Page 29 of In My Hockey Era (Must Love Hockey #1)

GRILLED BY MY brOTHER, LITERALLY

Lucy

T he familiar scent of mesquite smoke and cut grass drifts through the backyard as I step onto the patio, a warm breeze rustling the wind chimes my dad refuses to take down, even though half of them are missing pieces.

My older brother, Connor, stands by the grill, flipping burgers, a beer in one hand and an unmistakable big brother look on his face.

I’d driven up to Oklahoma for the weekend to visit my dad. Mia’s busy with her latest fling, and Bennett’s on a four-day road trip to play games against New York and New Jersey.

“Alright,” Connor says, barely giving me time to set my drink down. “Tell me about this hockey guy.”

I roll my eyes, dropping into one of the old patio chairs. “Wow, didn’t even ease into it, huh?”

Connor smirks. “Figured I’d just get right to it.”

Dad chuckles from his usual seat near the fire pit, feet kicked up, watching us like a man who’s seen this play out a hundred times before. And he probably has.

I sigh. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Bullshit,” Connor counters easily. “You’re seeing someone from the Stampede , Luce. That’s not nothing .” He nudges the brim of his cap higher, squinting at me. “Bennett Wilder, right?”

I shift in my seat, already regretting coming outside. “Maybe.”

Connor whistles low. “Damn. He’s a big deal. Skilled player, good stats, charming as hell .”

My stomach flutters for a second—until he continues.

“Also a notorious player off the ice.”

I exhale through my nose, jaw clenching. “Oh, come on .”

Connor holds up his hands. “I’m just saying—guys like that? They have options. Lots of ‘em.”

I glare. “And I don’t?”

Dad chuckles again, shaking his head, but Connor doesn’t back down. “You know what I mean. He’s in the spotlight, traveling all the time, women throwing themselves at him. Just… be smart, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for the life lesson,” I mutter, crossing my arms.

I’m more than a little annoyed—it’s basically the same speech that Mia gave me a week ago. Are they sharing notes or something?

I could defend Bennett, could tell my brother about how the last time he came over, he fed me, walked my dog, cleaned my kitchen, and tucked me into bed.

You don’t do things like that for a random hookup.

But I don’t tell any of that to Connor. The truth is, I don’t know where things are going between me and Bennett.

And I’m scared of looking like a fool if Mia and Connor are proven right. I guess I’m stubborn like that.

Connor sighs, flipping another burger before leveling me with a look. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Luce. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I glance at Dad, waiting for him to pile on too, but instead, he takes a slow sip of his iced tea and finally speaks. “Quit hassling her, Con.”

Connor shrugs. “I’m just looking out for her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dad mutters, waving him off. Then he glances at me, eyes steady but unreadable. “You like this guy?”

I hesitate. But only for a second. “Yeah. I do.”

Dad nods, gaze drifting toward the grill. “Then enjoy it. While it lasts.”

My stomach sinks.

I know he doesn’t mean it cruelly—it’s not a jab, just his usual practical, realistic way of looking at things. But still, it lands like a weight in my chest.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?

No one really believes this will last.

Not Mia. Not Connor. Not even my own dad .

I push my drink aside, suddenly not thirsty.

“Dinner’s ready,” Connor announces, loading up the first plate.

Dad claps a hand on my shoulder as he passes me a plate, offering an easy smile like he didn’t just make my heart feel heavier than it already was.

I force a smile back, but the sinking feeling stays.

Because what if they’re right?

Later, I’m stretched out on the couch in my dad’s living room, scrolling mindlessly on my phone while the TV plays some old Western in the background. Dad’s dozing in his recliner, and Connor’s outside, probably sneaking another beer while pretending to check on the grill.

I’m exhausted, full from dinner, and honestly, a little relieved to be home. But there’s also this itch in the back of my mind.

One that looks a lot like a six-foot-three hockey player with a stupid grin and hands that could ruin me.

I shake my head and sigh, logging in to check my email, figuring it’ll be the usual flood of subscription updates and spam. But right at the top of my inbox, Vivian Carter’s name stands out, along with a subject line that immediately makes my stomach flip.

You’re Invited: Stampede Annual Charity Gala

I blink, then open it.

Lucy,

We’d love for you to attend the Stampede’s Annual Charity Gala coming up. It’ll be a formal event with players, staff, and VIPs, benefiting various local charities. Dress code is black-tie. Hope to see you there!

–Viv

I stare at the email, my pulse kicking up a notch.

A gala ? As in… fancy dress, open bar, expensive silent auction gala ?

I chew on my lip. It’s not like I haven’t been to events for the team before, but this? This feels… different.

Before I can overthink it, my phone buzzes with a text.

Bennett: Quinn. Got a question for you.

I smirk. Me: That sounds dangerous.

Bennett: I got a gala invite today.

I roll my eyes.

Me: Okay?

Bennett: And you got one too.

I hesitate.

Me: Maybe.

The three little dots appear, then disappear.

Bennett: Come with me? Be my date.

My stomach flips.

I sit up straighter, rereading the message, like it’ll change if I blink too hard.

Me: You’re asking me to be your date?

Bennett: No, I’m demanding it.

I snort, shaking my head.

Me: You’re impossible.

Bennett: And yet, you like me.

Damn him.

I suck in a breath, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. But I don’t even need to think about it.

Me: Yeah, okay. I’ll go with you.

It takes him less than five seconds to respond.

Bennett: Damn right you will.

I roll my eyes, biting back a smile.

And suddenly, this trip home doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Bennett: Also, serious question—you doing okay?

Me: Yeah. I decided to go home for the weekend and stay with my dad. We grilled today and are being lazy now.

Bennett: Good, sounds like exactly what you needed.

I stretch out on the couch.

Me: Yeah. I guess it was.

I glance at the time. It’s almost seven.

Me: Don’t you have a game tonight?!

Bennett: It’s about to start.

Me: Go kick Jersey’s ass.

Bennett: Done and done.