Page 12 of Offside and Off-Limits (Love in Maple Falls #2)

I knock on Veronica’s door, and she calls me in to take a seat. I clasp my hands on the wooden table in front of me and begin to present my idea. “I did a bunch of research and found this idea I thought could be fun to do for both social media content as well as to raise money for the town.”

“Two birds with one stone. I like where this is heading. How would it work?”

“We would get a bunch of the guys to volunteer. This wouldn't be a mandatory thing. They would wear their Ice Breaker jerseys, making them immediately identifiable as team members. People can bid on the opportunity to throw a bucket of water over them.”

She shoots me an uncertain lock. “How many buckets of water will you put these poor volunteers through?”

“Just one for each of the volunteers. The highest bid wins. Otherwise, the guys might run the risk of catching hypothermia and won't be able to play, which no one wants.”

“Clearly.” She taps top of her ballpoint pen against her chin. “I can see how this would be fun content for the socials. It’s something different. New. You’re getting to know the team now, Clara. Do you think you’ll be able to get volunteers?”

Immediately, my mind darts to Cade and the fact he agreed to every single one of my initiatives. “I already have one, and I’m sure I could get a bunch more. They’re good guys. Friendly. Easy to get along with.”

“And when would you plan on doing this?”

“I've thought about that already. It would be a fun thing to do at the farmers’ market one weekend. It’s the perfect place to do it. It’s outside, we can set up a makeshift stage, and we could even get the mayor to MC it. It’d be a whole town event.”

“I’m loving this idea, Clara. I visited that farmers’ market at the weekend. It was so quaint, with lots of delicious food options and things to buy.”

“My sister, Keira Roberts, runs it. I already asked her if we could run something like this. Just in case you agreed.”

“Very proactive of you.”

“She said she could set up a stage for the guys to stand on, provide a microphone for the mayor, donate the use of a tent for the guys to change in once they're wet, and even provide the buckets and water.”

“Thank you, Clara’s sister. If we do go ahead, what would we call it? Dunk a Hunk?” She grins at me.

“Soak the Skater? Oh, what about Wet and Icy?”

She mock shivers. “Or Buckets and Biceps.”

We both begin to laugh.

“How about Make it Rain?” I say.

“Unless we’re going to stick them in a shower…?”

“Ah, no,” I reply with a laugh. I lean back in my chair as a name hits me. “Veronica, I think I’ve got it. Drench for Defense. It’s got a double meaning: hockey defense and defending the town from redevelopment.”

“Drench for Defense. It’s perfect!” Veronica declares, and I can’t help but feel proud of both my idea and the name I came up for it.

“I can see this getting a lot of attention online. You know, I haven't lived in this town all that long, but Maple Falls has really grown on me. I love that the team could help to protect it. I suggest you start by talking with Coach Hauser. Once you’ve got him on board, you’re halfway there. ”

“Will do.”

“Now, have you spoken with Cade Lennox about doing some more videos with you?”

My pulse leaps at the mention of his name.

“Ah, yes. He’s happy to do so.” My voice sounds strangled, so I clear my throat and concentrate on looking as professional as possible.

Which really shouldn't be hard. I mean, it's not like we’re involved or anything.

He's just flirty and frequently shirtless—which is proving to be a potent combination for me.

But I’ve got it under control.

“That’s good news. I noticed that livestream video has had over 2.

3 million views. Capitalizing on that is the smart thing to do.

” She pauses before she adds, “But be careful with Cade, Clara. We can all see his appeal, but he has a certain reputation. In fact, I’ve been told he almost got traded for carrying on with the owner’s daughter at the NYC Blades six or seven years ago. ”

My jaw drops. “That doesn't surprise me.”

He’s Cade Lennox: womanizer of the year.

“Just watch yourself around him. I know we’ve asked you to work closely with him, but we have a non-fraternization policy for very good reasons.

In fact, I would say Cade Lennox is the primary reason for it on the Ice Breakers.

” She smiles as though she’s making a joke, but there’s an undercurrent in her words that tells me to stay away from Cade in ALL CAPS.

