Page 214 of Pucking Sweet

“She’s not looking for a ring,” Lukas adds.

Anderson huffs a laugh, finally letting me go. “Have you met these St. James girls? My advice? Wife her up, or she’ll be moving on. Maybe someday the right guy will finally get her down that aisle. Lord knows I tried. Looks like you two are fumbling the ball too.”

“Yep, that’s us,” Lukas replies, his tone flat. “Pair of butterfingers over here.”

Oh, fuck me, I wanna leave. I want to walk out those doors and just fall head-first into the goddamn pool.

“Whoever he is, I hear he’ll have to be okay with becoming a step-daddy,” he goes on. “Shame about all that. She was really going places.”

I feather a touch over Lukas’s hand, keeping him at my side.

Another man steps in behind Anderson. I know his face too. I know it because it’s Poppy’s face, or at least a version of it. It’s a bit rounder and more masculine, but he has the same blond hair and blue eyes. “Hey, are these the hockey guys?”

“These are the hockey guys,” Anderson replies. The way they both say it, you’d think we were a pair of phone salesmen who playbeer league hockey on the weekends, not two of the top-ranked defensemen in the world, worth a combined fifty million dollars.

The blond steps in. “Hey, I’m Rowan St. James, Poppy’s brother. Hey, Dad—” he calls, before either of us can introduce ourselves.

One of the older men glances our way, lured in by his son’s waving hand. He’s built like a damn house. I think Poppy mentioned he played some American football in college. I can see a glimmer of her in his features. His blond hair has all but gone silver.

“These are the hockey guys,” Rowan calls out.

“Seriously, should we get shirts made or something?” Lukas mutters at me.

Her dad’s eyes narrow at us as he steps over. I feel like I’m getting x-rayed as he offers out a hand. “Hello, I’m Hank St. James, Poppy’s father.”

Poppy says his nickname in DC is “the Kingmaker.” He’s some super high-powered political lobbyist who sits in the shadows and launches political careers. That’s the main reason Anderson is so interested in marrying into the family. The asshole fancies himself the next JFK. He’s just out here desperate to find his perfect Jackie. Who better than the daughter of the Kingmaker himself? Turns out Anderson isn’t picky about which daughter, much to my goddamn relief.

“Hey, how you doing?” I say. “I’m Colton Morrow, this is Lukas Novikov.”

Lukas holds out his hand and Hank shakes it too. Looking down, he takes in Lukas’s colorful ink. I groan as he turns his arm slightly. “Son, is that a hairy johnson tattooed on your arm?”

“Uhh…yeah,” Lukas replies.

Behind Hank, some of the guys laugh, including Rowan and Anderson.

“It’s a long story,” Lukas adds.

“I hope you were drunk,” Hank replies, dropping Lukas’s hand.

“If only, sir.” Lukas looks to me for help, but what the hell am I supposed to do? He’s the one with the goddamn cock and balls tattoo.

“Poppy says you boys are having a good season,” Hank goes on.

“We are,” I reply.

“You headed for theplayoffs?”

I laugh. “Well, you know, we don’t count anything out. We’re a new team, so it’s been more about restructuring this year—”

“Hey.” Rowan snaps his fingers, pointing at Lukas. “Weren’t you the guy that got in all that trouble for punching out a ref last season?”

“He swung first,” Lukas replies. “It’s on video. The review committee cleared me with a minor fine.” He’s trying so damn hard right now. He deserves a medal for not chirping this guy into tears.

“Right. Well, a fight video is small potatoes,” Rowan goes on. “Not like all the videos of you partying it up with blondes that aren’t my sister.”

Okay, seriously? Fuck Rowan.

Next to his son, Hank just frowns. “That’s enough, Rowan.”