Page 159 of Pucking Sweet

Jake leans away, dropping his hands from the glass as those around us start to laugh. His eyes narrow. If looks could kill, Caleb would be dead. Frankly, I’m not convinced I wouldn’t help hold him down.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel calls, daring to look contrite.

“She’s totally not,” Caleb jabs, flinging his arm around her. “Go skate, douche canoe! Try not to embarrass her!”

Oh god. More camera flashes, more laughter. There’s no way people aren’t recording.

Lukas has caught on that something’s wrong too. He skates up to Jake and mutters something. Following Jake’s gaze up into the stands, he locks eyes with me. Heavens, how can one man look so beautiful and so angry all at the same time? Is my loving him really so hard for him to accept? Despite the chaos of how we started, we’re so good together.

I brace my hand over my stomach. For the first time today, doubt creeps in. If he’s this resistant to the idea of me loving him, what will he do when I tell him I’m pregnant and there’s a 50/50 chance the baby is his? Will he fight for us? Will he love us as we love him? Or will he cut and run, too broken and too scared to make a home with us?

Holding my gaze, he skates away, pulling Jake back with him. I’m distracted by Caleb jostling me. He throws his arm around Rachel again, pretending to give her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek as the guys in the front row laugh and point. I follow this new chaos to where Ilmari is standing at the net, mask up, glaring at them.

“Oh, my goodness, what is happening right now?” I shout. “We don’t want our boys upset before a big game!”

Caleb just laughs, dropping his hand away from Rachel. “Don’t worry, Pop. It’s just a little team-building exercise.”

I shake my head, a million fresh questions running through my mind. The last thing I knew, Rachel was still hooking up with Jake in closets. Caleb is Jake’s best friend. He has to know, right? And Rachel sits with Ilmari on the plane, but that’s just about his lucky charm thing, right? A lot of these players have weird superstitions. Lukas plays with two different kinds of gloves. Colton only has one brand of undershirt he’ll wear under his uniform.

I have to assume this is some kind of game. CalebwantsJake upset. He wanted Mars to see Rachel in his jersey. Does he think they’ll play better or something?

My last question is answered as soon as the puck is dropped. In seconds, Jake makes his first hard hit, sending his mark sprawling down to the ice to the rabid cheers of the fans.

I look to Rachel. More importantly, I look to the sea of people around us, still eagerly snapping pictures and pointing. I’ve been working in PR long enough to sense some serious trouble brewing.

Oh girl, what have you done?

57

It’s 5 a.m., and the cauldron of trouble Rachel and Caleb stirred at the game last night is officially starting to boil over. I mean, what did she expect? Her father has been one of the most famous faces in global music for four decades. She grew up under a blinding international spotlight—features in magazines, paparazzi at her school, drones flying over beaches on family vacations.

And celebrity fans are crazy, nothing like hockey fans. They’ll home in on your favorite flavor of cereal if they think it will make them feel closer to you. She can’t go making moon eyes at a young, hot NHL player and not expect people to notice that too.

By the second period, even the freaking media team knew something was going on. I’m officially going to kill Jimmy and Tad. Did they have to pan the camera over to us so many times? Each time the Jumbotron zoomed in on Rachel, the crowd would cheer, she’d wave, and then Jake would hit someone harder.

My phone pings on my side table with message after message. Then it starts buzzing.

“Turn it off,” Colton grunts. His hand is splayed over my naked breast. He pulls me in closer as I lean away, reaching for the phone.

“I have to get this,” I whisper. “Just go back to sleep.”

Lukas’s side of my bed is empty. I decided last night that I’d give him exactly one night to continue freaking out about the thought of our happily ever after. Tonight, I’ll reel him back in. For now, I’m doing my job.

I reach for the phone, answering it before it can go to voicemail. “This is Poppy St. James.”

Two hours later,I’m buzzing with a caffeine headache as I weave my way through the Rays gym equipment. I know the books all say a little caffeine won’t hurt baby, but I’m not willing to risk it.

I see Rachel over in the corner chatting and laughing with Ryan on a massage table. “Rachel,” I call out. “Rach! Girl, I need to talk to you.”

Rachel turns toward me with a smile. “What’s up?”

I hurry the rest of the way over to her. My scoop neck Rays T-shirt slips off one shoulder as I nearly trip over a dumbbell.

Rachel keeps massaging Ryan’s shoulder, oblivious to the shitstorm she’s in. “What do you need?”

I look to Ryan, still trying to catch my breath. “Get lost for a minute, honey.”

“But we’re in the middle of—”