”

I suck in a breath. My face flames so fast, I can practically feel my brain short-circuiting.

“Oh, uh. Hah. Wow, okay. That’s—um—” I run a hand through my hair, looking anywhere but the mic, even though no one can see me. “Not really sure what you mean by ‘cozy’ exactly, but Bennett and I are just—”

Friends? No. Acquaintances? Also no. Public rivals turned reluctant co-hosts turned… something else?

I think about his smirk. His hands on me. His mouth on mine.

My brain sputters out completely.

“We’re… just figuring things out,” I finally mumble, suddenly fascinated by my keyboard. “Anyway! That’s all the time we have for questions tonight, folks! Thanks for listening, and as always—go Stampede!”

I cut the recording and drop my head onto my desk, groaning.

Yeah. That was smooth. Real smooth.

· · ·

Today at work has been insane. First there was a traumatic car accident, then a suspected drug overdose, followed by a domestic stabbing. Yeah, I wish I was kidding. I’m sure I’ll have an adrenaline crash later, but I’m still somehow running on fumes.

“How can you eat after this?” Ethan asks, nodding to the sandwich half-stuffed into my bag.

We’ve barely had a second to breath all shift.

“How can you not?” I shoot back. Trauma carb loading is a thing.

I think about the other night when Bennett showed up at my door with food. I’m used to patching people up, but no one’s ever really taken care of me before… until he did. That entire evening still feels a little surreal.

“You have the next two days off, right?” Ethan asks.

“Yup. And I’m not going to think about work once.”

“I hear that,” Ethan says.

I’m more than ready to leave this day behind me.

A text from Bennett makes everything better. I’ve just packed up and am walking to my car when my phone chimes.

Bennett: I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Wow, direct and to the point. I like how he doesn’t play games. How he says what he’s thinking—it’s refreshing.

I can’t help teasing him a little. Poking the bear.

Me: New phone…who dis?

Rather than replying, my phone rings. I toss my bag onto the back seat and answer.

“Hello?”

“Nice try, Quinn. I know you’re thinking about it too.”

I whimper.

“Where are you right now?” he asks.

“Just finishing a shift.”

“I want to see you.”

A hot shiver runs through me.

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Come over,” he says, his voice deep and rough.

Another warm shiver. But I hesitate. “I need to walk Max first.”

“Right.” He pauses, then says, “I’ll meet you at your place. We’ll walk Max, and then we can hang out over at my place.”

“Okay,” I say. “See you soon.”

· · ·

I make it downstairs with Max secured to his leash just as Bennett is climbing out of a silver BMW SUV.

He’s dressed in a pair of black joggers with a black hoodie, tennis shoes, and a pink baseball cap turned backwards. Casual, but he still manages to look devastatingly handsome.

“Hey,” I say, giving him a wave.

His gaze roams over me—I’m wearing a pair of formfitting jeans that are ripped at the knees with a chunky cable knit cream sweater that’s currently falling off one shoulder. The mild Dallas temps mean I skipped a coat, and by the way he’s looking at me, Bennett likes what he sees.

“Hey,” he says, eyes still on mine as he reaches down to pat Max’s head. “How was work?”

“Bananas,” I admit, lifting one shoulder.

“Let me know if you need another massage,” he offers.

“Uh…always.” I laugh.

We start off, and Max trots ahead, his fluffy tail bouncing with each step as he sniffs every tree, lamppost, and patch of grass like it’s his personal duty to investigate the entire neighborhood.

The sky is painted in streaks of pink and gold, the last bit of daylight stretching across the quiet streets.

Bennett walks beside me, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, his shoulder brushing mine now and then. It’s a cool evening, but not cold enough for coats, just the kind of crisp air that wakes you up after a long day.

“He’s got an agenda, doesn’t he?” Bennett nods toward Max, who is now determinedly leading us toward a fire hydrant.

“Always,” I say. “He takes this walk very seriously.”

Bennett smirks. “I respect that. A guy should have a mission.”

I glance over at him, at the easy way he moves, like he’s completely at home here on these quiet streets with me and my overenthusiastic dog. It’s… nice. Sorta domestic.

Definitely not what I expected. In fact, any expectations I had about how a professional athlete who is probably worth millions would behave has sorta been blown out of the water.

Max pauses to sniff a particularly interesting bush, and I use the moment to subtly study Bennett. His profile is sharp, strong—jawline unfairly chiseled, lips that I now know are just as soft as they look. My stomach does something stupid at the memory.

“So,” he says, breaking the silence. “I listened to your latest podcast.”

I groan. “Oh. Which part?”

He grins, tilting his head toward me. “The part where you tried to dodge that question about me and completely failed.”

My cheeks go hot. “I did not fail.”

“You absolutely did. The stammering? The nervous laugh? Classic giveaway.”

I press my lips together, shaking my head. “You know, I used to be so good at this.”

“At what?”

“Talking about hockey without it getting personal.”

He chuckles, low and warm. “Guess I ruined that for you, huh?”

I exhale, watching my breath curl into the air. “Yeah. A little.”

Max yanks on the leash, pulling me forward, and Bennett reaches out on instinct, steadying me with a hand at my lower back. It’s a small touch, barely there, but I feel it everywhere.

For a second, neither of us say anything. The streetlights flicker on, casting a soft glow over the sidewalk.

Bennett clears his throat. “You wanna know something?”

I glance at him. “What?”

“This is the most normal thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Walking a dog?”

“Walking a dog with you,” he says simply.

Something warm unfurls in my chest. I open my mouth to respond, but Max chooses that exact moment to lunge after a squirrel, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket.

Bennett laughs, catching my wrist before I stumble. “Guess that’s our cue to keep going.”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling. “Yeah. Before he decides to chase something bigger.”

We continue on, the evening settling around us in a comfortable hush. And even though we’re not saying much, it feels like something is shifting, something I don’t quite have words for yet. But I think I like it.

We circle the block and end up back in front of my building. Max looks up at me expectantly wondering what’s next. I pat his head, considering if I should invite Bennett inside, but he beats me to it.

“Come back to my place with me.”

“Okay,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.