Message received, boss, loud and clear.

“Of course, Veronica, and you can trust that I would never do anything to compromise my position here at the Ice Breakers. I love this job, and I’m determined to make a success of it.”

“That's great to hear, Clara. I have total faith in you.”

We spend the rest of the meeting agreeing on all the details of both Drench for Defense and my upcoming social media campaigns—both with Cade and otherwise—before I head down to the ice to catch the tail end of the team practice to get some more content.

The team is doing tough drills that could make lesser players weep. It’s hard not to admire the athleticism and speed of these guys, nimbly moving around the ice and changing direction at the drop of a hat.

I begin to record the drills, noticing how the different personalities of the team members come out. The captain, Jamie Hayes, is standing at center ice, the team lining up along the boards.

“This drill simulates late-game line changes under pressure. We need to be sharper with those before our first game in a couple weeks,” he says.

“You got it, Captain,” Cade calls out, and I position myself to capture the team as Jamie divides them into offensive and defensive positions.

I notice Cade move into his position on the right wing.

“I want to see three passes minimum before any shot at goal. Got it?" Jamie shouts, and the players’ helmet-covered heads nod. He drops the puck and there’s a burst of motion, a frenzy of athleticism and technique, Cade passing the puck to Asher, who swoops across the ice at lightning speed before he passes to Carson, who makes a successful shot at goal.

Coach Hauser blows his whistle and calls out, “Change!” and the first group of guys skate to the side and a new bunch takes over.

Having grown up in a hockey-obsessed town, with my brother-in-law Dan, joining the NHL right out of college, I’ve seen my fair share of games.

But I’ve never witnessed a practice at this level, and it’s mesmerizing to see the guys hone their skills, their talent and teamwork on show.

Fans will lap up not only the players’ skill, but the team dynamic, including Jamie’s leadership that shows exactly why he has that capital “C” on his jersey.

I note Carson Crane’s precision in shooting practice and capture the look on his face that screams intensity.

I capture Lucian’s efficiency and determination in his defensive positioning, and Weston’s prowess.

Nate Simpson is constantly trying to catch the coach’s attention, doing flashy moves with varying degrees of success, and I film his look of elation as Coach Hauser praises one.

I capture it every time one of the guys pats another on the back or shoulder or butt—why the butt?—to congratulate their teammate on a good shot in between drills.

I’m going to use all of this content, the ideas forming in my mind.

But as much as I’m capturing footage of each member of the team, my gaze keeps returning to Cade as he moves with practiced ease on the ice.

He’s the embodiment of that expression “poetry in motion,” his movements both fluid yet powerful, his shots confident and precise.

For a player with his reputation off the ice, he sure is incredible to watch on it, and I can't help but be impressed with his sheer muscularity, speed, and strength .

By the time the team has finished, I've got enough content to keep the growing fanbase happy for weeks to come, and my next task will be to massage it into eye-catching videos and static posts.

How many of us get to record hunky men in a show of incredible athleticism for a living?

I love my new job.

Satisfied I have what I need, I’m about to leave when Coach Hauser tells the players the practice is done, and they begin to peel off, skating over to the exit to hit the showers.

Nate Simpson is the first to reach me, and as he steps off the ice, he pulls off his helmet to reveal his blond hair stuck to his forehead, sweat drips landing on his broad shoulders.

“Hey, Claire. Did you capture that last move I pulled?” he asks with a grin.

“Which one?” I reply because I’m quickly learning that if there’s one thing you can rely on with this player it’s his flashy moves on the ice—that and his inability to get my name right.

“The one where I flipped the puck onto my stick while skating at full speed, then slotted it between my legs, and then over my shoulder in a perfect lacrosse-style scoop before I sniped a top-shelf shot right into the net!” he says, his face shining like polished glass as he relives the move.

I’m about to respond when Cade swoops in, clamping a gloved hand on Nate’s shoulder. “That shot was risky as heck, Simpson. It could have gone all kinds of wrong.”

“But it didn’t. You know it was pure genius,” Nate replies with a smirk.

“It was pure something,” Cade replies, and he slides his grin my way that immediately sets my chest fluttering, despite how much I don’t want it to.

I need to focus on Warrior. We have a real connection. He gets me and I get him. That’s what matters. Not this annoying and inappropriate physical attraction to the wrong kind of guy .

“Well, I was impressed,” I tell Nate pointedly. I hold my phone in the air. “All caught on video.”

“Awesome! Be sure to tag me when you post,” Nate says.

“I will,” I promise as he takes off, leaving me alone with Cade.

Which is not a good situation to be in.

I paste on a smile and say, “Enjoy the rest of your day,” before I turn to leave.

“Hey, Triple. When do you want to come over to film my talent?” he asks, and the way he says “talent” has something skittering down my spine.

Something I need to squash, STAT.

I turn back to him, Veronica’s warning ringing in my ears. “Enough with the nickname, okay? This thing?” I gesture between us. “It needs to be purely professional. Got it?”

He throws me one of his knee-weakening smiles. “I am being totally professional, and besides, I can’t help it that you’re a triple threat.”

This man is infuriating.

And hot. Definitely hot.

Dang it!

“How about we film your talent here at the rink? I’ve got a bunch of the team who’ve volunteered to showcase theirs, too. Clément recites poetry, Carson plays the guitar, Asher dances, as you know. I figure I could capture all of you in the space of an afternoon. Here. Together.”

Subtext: not alone with just you and your flirty ways and risky hotness.

He looks around as though searching for something. “I’d love to, but I can’t do it here, Triple.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no piano.”

The thought of this huge, burly guy scrunched over a piano with his big fingers jabbing at the keys is akin to an elephant on ice skates: totally incongruous .

“ You play piano?”

He pulls off his gloves and waggles his fingers in front of me as though this is proof of his piano-playing prowess. Which of course it isn’t. It simply proves he’s got big fingers.

I cross my arms and shoot him a look that tells him I don’t believe for one second that he can actually play piano.

“I had lessons from the age of eight. I got pretty good, but I guess you’ll see that when you come over to record me on my piano.”

He’s wearing that smirk that does things to me, so I pull my gaze from his and focus instead on the Zamboni as it begins its ice polishing job behind him.

“I’m sure we can find another piano somewhere for you to play.” Somewhere in public with a lot of people around as a nice, thick buffer between Cade and the way he makes me feel.

“Sure,” he replies, and I relax a notch.

But then he leans a little closer to me and I catch his scent, an unmistakable tang of sweat, softened by the clean trace of whatever soap or deodorant he wore before practice.

“But you see, I’ve got this problem,” he says in a low, husky tone that makes the hairs on my neck prickle.

I swallow, my pulse rising. “What problem?”

“I don’t like to play on any piano other than mine,” he says.

I arch a sardonic eyebrow. “You don’t like to play on any piano other than yours?”

“Yeah. My piano and I have a thing. We’re exclusive. She gets jealous if I touch another piano.”

Oh, the innuendo.

He straightens back up. “So, my place at say five? I’ll introduce you to Bess.”

“Bess?” I ask, a surprising snake of jealousy twisting my gut.

Jealousy? Geez .

“Bess is my piano.”

“You named your piano?” I raise my hand. “Actually, don’t answer that, and sorry but I have a thing then. ”

It’s not a lie. I’ve been attending the Chronic Warriors Support Group at the Maple Falls Medical Center every week since I was strong enough to do so, and I’m certainly not going to give that up for Cade Lennox and his piano called Bess.

“How long is your thing?”

“An hour.”

“Come after. I’ll introduce you to Bess and I’ll even fix you a meal.”

“But—”

He breaks into a smile. “You know where I live. See you then, Triple.”

As he turns and leaves, I realize I’ve just agreed to do exactly what I’d set out to avoid.

And worse yet, it will be over dinner, making it an almost-date, which is the last thing I need with Cade Lennox, Mr. Flirty-Pants himself, with that smile of his that somehow manages to slip past the walls I’ve built, and makes my heart forget it’s supposed to be impervious.